My name is Tico Yagoso, I was born in Tijuana Baja California, Mexico. I always wonder what it would be like just over those huge brown mountains, looking over and seeing the huge buildings, the rich white people walking around with all their jewelry, and the amazing fancy cars people talk about here in TJ. I lived in a neighborhood where all the house in our block where made from cement and different pieces of wood smacked in with nails. One day, I was watching dragon ball z in my living room, when my dad came in and walked straight to the kitchen where my mom had been cooking food for when he came. I started to hear them talking about leaving and living with his aunt he had in the states. Before you know it, I was packing a pair of socks, underwear, and a t-shirt. We left the house, went to a location almost near the border where we waited for about three hours before a white Ford Ranger pulled up. My dad was extremely nervous, I knew because he would slowly bite his gum inside his mouth. My dad never bites his gum! Once, the ranger pulled up, the person driving, wearing a blue hat with a white mustang logo on it yelled at us ” Pal Sur” referring the states. My dad nodded “yes”, opened the door, and pushed the chair forward for us to squeeze in the back. When I took a good look at the truck. I noticed there was a back bucket that covered the back of the truck completely. The man started to drive and asked us if we were nervous or if we had any family waiting for us on the other side. My dad explained to him we did, ” Mi Tia” my dad said. We arrived closer to the border where we stop at a gas station, because he had discussed before we arrived, that we needed to be move to the back and hide. I jumped off and started walking to towards the gas station with my mother. I pulled her shirt and whispered in her ear ” quiero ir al bano”. She smiled and pointed at the restroom when we walked in. After I had finished, we started to head back, where I jumped in the back with my mother and father and were told to hide under a metal frame that pulled up and closed. It was pitch black and had holes underneath that gave us enough air to breathe through. He started the car and sped up, all we were able to smell was the dust and a quick touch of gasoline. After a few minutes it started to get hotter and hotter underneath this metal sheet. I started to panic and grabbed on to my mother trying to stay calm. The car kept stopping and going, I was confused I couldn’t believe they were so many stop signs one after another, after another. Suddenly I started to hear people next to us like if they were selling snacks, I heard someone roll there window down and yelled “quanto!” (how much). “1.50” they replied. I at this point wanted to scream and ask for help, I felt as if I was drowning in my own sweat, it started to get so hot I was getting sleepy and couldn’t scream. My mom pinches me and tells me to stay up and hands me a water bottle she apparently had purchased from the gas station. “Ahhhhh” fresh cold water I thought inside my head. Finally, we had stopped completely and heard the window roll down and a person outside with the deepest voice I have ever heard said ” Where are you going? ” ” to San Ysidro” he replied “For what? ” the man with the deep voice asked. “I work there, metal” he answered. “Alright! take care”, right after the car turned on and started to move, my mom laughed and kissed my dad in the cheek. I, at this point was more confused I have ever been in my life.
We eventually arrived somewhere, where we were able to move back into the front. After, it was trip, after trip, after trip! I loved cars because I never rode in one, but after we have arrived in Delaware, I didn’t even want to look at a car. We grabbed our bags where we only had one pair of cloths to change in and marched up towards the apartment where we knocked in room number 7. An older lady opened the door and gasps “Mi ninooo!” She hugs my dad, looks at me and screams ” Mi chicitoooo!” pinched my cheeks and gave me a kiss on my head. She welcomed us and gave us a tour around her apartment, were she also pointed at our room. A room which had a window, that showed the whole front of the apartments, parking lot. The very next day I woke up and noticed my mom speaking with my dad’s aunt in the kitchen. Walked over, hugged my mom, and looked up at her asking where my dad was at? “He went searching for a job” she answered. My dad’s aunt grabs my attention and said “I have a surprise for you” it was a book about Mexicans and who we were in the states. She explained that this would help me understand how the people see us, Mexicans. I walked back to the room where I saw a girl with her mom and dad getting off a truck, bringing up a mattress and a few bags to an apartment. After several days, my dad got hired at an off branded dollar store near the apartments. Where he explained he had met a women name Alma and her daughter Maribel. Apparently, it so happened that they had just moved in a day after we had moved in. After a few months living here, after a few screams from the neighbors arguing, after seeing a boy get man handled in the parking lots by another white boy because he was trying to protect the girl next door, after seeing everyone smile all the time, one day those smiles turned upside down. Unfortunately, what had happened was, Arturo, Alma’s husband who had helped my dad and another neighbor a few times bring in the groceries to their apartments had passed away. My dad was devastated, couldn’t believe what had happen. A white male had pointed a gun to Arturo and shot him dead. That night my mother and father talked about how many white people go to his store and start to bully him by saying extremely racist jokes. He then questioned my mother if it was a good idea to come to the states. A week later, my dad encountered a women name Cecila, a mother who lived a few doors down our apartment, who was asking for donations for Arturo’s body to be shipped to Patzcuaro. My dad rapidly pulled out a 20-dollar bill and passed it on to Cecila.
At home, I started to read the book my dad’s aunt had gave me “immigrant Connect”, about the American dream that stated ” the “American Dream” is the bedrock belief that one can achieve success through hard work and initiative with the economic opportunities provided here.” (Doppelt) It continues with explaining that many Mexicans don’t come to the states because of the American dream but because of the opportunities of education given and family. I then started to think on why we had arrived here in Delaware. My dad came home that night and spoke to us before we went to bed, he had a big box that he had bought for me. He explained that he never felt this good, to go to the store and be able to purchase items he thought he never could of afford. He opens the box and brings out a pair of brand new shoes, shirts, and pants. “Mijo, I came to the states for you!”