Mojados

Here’s the direct translation of a letter written by a Honduran/Cuban couple that recently made it “mojado” to the US through the Mexican border.

Dear friends,

We will start by telling you to believe whatever anyone tells you about this trip, even if it doesn’t sound like truth. We left Teguc on Saturday, June 10^th towards Cortés, and spent the night there. Before sunrise of Sunday the 11^th we were on our way out and problems started right away. On our way to the garage, where the car was parked, I stepped in a pile of SHIT.

We reached the border with Guatemala and they didn’t want to let me through. Eventually they did though (thanks to a big “buy off”). Once in Guatemala, a car picked us up to take us straight to el Naranjo, a border town with Mexico. Here again we were detained, thanks to bad communication on the part of the people in charge of the trip, and again we had to pay a lot of money. In Naranjo we waited two days at a filthy dive of a hotel until we were picked up to cross the river. Here again we almost got in trouble because the guy in charge forgot to tell the next guy that I am Cuban. Luckily the guy asked before we departed, saving us from a bad experience in the Guatemala-Mexico border. We were separated and arrived at a place called El Ceibo (what a coincidence), which is the last place before crossing. We spent a night there and I think it was one of the hottest and most disgusting we’ve ever lived… till that point at least.

Later, we crossed into Mexico and spent the night in a house (on the floor) there, until the next day when we were picked up before sunrise on the 14^th. We were traveling in multiple cars (it was 22 of us, mostly Salvadorian, except us). Here is when the big problems got started. We were left in Tenosique and all of us got on a bus. Imigration stopped the bus and started bringing people down (Aida, my wife was the second person to be taken). Only I and a Salvadorian guy that looks like Pancho Villa were left alone. His looks were his salvation.

The trip organizers told us this could happen, not to worry since they would take care of the situation for us, eventually we would be reunited. You can imagine my astonishment when I arrived at the bus station and Aida was nowhere to be found. I started screaming out loud like a madman to find out what was going on and, given my current condition, I was picked up and taken to a house. You can all imagine how I was feeling.

Meanwhile, Aida had been taken to the “kennel” (immigration’s cage-like car) and her nightmare began. She was kept in the kennel for about two hours, the immigration officials waiting to be bribed to release her. Since no one showed up, she was taken to JAIL in Palenque. In jail her anemic condition was critical; she would not stop crying and was not eating. Neither was I. Her condition was so bad that it worried the prison guards, but the Salvadorian prisoners were really good to her and took care of her. She was eventually transferred by bus (approximately 13 hours) to the detention center in Chiapas which was very cold and has no beds. To all this add the fact that her suitcase was left behind when she was taken, and I had it with me now, so she had absolutely nothing. She then traveled another 12 hours to Agua Caliente on the border with Honduras. There was a person waiting for her there to start the trip all over again to meet up with me in Mexico.

Meanwhile, when I was taken to the house in Villa, I caused a scandal because nobody could tell me where Aida was or what had happened to her. For security reasons, they don’t usually allow anyone to make phone calls, but I was able to call some family members to see if they had heard from her. I spent 7 days in hell, tormenting myself with the worst thoughts, until she arrived on Tuesday around noon all dirty and skinny. None of you could even begin to imagine how she looked; I still have a hard time myself. It was very comforting to be together again, but we were also very disoriented since we hadn’t expected this trip to turn out like this. We know things like this could happen but we still strongly feel that there was a huge amount of irresponsibility on the part of the trip organizers. Next day we resumed our trip up to the border with the USA.

This trip was depressing, uncomfortable, and tense, but we were lucky and were not detained. We spent the first night in Reynosa, again on the floor, and the next day we crossed the river on a raft (a stressful yet interesting experience). We walked about three hours trough tall grass until we reached a road and were picked up by cars that took us to McAllen. There we stayed at a scary house full of giant mosquitoes and roaches. We didn’t sleep all night killing those fuckers. Here ended my leg of the trip, since the agreement was that I would turn myself to the patrol guard (being Cuban, you know). I did so immediately at the McAllen bus station. Unfortunately for me one of the officials was of latin descend (Mexican). You know how the saying goes: “Latin eats Latin”.

I was psychologically intimidated by that son of a bitch, who was asking me for names and addresses or I wouldn’t have my situation resolved. I held as much as I could, I was really cold (they blast the AC as a form of intimidation to get what they want from you). Luckily his shift was over that night and someone else handled my papers. I was freed at 1:30am on Monday the 26^th and I took a bus to Houston where I met my brother in law’s family. Aida’s agony and torture, unfortunately, was far from over.

She left on the 27th at 18:00hrs and began her great walk (we were never told she would have to do this). It was 28 hours of walking. They slept on the bush or the sand, depending on the place. She carried a gallon of water that was given to her for a long time, a rattle snake appeared in the middle of their sleep and the men of the group killed it. Most of the trajectory was by sand and they had to climb barbwire fences. They walked through gullies full of thorn bushes and cow shit. She was wearing jeans, but her legs were cut and hurt nonetheless. Coyotes were howling along the way, probably scared of being attacked by the people.

Halfway through, they ran out of water and the wells they found were empty so they had to walk until they found a lagoon where they collected water. All she could do was squeeze half a lemon to try to purify the water. After this long trajectory, they were picked up by cars in which they were transported for more than five hours sitting in fetal position with their head down. Her legs went numb, to the point where she could barely walk. She arrived to Houston at 10am but they didn’t let her go until 11pm, despite my frequent phone calls (they upset them). We were finally reunited. I saw her worst than before, crying, with pain all over her body, she could barely walk, blisters on her feet and thorns everywhere. She had small wounds everywhere. On the 30^th my sister in law arrived and we started the trip to Miami.

This trip has been good, relaxing. We’ve slept two nights in a hotel and, although it is a lot of states we’re crossing, we’ve been able to clear our minds a bit. As I write this, we are here in Miami starting to adapt to a new life.

We miss you a lot and love you.

P.S. If any of you wants to come this way, we suggest you don’t. We were lucky because on this trip, without exaggeration, you could loose even your life.