San Miguel: the end of a journey … and of a dream (Part II)
By Jesús Ibarra June 23, 2006 (Part II ))

As the sun sank in the horizon on June 8, 2006, 17-year-old Carlos Lorenzo Zavala and his two companions, Marina Zavala and Celso Avilés Aguilar, sat beside the railroad to eat some tacos that a charitable woman had given them. The train in which they were traveling as stowaways had stopped in Apaseo el Grande, near Celaya, and they had to get off. As the day was ending, they decided to spend the night in that place completely unknown to them, far from their native Honduras. They would take another train the next day, bringing them one day closer to reaching their destination-the United States. Carelessly, Carlos had left his bag in the middle of the tracks. Suddenly, they heard the whistle of a train, and Carlos saw the lights coming closer. He had to pick up his bag with his scarce belongings before the train reached it. He hurried toward the railway to retrieve his bag. It was all a matter of seconds. He did not come back. The dream of a better life in the United States ended for Carlos when the freight train knocked him down, leaving his ruined, lifeless body 20 meters away.

The story of Carlos Zavala's death is by no means unique; he is one of some 2,000 immigrants who will leave their home countries in Central America this year in search of work to support themselves and their families in Mexico and the United States. All too often they fall prey to robbers, both in uniform and out, suffer nearly indescribable hardships, and, as in Carlos's case, meet their untimely ends. Here we backtrack to hear the story from his traveling companions, as well as the tales of other intrepid migrants.

Marina Zavala, age 36, Honduras

Marina Zavala decided to leave her birthplace, Catacamas, in Olancho, a Honduran province adjacent to the Nicaraguan border, to search for a better life in Houston, Texas, where her sister lives. Her 17-year-old nephew, Carlos Lorenzo Zavala, her sister's son, who would join his mother in Houston, and Celso Avilés Aguilar, 24 years old and married to Marina's other sister, would accompany her on the long journey. 

Marina left her husband, who is a farmer, and her eight children behind, the youngest only four years old. Celso left his wife and two children. "I am a farmer. I grew corn, beans, yucca and sometimes rice on my father's land," said Celso with tears in his eyes. "We wanted to go to Houston because in Honduras poverty is hard. We knew the risks of the journey were high, but we wanted something more for the future, and Carlos was going to join his mother." While Celso spoke, Marina searched the horizon with moist eyes, her mind elsewhere. 

On May 24, 2006, Marina, Celso and Carlos left Catacamas, with only the equivalent of 1,000 Mexican pesos in their pockets. They took a bus and traveled about 240 kilometers, to the border city of San Pedro Sula. They illegally crossed the border of Guatemala and continued their journey, again by bus, to the northeastern part of the country, traveling 400 kilometers. They reached the border with Mexico, at a point between the Mexican states of Tabasco and Campeche. The three travelers walked for almost four days, through 40 kilometers of jungle, until they arrived to El Naranjo, a small town in the state of Campeche, where they boarded a train, traveling as stowaways, to Tenosique, in Tabasco, and then to Palenque, in Chiapas. They changed trains and crossed the state of Veracruz, stopping in Coatzacoalcos, Tierra Blanca, Orizaba and, finally, Mexico City, where they arrived at the Lechería station. Up to this point, the three Hondurans had already crossed 900 kilometers of Mexican territory by train. 

In Lechería, along with other Central Americans, they were forced to get off the train by men who threw stones at them and hit them. "I did not know if they were garroteros (policemen) or judicial agents, but they were in what seemed to be police vehicles. They threatened us with guns and searched us, saying they were looking for drugs, but they took away our money," said Celso.

In Lechería, they took another train to Celaya. On the night of Thursday, June 8, the train stopped in Apaseo el Grande, and the three travelers got off to spend the night. In Santiago de Tapia Street, near the railway crossing, a woman gave them some tacos. It was there that the fatal accident in which Carlos tragically lost his life occurred.

A neighbor called an ambulance and the police. Carlos's smashed body was taken to the Forensic Medical Service, and Marina and Celso were taken to cells in the Public Ministry. The Public Ministry agent called the National Institute of Migration in San Miguel de Allende to take charge of their deportation. 

After having advised Carlos's mother of his death, the Honduran Embassy and the Foreign Relations Department would take charge of moving his mortal remains to Catacamas within 36 hours. Celso and Marina would begin the journey back to Honduras, guarded by the National Institute of Migration, hoping to arrive on time for young Carlos's burial.

Gloria Elena García, age 25, Nicaragua

Gloria Elena García, from Boaco, Nicaragua, had lived for more than a year in San Salvador, capital city of El Salvador, where she used to sell cloth. She had a special license to live and work in El Salvador, which she had to renew each month at the border. Along with her boyfriend, Orestes, also a Nicaraguan, she was convinced to leave El Salvador in search of the "American Dream" in New York by the Salvadoran Juan Carlos, whose brother would help them once they were in New York. "We were thinking of working there for awhile, saving some money and then coming back," said Gloria. Orestes and Juan Carlos worked installing tablaroca (sheetrock) in San Salvador.

On May 27, they took a bus and traveled 150 kilometers up to the Guatemalan border. They crossed it with a special permit they got in San Salvador. They had 700 dollars in their pockets, from pawning some of their belongings. At the Guatemalan border, they took a "Línea Dorada" bus 200 kilometers up to the town of Flores, where they boarded a new bus to the Mexican border. They crossed at a point midway between the states of Tabasco and Campeche and walked four days across the jungle before arriving in the town of El Naranjo, in Campeche, where a great number of Central American immigrants stow away on trains. From El Naranjo, Gloria and her companions traveled about 900 kilometers by train, crossing the states of Tabasco, Chiapas, and Veracruz, up to the train station in Lechería, in Mexico City.

"I have two daughters I left with my mother in Nicaragua," said Gloria, her voice breaking. "It's for them that I was searching for a better life, and that is how I could resist the fear of traveling on the top of the trains." Her daughters, 10 and 5 years old, were not fathered by her current boyfriend. "My husband used to knock me down, so I decided to leave him. I see him no more, and neither has he seen my daughters. I went to El Salvador, where I met Orestes. I sold cloth, but what I earned was not enough. I used all the money from my sales to eat the following day."

At Lechería station, Gloria and her friends took a train to Irapuato. "Our journey ended in Irapuato. We awakened at 10am; we were sleeping beside the railroad tracks. We still had some money to pay for a hotel, but we did not want to spend it. Orestes and Juan Carlos went to make a phone call to Juan Carlos's brother so that he could send us a little more money to continue our trip. I was waiting for them in a park, when a woman told me that the migra was around. I did not know what to do. Orestes had told me that if he was caught, I should continue the journey. But I could not. I felt so lonely. I saw a migration officer coming and I ran away, but he shouted Orestes's name. Then I stopped and surrendered. I was so sad, I began crying. I wanted to continue my journey, but it was not possible." Gloria did not know whether she was going to be deported to her own country, or to El Salvador where she lives. "If they send me to Nicaragua, I will return to El Salvador because life is not life in Nicaragua," said G
loria sadly. 

Gloria and her companions were deported on Friday, June 9, by the office of the National Institute of Migration in San Miguel de Allende.

Kevin Luis Alberto Paz Obando, age 21, Guatemala

Kevin Luis Alberto, from the capital city of Guatemala, worked as a tuk-tuk (a kind of small taxi) driver. He did not even earn enough to pay the vehicle's rent. Although he finished his high school studies, which he paid for with his own money, he decided to try his luck in the United States, in order to help his parents finish building their house and to save some money for his future.

With 200 quetzales (about 26 US dollars) in his pocket, Kevin left Guatemala and traveled by bus to the province of Petén. He walked for several days across the jungle to cross the border with Mexico. "I was traveling with a group of Guatemalans. There was a group of Hondurans following us, and some thieves assaulted them. We ran away, but we heard the shouts of a woman traveling with them, which made us think she had been raped. Thieves have an agreement with the people who change our currency; they advise them when an immigrant carries some money and they assault him."

Kevin arrived in a small town called Cenote, three kilometers away from the road, where he took a bus to El Triunfo in Tabasco. "I worked there for almost a month, in a pizza restaurant and in a tortillería, but I spent all the money I earned on food." He was invited to go to Cancún, where he got a job as a carpenter, making furniture for the Hilton hotel. His employer did not pay him, and he decided to continue his way to the States. "I did not care where I arrived-I only cared about crossing the border, and then God would say." 

In Buena Vista, Tabasco, he met a Colombian immigrant named Willie, who traveled in a wheelchair because he had suffered polio at a very young age. Both asked for food and money, and Kevin helped Willie to get the wheelchair on the train. On their way to Orizaba, they joined a group of Hondurans. "Because there were no gondola cars available, we got on a pipe wagon and sat on the platform, where the wheels spun very close to us. One of the Hondurans fell asleep, and when he slumped over the wheel crushed him. The man near him was splashed with blood. We leave our countries with the certainty that two things may happen. We can either arrive at our destination or we can die on the way. We are conscious of the danger."

Kevin left Willie in Orizaba and never heard anything more about him. He continued his trip to Lechería, where he had to escape from policemen. Afterward, he caught a train to Irapuato. 

On June 8, four months after he left his home, Kevin was detained by the National Institute of Migration in Irapuato and brought to San Miguel, from where he was sent back to Tapachula for his deportation. "I will try again in a couple of days. I do it because I am young and have no commitments and with the purpose of saving some money for the future. When I get married, I would never leave my wife to go on an adventure like this."