6. The Believer

The Believer

What a woman can desire is to have a stable and beautiful home with their children. I had that. It was a beautiful, pretty and wonderful home, but hurtfully a woman got in my ex husband’s way and he abandoned us. 

I struggled. Struggled as a single mother to raise my daughters.  Did he help me? He left with that woman. He disengaged from his daughters completely. 

I looked out for them. I dressed them, put on their shoes, got worried about whether they ate or if they didn’t. All of those things a mother has to do for their daughters. On several occasions I had to stop eating so that they could eat, and many times I went to bed without dinner. But, don’t get me wrong I don’t care, I do it and I did it with a lot of love for them. My daughters come first. 

I thank my mother that she taught me how to wash, iron and clean the house, because with that I did what I could to find a job. I worked so hard, but there in Honduras, there are almost no jobs, and even more if someone is in their late forties. I’m 40 years old and there aren’t any jobs for women. 

“With all of that, I had the opportunity to come to Mexico, and so I came. Without knowing what could happen in my life, but I said: I have to give my daughters a better future. I didn’t see a future in Honduras”.

That hurt me a lot. I know that their father had a really good job, he still has -is a fruit shop-. He never deigned to give his daughters a bite to eat, so I made the decision to grab my daughters and leave. I endure this journey for them. 

I left on October 31 with my daughters. One has 15 and the other 14 years old. I took a bus and started to meet people on the way, then we ran into a guy. Supposedly he carried  other people. Talking he said to me: I’m going to help you without any interest, don’t worry. You are a good person. So I came with him, without knowing him, I came with him to Mexico.

On one occasion at midnight we went on a raft through a swamp. We were about 50 people. It was horrible, my daughters got traumatized. On that swamp we just looked at the heads of the crocodiles rising up. My daughters looked and then looked at me with tears and I just said: calm down, God has the control, what else could I say?

The guy who helped us was there and he just said: Calm down, everything is going to be fine. It was eternal, we could only see the crocodiles raising their heads, and if one got closer, it could flip the raft and throw us all. 

My daughters were hugging me. I hugged them. I was trying to give them strength and they said: Mom, hug us because if we flip, at least we’ll fall together. It was 45 minutes. 45 Minutes that, because of the terror, felt like an eternity. After that, we only had to walk through the  mountains day and night, sometimes we slept at the edge of the train tracks.

That mysterious guy helped us cross the river. Years later, some stranger had helped her sister to cross the river, and she made him promise that if he saw someone struggling, he would support them on the journey.   He did. He helped us get to the United States. 

But they returned us. Migration got us because I turned myself in. I’ve heard that if you had kids, they will let you in, but that was not the case. We were a week stuck in migration. Without showering, without anything, eating on the floor. It seemed like jail with cold air. They told us after a week that they were not letting in mothers with their daughters and that the asylum was being held in Mexico. Then they throw us here.

When we arrived in Mexico, I asked about the shelters. An officer told me to grab a cab, but that it was better to wait for a pastor so that he could help us. Why? He recommended us not to get into a cab, that my daughters are not ugly but beautiful. And so that would make any man want to abuse them.

I waited a while for the arrival of the pastor. At that moment I was with my daughters in Nuevo Laredo. When he arrived, he took us to the shelter he managed, and we were there for two days. I got the chance to contact my brother and he told me to leave that area (just as the pastor) because the cartels move around there.

“You are with two girls. The cartel may want to take your girls”.

The priest told me to go to Monterrey, that there we were going to be safe. When we got to the city, I asked for help from one of the cab drivers. I’m not a liar, and I said to him I have no money, but if you could help us get to a certain shelter. He accepts but he refuses. That to any other shelter but that one, because it was dangerous, that there were more men than women and I came with two girls.

Something that I miss from home? Do you mean there in Honduras? I would miss my daughters if they were there, but since they are here with me, I have everything.