Nono

My name is Paco Louise Estoban. I have three brothers and two sisters all
born in El Centro Las Hadas. For some time know after returning to the land
of my birth I have often wondered where I went wrong. Today I will go to the
cliffs over looking the beautiful resort of Manzanillo filled the wealthy
American tourist and make my peace with the God and throw myself off. It's
not as bad as you might think. I have enjoyed a beautiful life and now a
beautiful death.

My story began nearly twelve years ago I met the Maria Entonces, the third
daughter of a very proud school director in the poor village of Matro. Dark
hair and eyes, quiet but hard working, I forced myself to accept her as my
wife. Everyone in this village thought we should marry, and when she turned
fifteen and I myself sixteen we had a great ceremony. She was quiet, but
determined as her mother was. It was not long before she became pregnant,
and blessed me with our angel, Donella Maria Entonces Estoban. This is where
I began to feel much love for both my wife and our wonderful daughter. I did
not know then how wrong my life would become.

I worked with Maria's father at the school helping to repair items that were
broken. Sometimes I would help with the cooking too. I could see how Maria's
father, Paoulo was a good man of honor. He would rise early to make sure
that the school was open, and the children had paper in which to write. I
think he would do his job without pay were it not for the conviction and
love he must have felt for his own family. I felt as he did. Paulo was a man
that many aspired to become without even trying. It was as though I was
drawn into his family. I did not mind and loved my family too.

Maria became pregnant and gave birth to our second daughter Coco Entonces Estoban,
we called her Lilly because of her natural beauty. Together we had a poor but solid
family. We believed in the almighty God, I had a good job, my children were healthy,
and the love of a dear wife; what more could a man ask for you say.

Rebels, made up of young aggressive men from villages surrounding Matro did
not have the values that I had. They were kind of disenfranchised when it
came to life's simple pleasures. Hate for the government and all its riches
were the lies in which they eventually became elected as mayors of sorts;
the local spokes persons. These were the people that collected taxes to
provide waterways, and roads but the monies most likely went to fund there
beliefs. The rebels soon began a threat to the safety of the very citizens
they were elected to protect. My friend Oscar joined them at campaign
speeches and became a part of their activities of protest. It was not long
before they began to raid the Mexican government stashes of food and
weapons. Oscar was not seen again. It is said that he was executed by the
Mexican army for treason. I miss him. we grew up together, laughing and
playing games. We often wondered what great jobs we have and such important
family men we would become.

Word traveled quickly that the rebels were helping the villages by giving
food and supplies for the children, but even then that evolved into
destruction by choosing weapons and death over peace. When the rebels
came to Matro asking men such as myself to serve their needs, and fight the
Mexican army; I became afraid for the family that I so loved. I made the
bold decision to leave the only place I had ever known. I had to trust Raul
Donde, a local barkeeper. It was known, that if you needed something from
the black market you would ask him, but it usually would cost you a lot
money. Most people tolerated his presence because of his ability to get such
things usually from America. Small appliances, drugs, women, and green
cards.

I asked Raul quite frankly about leaving Matro and doing as so many have to
migrate to America, the land of riches. The trip would be dangerous, but
less than staying in a village that becoming the battle ground for civil war
and death. Raul told me that for my family and two daughters, the passage to
the border of Texas would cost $200. I nearly died at that moment. We had no
such money. I had nearly $50 saved for an emergency. I was afraid for my family
but at the same time felt trapped. What were these feelings. Were they the
ones that inspired my best friend Oscar to give up his simple life and join the rebels?
Why did I know that Maria would wait for me patiently despite the danger and hardship
she would soon face when I left? I felt disgusted with my less than virtuous feelings
for a woman who loved me with all her heart. She had become guapo, or as we
say gordo American. Her frame once thin was heavy with milk and fat. I loved her
but did not understand why she had changed so. I almost hated my feelings till I
figured it out. She had become like her mother who was born to give birth to many
children. Her body had changed just like her mother so that she might have eight children too.

Right now I knew Maria would tell me to leave he, go find a job in Texas and
send for her, Donella, and Lilly. Then we could live in peace and prosperity and
she would give me the large family I deserve as such a proud father. And as I
imagined, it was decided I would escape Matro in the dark through the fields
and met my contact who would lead me on a long trip to freedom. I kissed my
wife goodbye and looked at my two daughters whom I would have given anything
for. I did not know that this would be the last time I would see any of them. If I
did, surely I would have stayed to join the rebels and defend my family. I had such
mixed feelings. Why did I want to leave? Was I a coward? I am sure Paulo knew that
I would send for his daughter. She would be safe in his home for the time being.

My trip to the border could be best described as dirty and hot, but when you
sense a rainbow your mind doesn¹' focus on items too trivial. I had no bad
feelings for our guide either. He was preforming a job and bringing hope
where there was little. He had that look and feeling of a prison guard, kind
of the coolest or a slick mother fucker. I tried not to make any enemies or
friends, I simply wanted to get to the border and take my chance just like
the thirty other people stuffed into the back of an old Chevrolet Van. I
turned every moment into a positive gesture till I was tired of thinking of
this single moment when I would become a part of the greatest nation in
total el mundo!

The trip to "Titoville" as the Americans called it was different than I
expected. Titoville, really known Mecadro to real Mexicans had become
popular and grown into a city of lust and greed. All sorts of people would
conserve their energy during the hot days. When the sun began to set, its as
if someone lit a firecracker and yelped as a coyote would. The hustler's
knew that desperate people were jockeying for the best routes. Looking for
tunnels or the latest intelligence on Border Patrols. "is it true that they
are using perros negro aqui?" The black dogs, or German sheppards were
feared. You see we had no weapons to fight with, only a desire to work in an
economy where you might become someone of importance in a lifetime.
This is not true in Matro, you might work your whole life if you were lucky enough
to keep a job. Your children and their children might do the same and in the
end no one had a damn thing to show for three generations of proud people.
I stayed focused. I found a place away from all of the shit, crime, and
greed. My only worry was tonight. I must get some sleep. This might be the
last time I sleep for days.

The black of night came quickly. I gathered at the great wall now decorated
with graffiti of gangs. It was as if everyone was waiting for the soccer
match to begin by the referee blowing his whistle. Midnight and almost no
moon because of the cloud cover. Surely this was a sign. We helped each
other climb the scaffolding that stayed in place to assist us while each one
of us made it over one by one. This was too easy my mind thought. I must
stay focused, the policia with their perro negro would be here soon if they
weren't watching us already. Slowly we began to fan out. An hour had passed
and I still was moving as fast as I could without running. I don't know how far
I went when the sun began to rise. How had I done this so easily? Did the
Americans want us to enter illegally so that we might work their fields?
For such a great country it had its problems I decided.

As the sun rose, I found a small cave to sleep in. I did not worry about
sidewinders or puffer adder snakes which were greatly feared by any who
runs at night.Scorpions were of no use, it was the border patrol that I feared.
Please oh lord let me continue my journey. As my mind began to settle I grew
hungry. I wondered why I did not think of my beloved family. It had only been
a few days and not once did I think of the life I left behind. As the night
began to grow, I felt enough confidence to start my travel north again. This
time I ran straight towards the lights of a city. It grew with each passing hour.
I had arrived safely I felt. I dropped to my knees and gave thanks in your desert,
the most beautiful place I had ever seen.

I slept next to a building and in the morning cleaned myself enough to ask
for work. I guess the kind gentle old man knew without saying a word. He
pointed towards another building not too far away. As I came upon this
enormous building, I saw a line for immigrants like myself who just wanted a
job so that we could begin our long journey to prosperity. This day they had
no job for me, so the next day I arrived before the sun and found myself
unloading large trucks. It was tough work even by Mexican standards, but I
relished the fact that for each day I worked I would receive nearly $60
after certain fees were taken from my check.

As time passed and I became a regular, I was promoted to work inside this
large building with bathrooms, and break rooms. I kept quiet and in a few
months had saved nearly $500. I knew of a friend of my cousin who had
found great work in Atlanta as a roofer. He sent nearly $200 home each
week to his family who eventually came also to Atlanta. Now as the story goes his
children are in great schools and he lives in an apartment with soft carpet
for just his family alone. He has a truck that he drives to his regular job
with. No one ask for his green card because there are so many Mexicans.
This is a city I must live in.

The time came when I bought a one-way bus ticket to Atlanta and felt
though I would reach my hearts destiny. When I arrived it was a large and
busy city; much too busy to notice one more ilegal looking for honest labor. I
found my cousin's friend in a small city inside the bigger city called
Chamblee. There were so many Mexicans,and Guatamalians that I feared
I had made a mistake but I had work the very first day and paid $75 each
day I showed for work. It was so easy. My duties consisted of leaf blowing,
gather sticks and sometimes removing a dead tree. I could hardly believe
that each week I made $350 and again it wasn¹t long before I had saved
enough money to begin a small yard service for myself. The only problem
I had was I knew no other clients than those I been working on. Rich, huge
homes with people that must very important or so I thought.

I called my business Paco's Premium Yard Service and agreed to take care of
six of the mansions I had been working on for nearly six months. The owner's
were friendly enough. I now had a truck and three regular laborers of my own
with tools I had bought at the Plaza Fiesta flea market. I wondered why so
many thought it was difficult to become wealthy in America. I mean all my
dreams were coming true. I worked very hard till the day this beautiful
blonde asked to come inside and discuss my business with her. She was an
older wrinkled, tan lady always with a drink in her hand and skinny calves.
She appeared to be very busy. Why did she want me to enter her mansion.
Mrs. Stephanie was her name, but I called her mame. I was afraid that she
would release me. I waited patiently in her large cool home with marble
and statues of naked people. She finally came into her foyer and said,
"your and is Paco, right?" Si, mame I replied in the broken Mexican/English
I had learned. She asked me if I knew about indoor plants and gardening.
"Si" I replied again. She said, "Well its settled, you come to my house
tomorrow evening and help me with these dreadful plants. I can't seem
to keep them green." I replied, "si senora." She said its Miss Stephanie
for you and be here around eight. Do you like scotch?" "Scotch, I said?"
You know drinky drinky! Oh yes Miss Stephanie, scotch and tequila is
good for the soul. "Please don't be late, I'll be waiting for you."

As I left, I had a strange feeling that Miss Stephanie wanted more from me
than gardening. I was flattered. Why would such a desirable woman want me
inside her home at such a luxurious address and offer me alcohol? I could
hardly sleep that night. I did not think of my small village of Matro, or
the honorable Paulo who gave me his lovely daughter with which I made two
children. I had not written one letter or sent a single dollar as so many
other had. Instead I was thinking of what Miss Stephanie wanted to do with
me.

The day passed slower than usual, burt the time came for me to drop my
workers on Buford Highway as I always did. If they saw me enter Miss
Stephanie¹s home yesterday surely they would have asked why I had
done such a thing, but no one asked. They looked tired as they always did. I felt
sick. My virtue and love for my country and family was gone. I was becoming
a greedy businessman with feeling only for myself, but I had every intention
of showing up at that woman's house at exactly eight.

Eight arrived finally and I was late. I drove all the way up her driveway to
the top as I have never before and parked next to this large home. Unsure, I
knocked but no one answered. Feeling as though I should now leave, the
door opened. It was Miss Stephanie in her bathing suit and customary drink in
hand. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and said, "can I fix you that drink
darling?" "Yes, please" I said. She strolled in her high heels and aged
looking body towards the pool. She said, "the bar is over there, fix me
another drink to and when your done come in for swim." I did and things
began quickly. She began to kiss me all over my face. At first I resisted.
She was so much older and smelled of stinky alcohol, but I gave in and
slowly caressed her as a passionate man who wants love for the very first
time. She moaned when I entered her body, I pushed hard giving her an
aggressive orgasim. I wanted more, my thoughts were of my on ego
and manhood as I loved her again. It ended as quick as it started only
this time she looked at me differently. She said I could stay with for
the night if I promised to behave. I found myself in disbelief when six
o'clock in the morning came. Did this happen? Was in the bed of an older
but once beautiful and important blonde? I was high with emotion and
afraid she would deny me when she awoke. "Miss Stephanie, I must leave.
I have to pick up my men and work." She said, "hello lover, why must you
leave?" "It is my job, Miss Stephanie" "Stop calling me miss all the damn time, you have
fucked me twice bringing me to orgasim. None of my recent lovers
have done such a wonderful thing in a long time honey---its plain ole
Stephanie, Paco. Now leave before I change my mind."

The next day without asking her, I arrived as I had done the day before only
there was a lot of commotion going on in the back yard by the very pool
where we had made love. I wanted more, so I walked towards the pool and
there was a man fighting with Stephanie. She appeared to be intoxicated,
and he was screaming at her when I caught his eye. "Is this the mother
fucker you screwed you whore?" "You leave him alone David, he gives me
the same things you get from those bitches you fuck on your out of town
trips. Oh, you didn't think I knew about all them", slurring as she made
these horrible accusations. David looked at me and began to approach
almost running towards me. I panicked, was this happening. I wanted to
run but this old man was coming towards me with his fist clinched. He
swung rather pathetically and I raised my arms to defend myself as he
dropped to the pool deck. She had hit him on the back of the head with a
bottle that didn't break. It made a thick and awful sound. It was over, he
made no more moves toward me. Instead he lie there motionless as the
first police car pulled up the driveway. I froze with shock, and Stephanie began to cry.

The police arrested both her and I. I never saw her again. There was a very
large gathering of her neighbors as they drove me away in handcuffs. I was
scared, I soiled myself. I had so much and yet so little. At the police
station they had an interpreter speak to me explaining to me what might
happen. They placed me in a jail cell and there I waited for nine days till
a lawyer told me that I was not to blame for this murder but was going to be
deported.

I lost it all. I would not stay in jail any longer but my business and money
were gone. I left this land of freedom and opportunity the way I entered it,
homeless, afraid, and no money.

This brings me to the beginning of my story. Here I stand, this beautiful
night in my home town of Matro on the edge of a rocky cliff over looking
Manzanillo and all its lights. I wonder if my wife Maria and two daughters
are waiting for me still? Should I beg for forgiveness and start over? No, I
don't think so. I never once thought of them. I am a flawed man who does
not deserve all the honors God has given me. This is my story "La Bonita
Muerto", or a beautiful death. I have had more than most.