My Fathers Journey - Part 2

The sound of the speeding cars no longer startled him; he’d been walking along the side of the highway most of the night, with out any idea of what time it was, or how many hours had passed since he had crawled out of the pipe. His feet ached. His back ached. Exhaustion gripped him by the bones. Stomach churning, he suddenly became aware of the tremendous hunger that resided in him. It’d been at least 48 hrs since his last meal. The nerves hadn’t let him eat.

He thought of his family, and wondered where they were. He figured that by this time they should be in San Jose, and would be expecting a call from him soon. The realization that no one knew where he was suddenly hit him, and it settled like a heavy rock on his chest. A rush of panic hit him and he attempted to run and was merely being able to trot and stumble. He stopped.

Cars rushed by him. Moving lights in an endless darkness; disappearing almost instantly as they moved closer to their destinations. What next. How long until the highway hits a town. Thinking of how to inform them of his location. He kept moving down the road. He walked so much he had lost track of the distance that he had traveled; no idea of where he was or where this highway was leading.

Walking aimlessly made his mind wander, and a flurry of thoughts began to crowd his head. He remembered the small market stand he had in Queretaro, how it had been enough to provide a comfortable living. He thought about all the problems that haunted his family. Of his older brother yelling profanities at him, while he watched from inside his house. Thoughts of the night when he made the decision to bring his family to this place. Thoughts of his family. How they had dressed up and gotten up early one day so they could go to Mexico City and get their passport. He thought about how it was only he who had not been given a visa.

His train of thought was broken the flash of some slowing lights. He watched them slow until they came to a stop a few yards ahead of him. Maintaining his pace he walked up to the lights, which had now materialized into a moving truck. Inside the driver said something in English, which he understood as an invitation to get in. No second thoughts, no doubts, no fear. He climbed in.

“Where ya headed?”

San Jose – he said

“ I’m going to Nevada but I can give you a ride up north for a bit”

Ok.

The next few minutes were awkward. Silence crowded the cabin of the small truck. The man driving was a light skinned blond, he didn’t seem dangerous, still it was best to stay awake. The blonde man looked over at him, “you look exhausted.” In broken English he explained what had happened, and how he had walked for so long. “don’t worry, the migra usually doesn’t patrol this far in.” The blonde man took out some pills and handed them to him, “here, they will help you rest.” With out knowing why, he took them.

It was the voice of the Driver that woke him.

“Hey, I didn’t want to wake you, but we are a few miles from Nevada”

He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep. Nadamas cerre los ojos poquito, he though. His body had just given in to temptation.

Nevada? Mierda…y ahora que.

Now what.

My Fathers Journey - Part 1

He lay motionless, barely breathing, feeling the coolness of the mud penetrating the front of his shirt. He lay like that for hours, trying to control his heart pace, slow rhythmic breathing. He thought about how he had been hiding by the legs of the front side passenger, and how the driver, upon reaching the check point, had panicked and said “vale madre, ya saben…ay que correr”. He remembered how with in seconds the car was emptied, bodies running away from the check point, the yells of the now surprised patrol officers.

He had stayed behind, hidden, the glove compartment pressing against his head; when the officers passed by he got out and ran in the opposite direction. He ran with out looking back, with out knowing where he was running to, he ran as if his life depended on it.

It did.

He went into the bush, struggled with low hanging branches and rocks, almost tripping over his own feet, over his fear. Heart pounding, his heart condition suddenly not an issue. As he ran he had noticed a small break in the tree line; something told him “there” and he lunged towards it, his body flew downwards as the ground gave out into a muddy rain aqueduct. His muscles gave out and he covered himself with branches, leaves what ever he could find.

Now he was stoic; trying to immerse him-self with the brush and mud. He could hear the officers looking for him. Yelling “we are going to find you.” Mixed Spanish “vas a ver cabron” and other insults. Fear was gripping him slowly, entering his body much like the mud which now soaked his clothes. He wondered what had happened to the others that had run. What had happened to the two young guys in the trunk of the car.

His mind was racing, thoughts of his family; the last time he had seen them, the car they were in drove off. The pain he had felt in his heart as his son looked out the back window and waved. Now the sun began to slowly set, the sounds of the officers began to grow fainter. They had gone.

In an imitation of military fashion, he began to drag his body along the aqueduct, slowly, stopping when ever he heard noise, pressing his body to the ground and holding every breath. Minutes or hours later, he was not sure; he came across a highway blocking his path, the only way to cross it was either go above and take a chance with the speeding cars or to go through a pipe that went underneath the highway. Exhausted he closed his eyes and slept.

When he awoke it was dark, the sounds of the speeding cars surrounded him, as did the faint lights of their head lights racing past. He crawled close to the pipe opening, no way to tell how far down it goes -he thought. Paying no mind to the terrible claustrophobia that had always haunted him; he braced himself and crawled into the pipe. Inside the putrid smell of garbage, mold and rat shit invaded his nostrils. It was dark and he could not see the end.

His body barely fitting, he was glad for his small 5’4” frame as he dragged his way across. Insects ran down his body, the smell impregnated his clothes and the pipe seemed to go on forever. Pain no longer harbored his body, he was too tired to feel anything; it was as if he was only moving out of sheer inertia, just motions with out thoughts. He was too tired. As he came out of the pipe he let his body drop; he saw only the dark wilderness ahead of him. Me voy a perder. Not sure where he was or where to go he decided the best option would be to stay close to the highway. It had to hit a town eventually.

He willed his exhausted body up and began to walk.

Kevin Prada's letter

I found this letter on Underground Undergrads. It's a letter to President Obama, and it was read by its author at an immigration hearing held at UCLA.

To me it highlights the complexities of the immigration dilemma, as well as the problems with the current "enforcement" only approach.


Dear Mr. President Barack Obama,

Hello, my name is Kevin, a 12 year old American citizen, and I wish to express myself to you. My father, Wilber Prada, was deported on September 27, 2007. Until that date, my life was great, fun, happy, radiant with love for family. My father had crossed the border escaping the terrorist-infested Peru in the early 1990s. He came to America, pleading for the political-Asylum that America was offering for fleeing Peruvians. Unfortunately, his case was denied. He later appealed in 2000, again pleading for a citizenship for my family. By this time, he had a business in gardening, working Monday through Saturday. He was the greatest father I could ever ask for, always being there for me, and loving me so much, and teaching me my favorite sport soccer. We weren’t different from any other “American” family, and had the greatest life until he was deported.

The day he was deported was the WORST, SADDEST DAY OF MY LIFE. I couldn’t stop crying for days, just missing him even more everyday, getting worse and worse. I couldn’t go to school because I couldn’t concentrate on my work, only on my dad. My grades dropped so much, and I couldn’t tell my friends because they wouldn’t understand. I only had my mom, brother, and a great, enthusiastic teacher. My mother was also like me but worse. Even now, she still cries and still sad about what happened. Same with my brother. Luckily, time passed, and my teacher noticed. She cried and gave us love when she knew what had happened. It was a shame for the INS to take 17 years to say NO, even after my father established friendships, a business, and a home. He always paid his taxes to the IRS, and was a great man to know. When they took my dad, some said if it was so bad, why does the whole family not go to Peru with him? Well, that didn’t make sense to me, when I had also established friends, family, and school, love. It was a disgrace to hear that, when we were like any other family trying to survive in this nation.

My father was arrested like a criminal, as if he had done something like killing someone, or robbing a bank. My father has lived in the US for more than 17 years, a very long time, and after all of that, he was denied?

PLEASE, I write to you wishing for what you have promised, CHANGE. I would like to have my dad back with me, IN AMERICA. I would like for my hard-working family to have citizenship, and to be here without being scared of being caught by some sort of homeland security. My brother is an AB540 student, and studying at UCLA for 4 years. I would also like to ask you to give him and all the undocumented students citizenship, by passing the DREAM act. My mother has her own house-cleaning business she owns to feed us. I would also like her to have citizenship, when she is volunteering teaching Spanish at my school, taking me to karate everyday, and working everyday. Please, Give My Father FREEDOM. GIVE my Family FREEDOM. I WANT CHANGE NOW!

PLEASE, PLEASE, Please, reply to my letter, and remember when you were not raised with your father, just like me. You suffered a lot, and now im suffering the same. Please help me, and respond back to me.

Thank you,

Kevin