Ximena, 15 (The Great L.A.X.)

            The only thing visible to me were the droplets of water hanging from the front of my cap. It must have been 10pm which means we had probably been walking for eight hours straight. I tried wiping the water off my cap but was always unsuccessful as the rain would not cease. We were caught in a thunderstorm that we were definitely not ready for. It was refreshing, however, because the Sonora – Arizona border heat is brutal and most of us had either left our jugs behind or ran out of water. The Coyote held my hand. His was big and rough, so rough that despite all the water I could feel deep earthly creases on it. Strong rivers coming from all sides inundated our path and we could only see this one every time lighting struck. I must admit I was terrified. It was late at night and there are no lampposts that light the way to America. The lightning guided our steps and revealed the vast land that surrounded us but it only lasted for a quarter of a second. There were specific elevations of sand on the floor that we were supposed to avoid at all cost. If we stepped on these dangerous small mountains our footprints would be visible and easily exposed to them.

As opposed to the Coyote this was not a trip that we did often. In fact we had never gone on a trip like this one before and we hoped it would be the last one. “Pack lightly, hija” my mom told me, marking it the first of many specific instructions of the trip. She was usually really stern and strict but the planning of this trip had softened her character. Cap, check; dark clothes, check; dark sneakers, check; small bag, we were ready to go. The goal was to find Lax who would take us to my dad and so our journey began.

            We were up really early. The sun was up with us too and it was very hot. This was a new kind of heat for my mother and me. A sort of dry heat that smacked your ability to breathe if the wind dared make an appearance. One that could only be complemented by equally hot red dirt. I wore my cap to protect my eyes but it only made my head burn up. There were a number of checkpoints we had to complete in our mission luckily there was always someone leading the way because we had no idea what we were doing.

Our first stop was at a house that we were not let into. We were a group of twelve; the biggest that week, they said. We waited at the porch of the said house and while we waited the heat grew more intense. Half of the stairs of the porch was gone, rails that at one point served as seats were also gone, even parts of the standing area were completely demolished. From the tiny oasis on which we stood we could see probably two houses. Who knows if they were inhabited the burning wind made it difficult to look out in the distance. Huge lots of dirt on fire held up these three houses. The main door of the house opened as quickly as it closed and out came a man ready to reveal the next set of instructions. He held a handful of empty, white poland spring plastic jugs that he distributed to each of us, “uno esta bien” said my mother, but the guy insisted we each take one. Somebody was going to need water and he did not want to give any extra responsibilities to the Coyote.

            We were pointed to a hose located on the side of the house and we accepted the reality that our jugs had to be filled with that water. The hose might as well have been resting inside a horse water fountain. It is no secret that many tourists get sick from the water in Mexico because they are not used to it but we don’t drink water from hoses. There was no special treatment, either we had water or we did not. The guy warned us it would be the longest walk of our life hence, why we were up so early. He took that opportunity to scold the women that insisted on bringing big suitcases. He reminded the group that keeping up was the most important and difficult part of the next few days especially because we were a large group. We had to travel like a nomad, he said; stuck together from place to place almost stepping on the person in front of us. Heavy luggage would only hold us back. Dark clothes and shoes were applauded on those who were wearing it because anything other than that would make us stand out while we walked. My mother looked pleased as we had followed the rules very closely. Also, he warned us that help was a privilege and once we’d begin walking it would disappear. Men, women, children, babies were all the same to him. He repeated a couple of more times that we had to remain extremely close to each other. His time was just as precious as the money we had paid so he was going to wait for no one. Traveling as a group would be the only way we would see The Angels. I imagined celestial creatures in long white gowns lead by the great Lax. Thinking about LA as such kept me focused on the task at hand. There was a possibility of not making it to the other side so completing each checkpoint one at a time was what occupied my mind.  

            Our journey began from Nogales, Sonora, a state in the north of Mexico that neighbors Arizona at the border. “El Norte” or the north became the name of our destination. Nobody calls The United States “America.” For us, America is what we used to call the entire continent from the top of Canada all the way to the tip of Argentina and Chile. He said that after a good amount of walking we would be able to see the other side. There are no buildings just red terrain and some trees so it is easy to see “El Norte” from a distance. As soon as he finished reciting his instructions multiple times he disappeared. That house was the hideaway of the instructions and I wondered if it was just full of gallons of water and if maybe he gave us the empty jugs because he drank the water. It made sense because the north of Mexico is desert-like but I was probably wrong.

            Very mysteriously and quietly the Coyote took charge. My mom and I remained by his side; we were only following instructions. No, he was not an animal but he might as well have been. He led the pack and carried himself with elegance. He was not as majestic as a wolf but still, part of the family. I don’t know where the name comes from but it suits the profession. Profession, almost an art, as he takes us out of Mexico and into The States without a map or compass… like an animal migrating away from the cold.

            Soon, the water jugs were all gone. Some got too heavy to carry and while others were heavy in the bladders of those who got too thirsty. I specifically do not remember what happened to our jugs. I like to think someone else drank the water because my mother warned me to not drink unless I absolutely had to because, like they had said earlier, he was going to wait for no one.

            The daylight left with the heat and the thunder grabbed our hearts and released them at the same time leaving them all beating in sync. The panic in our eyes made the Coyote chuckle. No one was prepared for rain but as he said “a little water is not going to stop us.” What slowed us down was the dense mud we encountered after the rain ceased. Our swollen feet sneakers were slipping off like sandals because of the deep pools of mud. The leader, already used to this, was way ahead and for the first time showed excitement with his body language anxious to hurry us up because he could almost touch Tucson, Arizona. And although we did swim across a river, we were wet from the rain so he preceded to joke about how wet our backs were.

            We waited on the side of the road for a van that would lead us to our final destination. We were finally on the other side. I wanted to grasp why I felt different but the van arrived and the pack leader interrupted my thoughts with a robotic voice that said “passengers bound for New York leaving from Los Angeles International Airport, your air van is here.”