Forensics Camp

by Kate Banco

  “Why are they cutting our hair Ricardo? Why do they have to do that?” He asks. I have no answer for him except it is probably to prevent lice and chinches or bedbugs. That’s why they want us to throw everything away. They stripped us, took our clothes, and shaved our heads. None of us look the way we did when we were picked up in the desert.

  We exit the trailer and see the girls. They are lined up and have short haircuts. They didn’t shave their heads, but they cut their long beautiful hair. A lot of the girls are crying. Some are so angry they start hitting others in line as if it is their fault. The pushing and shoving stops when one of the guards blows a whistle. The crying doesn’t stop, but they stand still in line. The girls stare at us and some start to laugh and point at us. We can’t feel any worse, at least that’s what we think now.

  Thirst and hunger is a constant. The water and granola bars can only stop the immediate hunger. The babies are crying again, the toddlers restless and tired. I hope they have a plan to give us more supplies or food.

  The hot sun on our cloth jumpsuits is hot. They aren’t made to keep us cool, only to keep us covered. Memo tries to unsnap the top of his overall but a guard sees him and shouts, “You cannot take off or unbutton your overall, it’s now your uniform. Keep it on and keep it clean.”

  Of course Memo doesn’t understand the instructions in English and continues to unsnap. A bilingual guard repeats the instructions in Spanish and Memo looks up at me.

  “Ricardo, tengo mucho calor. No puedo más,” Memo says.

  “I know, Memo. Hang in there. I think they’ll move us soon.” I say.

  The other children are also complaining.

  Some are throwing themselves on the ground in fits of exhaustion. Many are calling for their mothers. Once one starts crying for Mamá, a chorus of cries starts and they all begin to miss their mothers.

  The guards look over at the exhausted children. Many of them now with the white overalls dirty from the dusty brown soil. The once all-white group of children is now dusty and dirty. The faces stained with a mixture of reddish-brown soil and tears. The guards look exasperated and start to move us. I assume it was their job to clean us up and keep us clean until they put us on the airplane. That didn’t happen.

  The tall guard jumps up on an overturned wooden box and starts to shout, “Okay, let’s get going. We are going to put you on that airplane. No more rolling around on the ground!”

  Since he gave instructions in English, once again no one understands him. The same bilingual guard jumps up and repeats the instructions in Spanish. Why doesn’t the first guard understand that no one here speaks enough English to understand him?

  The first guard continues to give instructions. We can understand when the translator tells us what he said. They tell us we need to line up near the stairway that will take us to the plane doorway. Because of the heat, we are all eager to get on the plane, but the older children know this is not why we came to the States. We came for a better life and so far they’ve separated us from our loved ones. They stripped us not only of our clothes but also our identities.

  When we walk past a female guard at the top of the stairs to the plane, she tells each one of us to stop before entering. She has a big sharpie pen and writes a number on our back. Our numbers start with 3,000. Does this mean there are 2,999 children who have gone before us? Did they start counting from the number one? I look over and see Adriana with her younger sibling. She is also looking at the numbers. She signals me to get in line near her. Maybe if we have numbers close to each other they will keep us together and that’s a smart idea. She can watch out for Memo and I can watch out for Rosa. I don’t know anyone else here and I don’t know her very well, but we did take turns sleeping and it worked out.

  Memo is in front of me and they put the number 3,030 on his back. I step up and they put 3,031 on my back. We enter the plane and hear the soft roar of the air conditioning inside the plane. I hope Adriana and her sister are right behind me. I don’t wait for them, but when I turn she is right behind us. Her short hair makes her look a lot younger. I wonder how old she is. She looked older before.

  Memo finds a seat near the window and jumps up and down, “Ricardo, come sit here. We can look out the window.”

  I sit in the seat next to him, Adriana sits in the seat next to me and holds her younger sister in her arms. Her sister is obviously exhausted and falls asleep right away. The other kids run down the aisles and try to find window seats. When the window seats fill up they take the nearest seat possible. No one has ever been on an airplane before. It is a new experience for us.

  The guards follow the last ones on to the plane. The guard who always speaks English has given up. He tells the bilingual guard to give the instructions.

  “We will take off as soon as everyone sits down and has their seatbelts on. The captain wants to leave as soon as possible,” he says.

  The guard looks over at me and says, “You be the spokesperson from now on, they will listen to you.”

  “I don’t want that job,” I say.

  “No, you are the spokesperson. Every time we need to give instructions, you stand next to us and help organize everyone. Choose another person to help you.”

  I look over at Adriana and she nods her head, “Okay, I’ll try to organize the girls whenever possible. We can work together on this.”

  We have started to work together to make it more comfortable for each other. We are all seated and the guard tells the captain we are ready.

  Once again the bilingual guard stands up. He grabs the microphone in the front of the plane and says, “We are flying to Texas and the trip will be over two hours. We have helpers who will bring you water and a sandwich when the captain turns off the seat belt sign. Please stay seated and we will bring you food.”

  He signals to me to stand up and take the mike. I ask him what he wants me to say. “Tell them again what I just said. Stay seated, food and water will come and it will be a little over two hours until we land. That’s all.”

  I repeat into the microphone what he already said. Then he tells me, “Tell them if they have any problems to come to you, not me. And the girls can go to your girlfriend here.”

  I blush and try not to look at Adriana. “I just met her, she’s not my girlfriend,” I say. But I hope Adriana didn’t hear me. I like the idea that someone would think I have a girlfriend.

  Adriana stands up and takes the microphone, “Muchachas, they are going to bring water and a sandwich after we take off. Please stay seated.” She hands the microphone back to me and whispers to herself, “I’m not anyone’s girlfriend.”

  The engines start to roar and the vibration of the plane quiets the whole group down. We are all excited to be on an airplane and take our first flight. We weren’t given a choice and we aren’t going anyplace we want, but we will fly on an airplane today.

  The plane starts to move and we go in a reverse direction. Everyone lets out a little scream when the plane stops and turns. The vibration of the plane surprises us all and we scream again. But this time it is like a ride at the feria, we are all going together and it is a little fun. For the moment we forget our parents aren’t with us and they don’t know where we are.

  We pick up speed and the engines make a terrible noise. I wonder if when people go on vacation if they go in a noisy plane like this, or is this an old plane. Like the old van we were in, leftovers for us. We lift off and everyone is quiet. They all try to look out the window and see the ground below us. There is a mixture of excitement and terror. Some start crying. Once one baby starts crying they all join in. It could be the noise but it also could be because they hear the others crying. I turn my head to hide my tears, my fear for every child on this plane is too much to handle. I close my eyes and let the tears roll down my cheeks.

  There are other helpers on the plane, some female some male. They are dressed in dark navy pa
nts with a light blue button-down shirt. The sadness in their faces tells me they’ve done this before and aren’t happy with this assignment. I bet they would like to be on a flight to someplace exotic like Hawaii or Paris. This flight to no place, Texas is about the most unglamorous work you can get.

  They pass out sandwiches in plastic wrap, an apple and a juice. They also give pre-prepared bottles for the babies and jars of baby food for the toddlers. They seem to have just enough for everyone because when one child asks for another sandwich they shake their heads no. We are captive in an airplane, in paper clothes and slippers. Our food also keeps us captive. We have no way of getting more food if we are hungry, only what they give us.

  Some of the children fall asleep after they eat, while others begin to make constant visits to the restroom. The sandwich meat doesn’t agree with some of the younger ones. They have never hand sandwich meat in their lives. My stomach accepts the food they gave me and I’m thankful for that. Memo has fallen asleep and I hope we can keep the food in his stomach. We don’t know when they will feed us next.

  I know some of the other children come from poorer conditions than us, we had a house with running water and electricity. Many of these kids may have had to drink from rivers or creeks and now may have parasites. They may have spent more time at the border and lived in poor conditions. I remind myself to watch out for Memo to make sure he doesn’t get sick. I am angry this is my job now to watch out for him. Our trip to the States was supposed to be for a better life, not this. My father’s plan to find us a better life isn’t working out so well for Memo and me. I doubt he in is any better of a place. My stomach lurches at the thought of how far away we are from him and Abuelita.

  I doze off and noise in the cabin wakes me up with a jolt. Children are crying and holding their ears, I can feel the pressure in my ears too. I thought all airplanes had special pressure to prevent this. What if this is an old plane and doesn’t have the right pressurization? More children are crying.

  The employees tell everyone to yawn and try to pop their ears. It’s hard for the little ones to do that. I try it and it helps for a little bit but not for long. Memo wakes up crying and holding his ears. I try to console him and tell him to open wide and yawn. He tries, but it’s hard for him. He hears all of the others crying and he is scared. He looks to me to help and I can’t help him. Right now I hate my father for putting me in this situation. I miss my Mamá and I want to cry again. How many times will I cry before today is over?

  I can feel the plane descend and I try to look out the tiny window. Everything is brown and dry, with no trees. It looks like the desert we left behind again, except I see a lot of cars on the highway and they all seem like they are in a hurry. Our descent is cut short when the captain pulls the plane back up in to the air again.

  What can be happening? Are we crashing? The children all scream and the guards look frantic.

  “Everyone calm down and sit down,” yells the English-speaking guard. No one listens to him; they haven’t learned English during this short flight.

  The bilingual guard stands up and says, “Calmense y sientese por favor. Vamos a dar una vuelta más. Aterrizamos en seguida.”

  Some of the older children calm down when they hear we will land after taking another loop around the airfield. Babies and toddlers continue to cry.

  We circle around the airfield and we descend one more time. This time the pilot lands the plane with a big bang. Things fly up in the air from the guard’s area. One child who wasn’t latched in to his seat belt flies up and almost hits his head. This shocks him and he sits quietly and looks up at his older brother. None of us have flown before and everything is a surprise. Some good surprises and some bad. The initial excitement of flying in the plane has disappeared.

  The plane bumps and grumbles along the runway and everyone begins to quiet down. We have no idea where we are but soon we will find out. We pull up to another warehouse-type building and see the workers push a stairway on wheels out to the plane. The bilingual guard tells everyone to stay seated and wait for more instructions.

  We all look around, I look over to see Adriana holding on to her hermanita. They both look terrified. I hope we can stay together. I may not be able to protect her and her sister but it might be easier if we make friends and stay together.

  When the plane stops near the stairway the bilingual guard stands up and tells everyone to wait their turn to exit the plane. Outside I see a big yellow school bus sitting in the sun, all of the windows are lowered, and I can tell there is no air conditioning. We will exit this cool environment in to the midday sun and get on a bus that has been sitting in the sun. It won’t be fun. I take my time and wait for the others to get off before me. I signal to Adriana to stay behind too.

  She looks at me with raised eyebrows. I whisper to her, “It’s very hot out there, let’s wait until everyone else is off the plane. We won’t have to sit in the sun for as long.”

  “Oh, good idea,” Adriana says.

  We both grab the hands of our younger siblings and walk down the aisle slowly behind the others. We are the last to exit the plane. The flash of light blinds me at first, the sun is so bright. Memo hides behind me to protect his eyes. He is eager to follow me but also afraid of everything even the sun.

  I see Adriana is also protecting Rosa from the sun as well. Since her little sister is younger she reaches down and picks her up to descend the stairway. I watch the others to see what happens when they reach the bottom of the stairway. Some of the children are crying and I see why. The younger ones are being led away to another bus, they aren’t being led they are ripped away from their older sibling’s arms.

  The screams and crying are heard from both the younger children and the older siblings. The older ones are reaching out for the babies and toddlers and screaming, “No, por favor, No!”

  The little ones try throwing themselves on the ground and the guards double up to get the ones who put up a fight. They reach down and pick them up and carry them off.

  Through the bus windows we watch the crying children’s faces in the windows. It is gut-wrenching. I turn to look at Adriana and see the terror in her eyes. I am horrified and right now I hate my father more than he will ever know. His decision to bring us to the States is the reason for this. I hate him! Mamá I want you, Mamá, Papá caused this. I wish you were here. This never would have happened with you. Tears roll down my cheeks and I don’t care who sees me, even Adriana. She is also crying and holding tight to her sister.

  Memo sees what is happening and grabs me even tighter.

  “Ricardo, no. Ricardo don’t let them take me away. I want to stay with you. ¡Por favor! !Ricardo, quiero a mi mamá, por favor!”

  “Memo, don’t worry. I’ll find you. Go with them and I’ll find you. Go with Adriana’s sister. You have an amiga”

  I see Adriana take her sister’s hand and put it in Memo’s hand. Take care of her Memo, please.”

  Memo takes her hand and looks at me. “¿Ricardo?”

  “Memo, go ahead. I’ll look for you both. Help Adriana and watch over Rosa. You be the big brother now.”

  I hate saying this to him; there is no reason he should be the big brother. He is only seven years old. He should be playing back at home with his own toys. He shouldn’t have to watch over anyone. This isn’t fair.

  “¡Papá, te odio!” I yell.

  Adriana looks at me with surprise but takes my hand in hers and we walk to the bus where the others are waiting.” Now, we are family,” she says.

  We board the bus and look for a seat. Almost all are full but we find two aisle seats next to each other. Adriana is still holding my hand when we sit down. No one says a word. We are all terrified and have no idea what’s next and what they plan to do with us.

  The bus driver closes the door and starts the bus off with a lurch. There are some complaints from the back, but most
remain quiet. I can’t imagine it is quiet at all on the other bus. Poor babies, all those young ones alone. First, they were taken from their parents, now they are taken from their older siblings. They must be terrified, because I know I am.

  The dust from the road seeps in through the open windows. There is no way we can close the windows because of the heat. Someone in the back starts to vomit and the smell permeates the whole bus. Another boy starts to vomit when the smell reaches him in front of the bus. Now we are surrounded by the smell. Between the heat, the dust and the smell of vomit I feel like I want to die. I’ve never been in a situation like this before and it’s all my father’s fault.

  Mamá, why did you have to die? Life was so much easier before you got sick. I miss you so much.

  We continue to ride along the dirt road for about thirty minutes. Everyone is quiet and some have fallen asleep. I want to watch where we go. What if I have to escape? I’ll need to watch where they take Memo too. If I escape I’ll take him with me.

  It is dry, brown dirt and sagebrush along the highway. No distinguishing marks, no place for me to remember. It all looks the same until we pull on to a highway. On the highway I see a large gas station.

  A Chevrolet car is on a metal stick in the air going around in circles. Why is it up there I wonder. I see a mile at least of metal fencing. Inside the fence are old junk cars as far as the eye can see. Why are there so many old cars here? In Mexico, we still drive cars this old. The one we left near Calexico was older than some of these cars.

  Everyone looks with awe at the number of cars parked in the field. It looks like a huge parking lot except none of the cars run. At least this is a landmark I can remember. We continue passing more metal fencing and turn on to another paved highway. It looks like the entrance to someplace important. The landscaping is taken care of and there is even some green grass with sprinklers. Green grass is unheard of in the desert. Someone important must live here.