“Paco Paco!” my mom shrieked at the top of her longs. “Its time to get up and start our journey to America” she explained.
As soon as she said that I was immediately reminded of why she was waking me up so early. It was the day we would meet up with our guide, who would take my mother and I to freedom. As I got up from bed I noticed I was sweating but not from the tireless heat that beat down on us all day, instead it was from the mere thought of being smuggled into America illegally. To tell you the truth, I had a few friends that have already made the journey and as far as I know, they have had no problem getting into the new country. However, I have not heard from them since they left so I’m assuming everything went smoothly.
Suddenly there was the monotonous sound of a car engine outside my hut followed shortly by a loud beep that pierced the humid morning air. It was our ride that was going to take us to a safe house near the border in preparation for the trip into freedom. When I went outside to enter the car, my mother was already out there waiting for me. I turned to take one last look at the hut that I called home for so many years. After all, I was fourteen now and most of my life had taken place in that tiny hut. I would be lying if I didn’t say I was going to miss parts of living in Mexico.
On the way to the safe house, we stopped and picked up three more families that would join in the journey. There were about ten people stuffed into this car and the minutes felt like days as the car bounced and bucked on the unpaved roads. We traveled another two hours like this until we finally arrived at a normal looking house that was about a mile from the border. A sense of excitement ran up my spine when it finally clicked that we were getting out of Mexico for good.
As I walked into the house, the smell of mold and rancid food smacked me in the face like my mother used to do to me when I stepped out of line. There were dozens of people strewn out across the concrete floor. Babies were crying and at times it almost seemed like they were in unison with each other. I looked at my mother and she whispered the word “freedom” in my ear, which was the only word that could have made the situation worth it. Within about two hours of arriving, the guide told us that we would be leaving at dust tonight for the crossing. He told us that he had been doing this for his whole life and had smuggled thousands of people over the border without one single person getting caught. You could hear the inevitable sigh of relief from everyone in the room.
As dusk set in, we were led onto a trail in the backyard of the house we had been in since the morning. I was prepared for the long walk ahead of us and carried two water jugs filled to the brim with water. I would have carried ten if it meant keeping my mother and me safe throughout the trip. As we walked into the seamless moonlight, all I could think about was what I was going to do in America in order to support my mom and myself. Before I could fully come up with a plan, we reached the Rio Grande River, which was effectively the border of Mexico and the U.S. We were instructed to strip down into just undergarments and to swim very quietly with no splash to the other side of the river.
The guides took off doggy-paddling quietly and soon there was a line of people doing the exact same thing. During my swim, I could have sworn I heard voices from the other side of the river but when I looked at the guides they did not look to be bothered by anything, so I kept my mouth shut. By the time everyone was fully clothed again, there was only a few more hours of darkness to use as cover. And a new sense of urgency struck the group like a lightning-bolt.
A few minutes after we crossed the river, one of the guides received a text message from a spotter that was standing a couple hundred yards up river. The spotter said that there was a border patrol boat speeding down river to our location. Without hesitation, the guides instructed us to lay flat on the ground and try to bury ourselves with leaves and sticks. From here on out everything happened so quickly I hardly had time to think.
Before I knew it, the patrol boat was pulling up to the riverbank directly in front of where I was laying. The drone of a helicopter buzzed overhead as the spotlight blinded me. My brain was telling me to run but I couldn’t get my body to move an inch. The next thing I remember was being in back of a border patrol truck with my mother, not knowing what was going to happen next.
After a few hours of being question by the border patrol, we were released back across the border into Mexico. Neither my mom nor I said a word as we called for a taxi to bring us back to our hut. To be honest the full affect of what had just happened hadn’t hit me yet. However the whole ride home I promised myself that this would not be the last time my mother and I attempted to live the American dream.
