Monday´s in my new life

Monday, September 5, 2011

Monday’s are tough, I am reminded that people go back to work and kids go back to school but I am also reminded that my life is on hold.  There is no job for me to get back to and there are no kids for me to take to school.  My days are filled with loneliness and silence, lots of silence.  For the most part it is only grandma, grandpa and I who are home all day.  I have an ogre aunt who lives here but she heads off to work 6 am - 4 pm and when she gets home, she is too busy hating life and her own parents to talk to anyone.  So for the most part, when she is home she moves through out the house like a ghost.  When he’s not gone, off to find the next breakthrough in the world of chronology Grandpa locks himself in his study to read all day.  Grandma and I gather for meals and “novelas” and laugh about days passed.  I must get used to my new life and the silence that comes with it.  Gone are the days when my days were filled with screaming girls finding a place to hide as they were playing, gone are the days filled with work and chores, gone are the days of joining my girlfriends for drinks and having dinner at Chanchos house.  I must accept my fate and my new life.

My return

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Family gathers once again and everyone has questions, Y are you back? Did you get your papers?  I want to crawl in a hole and die.  I know they mean well and they are just curious about this process I am going through but their questions cut through like knives.  Why am I back?  Shouldn’t I be home with my husband, enjoying being a newlywed?  I find it hard to answer their questions with the not I have in my throat.  A stay strong and pray that I don’t break out in tears when I reply that I was told to wait three weeks or less for a reply.  Every one has more questions and I answer them to the best of my ability.  This is not an easy process and every day I remain in Mexico feels like I am further and further away from being home.  I try to make the best out of a long day with family and questions, lots of questions.  The men leave and the women gather to talk and laugh.  As I look around the circle I try to draw strength from all the wonderful women around me.  Life hasn’t been easy for any of them either and although we focus on the things that affect us I am glad to be in a place with “mujeres” that I can learn from and share with the time I have here.    

The fair comes to town.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Since I have returned to Ojo the town has been buzzing with life.  They have been setting up for the local fair all week and food, candy, clothing and toy stands start to go up everywhere.  As I walk through the streets on my way to buy groceries I feel the place come alive.  I want to feel the same way but its hard when I am so far away from the things that make me feel alive.  I feel a bit in the dumps lately and I must look it because aunt Ruth comes over to invite me to go with her to listen to music and watch performances in the town square.  I need something to keep my mind occupied and so I agree.  We watch musicians sing, dance and watch as they announce the fair’s queen and her court.  Everyone in town is out to witness the event and the town square is crowded with people wanting to get a glimpse at the royal court.  I watch because have to and because I am there but I can not find joy in the things I do lately.  I need a pick me up and maybe a call from my husband will help.  At 9:30 pm I excuse myself and let my aunt know I have to head home for my 10 pm call from home.  The call comes in and I fall apart, some days are better than other and today is one of those “less than better” ones.  I love you honey, thanks for reminding me that I have a beautiful life to come home to.  

AB 540 Students: Me

Friday, September 2, 2011

The past calls me today and I am quickly reminded that I have so much left to do in this world.  As the phone rings I am sure it is my husband calling, since I left home the only time my cell rings is when it’s him.  I am surprised when I hear a former colleague on the other end.  I have always been passionate about helping people especially young people like me.  Helping AB 540 students are what truly drive me.  Although an AB540 student myself I like to pass on the knowledge I have learned and motivate young people to keep their heads up and continue on this very difficult journey.  I feel like if they can see one person in their situation succeeding maybe they can believe it for themselves.  During my life in the U.S., I made it my business to be the person people called in my town to ask about AB540 students and ask how to help them.  I created power point presentation and packets to hand out and offered myself as a resource any time.  A few months before I was banished to Mexico I had made a very sad presentation to a group of about 75 bright and talented community college students.  Some of them were valedictorians and most of them were in the top percentiles in their high schools.  Students that could have been at some the country’s best schools but because they were “undocumented” they were left to attend the only affordable form of education, community college.  A teacher and part time counselor at the community college had heard about me and asked me to speak to these students.  Because of their intelligence and grades the school offered them a one year full scholarship for tuition and books but after the first year it was up to each student to pay for school.  The group had about 140+ students and she said that she would excuse the students and only the AB540 students would remain.  More than half of the room stayed to hear my lecture.  As I looked around the room the fear set in, they were looking at me hopeful that I had the answers to their problem.  Who did I think I was?  How did I ever think I could help them when I could barely help myself?  There were so many of them and it reminded me of how lonely I was when I thought I was the only one.  Here there was a room full of students in the same situation and all they could do was comfort each others pain because they could not be any more help to each other than I was now to them. 

I delivered my presentation and handed out the work that I have so diligently gathered over the last 10 years.  People were in tears and everyone was thankful.  I handed out my home made business cards to more students than I care to remember and everyone wanted to share their stories of triumph and failure.  We were all victims of the same situation and now were there to help each other heal.  The teacher that invited me was also very thankful and asked me to send her all the information I had delivered so she could continue to help students like us.  I emailed them to her on the spot, thanked her myself and wished her well.  Today, months after that presentation she was calling me to ask me to send her the information again.  She had transferred to a different community college and wanted to help other AB540 students there; she no longer had her previous email and was anxious for me to resend her the information.  I explained to her that I was in Mexico and was not sure I had access her to that information since I keep it in my hard drive at home.  I promised her to look in my email the next time I was at the internet café and send her what I could.  Once again we thanked each other; she wished me well and said she would keep me in her prayers in hope of a speedy return “home”.  Her call reminded me that I have so much left to do in this world.  That being undocumented is like having a scar or a tattoo you can’t get rid of.  You can try but the, scar or the ink will never truly fade and even after I have “papers” the pain and trauma will always remain with them, it is what drives me.  Thanks for the call Terrie it brought more hope than you know.  

Who´s taking care of who?

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Early in the morning Grandma let me know that she needed to go to a doctors appointment in Zacatecas.  Like most of the women in my family she is strong and stubborn, usually this is a trip that she takes alone but today I think in part for fear of the rain she said if I wanted to come I could.  I quickly rose to my feet and changed for fear that she would change her mind.  While I have stayed here I have noticed how sad life is for my grandparents and perhaps maybe most older people their age.  After 16 children and countless grand and great children I find that my grandmother in Ojocaliente is one of the loneliest women I know.  She is wise and independent and although my grandfather is still alive she would rather bury her head in shame before she asked a man for anything.  I notice how my aunts and uncles including my own father can go weeks without calling her and just asking how she is.  I lower my head in shame for not being a better grandchild.  Every morning she wakes up at 5:30 am (6 at the very latest) and begins her routine chores of sweeping and mopping every room in the house.  On Monday’s she does laundry (by hand) and on Tuesday she shops for groceries.  She is a small and frail woman who otherwise would be sitting in a chair rocking her tiered 76 year old body.  Grandma suffers from countless ailments that you would neither think nor believe.  Mainly it is hear weak heart that has everyone worried although not worried enough to stop giving her grief. 

We walk quickly to the bus and make our way into the big city.  I am happy, excited and scared to take this trip with grandma mainly because I so rarely get to just spend time with her.  She’s always coming or going, cleaning or cooking something somewhere.  Even when we are alone in the house I can go hours without seeing her.  The part that is scared is afraid that she would slip and fall while under my watch, or that something would happen to her and I would not know what to do to help her.  I gather my strength and hope that everything will go well today.  We sit and talk on the bus, about the people getting on, the weather and the city.  She hates traffic and at her age would really rather not have to deal with people, if it were up to her she would be perfectly content staying home and never seeing another soul.  A taxi takes us from the bus terminal to the doctor’s office where we wait for her to be seen.  There was rain in the city right before we arrived and the hospital is quickly trying to run on its generators.  It is dark when we get there and soon enough the elevators and the offices are filled with electricity.  I say a little prayer hoping we make it home before the rain catches up to us.  I might have a heart attack if I have to walk with grandma in the rain, she might fall or worst get wet and sick.  As quickly as we arrive she is dismissed.  It took us longer to get here and wait than what the doctor took to see her.  Grandma explains that she is upset they switched her doctor and she will surely be calling someone to let them know how upset she was.  I smile at her spunk and glad that I have some of her in me.  I ask her what the doctor said and she is quick to remind me that “it’s none of my business”.  I tell her I love her and that I want to make sure she’s ok and that it is my business but “children shouldn’t get involved in grown folks business”.  It’s the first time I actually feel like a kid at 31.  We go downstairs to the pharmacy were they fill her grocery bag with medications.  I am worried that they are over medicating her but she says that at her age, it is the medicine that is the glue holding her body together.  We’re back in a cab and on our way to the bus station to catch the next bus back to Ojocaliente.  Back on the bus hopeful that we can make it home before the storm, I can see the storm clouds chasing as the bus moves forward and I pray that the bus makes it there quickly.  Off the bus and quickly home, we aren’t home but 5 minutes before the storm comes in with a vengeance.  Grandma calls me into her room and thanks me for accompanying her, she says she was worried that I wouldn’t get out of my pajamas if I hadn’t gone and that she wanted to take care of me while I am sad and away from my family.  Here I was worried about her and it was grandma who was taking care of me today.  

Hardworking

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Today, as I purchased groceries I was mad because I had nothing left over to tip my bagboy.  Here in Mexico, those who can work and those who cant try.  I am surrounded by disabled men selling me candy at every bus stop, women selling me their home made goods at every street corner and children bagging my groceries at the store.  When I first got here part of me, like my husband did a double take at the children lined up that cash registers waiting to bag your groceries in hope of a small tip.  Sometimes 7 maybe 8 years old it is expected that when needed and while not in school even the smallest members of a family contribute to its well being and sometimes it’s a parents way of teaching morals, values and most important the value of money.  The American part of me (because after 23 years I feel like I have one) wants to detest the fact that small children are working like that, but the Mexican part of me (the part that still has memories of being a child here) is also proud of the way my people rise to the need. 

 

In the U.S. people like me and my family are described as thieves and criminals.  Often being accused of taking “American jobs” when in fact most often it is us who do the jobs Americans aren’t willing to do.  I’ve seen Americans holding signs that read “will work for food” and “why lie, need beer” while brown people like me stand on the side of the roads selling flowers and oranges.  We are criticized for selling those items but what no one stops to notice is that as a culture we are taught to work.  For better or worst we are taught we can’t get ahead in life unless we work.  Glen Beck talks about what a drain we are on the U.S. when in fact immigrants do not qualify for any social services, not Medical or Medicaid, not Unemployment and certainly not Welfare like people scream about.  If people stopped and thought about it, you need social security numbers in order to access these services.  When you are undocumented you do not have a social security number.  However, undocumented workers pay into all these systems even when they work illegally.  Employers must remove a Social Security tax, state taxes, federal taxes and medical taxes.  If you contribute to these systems but cant access them, what happens to all that money?  The truth is that the U.S. needs us as much as we need the U.S.  That money goes unclaimed and benefits those “citizens” who can access the services.  At the end of the year the IRS takes its share as well.  Undocumented or not the IRS wants its share and they even provide a Tax Payer Identification Number (TIN) so that no person gets away without paying their share of taxes.  Of course like in any country there are those individuals who take advantage of the systems and just like there are undocumented people who may take part of systems that don’t apply to them there are plenty of citizens who do the same.  I know plenty of “citizens” who rather than go back to work in a minimum wage job will take all the unemployment money the government will give them.  Once exhausted they scream and bitch, complain and blame for not having the benefits anymore.  I know this to be a fact because I know some of those people personally.  Then when there are actual needy individuals they are short changed, given the run around and scrutinized for needing the services.  There are good and not so good people who take use services wisely and those who take advantage of it.  Should we devalue those who need it because of those who exploit it?  Last I checked it’s the U.S. where you are innocent until proven guilty.  Unless you need welfare or an unemployed, then you must be punished for being poor.

Fireworks at dawn

Tuesday, August 30, 2100

Although I didn’t sleep much today I was rudely awaken by the sound of what I thought were bombs going off.  It was 5 am when I heard the loud boom’s and shot out of bed myself.  Alone in the dark I sat on my bed shaking because I thought it was the sound of violence.  The sounds were so close that I was sure the violence was just around the corner.  After a few minutes of silence in my room and refocusing my eyes and my ears I noticed that my dark room was suddenly filled with light right before the boom’s, I gathered enough courage to go to the door to find that the sound was coming from fire works.  On the other side of the wall they were setting off fire works.  A single firework every minute for twelve minutes straight followed by two double fire works and one triple firework signifying 15 minutes had passed.  This went on for an hour as I stood in the doorway alone in silence.  We had heard the fireworks before but they always sounded far away, today they were on our street right behind the wall of the house.  In the dead of night the house lit up with the lights from the fireworks one by one they welcomed in the morning.  

Delia´s Crossing

Monday, August 29, 2011

I am back to doing nothing, the days are long and monotonous.  I finished reading the book E sent me and was excited and sad to have finished it.  When he first told me he was sending me a fiction book I wasn’t thrilled about the matter since I am an avid reader but don’t care much for fiction.  I read it partly because my husband had been considerate enough to send me a book and partly because I need things that will help the time pass a little faster.  Fate had it in its path to send this book my way.  The story is of a young girl who lives in Mexico after the death of her parents in a car accident she is sent to live with her well off aunt in Palm Springs California.  When she arrives to the U.S. she is faced with the hardships of adapting to a new place with new people and a language she is not familiar with.  She experiences hardships beyond belief and eventually decides to head back to Mexico to be with her very poor and ailing grandmother, only to arrive to the sad fate that her grandmother had died during her journey home.  There were so many ways in which I related to the main character Delia and hope that like her, I too can find strength and my way “home”.

“This walk I began with my grandmother was the start of a long journey that would take me from my home and my friends in ways I could never have imagined.  I was kidnapped by cruel fate and condemned to be a prisoner of destiny beyond my control.  Even the simplest choice would be denied me.  I would loose everything…Essentially, when I left here, all I would have would be my name, Delia Yebarra, and even keeping that would become a challenge.”

-V.C. Andrews, Delia’s Crossing

First Wedding Anniversary

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Arrived in Ojo around noon and was a total emotional wreck, our first wedding Anniversary and I am not there.  Sometimes, some of us spend an entire lifetime looking for a partner who will love us and share with us life in its all agony and glory and when I finally found that person I am told I must be punished for finding him.  I am tiered from all the traveling and emotionally weak.  My grandmother and aunts come out to greet me but I don’t want to look at them for fear that I will begin to cry.  I yearn to be in my husbands arms and to hold him once again.  I keep asking myself how we could be apart on our first wedding anniversary.  I know it’s all my fault and I need to cry even more, but there is no time for crying because I must change and be ready for church in less than 20 minutes.  I am happy to have a distraction, I quickly change and out the door with my aunt to pick up my little cousin so he can go to church with us.  As we walk through the streets we notice the town is filled with carnival rides and stands, the people are ready for the “ferias” annual traditions that honor the town’s saint and kick off the month of September when Mexico’s independence is celebrated.  We walk past the church and see the dancers and the crowds of people dancing and standing.  They are all waiting for the pilgrimage to arrive.  People from various towns gather by foot, car or bus to caravan together until they arrive at the town’s church to celebrate the Virgin in this case.  We watch as the buses, trucks, cars and hordes of people arrive to be greeted by the priest and the people.  It’s a beautiful sight to see and the tears start to flow.  How could I be surrounded by so much happiness when I was so sad?  I want desperately to change my attitude but I cant, everything reminds me of E and sends me on an emotional ride. 

The church is overflowing with people and we can’t even go inside and frankly I am content with that.  I don’t very much feel like praying today.  I pray and cling to hope that isn’t there and I am tiered of feeling like my prayers are going unanswered.  I feel like organized religion is just another way to keep the poor people down so they don’t rise in masses demanding what is owed to them.  Everyone tells me to pray and have hope but how do I do that when I am so far away from home and can’t even be with my husband on our first wedding anniversary.  A year ago today we were laughing and dancing, sharing our love with our friends and family.  Promising each other that we would be together forever and right now forever seems like it never came for us.  We head back home and I am happy to go back to the room I am staying in and sleep.  If I sleep through today maybe tomorrow won’t feel so gloomy.  In the evening E calls and I loose it.  I sob, weep and bawl.  I want to stay strong for him since I sense he feels the same way but I can’t. I cry desperately and tell him I am sorry and that I want to go home.  He tells me to be strong, to hang in there and that it will all be over soon but it doesn’t feel that way.  I apologize for being weak and more tears flow when he tells me he wishes he could hold me and make it all better.  I wish for the same but have to settle for pretending everything is fine.  Everyone knows I am devastated to be returning to Mexico but no one will say anything for fear of upsetting me.  Little do they know that I have no tears left to shed with them all I have is an empty hole where my heart used to be.  

In our home and in our bed is where I hope you are honey and I want to tell you that I miss and love you very much.  I am sorry we can’t be together today but I promise you many other lovely anniversaries where no one will be able to keep us apart.  I promised you a life time of love and happiness and I am sorry this is how we started our lives together.  I know that someday we will be together again and in the mean time, no matter how far away I will always love you and no matter how long I stay I will always love you.  Sincerely, your biggest fan and doting wife.  

Love Song- Adele

Whenever I am alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again

Whenever I am alone with you, you make me feel like I am whole again

Whenever I am alone with you, you make me feel like I am young again
Whenever I am alone with you, you make me feel like I am fun again

However far away, I will always love you

However long I stay, I will always love you

Whatever words I say I will always love you

I will always love you

Whenever I am alone with you, you make me feel like I am free again

Whenever I am alone with you, you make me feel like I am clean again

However far away, I will always love you

However long I stay I will always love you

Whatever words I say I will always love you

I will always love you

However far away, I will always love you,

However long I stay I will always love you

Whatever words I say, I will always love you

I’ll always love you, I’ll always love you

I love you

My so called life

Saturday, August 27, 2011

I bid dad farewell at the bus terminal and ask him to give the babies hugs and kisses for me and to tell my mother and husband I love them.  He hugs me and I don’t want to let go, maybe if I hold him long enough he will decide to take me with him.  But that is not a decision he can make and I can not go.  I am heading back to what is now “my so called life” in another 18 bus ride back to Zacatecas.  It seems as if this is the longest ride I’ve ever been on, the bus stops at every small town and drops of passengers and picks up new ones.  I am board almost immediately and decide to pull out the book E sent me.  I am not much of a fiction reader having gotten used to reading up on the latest studies and public health issues.  I pick up the book and can’t put it down Delia’s Crossing by V.C Andrews is the first in a new series about a young girl from Mexico whose parent die and is sent to live with her estranged aunt in Palm Springs, California. The horrid woman and her ugly daughter make Delia’s life a living hell.  Delia is home sick, alone and afraid.  I immediately relate to her and want to know everything about her.  The bus ride gets longer and the exhaustion and sleep soon kick in.  It’s hard to sleep on a moving bus with an uncomfortable, non reclining seat but I close my eyes and hope for some rest.   

Happy Birthday to one of my favorite ladies, I love you and I am thankful everyday for having you in my life.  Thank you for being amazing! Love, one of your faithful minions.