She Had No Choice (2 page)

They all ran with every ounce of energy they possessed, crossing the dark Mexican desert with only the light of the crescent moon to guide them. As their shoes were clapping the dry desert floor, the pounding of their hearts was resonating in their ears. Diving in the dirt for the border fence, the hopeful clawed and crawled their way under it to freedom.

Papa could see Mama and little Sofía were struggling. Sofía’s little legs couldn’t keep up and stumbled a few times. He worried they might be left behind. So, in a firm voice, not more than a whisper, he urged them on. “
Ά
ndale!
Ά
ndale, muchachas!”

Mama firmly grasped Sofía’s hand and held on for dear life, nearly dragging her to freedom as she helped her run. Papa was frantically trying to help the rest of the children under the fence before diving under himself. He made it to the other side, picked up five-year-old Marcelo, and began running, pressing the older children to get moving. “Run, niños, run! Rápido, rápido!”

In desperation, Mama shoved Sofía under the fence ahead of her, yelling at her to run and not look back. Sofía scrambled to her feet and took off running in terror. Mama squeezed through and caught up with her. She grabbed Sofía by the hand and helped her run like she had never run before.

Simply clearing the fence was not enough. The U.S. border patrol could catch them and arrest them for illegally entering the country. It was important that they ran far enough into Arizona land to reach the trucks that were waiting to take them safely to their new lives.

They all reached the other side safe and sound, their hearts pounding in their chests, barely able to catch their breath. They looked around the muffled chaos to try and find their family members amidst the clouds of dust. Fortunately, they had all gotten through without being detected. There were no guards, no lights, and no dogs. It was eerily silent.

Lifting the crucifix she wore around her neck, Juanita pressed it to her lips and gave it a quick, gentle kiss. “Gracias a Diós. Gracias a Diós,” she whispered under her breath.

Chapter 2:
Saying
Good-Bye

Crossing the border, with little more in their pockets than a few dollars, hope was all the Ramirez family had left. But, hope is a powerful force. It moves people to dream of better lives, and it drives them to take chances they wouldn’t ordinarily take – especially when their lives are at stake.

Just a few weeks earlier in Mexico, before their dangerous border crossing, in the simple ranch home the family shared, Juanita lay coiled up in the middle of her bed in the fetal position, crying uncontrollably. She had been there for days, her body shuddering from wave after wave of sobbing.

Her young daughter, Sofía, came into her room and sat on the edge of the bed. Wanting to comfort her in some way, but not knowing what else to do, the little girl softly patted her mother’s back.

“
Mama, it’ll be okay,” she said gently, trying to ease her mother’s grief. Mama continued to cry, and Sofía kept patting her back. The whole family was in mourning, but of course, Mama took it the worst. For a mother to suffer the death of her child is painfully heartbreaking, but to lose three children in as many days is unbelievably excruciating. The days dragged on, but no one could console her. Not even little Sofía.

As she sat on the side of the bed, watching her brokenhearted mama cry, Sofía wondered when the sadness would end. It had been days, like a heavy dark cloud hanging over their home. Each day that brought another child’s death heaped more grief on top of the other. The priest would stop by to offer comfort and consolation after the death of each child, but he couldn’t stay long because there were so many more he had to call on.

Friends and neighbors, in ordinary times, would have come by to offer their condolences and support, bringing food for the family. But, not in these difficult times. They had their own share of grief to deal with.

It was hard for little Sofía to understand just what was happening. She remembered happier times. She wanted life to be the way it was before – days of going to school with her friends, laughing and learning to cook with Mama, helping Papa with the animals, playing games with her brothers and sisters. That was the life she loved. But those days were gone.

Almost overnight, life in their little village changed completely. Men, women, and children started getting sick – a rash, a deep constant cough, and a high fever. Many of the afflicted died right away, some languished for days. Once a vibrant little town filled with life and love, laughter and excitement, it was now a village filled with grief, devastation and heartache. An outbreak of deadly disease took its toll.

The epidemic had spread worldwide, starting in Europe near the end of World War I, killing nearly 10 million people. It was named the Spanish Flu, because it was thought to have begun in Spain.

Mexico was not immune. Likely brought in through the port city of Tampico, disease and despair quickly swept through the country, ravaging town after town. It mercilessly infected Sofía’s beloved village, claiming the lives of over half of its residents within just a few short weeks.

Unfortunately, the Ramirez family was not spared. Sofía was eight years old when she lost three of her brothers and a sister to the influenza epidemic. One of the brothers that died was her twin brother, Lorenzo. As one child after another died, Emilio and Juanita suffered indescribable grief. Each time they lost one of their beloved children, it was like a dagger driving deeper and deeper into their hearts.

The small cemetery behind the Catholic Church could not contain the bodies of all that had succumbed to the influenza. The priest was overwhelmed by trying to keep up with all the deaths and burials.

Emilio and Juanita chose to bury their children on their farm. They held a small, private ceremony each time they lost one, with only the family, the priest, and their friend, Señora Ochoa. Others were busy dealing with their own dead.

Many of the surviving children were left orphaned by the epidemic, and the village elders frantically tried to find homes to help these poor children. Those that had relatives in or near the village were sent to live with them. But, for those that did not, the elders tried their best to find families that would take them in.

The Ramirez family had no family nearby. Sofía’s parents were consumed with fear, afraid they would contract the influenza and die, too, leaving their remaining sons and daughters orphaned and abandoned. Who would take care of their children, they wondered, if any of them survived? Who would feed the niños? Who would help them with schoolwork? Who would help them say their prayers? Who would hold the little ones at night when they were scared? Mama and Papa asked themselves these questions late into the night, long after the cries of the dying became silent. Their mounting anxiety overwhelmed them.

One day, after toiling in the fields all day, doing his best to stifle his feelings of grief over the loss of his children, Emilio was worn out and headed to the house. As he came through the door, the younger children greeted him.

“
Papa! Papa!” the little ones hollered, clamoring to climb up into his arms. Keeping up a strong facade, he bent down and hugged the children. He kissed them on the head and held them close, holding back the tears that wanted to break through. He needed to be strong for them.

“
Dinner’s almost ready, Papa,” his oldest daughter, Maria, said. “Come on, niños, let Papa rest.”  She grabbed a couple of them by the hand and led them into the kitchen area.

“
I’ll be back in a minute. I’m gonna check on Mama.”

He went into the bedroom to see how his wife was doing. She had stayed in the house, shut up in her room for days, grieving over her lost children. Each day he hoped she was feeling better and would come out and eat supper with the family. But just when she thought she was all cried out, a new wave of sorrow would hit her and the sobbing would start again. Maybe this day would be different.

He gently pushed open the door and saw Juanita lying on their bed. She looked up when she heard the door. Emilio noticed the dark circles around her puffy eyes and how her skin had grown sallow.

“
How are you doing?” Emilio asked softly. “Would you like to have something to eat with the children and me?”

“
No, I can’t even think of food.” Juanita answered, sniffling. “I can’t stop thinking about the children we’ve lost. How many more will we lose?”

Juanita buried her face in her hands. She was weak and spent, her strength eaten up by her misery.

Emilio sat down on the side of the bed. He put his arm around Juanita and pulled her in close. The grief and constant worry were getting to both of them. She rested her head on his chest and the tears started to flow once more.

“
The only way we’re going to make it,” Emilio told her, “is to be strong together, for the children. We’ll do whatever we have to do to keep them safe. We just can’t lose another child to this evil sickness.”

“
But there’s only one way I know to can keep them safe. You and I have to keep from catching the flu ourselves. How do we do that? Tell me, Emilio, how do we do that?”

“
I don’t know.” He paused, searching his mind for an answer. “Somehow we need to get away from here – far enough away to keep our family safe.”

She knew he was right. They needed to leave Mexico, escape their disease-ridden village and try to make it into the United States. If they stayed, the Angel of Death would surely come calling again, and they could all die. If they left, at least they would have a chance to survive. But could they do it soon enough?

The Spanish Flu was so deadly that sometimes people were dying within hours of being struck with the disease. They had heard that some victims noticed a rash starting in the morning and death would take them by evening.

The difficult decision had to be made. With their welfare in mind, they chose to take what was left of their family across the United States border into Arizona, where they hoped their chances of survival were better.

Sneaking across the border was not an easy task. It could be very dangerous. Emilio knew some people who had attempted to do this over the years, but he never saw them again. He didn’t know if they made it across the border successfully, if they were dead, or if they were captured and jailed.

The next morning, Emilio decided to covertly find out who could help them with their clandestine escape to the United States, trying not to draw attention to himself. Taking one of his horses, he went into town to see what information he could find.

He saw Señor Vega walking down the street, then he ducked into his cantina. Emilio thought he, as the owner of the cantina, would overhear bits of information now and then. He figured he might know someone who could help them make the border crossing. So, he followed him into the cantina and struck up a conversation with him.

“
Hola, Señor,” Emilio greeted the older man who stood behind the bar.

“
Hey, Emilio. How are you doing?” Señor Vega was happy to see him.

“
I’m getting by, but this terrible influenza is taking its toll.”

“
Yes, I lost my wife and both my sons.” His eyes were moist and his voice a little shaky. “How about you, amigo? How’s your family getting along?”

“
Not well. We’ve lost four children. Juanita cries all the time.”

Emilio surveyed the room and saw the cantina was nearly empty. He leaned in and quietly asked his friend if he knew anyone who could give him information about sneaking across the border. Señor Vega said he did know someone, his cousin, Pablo, in the neighboring village of Altar.

“
Yeah, Pablo knows a man,” Señor Vega told him in a low, quiet voice, leaning on the bar. He looked around to make sure no one else heard him. “He knows a guy who regularly helps people cross the border, but,” he paused, with eyes as dark as night, he looked Emilio straight in the eye, “money will have to be paid.”

“
I understand,” Emilio replied. “I’ll do whatever I have to.”

Señor Vega sensed the desperation in Emilio’s voice; he looked haggard, like he hadn’t been sleeping well, dark circles forming around his warm brown eyes. So, he proceeded to tell Emilio where he could find Pablo.

Then, he placed a firm hand on Emilio’s wrist, making sure he had his attention. “I warn you, keep what I just told you to yourself or there will be consequences.”

“
Yes, I promise.” He knew the old man meant it. “Thank you so much for your help, Señor.”

“
Good luck, amigo,” he said, as Emilio left the cantina.

Raking his wrinkled fingers through his thick, graying hair, the old man poured himself a shot of tequila. He knew what it was like to watch your loved ones die from this deadly disease. His pain was still raw. For a fleeting moment, he thought of going with Emilio and his family. But, since he didn’t have anyone left to save, he decided he would stay in the village and take his chances.

Emilio went directly to see Pablo in Altar, about an hour’s ride on horseback. He found him where his friend said he would be, working at the general store, waiting on customers. When Emilio walked in, Pablo was on an old rickety ladder, stretching to reach for some spices on the top shelf.