Both Sides of the Border, page 8
At last, the train began to move. They watched as it approached.
Olivia went first since she had experience and knew what to do. They watched her take hold and quickly pull up on the ladder. Ernesto followed Olivia. He was able to run at exactly the right speed and grabbed the ladder tightly.
“You go,” Emilio said to Dolores. “I want to come after you.”
Dolores didn’t argue because she knew her younger brother was the fastest runner in the family. She ran, grabbed the ladder, and with shaking arms, forcefully pulled herself up and climbed to the top. She was trembling but safe.
Emilio ran right behind Dolores. The train picked up speed quickly and looked like it would leave Emilio behind.
“Emilio!” Dolores screamed. “Emilio!”
He was running but wasn’t able to catch the same ladder to get up on the same car.
“Emilio! Get the next car!” Ernesto screamed and pointed to the car behind his car.
Emilio ran as fast as he could. At the last minute, he reached for the ladder; but he had trouble pulling his legs up because of the increasing speed. A man climbed down the ladder part way to help Emilio.
“Emilio! Pull your legs up! You can do it!” Dolores screamed.
Finally, Emilio held onto the ladder and climbed up. He was on a car behind Dolores, but she could see him sitting with other young men. She could watch him from her car.
Dolores watched as a man came out from some tall bushes and ran to get on the car with Emilio. He ran as fast as he could but couldn’t catch it. He tried for the next car. He grabbed the ladder with one hand, but the train was increasing its speed too much so he couldn’t hold on. He fell under the train, resulting in a loud thud. His scream was so loud, it could be heard above the sounds of the train. Dolores looked back and saw his mangled body on the track. Her stomach was sick. She quickly prayed for the man and for all the other travelers on the train.
As the train journeyed further from Tapachula, Dolores had to duck or lie down when the train went under trees. She covered her face with her hands. The branches scraped across her arms and the rest of her body, leaving scratches on her hands and arms. Once they got to a clear area, Dolores could see the fields, trees, and mountains in the distance. Her view had opened up to a panoramic landscape of Mexico. She felt the hot breeze as the train rapidly moved on the track. They were at last on their way north.
The loud and constant shaking of the train was unlike anything Dolores had experienced. It shook her whole body, and the noise was constant. She looked across at Ernesto, who was smiling, enjoying the ride. He wasn’t worried about anything, and Olivia seemed relieved and tired. Dolores glanced back at Emilio among a group of other young men. She worried about him. She didn’t know if the people he was with could be trusted, and she wasn’t sure if Emilio would be able to protect himself if not.
A man sitting next to Dolores tapped her on the shoulder.
“Look. This is for you. We have extra.” He handed her some rope. “Tie yourself to the train. Keep you from falling off,” he yelled with a smile.
She took the rope and gave it to Ernesto. He tied it around his leg and then gave some back to Dolores. She tied it to her leg and to the rail on the side of the car.
“Now, if you sleep, you’ll stay on the train,” the man said.
“Thank you.” She smiled.
Dolores could see a great distance from her position. This area was lush and green. This part of Mexico was lucky to have more rain than we had in Honduras. The mountains of Mexico protruded ahead and went forward for miles. There were fields of tall grass, trees, and other plants growing toward the mountains.
Dolores took deep breaths and attempted to enjoy her journey. Her worries about the future prevailed. She knew they’d be required to jump off the train before it entered the railyard in Arriaga. She also had no idea what they would do for food.
The man who had given Dolores the rope asked, “This your first time on the train?”
Dolores nodded. She could hardly hear him over the train.
“It’ll be fine,” he yelled. “We’ll be in Arriaga soon. Much faster than walking.”
Dolores smiled as she thought of her sore legs. “Yes, much faster,” she said as loudly as possible. Then she asked, “What do you know of Arriaga?”
“Some tell me there are places to rest and to get something to eat. The town has a shelter near the railyard. It is for people on their way north.”
Dolores nodded.
“Be careful. Mexican authorities are there to stop us. Get off the train before it gets to the railyard.”
“Yes. We will.”
As the car pitched along on the tracks, she faintly heard some people talking. Ernesto was lying down. She could only see the top of Emilio’s head, and Olivia was sleeping near the front of the car. She prayed they would all make it safely to the next stop and that there would be no trouble in Arriaga.
Chapter Eight
EVA WAS GREETED THE NEXT morning by vivid rays of sunshine that illuminated the blooming jacaranda trees, bougainvillea, and climbing vines that framed the busy streets. She was dressed before the scheduled rendezvous time with Steven, so she took a quick walk down the Spanish colonial street and stayed near the hotel, eager to return in time for breakfast. The morning air was invigorating. The ideal temperature served as an introduction to another enjoyable day in Mexico. She was delighted she had made the impulsive decision to take the tour, and she was overjoyed that Steven seemed to have an interest in her.
The local vendors on the street arrived to open their shops and display the goods on their carts. The cobbled streets welcomed the local residents as they scuttled to their daily responsibilities. She leisurely strolled, taking in the ambience of the area. Fascinated by the pink, prominent steeples some distance away, she hoped Steven would want to visit that church. She glanced at her watch. Better get going.
She walked briskly back to the hotel. Eva reflected on her conversation with her mother the night before. Thousands of people in a caravan moving to the United States, she thought. Ridiculous.
She entered the hotel lobby and saw Steven waiting by the gift shop.
“Good morning.” He was grinning from ear to ear.
“Buenos dias.” She smiled.
“Ah, practicing your Spanish today?” he asked.
“Not so much. But I am anxious to see more of the city.”
“Me, too. Shall we get a little breakfast?” he asked.
They went to the courtyard. A breakfast buffet was set up for the tour group.
“This is nice,” Eva said. “Look at the interesting variety of fruit.”
A large, decorative collection of fruit was displayed on the table beside a self-serve fruit tray.
“That’s one thing we have plenty of here in Mexico—fruit. We can grow just about anything here. See this? It’s called carambola. In English, a star fruit. You see, here it is on the tray, cut up and ready to eat. Try it.”
“Oh, wow, it is kind of, like, sweet and a little tart.”
“And this one—”
“That is kind of creepy-looking,” Eva said.
He laughed. “It is called a dragon fruit. But over here, see how it looks cut up? This one is red and sweet. Take some and give it a try.”
Eva added a slice of star fruit and dragon fruit to her plate.
“And this is a plantain.”
“I guess it’s a banana-type fruit?”
“Similar. They can be bland or sweet depending on the ripeness. Want to try?”
“I think I’m good for now. I’ll try these today, maybe a plantain tomorrow.” She said and laughed.
“And this is a type of sausage here, chorizo. And papas, oh, potatoes. And, of course, you can get some eggs down there on the other table. They’ll cook them however you like them.”
“And these are pastries?” she asked.
“Yes. Pan dulce, or sweet breads.”
“Pan dulce,” she repeated.
“Yes. Not as sweet as many in your country. But they are good. My problem is that I like them more than the fruit.” He laughed as he took several for his plate.
They added their breakfast items to their plates and sat at a small table in the courtyard. They talked about the tour, their hotel accommodations, and what they might see in San Miguel de Allende.
“I saw a church, some distance away. I actually could just make out the steeples. But it looks very interesting.”
“That is Parroquia de San Miguel Arcángal. We can see it after breakfast if you like.”
“Yes, I’d like to see it closer.”
They left the hotel and walked through the historical tourist district of San Miguel De Allende.
Steven said, “Many of the buildings here, like in other cities in Mexico, have been rebuilt several times. Some have plaques with stories about their origin. But the church of San Miguel de Allende offers its own interesting beginning. What you see now is a reconstruction of a deteriorated church. The man who created these Gothic-like structures was a mestizo.”
“I remember Adrián used that word when he spoke about the various races and mixed cultures on the first day of our tour. Do you know about this particular man’s ethnicity? Or race?” Eva asked, not knowing why she was curious.
“I read about him. His name was Gutiérrez, and he was both Spanish and indigenous. That is the meaning of mestizo,” Steven said.
“Looking at this work up close, it is miraculous,” Eva said as her eyes scanned from top to bottom and left to right.
“Yes, it is,” he said and then paused as he looked up to the towering steeples. “Can you believe that he taught himself how to do this work?” he asked as he turned his gaze toward her.
“I can’t imagine. It is magnificent.”
“Legend has it that he saw some postcards of churches in Europe, and he used those pictures to design the steeples,” Steven said, still gazing in her eyes.
“Truly amazing,” she said, trying to dismiss his stare.
“Yes, it is,” he said, still gazing at Eva.
They turned and entered the church, noticing the elevated ceilings with detailed stone work. Opulent archways and enormous chandeliers added to the splendor of the church.
“There are no words to describe this place,” Eva said, amazed at what she saw.
Steven agreed.
They walked outside the church and continued their walking tour of the city. The streets were lined with colonial buildings, shops, and vendors. A manicured park was nearby. Eva noticed the brightly painted murals on the walls of buildings.
Steven pointed. “You see, this mural tells the history of Mexico. Here, we see the indigenous people; here, the Spanish coming; here are the farmers, the church, and so on. It’s a common practice in Mexico to paint the walls with murals that tell stories.”
Eva admired Steven’s love for Mexico he displayed without hesitation. She spent a few minutes studying the details and vivid colors depicting years of changes in Mexico. “I wonder what it was like back then?”
“Mexico has had so many changes over time. And tragically, it’s had many changes in my own lifetime,” he said with sadness in his voice.
They continued their walk by the colonial buildings and Jardin Principal, the park near the church, and the center plaza. The park, with its uniquely trimmed circular trees and gazebo, provided the perfect place to sit and talk.
“Tell me more about the changes. You said the country has changed since you were younger?” she asked, noting his sparkling smile and dark eyes as he turned to look at her as she spoke.
“Yes. When I was a boy, my childhood experiences were simple but fun. My family was close, and we all lived near each other. We easily walked a couple of houses one way or the other to visit everyone in the family,” he recalled. Then he added, “The city, Matamoros, was the most exciting place for us to go. Near the zocalo, we often stopped for a coffee at a little coffee shop, and we visited with each other for hours. The city was a busy, thriving place with markets, restaurants, a theater, businesses, and government buildings. Everyone got along. People were kind to each other.” His face lit up when he talked about his childhood.
“That sounds just like this place, where we are now. Look around; it’s a thriving city with wonderful people,” Eva said.
Steven smiled, then said, “Yes, it is in a protected area. Someone is paying the cartel for protection, or like in many places, the local government is controlled by the cartel. The police look safe enough, but many are corrupt and allow the cartel to do as they wish for money.”
“It is hard to believe—it seems so calm and friendly here—”
“I wish it wasn’t true. What if I told you that we are sitting in a region that is influenced by, or in conflict with, as many as ten different organized crime or cartel groups?”
“Really? It doesn’t look like it is in conflict.”
“I know. Unfortunately, it is. Los Zetas, Los Caballeros, La Familia Michoacána, Beltran-Leyva Organization, and Cartel Jalisco Nueva Generacíon are the most well-known. It changes often. There are small, organized crime groups and large groups in constant conflict. Always fighting, shooting each other, or brutally killing by some other method. All so unnecessary.”
“Well, it seems peaceful here.” Eva glanced around the area.
“In general, this territory, like much of Mexico, is in turmoil. These cartels are so power and money hungry, that they have forgotten about our beloved Mexico and the people.” His voice was tinged with sadness.
“But why? To make money from drugs?”
“That is part of what they do. Guns and weapons running, human trafficking, prostitution, and, of course, drugs,” he said with a strange tone. It was as if he was either apologizing to her about his country or felt guilty that the cartel situation had escalated.
“How sad for Mexico,” Eva said. “To ruin this beautiful place.”
“Not just here. You know the cartels have influence in the United States?”
“You mean to sell drugs there?” she asked.
“For many types of business. In fact, right now, the Zetas and Gulf Cartel are located right along the border of Texas, inside the state of Texas, and beyond.”
Eva was dumbfounded. Her mood was paralyzed by this news. It can’t be true, can it? she wondered to herself.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said so much. I don’t want to ruin your trip. We should go back. The bus will leave in an hour.”
“Oh, yes,” Eva said, looking at her watch. “We should go.”
Eva and Steven walked back to the hotel with little conversation. A quick “See you on the bus” was all Eva could muster. She was sad and in disbelief about Steven’s information. He was familiar enough with Mexico to know the facts about the current affairs. But it just didn’t seem possible.
Eva returned to her room and gathered her belongings. She walked to the lobby and tried to put the seedy elements of Mexico out of her mind.
* * *
The tour group was accounted for and ready to start on the next leg of the journey. Steven sat in a seat across the aisle from Eva, talking to a man sitting beside him in the window seat. Nevertheless, Eva was pleased that he sat near her. The elderly couple sat in front of her. The lady turned and smiled at Eva.
“You like trip?” she asked Eva in broken English.
“Very much,” Eva replied.
“Es una hermosa ciudad.” The woman winked at her and turned back around to her husband.
Eva smiled and nodded. She assumed the woman thought the city was pretty.
Adrián stood at the front of the bus and asked, “Did you enjoy San Miguel de Allende?”
The heads of the tourists on the bus nodded and gave positive reviews.
“Good! Because we have another exciting stop coming up. Not far from here, about an hour and a half, we’ll arrive in Guanajuato. We’ll spend the night there and then head off fairly early tomorrow for Michoacán. I’ll tell you more about what we’ll do in that state when we board the bus tomorrow. Let’s just say we have some outdoor activities planned in Michoacán.
“Okay. Now, more about Guanajuato. It is an old and interesting city. It has a tunnel system of roads under the town. These were actually put in to help keep the water from flooding the town and the early mines that were there. Now, the tunnels are part of the roadway system. The route we’ll take to the hotel includes driving through one of the tunnels.”
As the bus made its way to the outskirts of San Miguel de Allende, Adrián continued talking to the group.
“You’ll see the streets are narrow, and many people in the city walk rather than have cars in Guanajuato. We will do a fair amount of walking while we are there and . . . ”
Adrián stopped talking. He was bothered by something out the window. The group followed his gaze in unison to determine what was happening. Local police redirected the bus to turn down a different street.
Eva gasped as she turned in her seat. She saw yellow tape around a section of the road. Two bodies were lying face up in the road. They appeared dead.
“Sorry about that, folks,” Adrián said. “As you know, in some parts of the larger cities, we might have crimes committed. This is a good time to remind you all to stay within our designated area on the tour. Always keep your credentials with you and stay in a group.”
Steven leaned across the aisle toward Eva and asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yes, fine, thank you. It’s just that I have never seen that before.”
“A crime scene?”
“Yes. And dead bodies in the street like that.”
“Yes. If you go into enough big cities, on the wrong side of town, you will see this—in Mexico and in some of the cities in your country, too.”
Eva nodded.
“Are you sure you are okay?”
“Yes,” she said, feeling a little queasy.
The elderly lady in front of her turned and gave Eva a sympathetic look and said, “Está bien.”
Eva nodded back. She had to admit it had shaken her. She believed she must make a more concerted effort to stay near the tour group. She would travel only in the specified areas. She may have been a little careless in San Miguel de Allende.
