Both Sides of the Border, page 6
In the late afternoon before even a slight promise of dusk, Ernesto was awakened by the sounds of footsteps not far from where he was sleeping. Without making a sound, he slinked over to Dolores and nudged her.
“Yes?” she whispered.
Ernesto motioned in the direction toward the road. “Over there.”
Dolores quietly woke Olivia and Emilio.
“Shhhh,” she whispered.
There were more people walking within sight. Dolores, Emilio, Ernesto, and Olivia moved away from the others into an area with a few more small trees.
“We should get started with our walk,” Dolores suggested.
They all agreed.
The trek from the Suchiate River to the town of Tapachula was just a little over twenty miles. They would travel through benign terrain of clumps of trees and farming fields attempting to remain undetected.
Dolores watched the people walking nearby with rough expressions on their tattooed faces. They looked similar to the gang members from El Salvador she had seen in San Pedro Sula. She monitored their movement, looking for any indication that they might be edging closer to her own group.
Olivia was keenly aware of the gang appearance of the men traveling nearby. She was saddened by what had happened to Lola, and she felt protective toward the group.
“Your brothers remind me of my family. I feel like they’re my brothers, too,” Olivia said to Dolores.
“Yes, they like you, too. They’re good boys. But I’m also missing the rest of my family,” Dolores whispered.
“It’s hard not to miss family when we’re on a trip like this,” Olivia said. “You feel good about making progress on the journey but know you are moving further from your family.”
They continued to move stealthily through the trees that lined the crop fields. Although they weren’t far from the Pacific Ocean, the drought had taken a toll on these fields just as it had the farm in Honduras. The dusty and dry fields did not provide much cover. The group was relieved when darkness finally came.
It was difficult to detect other figures moving toward Tapachula in the twilight, though. Dangerous strangers could suddenly come up on the group. Olivia touched Dolores on the shoulder, and they all stopped walking to listen.
“Should we try to find a more protected path?” Olivia asked Dolores.
“We could go over in that direction.” Dolores pointed. “There are more trees. But there could be more people walking over there for the same reason.”
Ernesto and Emilio listened, not saying a word, not knowing what would be the best choice.
“Good point,” Olivia said. “Might be best to stay over here.”
They agreed to continue near the farm fields since some of the fields were lined with small bushes and high grass. They would travel further away from other people who, like themselves, crossed at the river and were heading for the train. Blackness now engulfed the sky.
They were on pace to make it more than halfway before the sun came up. Their footsteps were disguised by the ear-piercing singing of the Mexican cicadas as they continued their trek toward town. Houses became more frequent nearer to the town.
They traveled at a pretty good clip. They were about nine miles from Tapachula by daylight before fatigue set in. Dolores methodically placed one foot in front of the other. Her feet were sore; her legs ached; and like Olivia and her brothers, she needed a break.
“Dolores,” Ernesto said, “should we eat the rest of our food now—you know, what we saved from yesterday?”
“I had forgotten about that,” she said, pulling out pieces of a tortilla and a piece of fruit from her pocket.
“Oh, yes,” Olivia added. “I hadn’t thought about eating at all.”
They sat down and pulled out the remaining food. Without speaking, they each ate their food, concentrating more on their walk than the nourishment.
After a short break, Dolores said, “I know we’re all tired. There’s no good place right here to hide and sleep. Let’s go a little further and look for a place to rest before we go in to Tapachula.”
They agreed and continued to move along, darting between the fields and houses.
“Wait! Wait!” a shouting, desperate male voice suddenly cut through the early morning air. “Stop! Don’t hurt her! Stop!” a man shouted in sheer desperation.
The group stopped and turned toward the panicked screaming. They could not see what was happening, they only heard the yelling and screaming, but it sounded like men from an El Salvadoran gang had ambushed a man and a woman. A body was thrown on the ground, and the woman struggled, screamed, and then cried.
She shouted loudly, “Stop! Stop! No!” And she sobbed. “No! No! Stop hurting me!”
“We can rescue them,” Emilio whispered as they snuck closer.
“No!” said Olivia. “They have weapons. Look.”
“Oh,” Emilio said, “knives. Very long ones. Should Ernesto and I get weapons? We might need weapons for protection the rest of the way.”
“Shhh . . . let’s get out of sight,” Dolores said as she pointed. “Over there, fast.”
They skirted further from the group for safety. They scurried to a small stand of bushes and trees even further away from the road.
“Okay,” said Dolores, almost out of breath from the rapid pace. “We can stay here for a while. Let’s rest.”
Dolores regretted she was not able to help the couple ambushed by the men. She knew her first concern was to keep her brothers safe, but she wished she could’ve done something. She prayed for protection for the couple and for all the travelers going north.
Ernesto and Emilio went under some bushes and laid down on the hard, dry ground. Dolores and Olivia sat under a tree a short distance away. The group was silent. The danger surrounded them wherever they went. It would be tomorrow before they reached the train yard. As they sat together under the tree, Dolores and Olivia quietly made plans to walk covertly to the train yard in the daylight, which would add more risk to their journey, but they would reach the railyard sooner.
Chapter Six
EVA STEPPED OFF THE CITY bus and collected her bag. She turned toward the group of fellow tourists, as a man appeared in front of her.
“Hello.” He smiled. “You must be the professor. My name is Adrián. I’m your tour guide this week,” he said as he extended his hand.
Eva took his hand and replied, “English! So glad to meet you Adrián.” A sense of relief washed over her, evident by the smile spreading across her face.
Adrián was charming and attractive but also quite a bit younger than Eva. She was embarrassed that a romantic thought had entered her mind—even for a fleeting second. I’m not on this trip for that, no matter what Mom said.
“I’ll be able to answer any questions you have and tell you about the many sites we’ll visit.”
“Thank you. I’m looking forward to it.”
Adrián added, “We’re still waiting for two others to arrive, and then we’ll board the bus.”
“Okay, great. Do you know if anyone else on the tour speaks English?”
“I’m not sure. The other tourists are from Mexico. Actually, most are from Monterrey. They’re taking this trip as a vacation. Many of the people on the tour are retired, although not everyone. Come over and let me introduce you to the others.”
Eva followed Adrián as he introduced her to each passenger. Upon hearing the words Estados Unidos and profesora, the other travelers responded “Ah, oh,” or “bueno.” Each one expressed what seemed to be greetings, but she could only nod. She turned her back to the others and asked Adrián, “How do I say I am glad to have met them?”
“Easy. When they say they are glad to meet you, you say igualmente.”
“Oh, okay. Easy enough. Thanks.”
Adrián went about getting everyone situated, and in the process the other two passengers arrived.
When Adrián introduced one of the late arriving men as Esteban Garcia to Eva, he replied, “Or Steven in English.”
“Oh, good. Thanks, Steven. You speak English?”
“Yes,” he said with a smile that would melt an iceberg on the North Pole. “I went to college in the United States. I’m a manager of a maquiladora near Brownsville.”
“I see. Excuse me for not knowing, but I just arrived in Brownsville a couple of days ago. What’s a maquiladora?”
“Just think of it as a factory. A large facility where Mexican workers make things, often for sale in the U.S. Most of the time, the factory is owned by an American company.”
“Oh.” She was about to ask him the type of factory he managed when Adrián introduced the other passenger to Eva.
“And Eva, this is Tomás.”
This time, when Tomás expressed that he was glad to make her acquaintance, she responded, “Igualmente.”
“Very nice,” Adrián said with a smile.
Adrián handed each passenger a badge to wear on their clothing or around their neck. Then he said, “Okay, once you have your badge, your itinerary, your ID, and the travel visa all tucked away, you may board the bus. We will take off in about five minutes.”
The luggage was loaded as the last bit of light disappeared. The sky became completely dark as the bus left the city to begin the weeklong adventure.
Adrián stood up in the front of the bus. He began to speak, saying everything in Spanish first and then in English. “Good evening and welcome to an historic tour of Mexico! As you may know, we’ll be traveling all night tonight to get the trip underway. In the morning, we’ll be in the city of Dolores Hidalgo for breakfast. But for now, get comfortable. Chat with your neighbors and get ready for a wonderful week.”
Eva sat in her window seat next to a woman who spoke no English, which gave her the opportunity to rest. Eva knew she would not remember all the names of the passengers, but she had no trouble remembering Steven. He spoke English and was very easy on the eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder about him, and she was curious to know more about his work and his family. She hoped she could learn more about him while on the tour. His English was very good, and he clearly had his share of charisma.
She was both excited and drained. She took her travel pillow and blanket from her carry-on bag and moved around a bit, trying to settle in for the night. As the bus rolled over the highway causing a steady thumping sound, she was gently lulled to sleep.
* * *
The tour bus progressed on the route through the night. In the emerging morning light, Eva looked out the windows at the quaint narrow roads and colorful buildings as the bus entered the town of Dolores Hidalgo.
Adrián greeted the waking tour group as the bus came to a stop. “Good morning and welcome to Dolores Hidalgo. This is where the fight for Mexican independence began. Across the road, you can see the Church of Our Lady of Sorrows. Legend says this is where the fight for the freedom of Mexico began. It is open for you to go inside and see the beautifully ornate interior as well as the impressive towers outside of the front wall. We’ll all gather here in about two hours.”
“Oh. One more thing,” Adrián said. “We’ve arranged for you to tour the Museo de la Indepencia Nacional just over there.” He pointed to a building nearby. “Enjoy; see you in two hours.”
Adrián laughed. “Another one more thing. On your left down the road a few steps, you’ll find a small restaurant. Your badge will get you in for your breakfast. Okay now, see you in a couple of hours.”
Adrián turned to Eva and said, “Be sure you have a cup of their coffee. It is true Mexican coffee. The beans are grown in the mountains of Mexico, and the coffee is flavored with a touch of cinnamon. You’ll love it.”
“Thank you for the tip. I’ll order some.” Eva smiled.
Eva was famished and thought she would enjoy the Church of Our Lady of Sorrows more after a meal. The décor of the restaurant was quite appealing. The Saltillo tile floor, stone and stucco walls, sturdy wooden tables covered with linen cloths, and quaint wooden chairs made the interior charming. Some of the other people from the tour had entered the restaurant just ahead of her.
“You join us?” said the female half of a middle-aged couple, inviting Eva to sit at their table.
“Yo soy la señora García y el es mi marido el señor García. We practice English?” she asked Eva.
Eva smiled and said, “I am Eva Jordan. I want to practice Spanish.”
As they looked over the menus, the husband and wife interpreted for Eva. She repeated the words as precisely as possible. The couple asked Eva how to say the names of various objects around the restaurant in English. She, in turn, repeated the words in Spanish after the couple pointed to each object. They all laughed as each one struggled to pronounce the words.
Eva finished her cinnamon coffee and thanked the couple for their help, and then she left to go sightseeing.
The Church of Our Lady of Sorrows was magnificent. The inside was exquisite shades of pink and beige. The altar, trimmed with golden color, was remarkable, and the sanctuary was eerily still. She realized the people inside sat in complete silence, and a strange sensation of reverence came over her as she sat in the pew. Eva surveyed the room and noticed Steven was sitting near the front.
Eva examined the sanctuary and noticed flowers and candles placed around at strategic points around the worship area. The sun streamed in through the windows, accenting the ceilings that appeared extraordinarily tall. What a splendid structure, she thought. It was clear why the people here loved this church. It had a holy feeling within the walls that washed over her, and she could not shake it.
Steven arose from the pew and walked back through the church, nodding at Eva as he passed. She wanted to speak to him, but the words she thought about saying were clumsy and superficial. Nice church? Are you enjoying the tour so far? Superficial, she thought, dumb. She would look for opportunities to talk with him about something meaningful. In the back of her mind, she heard her mother telling her she needed to date. Her mother’s comments played back in her mind over and over, “Seriously, honey, when are you going to date someone again? I know that scoundrel of a husband you had was just awful. But there are others out there just waiting to meet a nice girl like you.”
Feeling less confident than when she entered the church, she left and joined the group outside. They were gathered on the stone street and listened to Adrián tell the group about the attractions in Spanish and then to Eva in English.
“You’ll have more than an hour to walk through this part of town. Be sure to notice the large zocalo, or town square, just up the street. You’re in the tourist area of the city, so you will be able to shop and see some of the sites of the city. The vendors will be opening about now. These vendors may not barter as much as the ones you might know closer to the border, but you can ask. In the zocalo, you’ll also see a gazebo. It is a great place to take pictures. Stay within sight of each other and meet back at the bus in, oh, let’s say about an hour and thirty minutes. Any questions?”
Eva shook her head no, not wishing to be singled out from the group.
The group walked around the zocalo and visited with the vendors. Children were playing around the square and the gazebo. Eva admired the local crafts and jewelry in the shops. She studied the vibrant colors of the Mexican blouses and skirts displayed by the vendors. She felt quite safe here. She didn’t see any of the Mexican security officers in the area. She walked back to the meeting place for the tour of the Museum of Independence.
“Hello,” Adrián said. “I think we’re all here. Show your pass at the door. There will be a local guide there to explain the exhibits if you want to hear the details. But once inside, feel free to tour the museum on your own. We’ll all meet back here in about an hour and head over to a late lunch.”
Museums weren’t her thing, but Eva was interested in the history of Mexico. She showed the clerk at the door her badge and went inside.
The local guide greeted the group and beyond that, Eva could not understand a word. So far today, her mother’s words had replayed in her mind, encouraging her to hurry up and date someone, and now she felt the inadequacy of not knowing any language but English. She sighed and leisurely walked through the large hallways examining the exhibits. The décor of the museum was impressive—polished wood and stone floors, archways, a courtyard, and even a stained-glass window of Hidalgo, the priest-turned-fighter for independence. His story was a great part of the Mexican history.
Steven walked with the large group but turned toward Eva when he saw her wandering alone.
“Too bad they don’t have a guide here who provides the tour in English,” he said.
Eva, feeling embarrassed that he had approached her, laughed and said, “Yes. I could understand little of what was said, but I think I get the general story from the exhibits.”
“It was quite something. A priest who called his people together to fight for independence.”
“Yes, you don’t see that every day,” Eva said.
They both laughed, and then Steven said, “Our hour is almost up. Think I’ll go grab a bite of lunch.”
“Okay,” she said.
Okay? She thought. Why didn’t I say mind if I go with you? Dumb! She was kicking herself for missing the opportunity to walk with Steven and get to know him a little better. For all she knew, he was married. Then she reminded herself her goal on the trip was to learn Spanish, not meet someone to date, no matter what her mother said.
Adrián greeted each member of the group as they returned and pointed out various cafés near the bus. “Once you have eaten, come back to the bus. We will leave for San Miguel de Allende in an hour. That will put us at our hotel by six.”
Eva didn’t see Steven. She assumed he was somewhere eating. She found a small café and ordered a delightful taco and rice. She had learned to dine alone in public years ago. It took some practice, but eventually she figured out the key was to think of something else instead of reminding herself that she was alone, and she was almost convinced that she preferred being alone. Scooting her chair back under the table, she walked away feeling more confident. She was one of the last members back to board the tour bus.
