AMERICA IS A CONTINENT, NOT A COUNTRY. CULTURE HAS NO BORDERS.
Las Cuatro Fronteras (The Four Borders)
Balmore Sigfredo Martinez
El Salvador
image borrowed from: http://www.newint.org/features/2005/12/01/el-salvador-guerilla.jpg
The streets are covered with blood and the corpses of my brothers and sisters.
It is 1989 and the final assault is being delivered by the guerrillas of El Salvador
F.M.L.N. (Farabundo Marty para la Liberacion Nacional) Farabundo Party for the National Liberation.
My father has died in 1985, so I grew up with my grandmother and for the first time in my life I am faced with a choice; to stay and fight in the civil war against my brothers and sisters or flee my war torn country, leaving everything that I love behind, including my studies at University on Architectural Design.
On the morning of April at 5:30 AM, I am looking for the last time at my beloved grandma, sitting on her favourite chair. I don’t say goodbye, for I want the memory of her being alive to be imprinted in my mind.
I made the decision to embark on a journey that will take me far north of my home - land, to a place where I will be an alien; with no family or friends not even will I be able to speak the same language. The voyage will be like going to a different planet. As the great “Lao Tzu” once said, a journey of 1,000 miles begins with a single step.
So here I am taking the first step, standing at the border between El Salvador and Guatemala. What divides the two countries is a small river or at least it seems small to me, for it is summer time and there has been no rain to make it grow to its fullest.
I look back towards the direction of my country and think to myself, thank God for leaving all that pain and suffering behind me as we are about to board the bus that will take us deep into Guatemala. I couldn’t help to notice the look in my friends eyes; a look that is full of fear, the fear of the unknown and the fear that if we get caught and are send back to El Salvador we will have to face the army and perhaps the death squad, for we would be labelled as guerrillas for trying to leave our country.
I was not aware that my pain and suffering were just about to begin, only in a different dimension.
To celebrate our new - found freedom, we decided to make a quick stop at a bordello to have some beer. While drinking our beer, I noticed that all the girls working here are from El Salvador, fleeing the war as well. Without proper education or the necessary skills to land a decent job, they find themselves forced to sell their bodies so they can buy food for their fatherless children.
After becoming intoxicated, Carlos one of my traveling companions decided to run around the place bared naked, like a wild ass on an open field.
After our brief celebration we continued to head north arriving now at the border between Guatemala and Mexico. Once again a river separates both countries; we try to swim across, only this time rain has fallen the night before and the strong current is making it impossible. So we pay some locals 100 pesos each to take us across the river, they used inner tubes and a rope to pull us across to the other side of the border deep into Mexican territory.
We are now in Oaxaca a state of Mexico, only now it has become harder to continue our journey. We have to board the cargo trains, while they are still moving, in order to avoid the Mexican immigration authorities.
It takes skill to catch a two – mile - long cargo train while still in motion.
On my first attempt, I did not run fast enough so when I tried to grab the handle on the railway cart I was pulled under the train by its tremendous momentum. And at the same time, a greater force saved my life, for all I remember is closing my eyes and when I opened them, I was running alongside the train.
Many people have died or had limbs amputated when attempting this feat.
Some time we had to hike for 30 miles or more in order to avoid immigration check points. One evening we were so exhausted from the walk that we decided to sleep outdoors like we have done many times before. The only difference this time is that we could hear the howl of coyotes in the distance; I picked a small bush to lie down and rest my head. Suddenly I heard the sound of a rattle - snake above my head, we all stood up so fast and started walking in the pitch black of the night. I quickly learned to walk in the darkness through cactus (Mescalito) to avoid immigration officials.
Suffering had indeed taken a different form and shape from what I used to experience.
Many people were suffocating from the heat and the lack of fresh air when confined in the cars of the train which was necessary to avoid detection by immigration.
I saw a pregnant woman that could not make it any more, so she had to be left behind.
Girls got raped and abandoned by people that were supposed to help them on their journey, a group of aliens not far from us were getting robbed at gun - point and beat up by thieves. Not just by thieves but by the Mexican police and immigration authorities.
As we arrived at Mexico City, I saw the same fear and suffering that I thought only existed in my country; there were young kids drinking paint thinner mixed with soda.
Pollution in the city was so bad that I thought we had arrived at dusk, when in reality it was only 12 noon.
One of the greatest sufferings we experienced was hunger, sometimes we did not have anything to eat for five days.
One of these experiences took place when we were traveling through the desert of Hermosillo, Mexico; we couldn’t get off the train to buy food for there was nothing around for miles.
After 30 days of travelling we finally arrived at Mexicali, which is the border between Mexico and United States. This time the only thing between these two countries was a wire fence. We hired the services of a “Coyote” to take us across the border (and it’s not the same wild animal I mentioned earlier). For those who don’t know, a coyote at the border is an individual who for the fee of $1,000 each at that time will attempt to take you across the border and bring you into
United States. I said attempt because he was not always successful. Now just imagine 5,000 illegal aliens from different nationalities with one purpose in mind, to make it across the border without getting caught by immigration.
At 2:30 AM the signal is given to start running, like a stampede that you only see in the wild kingdom we all hurtled into the unknown. There was chaos; running over each other and confusion every where. Out 5,000 perhaps only 1,000 were able to make it across; the rest will have to go through the same thing again the next day; that is if you’re not sent back to your country of origin.
When you’re running across the border, you have to face immigration and their many ways of catching you. They use dogs, helicopters, infrared cameras, A.T.V’s and their catching nets. I remember we went through a tunnel, like a storm sewer and on the other side a small car was waiting for us. We had to get in the trunk with barely enough oxygen. If it weren’t for the driver, who decided to smoke a joint while at a gas station, we would have made it. We were all arrested and I was thrown in jail at the San Diego immigration detention center until my uncle, who lives in Los Angeles, paid my bail bond to get me out. I lived in Los Angeles for almost a year, working in construction at Santa Monica beach. Again I witnessed violence and guns from the local gangs like MS-13, and saw my uncle getting robbed and beaten at a gas station.
I had found the very same thing I left my country for, so I decided to buy a plane ticket to Seattle Washington and continue my journey north.
I arrived at Bellingham with my friend Oscar, with whom I grew up and had been travelling together since the beginning. A nice lady lets us stay at her house until we could be driven to the border of United States and Canada.
Once we arrived at the border, we didn’t have to run or hide anymore.
All we had to do was to approach the building where Canadian immigration was and ask for political asylum.
I became a political refugee from El Salvador in September of 1992.
I thought that my journey was finally over, but in reality my journey home had only just begun.
Now my thoughts, fashioned by memory, allow me to see the might of the Americans, the suffering of the Mexicans and the nobility of the Canadians.
“Thanks to my God, the only God I Love. 4H540”.
It is 1989 and the final assault is being delivered by the guerrillas of El Salvador
F.M.L.N. (Farabundo Marty para la Liberacion Nacional) Farabundo Party for the National Liberation.
My father has died in 1985, so I grew up with my grandmother and for the first time in my life I am faced with a choice; to stay and fight in the civil war against my brothers and sisters or flee my war torn country, leaving everything that I love behind, including my studies at University on Architectural Design.
On the morning of April at 5:30 AM, I am looking for the last time at my beloved grandma, sitting on her favourite chair. I don’t say goodbye, for I want the memory of her being alive to be imprinted in my mind.
I made the decision to embark on a journey that will take me far north of my home - land, to a place where I will be an alien; with no family or friends not even will I be able to speak the same language. The voyage will be like going to a different planet. As the great “Lao Tzu” once said, a journey of 1,000 miles begins with a single step.
So here I am taking the first step, standing at the border between El Salvador and Guatemala. What divides the two countries is a small river or at least it seems small to me, for it is summer time and there has been no rain to make it grow to its fullest.
I look back towards the direction of my country and think to myself, thank God for leaving all that pain and suffering behind me as we are about to board the bus that will take us deep into Guatemala. I couldn’t help to notice the look in my friends eyes; a look that is full of fear, the fear of the unknown and the fear that if we get caught and are send back to El Salvador we will have to face the army and perhaps the death squad, for we would be labelled as guerrillas for trying to leave our country.
I was not aware that my pain and suffering were just about to begin, only in a different dimension.
To celebrate our new - found freedom, we decided to make a quick stop at a bordello to have some beer. While drinking our beer, I noticed that all the girls working here are from El Salvador, fleeing the war as well. Without proper education or the necessary skills to land a decent job, they find themselves forced to sell their bodies so they can buy food for their fatherless children.
After becoming intoxicated, Carlos one of my traveling companions decided to run around the place bared naked, like a wild ass on an open field.
After our brief celebration we continued to head north arriving now at the border between Guatemala and Mexico. Once again a river separates both countries; we try to swim across, only this time rain has fallen the night before and the strong current is making it impossible. So we pay some locals 100 pesos each to take us across the river, they used inner tubes and a rope to pull us across to the other side of the border deep into Mexican territory.
We are now in Oaxaca a state of Mexico, only now it has become harder to continue our journey. We have to board the cargo trains, while they are still moving, in order to avoid the Mexican immigration authorities.
It takes skill to catch a two – mile - long cargo train while still in motion.
On my first attempt, I did not run fast enough so when I tried to grab the handle on the railway cart I was pulled under the train by its tremendous momentum. And at the same time, a greater force saved my life, for all I remember is closing my eyes and when I opened them, I was running alongside the train.
Many people have died or had limbs amputated when attempting this feat.
Some time we had to hike for 30 miles or more in order to avoid immigration check points. One evening we were so exhausted from the walk that we decided to sleep outdoors like we have done many times before. The only difference this time is that we could hear the howl of coyotes in the distance; I picked a small bush to lie down and rest my head. Suddenly I heard the sound of a rattle - snake above my head, we all stood up so fast and started walking in the pitch black of the night. I quickly learned to walk in the darkness through cactus (Mescalito) to avoid immigration officials.
Suffering had indeed taken a different form and shape from what I used to experience.
Many people were suffocating from the heat and the lack of fresh air when confined in the cars of the train which was necessary to avoid detection by immigration.
I saw a pregnant woman that could not make it any more, so she had to be left behind.
Girls got raped and abandoned by people that were supposed to help them on their journey, a group of aliens not far from us were getting robbed at gun - point and beat up by thieves. Not just by thieves but by the Mexican police and immigration authorities.
As we arrived at Mexico City, I saw the same fear and suffering that I thought only existed in my country; there were young kids drinking paint thinner mixed with soda.
Pollution in the city was so bad that I thought we had arrived at dusk, when in reality it was only 12 noon.
One of the greatest sufferings we experienced was hunger, sometimes we did not have anything to eat for five days.
One of these experiences took place when we were traveling through the desert of Hermosillo, Mexico; we couldn’t get off the train to buy food for there was nothing around for miles.
After 30 days of travelling we finally arrived at Mexicali, which is the border between Mexico and United States. This time the only thing between these two countries was a wire fence. We hired the services of a “Coyote” to take us across the border (and it’s not the same wild animal I mentioned earlier). For those who don’t know, a coyote at the border is an individual who for the fee of $1,000 each at that time will attempt to take you across the border and bring you into
United States. I said attempt because he was not always successful. Now just imagine 5,000 illegal aliens from different nationalities with one purpose in mind, to make it across the border without getting caught by immigration.
At 2:30 AM the signal is given to start running, like a stampede that you only see in the wild kingdom we all hurtled into the unknown. There was chaos; running over each other and confusion every where. Out 5,000 perhaps only 1,000 were able to make it across; the rest will have to go through the same thing again the next day; that is if you’re not sent back to your country of origin.
When you’re running across the border, you have to face immigration and their many ways of catching you. They use dogs, helicopters, infrared cameras, A.T.V’s and their catching nets. I remember we went through a tunnel, like a storm sewer and on the other side a small car was waiting for us. We had to get in the trunk with barely enough oxygen. If it weren’t for the driver, who decided to smoke a joint while at a gas station, we would have made it. We were all arrested and I was thrown in jail at the San Diego immigration detention center until my uncle, who lives in Los Angeles, paid my bail bond to get me out. I lived in Los Angeles for almost a year, working in construction at Santa Monica beach. Again I witnessed violence and guns from the local gangs like MS-13, and saw my uncle getting robbed and beaten at a gas station.
I had found the very same thing I left my country for, so I decided to buy a plane ticket to Seattle Washington and continue my journey north.
I arrived at Bellingham with my friend Oscar, with whom I grew up and had been travelling together since the beginning. A nice lady lets us stay at her house until we could be driven to the border of United States and Canada.
Once we arrived at the border, we didn’t have to run or hide anymore.
All we had to do was to approach the building where Canadian immigration was and ask for political asylum.
I became a political refugee from El Salvador in September of 1992.
I thought that my journey was finally over, but in reality my journey home had only just begun.
Now my thoughts, fashioned by memory, allow me to see the might of the Americans, the suffering of the Mexicans and the nobility of the Canadians.
“Thanks to my God, the only God I Love. 4H540”.
EL SALVADOR
Capital - San Salvador
Language - Spanish
Currency - Salvadorean Colón
Population - 6,470,379
Language - Spanish
Currency - Salvadorean Colón
Population - 6,470,379
