Transcript for the Piece Audio version of Yo También Puedo (So Can I)

Silence.

A girl speaking Mixteco fades up. Her sister translates. The two voices intertwine to tell the story…

The day came that I decided to leave because people had been arriving and telling me about there. Over there it’s beautiful, you know. And what’s more, they’re arriving and constucting their houses; they’re bringing their trucks, you know. For that reason, one day I told myself I would go. I borrowed 20,000 pesos.

And from there I started; I left.

Walking fades up

We started walking, and just walking we started getting scared. I was scared because our Coyote kept telling me to pass over this hill, or that grassy flat—and the thing is, you have to jump over a bunch of fences. And we couldn’t make any noise, because that’s how they find you, they grab you, and then return you.

And that day Immigration did find us and they returned us.

I didn’t want to try again. I was too scared. But everyone else wanted to cross again. So really, there was nothing else to do but tell myself, “I will go. I will try. Because how is it that everyone else is going to try, and not me? This is what I came for.” And so I picked myself up and made another attempt to cross.

But in the journey there were snakes and other things you’d see. But we kept going. And as we arrived I was at my end. And there was this fox hole. It was hollow, and I stepped right into it, and twisted my ankle. I could barely get it out. And I just couldn’t walk any more.

After a bit, I continued, and I just kept thinking that my goal was to get across, to not disappoint myself. And I did it—I rallied myself. And we made it. I made it.

When we arrived at the pick-up spot we rested for a bit.

Walking sound stops

But it’s there that you have to be really alert—not sleepy—ready, and awake for when the van comes to jump in and pile in, one on top of the other like tamales. The tallest and fattest have go on the bottom, and the littlest and lightest, like me, on top.

But later, when we took off, but, it’s just that, well like around 3 or 4 in the morning—we got a flat—the van did. We all got out—this was on a hillside in the mountains—and we hid, all of us, in the middle of some trees for, well…if someone passed by and looked, they wouldn’t find us. And we all waited there in that place until the guy who brought us, the Coyote, went to bring someone to fix the car. And they did fix it. It ended up ok. So again we all climbed in the van quickly, as best we could and we all laid one on top of the other until we were all in. And off we went.

But, again the van broke down. And later it started raining. And then the police found us. I think they must have been traffic police. They brought us to a hotel and we stayed there for the night. And then we started off again the following night.

Walking begins again

Later, well, we arrived, and this guy was waiting to take us each to where we had to be—he made stops for each of us at different places. I, for example, I went to Florida where my brothers were living. I made it.

And for a time I was happy. But I also was pretty scared bcause—it’s just—because I got to where I wanted to go, but it’s just, later, over there, I don’t know. (she starts to cry)

I was scared to go to work, or even to just look for work because everyone spoke another language. And I hardly left my home for a time. And where I was living, there were only men there.

Well when I arrived, better, the week after I arrived I went to work in a hotel. I worked for like two days. And the woman that recommended me for the job, she stole my first two days’ pay.

So I left there. I spent some time again in the home where I lived—but later, well, I went to work for a construction crew.

They paid me more or less pretty well--$100 a day. But, it’s just—well, I wasn’t able to stick with it because it was so hot. The work was really intense, and I just couldn’t keep up. So I stopped going.

Later, well, I met a man who offered me a job, a job working with him in his store. So yea, I went and worked there. But still, I had no way to get around. I was scared getting around.

To get from my house to the bus stop I had to walk a half-hour.

Walking starts

From there I’d get on the bus—but it’s just—well, that day I was scared, scared because I didn’t know how to deposit the money for my ride. I didn’t even understand the money itself.

This lady explained it to me. She told me which was which coin. She was a Mexican woman—she explained to me how to deposit the coins. It’s ‘cause over there, on the bus, there’s this place where you deposit your money. You don’t pay directly to the bus driver. And you can’t really ask if you don’t know the language. So you can’t even ask. You just have to know how to deposit the money But there, you know, I did it.

Traffic passes. Walking stops.

I made it to work. But, um, well, the return home was kind of dangerous because there were these black guys. It’s just these guys, um, there are some black guys that aren’t bad. But others, there’re others that can’t even look at a Mexican. Thank god, nothing ever happened to me. Always, and every day I arrived safely to work.

(She starts crying again) After a bit I couldn’t get used to my life, I just couldn’t get used to it over there. It’s not the same over there as it is here. I was sad because, because I missed—for example, here I’m with my family. And over there I was alone. I mean, I was with my brothers.

But it’s just, we hardly ever saw one another. We’d only see each other at night, because in the day they’d go off to work, and I’d stay at home alone, alone in the house. And, well, it just wasn’t the same. And every day, and every night I only thought about returning.

A year passed of me working there. I persisted a year working there. And I told them I was returning home. They didn’t want me to, including my boss. They asked me to wait a few more months. So I stayed a bit longer. But the time came, and I decided to go. And leaving, even though I had enjoyed living there—because I’d eventually learned how to get around alone on the bus, how to get where I wanted to go, and it no longer scared me to walk around alone—now I knew how to do all that.

Even so, I kept thinking about returning to my village. I…I missed, I missed…everything. The food. Everything that’s here in my village. Over there it’s beautiful, very beautiful. You can find everything you need. But it’s just not the same as being in your own village.

So I bought my ticket. They told me to cancel it—that I shouldn’t go. I thought ok, but then, no—Ah! The departure date arrived, and that’s what I did, I went. I came home.

But, well, when I arrived home, later, it just wasn’t the same. Things had changed. My little brothers had grown. My village, it’s not really the same as when I left. I saw my mom, my dad, my siblings. They’re all here. And I’m very content, very happy to be here again.

And, well, that’s it.

I am María Guadalupe Maldonado Sandoval. I was 18 years old when went to the U.S..

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