Raíces

“Como el aguila en vuelo 

Como la fiera en cielo 

Desafiendo fronteras 

Defendiendo el honor 

He pasado la vida explorando 

Otras tierras para darle a mis hijos un mañana mejor” 

-lyrics from De Paisano a Paisano by Los Tigres Del Norte

  

As I listened to “De Paisano a Paisano” by Los Tigres Del Norte I thought of that last line and how it resonates with my immigration story. My parents were willing to explore different lands in order to provide a better tomorrow for us. I don’t blame my parents for raising us in the United States, if anything I’m thankful for all of the sacrifices they’ve made. I grew up feeling out of place, navigating an identity in a space where I felt I had to constantly justify my existence. Exactly one month ago, Friday December 20^th, I embarked on a journey that would have me exploring my roots and understanding that I no longer had to feel out of place. I was going home. Aquila, Michoacán to be exact. 29 years ago in the small town of Aquila, Michoacán, I was born. The youngest of five children, born into a family with so much drive, perseverance, and strength. And while I was born in Aquila, Michoacán, my family would eventually immigrate to Mattawa, Washington and call it home as well.

For 25 years I grew up in the United States, only recalling small pieces of my childhood, bits of memories here and there and always eager to hear stories about el rancho. For example, if you see a tarantula en el rancho, you throw diesel fuel on it and light it on fire in order to kill it. Or another one, if you see a snake around your home, the best way to kill it is by hitting it with a thin branch right on its head. My mother has since stopped burning tarantulas as those aren’t common in Mattawa, Washington, and she has not killed a snake in about three years. The last snake she killed was while she was working at an orchard in Washington-my mother really is fearless. My siblings and I grew up hearing my mom, and other aunts telling us what it was like to live on a ranch-some of my older siblings being able to actually recall those exact moments, remembering that they were stung by scorpions, or remembering the horseback rides down windy dirty roads in order to visit relatives.

Having been undocumented for 24 ½ years it hadn’t really hit me that I could one day go back down those same dirt roads that I once traveled on, or walk through the same river that ran by our house growing up. I didn’t think that I could one day revisit my roots and feel like I was home because I was gone for so long. I didn’t know what to expect when I found myself back in Aquila, or back at my parents’ house en el rancho en El Cuasuchil, and I never thought that this trip would help me understand who I was and where I was from. In this blog post I take you through my journey of coming home after 25 years.  

It was around November when Eduardo and I had booked a 2-week trip to Mexico. We would be spending around 9 days in Michoacán, my birth state, and around 4 days in Jalisco, the state where Eduardo’s family is from. If you’ve read my blog post “June 27th” then you’ll know that I became a Legal Permanent Resident (LPR) on June 27^th, 2019. Being a Legal Permanent Resident means that I can now travel out of and back into the United States, something that I wasn’t able to do before. Prior to being a LPR I had DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals), which allowed for undocumented individuals to work legally in the U.S. Undocumented Individuals were issued a permit that needed to be renewed every 2 years. Unlike LPR, DACA does not offer any pathway towards legal residency, citizenship, and one is not able to travel out of the U.S. and back into the U.S. DACA recipients need to stay within the country. So with the opportunity of having legal residency I was looking forward to joining my parents and other family members in Mexico this past December. This was a big deal-but I really couldn’t fathom the impact it would have. 

It was Sunday December 22^nd, Eduardo and I had rented a little white Chevy Aveo and we were making the drive to Aquila, Michoacán from Guadalajara,Jalisco. If you’re reading this and wondering “where the heck is Aquila?!”…please click here to see it on Google 😊 then look at it via the satellite option. And now you know what I’m referring to!

Back to my blog now….Both of our cellphones eventually lost signal, the roads went from being well-lit to almost pitch black. We passed several small towns on the way, we really had no idea if this was the right way, but we drove on. It was around 8:45pm when I saw the sign that read “Aquila 16 Kilometers”, I began thinking about the last time that I had been on that same road, and how that last time we were going the opposite way, leaving Aquila and heading towards the U.S. It would be 25 years before I’d find myself on that same road again. And here I was, 25 years later, making a journey back into Aquila. Tears flooded my eyes; all I could think was how brave my parents were for bringing our family to the United States, I can’t imagine what they felt, what they were thinking, as they drove down these same roads 25 years ago with their 5 children. And now, finally, I had the privilege to make a drive so much different than the last one our family took as a whole. It was during those 16 kilometers that I came to understand the significance of that moment. 

The last signs I came across was one for “Mina Aquila” (the mine located right next to the town)and another for “Aquila” the town I was born in and raised in.  I thought about how I had heard these words growing up, and how I’d say “Aquila” myself when telling people where I was really “from from”. But to see those words on a sign was different, it was moving, it reassured me that I hadn’t made up this childhood I could vaguely remember. It was real, and I was from there, and I was actually there in that moment. I was back. Eduardo and I still had no cell phone signal, I realized I should have asked for better directions when it came to actually getting into the town. We drove through the narrow roads, passing several small businesses on the way, and even though it was almost 10pm people were out, having dinner, walking around Aquila. We recognized the name of a street we were supposed to turn on, and after asking a couple of different people for directions we found my parents’ house. Finally, all of the pictures I had seen of it were coming to life. This house was one that my parents and brother Alfredo built a couple of years ago, they had been saving up money and sending it to Mexico to have a place to call home in Aquila. 

I could spot my dad outside, standing by the rails of our house, he was waiting for us. At that moment any tears I was holding back were let out, I was being welcomed by both my mom and dad. To truly understand the significance of that moment you need to understand that the last time we were all together in Aquila was 25 years ago. I couldn’t stop crying, this is something I had only ever imagined before. They were both embracing me in a hug and my dad kept saying “you’re here, you made it, you were able to come back, it’s ok”. My parents are some of the most hard-working individuals, both in their 60’s and yet they continue to work within agriculture in Mattawa, Washington. I was reflecting on all of their sacrifices, on all of the times they said that one day we’d all be able to go back to Aquila. My heart had yearned for this type of belonging and I was right there experiencing it.  

That first night we had family come over shortly after we arrived and it felt surreal to hug and shake hands with cousins, aunts, and uncles that I felt like I was meeting for the first time. Growing up our parents would occasionally hand over the phone when conversing with our relatives living in Mexico so we could saludarlos (say hello), but it definitely didn’t compare to having a conversation in person. I think the biggest thing that surprised me was how much I resemble my family from my dad’s side. The majority of my dad’s family continues to live in Mexico and I hadn’t really seen them so I hadn’t noticed the resemblance before. My family on his side is taller, they have bigger eyes, longer eyelashes, I saw myself in so many of my relatives that I connected with, and I hadn’t foreseen that connection happening. This was family whom I hadn’t seen in 25 years!! I felt like little pieces of a puzzle within me were slowly coming together and it started happening that night.  

As I sat in the living room that night surrounded by family I couldn’t help but notice how carefree my parents seemed. They had been there for about a month already. Winter weather in Washington allows them to take some time off since there isn’t much work they can do in the orchards. Growing up one of the constant things in our life was work, especially within agriculture. We grew up working in orchards, and when my siblings and I stopped working in agriculture our parents continued that work. They’d wake up early to get ready for the workday, my mom would make tortillas each day and pack tacos in a thermos for my dad, she’d leave some atole de avena (oatmeal) and tacos for us too. My parents would be gone for up to 10 hours at a time and return, water cooler in hand, a costal or backpack with their food in the other, they’d be tired and would soon start the routine of prepping for that next day and then going to sleep. Even now when I go home from Arizona to Washington to visit, there are times where I only see my parents for about 8 hours during a one-week trip due to their demanding work schedules. My whole life I grew up seeing my parents work endless hours, it’s what they did-and once in a while they’d get a small break. But there in that living room my parents seemed relaxed, worry-free, not having to think about orchard work that next morning. They didn’t need to set a 4am alarm, or think about back-breaking work. In Washington it’s rare for my parents to take a break and go on vacation or a weekend family trip. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that my parents didn’t have to be agricultural workers all of the time. They had an identity outside of that, and this was my first time seeing them in that light. It wasn’t very often that we could sit around in the living room and just talk. I wished that my other siblings could be there with me too and experience this world that my parents were part of in that moment. 

I soon came to learn that the word “Aquila” comes from the Nahuatl word “Atilan” which means a place with an abundance of water. One of the clearer memories that I had growing up was that of a small river in front of our house en el rancho. This rancho house is about 30 minutes from Aquila, nestled high up in a forest in the mountains. The house my parents originally built fell apart from years of abandonment, however in the last two years they, along with our brother Alfredo, were able to rebuild another house on that same land. While the house I saw in the rancho was a different one, the river I remember from my childhood was still there, still running, just as I remembered; I was overcome with joy. It was the same river that my siblings and I once played in. My mom said there was a time when we’d walk down the river stream excited to follow its path. Growing up in the U.S. any stream or small river I came across immediately brought up memories of Mexico. I’ve always been attracted to the sound of water, and it’s always taken me back to that small river by the dirt road. My husband and I were both equally surprised to see how much water there was in these mountains and all around the town of Aquila. Each rancho that we’d visit within the mountains had a small river flowing by it, it was the most beautiful sight I’d seen. And it really was an abundance of water as the word Aquila signifies.

Perhaps one of the greatest things about this trip is that through technology I was able to share pictures, videos, and my overall experience with my sisters in the U.S. Our older brother Alfredo is a U.S. Citizen and had gone to Mexico several years in a row but we hadn’t received as many pictures or videos we would have liked to really piece together our vague memories. Our parents are also not too familiar with technology and we have yet to teach them how to text, FaceTime, or send picture messages. During this trip I, along with other cousins who were visiting from the U.S. (Jessica) were able to constantly update our family on our Mexico adventures. That meant a lot to me as I’m close to my sisters and I wanted to make sure they felt as connected as was possible!

As people have asked me how I feel upon returning from Mexico, my answer is I feel “whole”. I really do feel like a “whole”, and I never realized that a part of me was missing until I went back home and truly experienced life in the state, the town, and the house I spent part of my childhood in. I stepped onto lands that both my maternal and paternal grandparents had worked on themselves, grown up on, and raised families on. I never knew how much I needed this trip for myself, to reconnect with land that’s been passed down from my grandparents to my parents and other family members. To walk down the same dirt roads that I once used to walk on as a child, and to experience it with my parents by my side. This is one small part of my journey, but one that meant so much to me, stay tuned for more on my trip to Mexico!