Authors: Ann Jaramillo
La Linea (16 page)
The fog has moved in. It covers the whole bridge now, except for the very southern end. I'm going to walk all the way across the bridge today, because I've never done it, because I want to see what's there to the north, on the other side.
I put on my sweatshirt, zip it up tight, and look at myself in the mirror. There's the same old Miguel I was in San Jacinto, just a little taller, my face filled out some, a new moustache beginning to sprout. On the outside, the same me.
Inside, it's different. I thought I'd find the real Miguel, the one I thought I couldn't be in Mexico, once I crossed
la lÃnea.
I didn't understand that there are thousands of
lÃneas
to cross in a life. Sometimes you see the border and you walk right across, eyes wide open. You know you will change. You know everything will be different.
Other times, you don't know you've crossed a border until you reach the other side. Until you turn, and look back at
la lÃnea,
surprised.
Later I'll call Papá to let him know what I've decided to do next with my life. I'll tell him all about the next
lÃnea
I'm planning to cross, and maybe the one after that.
La LÃnea
is the result of the fortunate convergence of my married and professional lives. This book would not have happened without both.
When my husband, Luis, and I met and fell in love in 1971, I was welcomed into his family. The Jaramillos have taught me a deep appreciation for the complex nature of Mexican families in the United States. They have shown me that there are many ways to be Mexican
and
American, culturally and linguistically. They also illustrate the different ways Americans of Mexican descent are citizens of this country.
Jaramillos have lived for many, many generations in New Mexico. My father-in-law, Lalo (Edward), liked to remind us, “We didn't come to the United States. The United States came to us.” My mother-in-law, Tomasa, called Tommie, grew up in El Paso, Texas. Both her parents were immigrants from Mexico.
Luis and his five siblings were all born and raised in El Paso, right on the border. In fact, you can see the border from the family house. Lalo and Tommie never turned away anyone who came to the door, hungry and scared, straight from the other side of the Rio Grande.
While Luis became a lawyer, I became a middle school teacher. His career has been dedicated to seeking equal justice for migrant farmworkers and their families, most of whom are Mexican immigrants. Like my husband's clients, more than 95 percent of my students are Mexican in origin. Their parents work in the fields or packing sheds of the Salinas Valley. Some of my students were born in the United States; others immigrated in elementary or middle school.
La LÃnea
is fiction, but it is based on real events.
The
mata gente
is real, although it is known by several different nicknames in Mexico. Migrants traveling through Mexico often hop trains as a way to get north, facing constant physical danger.
The Mexican government has established formal procedures to deter migration through Mexico and across its southern and northern borders.
People in
pueblitos
in Mexico, particularly in Veracruz, routinely throw food and other goods to migrants on the trains. These are humble communities whose residents care deeply about the plight of the migrants. They have few resources, but they give what they can.
Private American citizens, individually and in organized vigilante-type groups, patrol and enforce immigration on the U.S. side of the border.
Many immigrants lose their lives attempting to cross the border. In the Sonoran desert area of Arizona alone, several hundred die each year from dehydration, hypothermia, or violence. Thousands have died in the border area that stretches from California, across Arizona and New Mexico, to Texas.
Operation Gatekeeper was instituted by the U.S. Border Patrol in 1994 as a strategy to check the flow of immigrants at traditional border crossings. This effort has pushed immigrants to cross at increasingly remote, uninhabited, and dangerous parts of the border.
Humanitarian efforts save many, many lives at the border. Human rights, religious, and political organizations work tirelessly to safeguard immigrants.
Hundreds of thousands are apprehended and deported at the border each year, but just as many make it across. An unknown number are children and teenagers, with and without parents or relatives to help them. Most are willing to attempt the crossing multiple times.
The total number of undocumented people in the United States is estimated to be more than 10 million. Sixty percent are from Mexico, 20 percent are from Central America, and 20 percent are from Asia and other places.
Which takes me back to my own students. Many, many of my students have been and continue to be new-arrival immigrants, twelve, thirteen, fourteen years old. They set foot in my classroom not knowing a word of English, some having survived a journey that is daunting for even the hardiest of individuals. From them I have learned the meaning of optimism, courage, and determination.
This is their story. I wrote it for them.
questions for the author
What was your first job?
My first regular job, where I earned an hourly wage, was in a very small medical laboratory. My main duty was to rinse the gross stuff (dried, icky blood and smelly urine) out of test tubes before putting them in the sterilizer. The next job I had was for three summers in high school and college. I worked at a small, local frozen-food factory that processed and packaged peas and corn. Seven days a week, twelve hours a day, I “graded” peas: for every ton of peas that came down the chute, I had to actually peel fifty individual peas and plop them into a salt solution. I then counted how many sank! Since I did it thousands of times, I still remember that if three or fewer sink, the peas are Grade A. Neither of these jobs was interesting or challenging, but I learned a lot about how to persevere at something repetitive and mundane.
What did you want to be when you grew up?
I don't remember wanting to “be” anything in particular. I was more focused on things I wanted to “do.” I looked up to people that I thought both made a difference in the world and led impossibly daring and (it seemed to me) romantic lives. Albert Schweitzer and Amelia Earhart come to mind, and later, Cesar Chavez and Martin Luther King. I had no idea how to combine what I admired in people with my own real life (I didn't want to be either a doctor or an aviator). I didn't even know I was going to be a teacher, and that it was a perfect life's work for me, until I finished college and landed in a classroom.
Which of your characters is most like you?
It won't surprise you if I say I am most like Elena in
La LÃnea,
especially in one aspect: my persistence. There are other ways to think about this quality, of course! My family and best friends describe me as headstrong (a somewhat positive spin on this trait) or stubborn (not so flattering). Elena refuses to give up on her desire to go north with Miguel, to sometimes disastrous results. On the other hand, she is just as stubborn in her belief in Javi's goodness. I've learned that a character trait can be your best asset or your worst fault.
What's your idea of the best meal ever?
That's so hard, because I love almost all kinds of food and I love to cook. For sure, I'd make wild blackberry pie for dessert, with homemade crust, of course. Then, there would be fresh organic lettuce salad from our garden and baby green beans. And I'd have to have
mole oaxaqueno,
deep, dark, and full.
Which do you like better: cats or dogs?
I'm definitely a dog person. In fact, I'm crazy about dogs. We had a black lab, Ace, when I was growing up and a couple of German shorthairs, Fritz and Gretel. Because we lived in a rural place, the dogs were outside dogs and roamed around at will. They were part of our play and our talk. Ace would sprawl on top of our sleeping bags when we slept outside in the summer and we saw him as our protector. Dogs forgive your faults and comfort you when you're sad. They're faithful.
Where do you find inspiration for your writing?
My students and their families are my primary inspiration. Their lives are complicated and fascinating and full of stories waiting to be told. Most of them are newly arrived immigrant students from Mexico, and even though they hold some experiences in common, each has his or her own.
If you were stranded on a desert island, who would you want for company?
That's the easiest question of all. For sure, the one person I'd want with me is my husband, Luis Jaramillo. He's the kindest, most generous person I've ever known. He's also smart, funny, and handsome. We laugh, and cry, about the same things.
What's the best advice you have ever received about writing?
One time, in the midst of writing
La LÃnea,
I was really stuck about where to go next with the story. All of these questions kept rattling around in my head: What should/could happen? What would make sense for the characters to say/do? How can I make this part work with what came before and what will follow? It really stopped me from making progress. I complained to my son, Luis, who is also a writer. He said, “Mom, just write one bad paragraph after another. Keep writing. You can always throw it away or go back and fix or change it.” It was great advice! There's nothing worse than writing nothing.
Ann Jaramillo
says, “I was working in my classroom one day after school when Maria asked if she could help me. A newly arrived immigrant from Mexico, thirteen years old and an eighth grader, she was smart and eager to learn English.
“At one point, Maria picked up the photo of my grown sons, Luis and Mateo, that sits on my desk. She wanted to know all about them, including if they had always lived with me. âWhy?' I asked, surprised by the question
“âMy grandmother was my mother in Mexico,' Maria answered. âWhen I came here, I didn't remember my mother. I hadn't seen her for years. I didn't even know her.'
“That conversation was the seed of this book. My students find very few books that reflect their lives and experiences. I was determined to write one that did.”
Ann Jaramillo
, who lives in Salinas, California, teaches English as a Second Language to seventh and eighth graders. This is her first book. You can sign up for email updates
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