It is December 13, 1982, and as 18-year-old Rosa says goodbye to her family one last time, she steps onto the bus that will soon carry her away from all she’s ever known.
She has no idea of the journey that awaits.
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Born and raised in Atiquizaya, a municipality of Ahuachapan, El Salvador, Rosa grew up on a farm before moving to the city where she stayed with her great-aunt. Over time, she came to view her great-aunt as a grandmother, so much so that she began referring to her as one. In this way, Rosa was introduced to her grandmother’s daughters, as well as the city life that opened her eyes to what existed beyond rural poverty.
As her grandmother’s daughters left the country to go to the United States, and as the Salvadorian government became more and more corrupt, Rosa dreamt of finishing her education so that she could earn enough money to help her family better their situation. However, her grandmother had different plans in mind. Seeing the country torn from civil war, she feared for Rosa’s safety, knowing that the government was targeting students suspected of revolt. After the family’s next-door neighbors—both the same age as Rosa—were killed for this very reason, she knew that El Salvador was too dangerous to live in anymore.
In hopes of making it to the U.S., Rosa was sent on a bus that would take her from El Salvador to Mexico City. From there, she would have to hitchhike her way to Tijuana, accompanied only by an acquaintance of the family who had the right connections to get her to the other side.
“Coyote. It means “smuggler”. We’d pay money to have him help me across the border. But first we had to get across Mexico. And because I was a girl, I’d be the one to call for the cars to stop and give us a ride. And one time, one of the men that stopped for us was looking for me in a hotel, asking where I was... He wanted me. I was so scared.”
Once they reached Tijuana and were already nearby the fence that divided Mexico and the United States, there was a little house especially made for people who were crossing the border. It was here that Rosa stayed for the next three days, having no choice but to sleep on the floor as the house lacked any beds. Every night, they waited for the perfect chance, when there would be no border patrol cars in sight. When the chance finally came, Rosa approached the border with the others who were crossing with her, and literally climbed over the fence.
Having made it across, they walked for three hours until boarding an industrial truck that would take them to San Diego, California. And although it was freezing cold inside (the truck was most likely meant to carry meat or frozen goods, so authorities wouldn’t think to check inside), it was well worth the ride. Because in California, after meeting with her relatives in Los Angeles, Rosa was able to visit the paradise that is Disneyland.
“I thought it was a dream. Everything that I saw, that I did--I wanted for my family.”
She was overwhelmed by the diversity of America. Flying on a plane to New York, Rosa began her life in Corona, Queens, working temporary jobs she found through newspaper ads, mostly as a housekeeper. Since her main priority was earning money to send back home, she worked as much as she could and she was unable to go to school. This drastic change was something that affected her more than the different climate, or even the different people of New York. While Rosa knew that she could have easily finished her education in El Salvador, others belittled her for being a housekeeper. She’d wake up at seven in the morning and go to bed an hour past midnight, wishing so much that her day would’ve been spent in school instead. This was the sacrifice she made for her family.
“Here, if you're not educated, people look at you like you're nothing.”
Now with a family of her own and two kids in college, Rosa’s tough journey has made it possible for her children and relatives to experience things they wouldn’t have experienced otherwise. Growing up in New York City has made her kids more aware of the opportunities afforded to them that their own parents never had, and as a result, they truly value their roots.
One of Rosa’s children, Gabriela, is my roommate and she often tells me about other hardships her mother has faced as an immigrant. Although she feels a lot of internal pressure to live up to the future that her mother has set up, Gabriela is currently a successful student and living proof of the realization of the American Dream.
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