A Story for Our Time

After the gang leader threatened to kidnap their only child, Jose and Maria knew they would have to leave. Before dawn the next morning, the baby still asleep, the couple skirted the plaza with its white-plastered church and headed out of town.

They walked and walked, stopping only to nurse the child, then on again in the morning heat. When their shadows grew small, they rested in the shade of an acacia tree, ate tamales and drank from their water bottle.

At night they slept under a blanket, and in the morning continued walking north. They walked for days, stopping in towns to buy tortillas and beans and asking questions about their destination. Outside one city, they tied the baby tight on Maria’s back and climbed aboard a slow-moving freight train, riding on top of a box car. It was cold at night, and they were afraid of getting sleepy and falling off.

Before the train arrived at a new town, Jose and Maria would jump down and make camp with other migrants under the trees. Sometimes, villagers would bring them tamales and fresh fruit. Other times, police would chase them away from the tracks, beating them if they resisted.

Finally, after crossing a high plateau, they reached a town full of migrants waiting to apply for asylum. That night Jose and Maria gathered with other men, women and children. They ate the last of their food, and Maria sewed together places where their clothes were torn. They put cardboard inside their shoes.

Listening to the conversation, they heard an old man say it was no use. The border was being closed and no one was allowed in. But a teenager, who was traveling with his younger brother spoke up. “We have to cross over, even if they put us in jail.”

Another said, “I’ve heard the border officials are now taking children away from their parents. Then they deport the parents. You may never see your children again.”

“I can’t believe they would take our son away,” Jose said. Maria looked up as she nursed her baby. “There are God-fearing people in America,” she said. “They wouldn’t allow that, would they?”

“We have to get across,” Jose said. “There’s no going back.”

The next morning, Jose and Maria and their baby, Jesus, rose early, gathered their things, and joined a long line of refugees making their way to the border.

Illustration: Flight into Egypt by Eugène Alexis Girardet