Memorias del Silencio 12

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Memorias del Silencio Footprints of the Borderland

Vol.12


BorderSenses © 2019 First Printing September 2019 Memorias del Silencio: Footprints of the Borderland Volume 12

Publisher: Amit Ghosh

Project Director: Daniel Ríos-Lopera

Editor: Daniel Ríos-Lopera

Contibuiting Editor: Yasmin Ramirez

Translations: Jacqueline Alqueza

Project Assistants: Jessica Castro, Sandra Garcia, Rafael Medel, Oscar Alcantar, Gabriel Garcia y Blanca Esparza.

Cover Image and photographs: Edgar Picazo Merino

Cover Design/Layout Design: Daniel Ríos-Lopera

BorderSenses El Paso, Texas bordersenses.com memoriasdelsilencio.com


memoriasdelsilencio.com


Para David Lopera


Agradecimientos Andrés Muro

Director Community Education Program (CEP)

Suamy Meza

Manager (CEP)

Leticia Domínguez

Lead Facilitator (CEP)

Shila Simons

Lead Facilitator (CEP)

BorderSenses Board: Minerva Laveaga, Crystal Robert, Yasmin Ramírez, Amit K. Ghosh, Yasmin Flores, Reyna Muñoz, Arturo Jaime Lizbeth San Martín Jaurrieta, Sara Valenzuela, Natalia Arreola, Vanessa Zuniga Contibuting Editors

Jessica Castro, Sandra García, Rafael Medel, Óscar Alcantar, Gabriel García, Blanca Esparza Project assistants

Museums and Cultural Affairs Department (City of El Paso) Al staff y tutores de la oficina de CAMP en Valle Verde, Angie Jiménez, Santi Alcantar y a todas las personas que hacen este libro posible.


Poesía I Poetry

12 Janette Amezcua I Juana Cecilia Limones I Adriana Ibarra Carmen Hernández I Luis Calamaco

Crónica I Non-Fiction

28 Mónica Balcázar I Shelsey Delgado I María Chávez María Luz Sánchez I Amalia García I Carmen Henández

De Canciones y Poemas Of Poems and Songs

50 América Cortez I Jeremías de León I Lourdes Luévano Citlali Aranda I Andrea Alvarado I Jacqueline Perea María Reyes I Nayeli Estrada I Priscilla Medina

Manual de Instrucciones Instructions Manual

74 Lizeth Vega I Andrea Alvarado I Juana Cervantes

Cuento I Short Stories

82 Margarita Sánchez I Brenda Rubio I Amalia García


Testomonio I Testimony 96 Joel Santiago

Arte I Art

103 Lizbeth Maldonado

Fotografía I Photography 8 I 26 I 72 I 92

Edgar Picazo Merino


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Edgar Picazo Merino Memorias del silencio vol. XII 9


Poesía 10

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Poetry Memorias del silencio vol. XII 11


Janette Amezcua

Valor Venimos de Caldo y Frijoles De mucho Chile y Limones De esos padres que madrugan a las 6 de la mañana Para poder ir a México a pasear a la Plaza Venimos de pueblos No mucha gente sabe pronunciar Los sábados son y eran una chulada El olor de sabuloso en la mañana En la tarde el sazón de la carne asada Venimos de padres que nos enseñaron valores De que los mexicanos navegan por los dólares En aquellos “files” de Mora, Manzana y Nuez Chavacanes tan dulces, Cereza también Le doy gracias a Dios por mis padres Por cruzar la frontera para darme una vida mejor Esta tarde terminamos nuestro primer año con ese mismo valor Tomamos nuestros primeros pasos a nuestro futuro Gracias a mis padres sabemos luchar Y luchar duro

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Janette Amezcua

Pride We come from Broth and Beans From too much Chile and Limes Of Parents who get up early at 6 in the morning to go to Mexico to walk the Plaza We come from villages Not many people know how to pronounce Saturdays are and were a beautiful thing The smell of bleach in the morning in the afternoon the seasoning of roasted meat We come from parents who taught us values That Mexicans navigate for dollars in those lines of Blackberries, Apples, Walnuts Sweet apricots and Cherries too. I thank God for my parents For crossing the border to give me a better life This afternoon we finished our first year with that same value We took our first steps to our future Thanks to my parents, we know how to fight And fight hard

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Janette Amezcua

Sahuayo

México ya no es el mismo ¿Qué le pasó a mi barrio? Es pura delincuencia Hay demasiado egoísmo

Recuerdo jugar en la calle Con todos mis primos A las escondidas y carreras Lo triste es que ya no somos los mismos

Me da tristeza decir “Viva México” Y mirar tanta delincuencia Ese era mi barrio Ya ni se respeta la Iglesia

Mi mamá me decía, “Antes de las 10” Hoy nomás respeto porque me quiere a sus píes El miedo no existía, solo las leyendas Del Cucuy, las brujas y La Llorona

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En estos tiempos no se puede ni salir a la tienda Por miedo de no regresar Mi tío nos pedía ir al mandado Con solo 10 pesos en la mano Y nos dice, “No le hablen a nadie, ¿Les quedó claro?” Este es mi nuevo sahuayo

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Janette Amezcua

Sahuayo

Mexico is no longer the same What happened to my neighborhood? It is pure crime Too much selfishness

I remember playing in the street With all my cousins Hide and seek The sad part is that we are no longer the same

I’m sad to say “Viva Mexico” And to watch so much crime That was my neighborhood But now the Church is no longer respected

My mom used to tell me, “Before 10” Today, I just respect that she wants me at her feet Fear did not exist, only legends Of the Cocuy, the witches and La Llorona

These days you cannot even go to the store For fear of not returning My uncle would send us to buy groceries With only 10 pesos in hand And he would tell us, “Don’t talk to anyone, did I make

myself clear?” This is my new sahuayo

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Juana Cecilia Limones

Emigra Emigra el niño sin culpa corre; y ve que corren, si él entendiera, casi seguro se detuviera, mas la mano de el que es alto toma Ya perdido en la caravana, lleno de sorpresas, gana un cuento que le alegra, y sin más por el momento, espera a sus padres encontrar.

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Juana Celcilia Limones

Emigrate The boy without guilt runs; and he sees that they run, if he understood, he would almost certainly stop the hand of the one who is tall he takes already lost in the caravan, full of surprises, he hears a story that makes him happy, and without more at the moment, he waits for his parents to find him.

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Adriana Ibarra

Siempre Presente

Cada quien es uno mismo Qué bonito tu pelo negro Qué bonito tu cuerpo entero El más grande y dulce amor

Pienso que cada instante he sobrevivido al caminar Ya no vivo por vivir…

¿Por qué no escuchas lo que está tan cerca de ti? ¿Por qué no supiste entender a mi corazón?

Qué bonito podría poder volar y siempre a tu lado estar Qué lástima pero adiós Siempre presente en mi mente y en mi corazón.

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Adriana Ibarra

Always Present

Everyone is one Beautiful is your black hair Beautiful is your whole body The greatest and sweetest love

I think that every moment I have survived by walking I no longer live to live...

Why don’t you listen to what is so close to you? Why didn’t you understand my heart?

How beautiful if I could be able to fly and always be by your side Too bad, but goodbye Always present in my mind and my heart.

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Carmen Hernández

¿Y Dónde Quedo Yo?

¿Y dónde quedo yo? Dónde quedan mis palabras, mis besos, mis abrazos y mi corazón.

¿Y dónde quedo yo? Mis sueños, mis anhelos y Toda mi ilusión.

¿Y dónde quedo yo? Mis pensamientos, mis oraciones la razón.

¿Y dónde quedo yo? Mi cuerpo ardiente, mi piel desnuda y la pasión

¿Y dónde quedo yo? Mi tiempo invertido, el tiempo Vivido que se esfumó

¿Y dónde quedo yo? El dolor sentido, el mar de llanto El alma en pena y el amor sin canto.

¿Y dónde quedo yo? En un compás de espera, en un Suspiro de esperanza, en la Venida de un milagro con ansia.

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¿Y dónde quedo yo? En terminar el cuento, ponerle fin a la hostia, cerrar el libro que se acabó.

¿Y dónde quedo yo? En la esperanza apagada, el compás de espera ya no espera, el milagro fallido nunca concedido.

¿Y donde quedo yo? En el tiempo al tiempo, el corazón sanado, la ilusión despierta, la esperanza viva, porque Dios así lo había planeado.

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Carmen Hernández

Where Does That Leave Me?

Where does that leave me? Where do my words remain, my kisses, my hugs, and my heart?

Where does that leave me? My dreams, my desires, and all my illusion.

Where does that leave me? My thoughts, my prayers the reason.

Where does that leave me? My burning body, my bare skin, and the passion.

Where does that leave me? My time invested, time lived that vanished.

Where does that leave me? The pain felt, the sea of tears the soul in sorrow and love without a song.

Where does that leave me? In a waiting measure, in a sigh of hope, in the coming from an eager miracle.

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Where does that leave me? In finishing the story, putting an end to the host, closing the book that is now over.

Where does that leave me? With hope turned off, the waiting measure no longer waits, the failed miracle never granted.

And where does that leave me? In time to time, the heart healed, the illusion awakens, the hope alive, because God had planned it that way.

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Luis Calamaco

Taller Mecánico

Cuatro paredes rodean un piso de cemento Bajo un techo que ennegrece el sol ardiente Llaves y herramientas sobre el piso Todos cubierto de tierra y aceite.

Coches rotos llorando para ser reparados Desmontados como un cubo de Rubik Esperando su momento para brillar Esperando a su maestro constructor.

En un día soleado Calentando sus cuerpos de metal Protegiendo a los caballeros de gasolina Calentando sus almas.

Ha llegado el momento El caballero ruge de alegría El motor ya no gotea sangre negra La mancha que dejó cuando llegó Ahora se ha convertido en una cicatriz de guerra.

Allí va Corriendo por el camino Dejando las cuatro paredes Sin rastro en absoluto.

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Luis Calamaco

Mechanic Workshop

Four walls surrounding a cement floor Under a roof that blacks the burning sun Wrenches and tools all over the floor All covered by dirt and oil.

Broken cars crying to be fixed Dissembled like a Rubik’s cube Waiting for their moment to shine Waiting for their master builder.

On a sunny day Heating their metal body Guarding the gas knights Warming their soul.

The moment has come The knight roars with joy The engine no longer drips black blood The stain it left when it came Has now become a battle scar.

There it goes Rushing though the road Leaving the four walls With no trace at all.

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Edgar Picazo Merino Memorias del silencio vol. XII 27


Crónica Non-Fiction

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Las siguientes crónicas son el resultado de un ejercicio de escritura creativa en la que los estudiantes escribieron textos a partir de la pregunta: ¿Cómo se ve el miedo?

The following are the result of a creative writing exercise in which students wrote texts based on the question: What does fear look like?

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Mónica Balcázar

Miedo al Futuro Han pasado ya más de 19 años, y lo recuerdo como si hubiera pasado ayer. Mis recuerdos se hacen más presentes. Cuando entro a un hospital, huele a la angustia de ese día domingo 4 de Julio de 1999. El hospital huele a dolor, entra por mi nariz y recorre mi interior lentamente; sacudiendo mis recuerdos, los miedos, las decisiones, y las lágrimas derramadas por ese ser indefenso. Era un domingo 4 de julio, cerca a las 10:00 am. Comencé a sentir algo extraño en mi espalda baja. El nacimiento de mi segundo hijo era inminente, pensé. Soy una mamá a la que no le dan contracciones, así que cuando llegué al hospital ya tenía 7 cm de dilatación. Mi bebe nació y jamás olvidaré la expresión que hizo la enfermera cuando lo vio. Mi mente se puso en blanco. Con miedo pregunté qué pasa, ella salió de su asombro y me dijo “mami tú no te preocupes”. Entonces le hizo una seña a otra enfermera y en cuestión de minutos comenzó a entrar mucha gente al cuarto. Corrían, hablaban, abrían cajones, sacaban vedas, sondas, y yo volteaba de un lado para otro, pero nadie me explicaba nada. El doctor llamó a otra enfermera y le dio, mi bebé. Cuando ella lo volteó para ponerlo en la incubadora, sentí el miedo más profundo que yo había sentido: él tenía un circulo en su espalda del tamaño de la palma de mi mano con sangre. Había muchas enfermeras alrededor de su cuna, pregunté de nuevo y sólo me decían que una vez el pediatra lo evaluara, me explicarían. 30

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Mi estómago se oprimió, mi corazón latía fuerte al ver todo lo que estaba pasando en esa sala de partos. Su herida era como cuando caes de rodillas y te raspas, se ve sangre, pero no escurre. El doctor, dijo el pediatra, no tardaría en llegar y darme más detalles. Mi esposo estaba en un principio en una ventana afuera del cuarto, después ya estaba a mi lado, los dos tratando de entender lo que más podíamos. Me llevaron a mi cuarto y después de un rato llegó el pediatra. “Su hijo nació con espina bífida y probablemente hidrocefalia y convulsiones porque usted no se alimentó bien, no tomó vitaminas, ácido fólico, verduras, pescado, bueno, en fin todo lo nutritivo” Por Dios! me hizo sentir culpable! Luego dijo: “Por lo tanto, su hijo, no caminará, no podrá ver, oír, hablar, no llevará una vida normal. Hágase a la idea de verlo en silla de ruedas, pues esto no tiene cura. Por lo pronto, en 2 horas, le hacen su primera cirugía, para cerrar su espalda y tratar de corregir el tubo neural. Yo los espero en una semana después de que lo den de alta, en mi consultorio.” Me dejó en shock, con mil preguntas por hacer, mi miedo tan fuerte. No podríamos hacer nada para ayudarlo, el futuro de mi hijo era incierto y todavía hoy me aterra pensar en el futuro cuando mi esposo y yo no estemos en este mundo. Hoy día, pienso que el doctor me dio el peor escenario, pues él no puede predecir lo que va a pasar. Ahora Brian tiene 19 años y 6 cirugías acuestas. Él es casi independiente, ve, escucha, habla y camina con ayuda de sus muletas. Se graduó de la preparatoria y está haciendo su segundo año en la universidad. Es excelente en matemáticas, es hábil para la lectura y habla 2 idiomas a la perfección (lo que sus 2 hermanos no hacen). Le encanta el fútbol, lo juega con su hermano en el parque. Vemos el mundial, los juegos olímpicos y el Super Bowl. Cuando termine sus básicas en el colegio irá a la Universidad de Nuevo México, pues su meta es graduarse para convertirse en un diseñador de video juegos. Memorias del silencio vol. XII 31


Mónica Balcázar

Fear the Future More than 19 years have passed, and I remember it as if it had happened yesterday. My memories become more present. Everytime I go a hospital, it smells like the anguish of that day, Sunday, July 4, 1999. The hospital smells like pain; it comes to my nose and travels slowly inside me; shaking my memories, fears, decisions, and tears shed for that helpless being. It was a Sunday, July 4, near 10:00 A.M. I started to feel something strange on my lower back. The birth of my second child was imminent, I thought. I am a mother who does not get contractions, so when I arrived at the hospital, I was already 7 cm dilated. My baby was born, and I will never forget the expression the nurse made when she saw him. My mind went blank. With fear, I asked, “What happened?”. She came out of her amazement and said, “Mommy don’t worry.” Then, she signaled to another nurse, and in a matter of minutes, many people began to enter the room. They ran, talked, opened drawers, removed closures, probes, and I turned from one place to another, but nobody explained anything to me. The doctor called another nurse and gave her my baby. When she turned him around to put him in the incubator, I felt the most profound fear I had ever felt: he had a circle on his back the size of the palm of my hand filled with blood. There were many nurses around his crib, I asked again, and they just told me that once the pediatrician evaluated him, they would explain.

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My stomach was pressed; my heart was pounding when I saw everything that was going on in that delivery room. His wound was like when you fall to your knees and scratch, you see blood, but it does not drain. The doctor said the pediatrician would soon arrive and give me more details. My husband was initially at a window outside the room, then he was next to me, both of us trying to understand the most that we could. They took me to my room and after a while the pediatrician arrived. “Your son was born with spina bifida and probably hydrocephalus and seizures because you did not eat well, did not take vitamins, folic acid, vegetables, fish, well, in short, everything nutritious.” For God’s sake, he made me feel guilty! Then he said “Therefore, your son will not walk, he will not be able to see, hear, speak, he will not lead a normal life. Grasp the idea of seeing him in a wheelchair, because this has no cure. For now, in 2 hours, he will have his first surgery, to close his back and try to correct the neural tube. I’ll meet you in a week after he is discharged, at my office.” It left me in shock, with a thousand questions to ask, my fear so strong. We could do nothing to help him, my son’s future was uncertain, and I am still terrified to think about the future when my husband and I won’t be in this world anymore. Today, I think the doctor gave me the worst scenario because he can’t predict what will happen. Now, Brian is 19 years old and has had six surgeries. He is almost independent. He sees, listens, talks, and walks with the help of his crutches. He graduated from high school and is doing his second year in college. He’s excellent in math, skilled at reading, and speaks two languages perfectly (something his two brothers don’t do). He loves soccer; he plays it with his brother in the park. We watch the World Cup, the Olympic Games, and the Super Bowl. When he finishes his basics at school, he will transfer to the University of New Mexico, because his goal is to graduate to become a video game designer. Memorias del silencio vol. XII 33


Shelsey Delgado

Destructivo Amor

Érase una vez una damicela llamada Angélica. Ella era una bella mujer, llena de valores y con el autoestima hasta el cielo. Un día conoció a un caballero de ensueño y decidió casarse con él. Se fue a emprender el vuelo para formar un nido con aquél hombre que le había dado su mano para caminar juntos por la vida. Todo marchaba bien, o eso creía ella. Pasaba el tiempo y el amor se iba acabando, pero ella no lo notaba porque estaba ciega de amor. Ella era delicada como una flor pero el caballero era un escalvo de sus impulsos. En vez de llenarla de de talles la llenaba de insultos y humillaciones. Ella, en nombre del amor que todavía le guardaba, aguntaba todas estas situaciones. Aquel principe que la llamaba “mi damicela, mi amor”, ahora la llamaba “inútil e insensible” por no ser lo que él esperaba. La primera vez fue la más dolorosa y con el tiempo la infedilidad se fue conviertiendo en una costumbre, pero la debilidad de Angélica era el perdón. Cada vez él se volvía más cruel y más agresivo y eso a ella la asustaba. Lágrimas rodaban por sus mejillas todas las noches. Los días pasaban y ella trataba de meterse en la cabeza que mañana todo cambiaría, que ella sabía que él la quería y que esto sería un horrible recuerdo. “No habrá más heridas y otra vez seremos felices como en el principio” pensaba. Pero lo que pasa una vez vuelve a pasar. Habían tantas cicatrices que Angélica ya no podía más, se preguntaba: “¿Cuánto tiempo más aguantaré?” 34

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En cada rincón hubo una lágrima y un bofetón. Ella sentía pánico, miedo, porque no lo quería perder. El silencio era su único compañero y sólo recordaba sus palabras: “Si te preguntan, te has caído en el baño”. Ella no podía detenerlo, ni defenderse, pues era más fuerte que ella. Sólo le quedaba rezar para tener suerte y esperar que todo terminara de una vez. Moraleja: No seas una damicela; habla, exprésate. Recuerda que a nosotras cuando se nos acaba el amor es porque lo vemos con ambos ojos, los del rostro y los del alma.

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Shelsey Delgado

Destructive Love

Once upon a time, there was a damsel named Angelica. She was a beautiful woman, full of values and a self-esteem that went up to heaven. One day she met a dream knight and decided to marry him. She went on the flight to form a nest with the man who had given her his hand to walk together through life. Everything was going well, or so she believed. Time passed and their love was dying out, but she didn’t notice it because she was still blinded with love. She was delicate as a flower, but the knight was a scalpel of his impulses. Instead of fulfilling her with details, he filled her with insults and humiliations. She in the name of the love that she had for him, endured all these situations. That prince who once called her “my damsel, my love”, now called her “useless and insensitive” for not being what he expected. The first time was the most painful and over time infidelity became a habit, but Angelica’s weakness was forgiveness. Each time he became crueler and more aggressive and that scared her. Tears rolled down her cheeks every night. The days would pass, and she would try to get into her head by saying that tomorrow everything would change, that she knew he loved her and that all of this would just be a horrible memory. “There will be no more hurt and once again we will be happy as we were in the beginning,” she thought. But what happens once, happens again. There were so many scars that Angelica 36

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take it anymore; she wondered: “How much longer will I endure this?” There was always a tear and a slap. She felt panic and fear because she didn’t want to lose him. Silence was her only companion, and she only remembered his words: “If anyone asks you, you fell in the bathroom.” She could not stop him, nor defend herself, for he was stronger than her. She only could pray for luck and hope that everything would end at once. Moral of the story: Don’t be a damsel; speak up, express yourself. Remember that when we run out of love, it is because we see it with both eyes, those of the face and those of the soul.

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María Chávez

Miedo

De los más grandes miedos que se pueden sentir es sin duda el miedo de saber que se puede perder a un hijo. Este pasaje transcurrió en una tarde que se vislumbraba como cualquier otra, como una más en lo que todo parecía ir con absoluta normalidad. Era un día escolar para este pequeño protagonista. Él salió de su casa a cumplir con una jornada escolar más, y su mente era una madeja de emociones, un laberinto donde no encontraría solo la salida. Al terminar su día, salió sin un rumbo fijo. El comienzo de su pesadilla interna. Caminó y caminó sin saber su destino. Se sentía agobiado por todos sus miedos. ¿Era un mundo en el que estaba él solo, cuanto tiempo transcurriría con todos esos fantasmas en su cabeza? Tal vez poco, quizás mucho, pasaron horas que para él fueron largas, para quienes lo esperaban se hicieron igualmente eternas. El miedo de él era no volver a su nido, el miedo de quien lo esperaba era no volver a verlo, o encontrarlo muerto. Ese es el más grande terror, saber que de un momento a otro la vida, debido a las circunstancias, te puede dar un giro de 180 grados. Cambiar tu mundo, entristecer tu vida.

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Al seguir ese camino sin rumbo fijo se llegó la noche, la incertidumbre se apoderó de todos. El final de esta agonía se acercaba. Se escucharon las sirenas, andaban en busca de un ser que no sabía cómo enfrentarse al mundo. Lo encontraron deambulando, visiblemente cansado. La persona que lo esperaba añoraba su regreso, como si hubieran pasado años sin saber de él. Llegó con el corazón encogido por el miedo, verse en un lugar incierto y desconocido. Las dos almas se fundieron en un abrazo, un abrazo lleno de esperanza, un mundo nuevo se abría.

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María Chávez

Fear

Of the greatest fears that can be felt is undoubtedly the fear of knowing that you could lose your child. This passage took place on an afternoon that looked like any other, as one more in which everything seemed to go with absolute normality. It was a school day for this little protagonist. He left his house to fulfill another school day, his mind was a skein of emotions, a maze where he could not find the only way out. At the end of his day, he left without a fixed course, which was the beginning of his nightmare. He walked and walked without knowing his destination. He felt overwhelmed by all his fears. It was a world in which he was alone, how much time would he spend with all these ghosts in his head? Maybe a little, perhaps a lot, hours flew by that felt long for him, for those who expected it they became as equally eternal. His fear was not to return to his nest, his fear was for those who waited for him and them not seeing him again, or them finding him dead. That is the greatest terror, knowing that at any moment, life, dcan do a 180-degree turn. Change your whole world and sadden your life.

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The night came and uncertainty seized everyone. The end of this agony was approaching. The sirens were heard; they were looking for a being who did not know how to face the world. They found him wandering, visibly tired. The person waiting for him longed for his return as if years had passed without hearing from him. He arrived with his heart shrunk with fear, seeing himself in an uncertain and unknown place. The two souls merged into a hug. A hug full of hope, opening into a new world.

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María Luz Sánchez

La Vida: Un Instante

Un día nublado y lluvioso, mi hijo y su esposa me pidieron que los acompañara a una agencia de autos a recoger el nuevo auto que habían comprado. El camino de la casa a la agencia fue muy agradable pues yo los veía ilusionados y muy contentos por la nueva adquisición. El plan era ir con ellos para que yo me regresara en su auto y ellos en su nueva camioneta. La verdad es que nunca había manejado ese carro y sentía un poco de miedo. Tomé el freeway y comencé a manejar distraidamente. Luego de un rato me di cuenta que ya estaba cerca de la salida que necesitaba. Me percaté que ya estaba demasiado cerca y bruscamente giré el volante para salir y cuál es mi sorpresa al ver que el volante no giraba, que solo el cubrevolante había girado y perdí totalmemente el control del auto. Desesperada, volteé a los dos lados y ví que estaba rodeada de autos a toda velocidad y yo sin ningún control. Sentí un miedo que jamás había experimentado, sentía en mi cuerpo un hormigueo desde mi pecho y se iba a la cintura y sólo pensaba “Voy a morir, voy a morir”. En ese momento mi pensamiento fue pedirle a Dios por mí: “Dios mío indícame, ¿Qué debo hacer?” Mis manos se apoyaron fuertemente en el volante, quité mis pies del acelerador y me asombré al ver que el auto de repente se iba yendo derecho y hacía un lado, como llevado por el aire. Los carros hicieron espacio y lentamente fue cambiando de carriles hasta que quedó a un lado del freeway. Todo lo vi en cámara lenta, parecía tan rato y tan normal, aún no le encuentro explicación. Esa experiencia fue sólo un instante, un instante en el que sentí un miedo horripilante y de la cuál, gracias Dios, salí ilesa.

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María Luz Sánchez

Life: An Instant

It was a cloudy and rainy day, when my son and his wife asked me to accompany them to a car agency to pick up the new car they had bought. The ride from the house to the agency was enjoyable because I saw them excited and very happy about the new acquisition. The plan was to go with them, so that I could return in their car and they would return in their new van. The truth is that I had never driven that car and felt a little scared. I took the freeway and began to drive distractedly. After a while, I realized that I was already near the exit I needed to take. I noticed that I was already too close and I turned the steering wheel sharply to get out and to my surprise, I see that the steering wheel did not turn, only the steering wheel cover had turned, and I lost control of the car completely. I desperately turned to both sides and saw that I was surrounded by cars atfull speed, and I still couldn’t gain control of the steering wheel. I felt a fear that I had never experienced, I felt in my body a tingling feeling that began in my chest to my waist, and I just kept thinking, “I’m going to die, I’m going to die.” At that time, my thought was to ask God for guidance: “My God, tell me, what should I do?” My hands rested heavily on the steering wheel, I removed my feet from the accelerator and was amazed to see that the car was suddenly going straight and to the side as if carried by air. The vehicles made space, and I slowly changed lanes until I was set aside. I saw everything in slow motion; it seemed so long and so normal, I still can’t find an explanation for it. That experience was only an instant, a moment in which I felt a horrifying fear, and from which I thank God I left unharmed. Memorias del silencio vol. XII 43


Amalia García

Un Miedo Latente

El reloj de buró marcaba exactamente las 2:15 de la mañana, cuando mi pequeña hija me despertó. Estaba un poco asustada, yo creía que había tenido un mal sueño, pero ella me dijo que la había despertado un ruido extraño. Me levanté de mi cama y la acompañé hasta su habitación. Mientras me platicaba lo ocurrido yo también escuché y ví algo. Alcancé a mirar de reojo, una sombra macabra que aparecía y desaparecía como si fuese cosa del más allá. Las piernas me temblaban, pero yo debía ser valiente ante mi pequeña hija. Cobijadas por la penumbra de la madrugada, eché nuevamente un vistazo al reloj, ya eran las 3:30 de la mañana. Nuestra investigación ya nos había robado horas de sueño, pero el miedo era más fuerte que nuestro cansancio. Le pedí a mi hija que fuera a descansar en el cuarto de su hermano y que yo me haría cargo de aquella figura fantasmal. Yo ya tenía una ligera sospecha de qué era aquel conjunto de sonidos y sombras. Efectivamente, me enfrentaba yo sola a uno de mis mayores miedos. Allí estaba yo, frente a ese monstruo de inframundo. El corazón casi se me salía del pecho. Me percaté que mis dos hijos me miraban, observaban silenciosamente mis movimientos. Saqué las pocas agallas que me quedaban, encendí la luz, esperaba que con ese movimiento aquel espectro desapareciera. Para mi mal, no fue así, pude ver aquella horrenda figura frente a mí dispuesta a atacarme por un momento. Sentí que me desvanecía, tomé aire y, con mi mirada fija en esa malvada alimaña, hice el más rápido movimiento que jamás he hecho. Sólo me tomó un segundo reaccionar, aquella gigantesca cucaracha extendió sus alas y se dirigió hacia mí con el afán de atacarme. Le asesté un pantunflazo, estrellando su 44

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horrenda figura en el suelo. Mis hijos no daban crédito a tan asombroza hazaña realizada por mí, incrédulos gritaban: ¡Mi mamá ya no le tiene miedo a las cucarachas! Eso no es cierto, aún les tengo un pavor enorme a esos pequeños insectos que, ante mí, se ven enormes. Pero mi orgullo de mamá súper héroe no me lo permite, así que mientras tenga que ponerme el disfraz de Súper Mamá para defender el universo familiar, lo seguiré haciendo.

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Amalia García

A Latent Fear

It was 2:15 in the morning when my daughter woke me up. I was a bit frightened, I thought she had a bad dream, but instead, she told me that a strange noise had awakened her. I got up from my bed and accompanied her to her room. While she was talking about what had happened, I heard and saw something. I managed to see from the corner of my eye, a macabre shadow that appeared and disappeared as if it were something from beyond. My legs were shaking, but I had to be brave for my daughter. Sheltered by the gloom of the morning, I looked again at the clock; it was already 3:30 in the morning. Our investigation had already robbed us of our sleeping hours, but the fear was stronger than our tiredness. I asked my daughter to go to sleep in her brother’s room and that I would take care of the ghostly figure. I already had a slight suspicion of what that set of sounds and shadows could be. Quite so, I faced one of my greatest fears alone. There I was, in front of that monster of the underworld. My heart almost came out of my chest. Then, I noticed that my two children were staring at me; they silently observed my movements. With the few guts I had left I turned on the light, I hoped that with that movement the ghost would disappear. However, with my luck, it didn’t; instead, I could see that horrendous figure in front of me ready to attack. For a moment, I felt like I was fading away, but then I took a breath and with my gaze fixed on that evil vermin, I moved faster that I’ve ever had. It only took me a second to react, that gigantic cockroach spread its wings and headed towards me with the desire to attack me. I then smacked him with my flip flop and dragged 46

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his horrid figure on the floor. My children had never given credit with such amazement until they saw my performance. They shouted “My mom is no longer afraid of cockroaches!” Although that’s not true, I still have a grand fear of those little insects, who in fact, look huge before me. However, my pride as a superhero mom doesn’t allow me to, so if I must keep putting on the super mom costume to defend the family universe, I will.

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Carmen Hernández

Acerca de la Felicidad

La felicidad es muy compleja para el ser humano, lo que para unos no significa NADA, para otros es el acto más elevado de la felicidad de sí misma. Como buscadora del bienestar, la paz, armonía y el exquisito sentimiento de la felicidad, puedo sugerir que se acerquen a todo lo que les de paz y armonia, la ALEGRIA muchas veces se confunde con la FELICIDAD. La alegría es un estado emocional momentáneo. La felicidad es un estilo de vida elegido a conciencia que se basa en tener armonía, paz y sentirse pleno con lo que eres y tienes en ese momento. Para llevar a este camino de conciencia plena hay que buscar lo que te lleve a querer aprender y practicar un estado emocional conciente, el mejor indicador es el corazón, cuando palpite fuerte y sientas en el pecho un sentimiento de curiosidad, busca qué es eso y a dónde te lleva, busca lo que te de paz.

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Carmen Hernández

About Happiness

Happiness is very complicated for all of us. For some, it does NOT mean ANYTHING; for others, it is the highest act of happiness of oneself. As a welfare, peace, harmony, and happiness seeker, I can suggest you approach everything that gives you peace and harmony. JOY is often confused with HAPPINESS; joy is a momentary emotional state. Happiness is a lifestyle chosen by conscience. It is based on having harmony, peace, and feeling full of what you are and have at that moment. To take this path of full awareness, you must look for what makes you want to learn and practice a conscious emotional state. The best indicator is the heart. When it beats fast and you have a feeling of curiosity in your chest, look for what that is and where it takes you. Look for what gives you peace.

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De Canciones y Poemas Of Poems and Songs

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En los siguientes textos, los estudiantes se valieron de las letras de sus canciones favoritas para darles un nuevo orden, un nuevo sentido y crear sus propios poemas. In the following texts, the students used the lyrics of their favorite songs to give them a new order, a new meaning and to create their own poems.

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América Córtez

Ella Sólo Necesita Alguien

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Ella sólo necesita a alguien que sea fiel alguien para ser real con ella alguien que se toma su tiempo aprende a amar y construir con ella cuando te ríes, cuando sonríes, te traeré de vuelta. La belleza en el ojo del espectador. Desearía poder lastimarte de vuelta. Amor, ¿qué harías si no pudieras recuperarme? Nada realmente importa Cualquiera puede verlo.

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América Córtez

She Just Needs Someone

She just needs someone who’s faithful, someone to be real with her someone who takes their time to learn to love and build with her When you laugh, when you smile, I’ll bring you back. The beauty in the eye of the beholder. I wish I could hurt you back. Love, what would you do if you couldn’t get me back? Nothing really matters Anyone can see.

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Jeremías de León

La Duda Sobre el Amor Sé que he hecho mal ¿Es por eso que perdí tu amor? Y trata de elevarte del suelo Suficiente para ti; pero no importa porque No hay nada que no pueda hacer Durante meses, he tenido mis dudas, Tal vez simplemente no soy suficiente; Lleno con toda la fuerza que encontré, Negando cada lágrima Deseando que esto termine ahora, Pero no importa lo que sé, no soy el único. Escuché que tus sueños se hicieron realidad, Supongo que te dio cosas que yo no te di Te extraño y desearía que esto no fuera cierto No importa, sabes que encontraré a alguien mejor que tú Te deseo lo mejor Aunque a veces duele A veces dura el amor, pero a veces duele y destroza Nunca confiaré en el amor de la misma manera otra vez.

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Jeremías de León

The Doubt over Love I know I’ve done wrong Is this why I lost your love? And try to raise from the ground Enough for you; but no matter what There is nothing I can’t do For months on end, I’ve had my doubts, Maybe I am just not enough; Filled with all the strength I found, Denying every tear Wishing this would be over now, But no matter what, I know I’m not the only one I heard that your dreams came true, I guess he gave you things I didn’t give to you I miss you and wish this wasn’t true Never mind, you know what I’ll find someone better than you I wish you nothing but the best Although sometimes it hurts instead Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes It hurts and shreds I’ll never trust love the same way again

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Lourdes Luévano

Dame esta Noche tu Mano

Dame esta noche tu mano, no quiero pasar un día sin ti. Quiero que sea en tus brazos donde vea llegar mis días al fin. Eres lo mejor que me ha pasado por Dios te lo juro, sólo en tus brazos me siento segura y con el tiempo nada va a cambiar.

Siento que puedo volar cuando estás tú siento que puedo tocar el cielo azul tanto tiempo busqué pero al fin te encontré tan perfecto como te imaginé tú haces que mi vida tenga más sentido y haces que a diario quiera estar contigo.

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Lourdes Luévano

Give Me Your Hand Tonight

Give me your hand tonight, I don’t want to spend a day without you. I want to be in your arms when my days will come to an end. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, I swear to you, only in your arms I feel safe and over time nothing will change.

I feel like flying when you are here I feel like touching the blue sky I searched so long, but finally I found you, as perfect as I imagined you You make my life more meaningful and you make me want to be with you every day.

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Citlali Aranda

Poema

Tengo un corazón que se desnuda de impaciencia ante tu voz su cordura.

Me hundo en fantasías profundas en un circo de flores, me inundo de emociones y con un beso mi mejilla de carmín.

Te regalo las piezas que a mi alma conforman, que nunca nada te haga falta, te voy a amar hasta morir.

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Poniendo la mano sobre el corazón, quisiera decirte al compás de un son que tú eres mi vida que no quiero nadie más que a ti.

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Citlali Aranda

Poem

I have a heart that strips of impatience before your voice your sanity.

I sink into deep fantasies in a circus of flowers I flood of emotions and with a kiss my cheeks turn into carmine.

Putting my hand over my heart, I would like to tell you in the company of a son that you are my life that I do not want anyone but you.

I give you the pieces that make up my soul, may you never need anything, I will love you until I die.

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Andrea Alvarado

Brillas

Brillas como una estrella, sabes quién eres. Eres todo hermoso. Eres lo que quiero, eres lo que necesito.

Me caí por las grietas y ahora estoy tratando de volver. Siento que estalla como un eco. La vida es un camino por el que viajas. Hay un día aquí y al siguiente ya se fue.

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Andrea Alvarado

You Shine

You shine like a star, you know who you are. You are everything beautiful. You are the one I want, you are the one I need.

I fell right through the cracks and now I’m trying to get back. I feel it breaking out like an echo. Life’s like a road that you travel on. There’s one day here and the next day gone.

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Jacqueline Perea

Poema

Me encanta todo lo que eres, porque eres mi corazón. Un girasol.

Mis sueños se hacen realidad cuando me despierto y la miro a los ojos. Ella solo podría ser mi todo y más allá. Ella me trae de vuelta a la vida.

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Jacqueline Perea

Poem

I’m loving everything you are because you’re my heart. A sunflower.

My dreams come alive when I wake up and look in her eyes. She might just be my everything and beyond. She brings me back to life.

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María Reyes

Poema

Tranquila cuando vuelvo a casa y estoy sola. Y podría mentir, decir que me gusta así, que me gusta así.

Ahora estás toda atada dentro de tu cabeza Y el tiempo es un ladrón, cuando estás indecisa Y como un puñado de arena, puede deslizarse a través de tus manos.

No ganes el mundo ni pierdas tu alma La sabiduría es mejor que oro y plata.

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María Reyes

Poem

Quiet when I’m coming home and I’m on my own. And I could lie, say I like it like that, like I like that.

Now you’re all tied up inside your head And time is a thief, when you’re undecided And like a fistful of sand, it can slip right through your hands.

Don’t gain the world and lose your soul Wisdom is better than silver and gold.

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Nayeli Estrada

Poema

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Te busco en las miradas de otros Sentada en el suelo pensando que te quiero que duele por dentro que no estes conmigo dame solo un beso que me alcance hasta morir quiero estar contigo si vuelvo a nacer solo vivo para ti.

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Nayeli Estrada

Poem I look for you in the eyes of others Sitting on the floor thinking that I love you that it hurts inside that you’re not with me give me just one kiss that stayes me until the day I die I want to be with you If I am born again, I only live for you.

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Priscilla Medina

Algún Día, Alguien

Pero no entiendo cómo otro hombre puede tomar mi sol y convertirlo frío como hielo.

No importa cuántas lágrimas me he sentado aquí llorado O cuántas mentiras he mentido Diciéndole a mi pobre corazón, volverá algún día volverá

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He buscado amor en el mismo lugar. Luego derramaste tu corazón y me rescataste de llegar al fondo y me trajiste de vuelta de estar demasiado lejos.

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Fuiste tú todo el tiempo quien me devolvió mi sol El que me dijo que se había ido y me trajo de vuelta de estar sola.

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Priscilla Medina

Someday, Someone

But I don’t understand how another man can take my sun and turn it ice cold.

I’ve looked for love in the same place. Then you poured out your heart and you rescued me from the reaching to the bottom and brought me back from being too far gone.

It has been you all along who gave me back my sun The one who

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No matter how many tears I’ve sat here and cried Or how many lies that I’ve lied Telling my poor heart, he’ll come back someday.

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The one who told me he’s gone and brought me back from being alone.

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Edgar Picazo Merino Memorias del silencio vol. XII 73


Manual de Instrucciones Instruction Manual 74

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En los siguientes textos, los estudiantes se dejaron llevar por su imaginación y escribieron textos poéticos a manera de manual de instrucciones. In the following texts, the students were carried away by their imagination and wrote poetic texts as an instruction manual.

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Lizeth Vega

¿Cómo Poner un Botón?

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Los botones son vanidosos les gusta estar a la vista y estar combinados con su entorno y su color para ponerlo se acomoda con paciencia rigurosa no queremos dañar sus sensibles sentimientos se comienza a pasar el hilo desde abajo con cuidado de no picar su estructura bondadosa se pasa el hilo de un lado a otro como un ritmo musical se dan varias pasadas el botón ya está se unió ahora sí a bailar

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Lizeth Vega

How to Put on a Button? The buttons are vain they like to be in sight and be combined with its surroundings and its color. To put it on it requires rigorous patience, we don’t want to harm its sensitive feelings. Begin to pass the thread from below, being careful not to poke its kind structures the thread is passed from one side to another like a musical rhythm giving it several passes the button is now ready. It joined now Let´s dance

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Andrea Alvarado

Enseñarle a un Teléfono a Caminar 78

Agarrar de teléfono y sentarlo en una nube. Presentarle al Señor Sol. Explicarle que por miles de años que el Señor Sol ha sido maestro de clases para caminar. El Señor sol empezará por poner al teléfono a gatear. Luego por tecera vez deberás ponerle talco en las es quinas al teléfono para que no se rose. El teléfono depués tendrá que doblarse en 18 piezas para estirar sus músculos. Al teléfono le empezarán a salir unos pies muy largos para poder brincar de la nube. Ahora deberás felicitar al teléfono por no sólo haber dado un paso, pero por haber brincado desde una nube. Deberás agarrar al teléfono del cabello y guiarlo mientras él solo empieza a caminar. Si se cae o trompieza, deberás halarle el cabello mien- tras le hablas en voz muy baja. Ten cuidado en no halar muy duro poque es un telé- fono único, que sólo llega a tener un sólo cabello en toda su vida. Después de dos minutos él empezará a caminar solo sin ayuda. El teléfono ahora ya aprendió a caminar y también ya está listo para poder contraer matrimonio. Memorias del silencio vol. XII


Andrea Alvarado

Instructions to Teach the Phone to Walk Pick up the phone and lay it on a cloud. Present it to the Lord Sun. Explain that for thousands of years the Lord Sun has been a teacher of walking classes. The Lord Sun will start by putting the phone to crawl. Then for the third time you should put baby powder on the corners of the phone so that it does not get a rash. The phone will then have to bend into 18 pieces to stretch its muscles. The phone will then start growing very long feet to be able to jump from the cloud. Now you must congratulate the phone for not only ta- king a step, but for also jumping from a cloud. You must grab the phone by its only strand of hair and guide it while it learns to walk on its own. If it falls or stumbles, you should pull its hair while talking to it in a very low voice. Be careful not to pull too hard though it is a unique phone, which only has one hair in its entire life. After two minutes, he will start walking alone without help. The phone has now learned to walk and is also ready to be able to marry.

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Juana Cervantes

Instrucciones para ponerle color a un arcoíris

Tendrás que tener una brocha con pelos de cola de caballo. Pintura amarilla de un limón agrio exprimido. Sacar el color de un pitufo. Tendrás que poner los colores de unos M&M’s sin cacahuate. Tendrás que tener una escalera de palos gigantes. Treparás por ella y salpicarás el arcoiris oscuro con la cola de caballo. Aunque si no te salpicas tú también no se pondrán los colores en el arcoiris. Y recuerda que el arcoiris tratará de esquivar tus sal- picaduras. No dejes de intentarlo varias veces. Hasta que por fin el arcoiris y tu tengan los mismos colores. Sonreirán Se abrazarán Lo repetirán el próximo viernes.

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Juana Cervantes

Instructions for Painting a Dark Rainbow

You will need to have a brush with ponytail hairs. Yellow paint of a squeezed sour lemon. Take out the color of a smurf. You will have to put the colors of some M&M’s with- out peanuts. You will have to have a giant stick ladder. You will climb it and splash the dark rainbow with the ponytail brush Also, if you do not splash the colors on yourself too, the colors on the rainbow won’t do the same. And remember that the rainbow will try to dodge your splashes. Do not stop trying, do it several times. Until the you and rainbow finally have the same colors You will laugh You will hug each other You will repeat it next Friday.

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Cuento 82

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Short Stories Memorias del silencio vol. XII 83


Margarita Sánchez

Alex Hace varios años, nació un niño llamado Victoriano Francisco que vivía en una comunidad indígena en el estado de Chihuahua. Cuando nació Victoriano Francisco, su madre murió a los pocos días, quedando al cuidado de su abuela materna. Victoriano Francisco estuvo con su abuela por poco tiempo pues ella no lo cuidaba y recibía maltrato. Tendría unos 5 años por lo menos, cuando decidió irse de la casa. Vagaba por las calles, sufriendo dificultades, falta de comida y mucho frío. Era tan pequeño que confiaba en cualquier persona. Algunas veces lo usaban y lo seguían maltratando. Ese pequeño niño solo anhelaba una familia y alguien que lo quisiera. En su inocencia, un día lo usaron para robar unos artículos en una tienda, con tan mala suerte que fue atrapado por la policía y enviado a un orfanato. La policía localizó a su abuela, pero su abuela les dijo que no lo quería y que no lo podía tener. Y así pasó el tiempo y así pasaron casi 2 años y la suerte de Victoriano Francisco no cambiaba, cada vez eran más escazas las posibilidades de ser adoptado por alguien. Finalmente, un día llegó una trabajadora social y le dijo que había una pareja ansiosa por conocerlo y que deseaban tenerlo como hijo. Le preguntó ¿Te gustaría conocerlos? Y Victoriano Francisco brincaba de alegría y decía que sí, que quería conocerlos. Desesperado entró a la oficina y vio una pareja 84

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sentada hablando con la trabajadora social. Corrió, no esperó a que le dijeran quiénes eran, él sentía que esa pareja que estaba sentada eran sus nuevos padres. Y así fue, no se equivocó, lo esperaban con una gran emoción. Esa habitación se llenó de muchos sentimientos: hubo risas, llanto, muchos abrazos, besos y amor para Victoriano Francisco. Él les decía: ¡Papá, Mamá! y no dejaba de abrazarlos. Fue un día muy intenso, lleno de sentimientos, pero lleno de esperanza. Sus padres le dijeron que esta sería una nueva vida una mejor vida, y para eso iba a necesitar otro nombre. Le preguntaron qué nombre le gustaría tener y él respondió: ¡Alex! Y fue así entonces como, finalmente, Alex empezó una vida feliz como la que todos los niños deben tener.

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Margarita Sánchez

Alex Several years ago, a boy named Victoriano Francisco was born. He lived in an indigenous community in the state of Chihuahua. When Victoriano Francisco was born, his mother died a few days later, he was left in the care of his maternal grandmother. Victoriano Francisco was with his grandmother for a short time, but she did not take care of him and received abuse from her. He would be at least five years old when he decided to leave the house. He wandered the streets, suffering, lacking food, and being very cold. He was so small that he trusted anyone, people would use him and abuse him. That little boy only longed for a family and for someone to love him. In his innocence, one day he was used to steal some items in a store, but with such bad luck that he was caught by the police and sent to an orphanage. The cops located his grandmother, but his grandmother told them that she did not want him and that she could not have him. And so, time passed and then almost two years passed and the fate of Victoriano Francisco did not change, the chances of being adopted by someone were increasingly scarce. Finally, one day, a social worker arrived and told him that there was a couple eager to meet him and that they wanted to have him as a son. She asked, “Would you like to meet them?” And Victoriano Francisco jumped for joy and said yes, he wanteded to meet them. He desperately entered the office and saw 86

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ed to meet them. He desperately entered the office and saw a couple sitting and talking to the social worker. He ran, he did not wait to be told who they were, he felt that this couple who were seated were his new parents, and so it was true, he was not mistaken, they were waiting for him with great emotion. That room was filled with many feelings: there was laughter, crying, lots of hugs, kisses, and love for Victoriano Francisco. He called them: “Dad!” “Mom!” and kept hugging them. It was a very intense day, full of feelings, but full of hope. His parents told him that this would be a new life, a better life, and for that reason, he would need another name. They asked him what name he would like to have, and he replied: “Alex!” And that was how, finally, Alex began a happy life, like the one all children should have.

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Brenda Rubio

Jominca Había una vez en el 1970, una viejita que se llamaba Jominca. Esta viejita ahorraba dinero y no le gustaba compartir nada porque decía que a ella le había costado mucho trabajo tener todo lo que tenía. Cuando iba a la tienda, gente decía “Ahí viene Jominca la tacaña”, y no les gustaba que ella fuera a sus tiendas a comprar porque siempre regateaba y nunca pagaba lo justo por lo que compraba. Siempre les quitaba las ramas a las uvas y a los elotes les quitaba la hoja para que pesaran menos. A la hora de pagar, comparaba todos los precios en varios lugares hasta que al final pagaba lo menos posible. Era una noche lluviosa, ya eran las 7 de la tarde y la luz en casa de Jominca seguía encendida. Para los vecinos era extraño porque ellos sabían que a ella le preocupaba mucho ahorrar la luz para no recibir una factura muy alta. Llegaron las 8:00, 9:00, 10:00 y 11:00 y las luces de Jominca seguían encendidas, pero a los vecinos les daba miedo ir a averiguar lo que estaba pasando ya que era muy enojona y no sabían lo que se podrían esperar. El sábado por la mañana los niños fueron a jugar con la pelota, cuando de repente se les fue a la yarda de Jominca. Fue ron corriendo a llamar a sus mamás para pedirles ayuda. Pero, cuando una de ellas llegó a la casa de Jominca se le hizo raro porque las luces seguían encendidas. Tocó, tocó y tocó, pero nunca abrió la puerta, entonces decidió entrar por la fuerza para averiguar qué estaba sucediendo. 88

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Al entrar, vieron a Jominca muy enferma en su cama, apenas se podía mover y ni siquiera podía hablar. Rápido fueron a llevarla a un hospital. Le hicieron varios tratamientos y le dieron muchísimas medicinas. Al final el doctor confirmó que ya estaba estable. Lo que había ocurrido es que ella había sufrido un ataque al corazón por una rabieta que había tenido que la había alterado más de lo normal. Le sugirió que no volviera a tener emociones fuertes, de lo contrario la próxima vez podría ser fatal. Jominca se puso a pensar y no recordaba haber hecho ninguna rabieta. Una de sus vecinas le comentó que ayer que salía de la tienda la había visto, que iba muy furiosa caminando acelerada y hablando sola. De repente se acordó Jominca y las máquinas comenzaron a hacer ruidos, se le estaba subiendo la presión otra vez. Ella comenzó a recordar, había discutido con el señor de la tienda pues le estaba cobrando de más por unos elotes. Ella le pedía que le dejara quitar la hoja a los elotes para que fueran más baratos, pero el señor de la tienda se negaba. Seguía muy alterada recordando todo esto hasta que lograron calmarla de nuevo. Ella se puso a reflexionar, y al llegar a su casa vió que su caja fuerte casi reventaba de tanto dinero que tenía ahí. Pensó qué habría sido de ese dinero y de todo lo que tenía si la vecina no hubiera ido a rescatarla. Se acordaba en la manera que la llevaron al hospital a pesar que nunca se portó bien con ellas. ¡Ahí es cuando su vida cambió! Ella decidió que iba a empezar a ayudar a los demás porque se dio cuenta que iba a llegar un día que ya no iba a estar aquí y todo lo que cuidó se iba a quedar en manos de alguien que ni siquiera conoce. Después de este momento cambió y se volvió tan amable que los vecinos le comenzaron a decirle “Jominca La Generosa.”

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Brenda Rubio

Jominca Once upon a time in 1970, there was an older woman named Jominca. This old lady saved money and did not like to share anything because she said that it had taken a lot of work to have everything she had. When she went to the store, people would say “There comes Jominca, the stingy elder,” and they didn’t like her going to their stores to buy because she always bargained and never wanted to pay for what she purchased. She’d always remove the branches from the grapes and the leaves from the corn so they could weigh less. At the time of paying, she compared all the prices in several places until in the end, she’d pay as little as possible. It was a rainy night, it was already 7 in the evening and the light in Jominca’s house was still on. For the neighbors, it was strange because they knew that she was very precautious about conserving the energy so that she wouldn’t receive a very high bill. 8:00, 9:00, 10:00 and 11:00 PM arrived and Jominca’s lights were still on, but the neighbors were afraid to go find out what was happening since she was always furious, and they did not know what to expect. On Saturday morning the children were playing ball when suddenly the ball went to Jominca’s yard. They ran to call their moms to ask for help. But, when one of them arrived at Jominca’s house, she found it strange that the lights were still on. She knocked, knocked, and knocked, but Jominca never opened the door, so she decided to enter by force to find out what was happening. 90

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Upon entering, they saw Jominca very sick in her bed; she could barely move and could not even speak. They quickly went to take her to a hospital. They made several treatments and gave her many medicines. In the end, the doctor confirmed that she was already stable. She had suffered a heart attack by a tantrum which had altered her more than usual. He suggested that she not have intense tantrum’s again; otherwise, next time, it could be fatal. Jominca began to think and did not remember having any tantrum. One of her neighbors told her that yesterday as she was leaving the store, she had seen her and that Jominca was furiously walking and talking alone. Jominca suddenly remembered, and the machines began to make noises, her blood pressure was rising again. She began to remember; she had argued with the owner of the store because he was charging more for some corn. She asked him to let the leaves be removed from the corn so they could be cheaper, but the owner refused. She was still agitated remembering all this until they managed to calm her down again. She began to reflect, and when she got home, she saw that her safe almost burst from the money she had there. She began to think about what would have happened to all that money and everything she had if the neighbor hadn’t come to rescue her. She remembered the way she was taken to the hospital even though she never behaved well with them. That’s when her life changed! She decided that she was going to start helping others because she realized that there was going to be a day that she was not going to be here anymore and everything she took care of would be left to someone she doesn’t even know. After this moment, she changed and became so kind that the neighbors began to call her “Jominca, the generous elder!”

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Edgar Picazo Merino Memorias del silencio vol. XII 93


Amalia García

Abuela Tragada por el Mar En las apacibles playas del poblado del Rincón de Gua yabitas en el estado de Nayarit, la señora Doña Andrea Montelongo disfrutaba de unas divertidas vacaciones en compañía de sus amados nietos, quienes se encontraban tomando el sol a la orilla de la playa. La señora Doña Andrea comentó que se disponía a acompañar a sus nietos en la orilla del mar, cuando en ese momento, sin siquiera haber teminado de recostarse en la arena de la playa, una ola furiosa se formó de la nada y se la tragó. Según los testigos presenciales, el señor Agustín De La Mora, quien es vendedor de piñas en la playa, comentó que apenas vió pasar a la señora cuando volteó y la vió manoteando y pidiendo ayuda, mientras que el vendedor de sombrillas sólo alcanzó a escuchar los gritos de la pobre señora. “La abuelita dió varias volteretas por la orilla de la playa antes de ser abrazada por completo por aquella ola gigante”, agregó uno de los testigos. La acción de una pequeña niña que jugaba en ese lugar que con valentía y corage gritó: “Sólo ponte de pie abuelita!”. La niña, quien se identificó como la nieta de la señora, comentó que después de que su abuelita escuchó su voz, reaccionó, pero la señora Andrea no pudo ponerse de pie, solo se dejó llevar por la fuerza de la ola, que la arrastró hacia la orilla, dejándola tendida en la arena panza para arriba. La asustada abuelita finalizó diciendo que fue un pequeño susto, que les dejó una historia más para contar, aunque con la boca llena de arena y sin sus chanclas favoritas . 94

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Amalia García

Grandma Drowning in the Sea This past weekend in the peaceful beach of the town Rincon de Guayabitas in the state of Nayarit, Mrs. Andrea Montelongo was enjoying her vacation filled with fun in the company of her beloved grandchildren, who were sunbathing on the shore of the beach. Mrs. Andrea commented she was about to accompany her grandchildren on the seashore, when, without even having finished laying on the sand of the beach, a furious wave formed from nothing and swallowed her. According to eyewitnesses, Mr. Agustín De La Mora, a pineapple seller on the beach, commented that he barely saw the lady go by, but it wasn’t until he turned around, that he saw her waving and asking for help. Meanwhile, the umbrella seller was only able to hear the screams of the poor lady. “The grandmother did several somersaults by the shore of the beach before being completely embraced by that giant wave”, added one of the witnesses. The action of a little girl who played in that place screamed with bravery and courage: “Just stand up Granny!” The little girl, who identified herself as the lady’s granddaughter, commented that after her grandmother heard her voice, she reacted. However, Mrs. Andrea could not stand up; she simply allowed herself to be carried by the force of the wave, which dragged her to the shore, leaving her on the sand with her belly Memorias del silencio vol. XII 95


Joel Santiago

Testimomy My parents, like many other immigrant families, decided to make a trip to the land of opportunities to escape poverty, but most importantly, to give my siblings and me a better life. Coming from a small town in Oaxaca, Mexico, my parents knew that settling in a new country wouldn’t be easy; however, they were willing to risk it all to support their children. Since money did not grow on trees, my father would spend Sunrise to Sunset working in the grape fields while my mother cleaned houses. Growing up, I didn’t have a normal childhood, especially since I was introduced into the workforce at a very young age. By the time I was nine years old, I had already known the life cycle of the grape because my father would take me with him after school to help harvest the grapes during the harvest season. It was in the grape fields where I saw the beauty of life and learned what it takes to harvest grapes. Small little conversations like this with my father made me create a strong connection with the fields and often compare my life to a grape’s life cycle. My parents, siblings, and I lived with my uncle and aunt, along with their two sons to save money. My parents decided to settle in Hopland, CA, where we lived a happy life at a ranch. But it wasn’t until November of 2009 when my father was told that he would no longer have his job due to not having valid social security. At the time, I did not know exactly was going on, yet, I knew that this would change our family. My mother however assured me that everything would be okay. My mother and I have a powerful bond. When I was younger, 96

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I would help my mom clean houses during the weekends, not because I wanted to but because she would wake me up at 6 in the morning and say let’s go to work, and I couldn’t say no to my mom or else I would feel some guilt in me for not going. One day, she took me to a new job site. This house was in the Sonoma Valley hills where all the rich winemakers live. It’s a beautiful two-story house surrounded with grape vines and olive trees so no matter which room you wake up in you’ll always have a nice view. I was always happy when I got to work for a full day in these houses because it was nothing compared to where we lived. Moving to Ukiah wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. My family couldn’t afford a nice home in a nice neighborhood, so we lived in a neighborhood where the cops chirped at night like crickets, where fighting was known as a sport and where there was no hope. However, my mother reminded me that everything would be okay. As for my father, he apologized that we had to live in poverty. My father and I, however, did not have the bond that my mother and I did. He was always working and would usually drink when he would get home from work. The only time we spent time together was when I went to work with him after school because we were tight on money. Whether it was working in the grape fields or cleaning houses with my mother, I felt that we were united. I did not feel lonely like I did at school. I disliked school. Switching over to Nokomis Elementary School was a nightmare. I remember the first student who welcomed me was Manny. Manny was a cool kid, and by the end of the day, I considered him a friend except that before we got on the bus to go home, he asked if I could go to the bathroom with him where two other friends were waiting, and I got beat up. I laid on the bathroom floor, my nose was bleeding, my ribs were hurting, my head was in pain, and there was nothing I could do. As I walked home, I asked myself, what did I do wrong? I was nearly home when I was confronted by Rodolfo and Rudy, two other students who I had met that day as well, and they asked what had happened. I told them, and they suggested I start hanging out with them. I said, of course, Memorias del silencio vol. XII 97


except I did not know the decision I had made at that moment. Once I was home, my mom cried because of how I looked. She had never seen me like this, and my father was disappointed; I did not tell anything to the teachers. I explained how I was scared, but my mom insisted that we go to the principal. It felt great, Manny was suspended for a week, and I finally had some peace, but it all ended as soon as he came back. As he walked by me, he whispered, “watch your back.” I had no idea what to do, so I turned to Rodolfo and asked for help. Without thinking twice, he made a plan. Rudy and I would fight Manny and his two friends. I thought it was the perfect plan. It was at that moment that I lost my path, and I no longer knew where I was going. Who would’ve thought that Rodolfo and Rudy were born into the gang life? I did not take the time to get to know them, and that was about to bring serious consequences. I was now labeled as part of their gang. Being in fourth grade, I was too young to realize what I was doing, and I thought it was just a game. All I wanted was protection. Nothing changed throughout fifth grade. It was full of fights and referrals. Sixth grade was right around the corner. Finally, a fresh start, I thought. I was ready to get a new group of friends and join the school’s soccer team, but once again I was lost, I wanted to leave Rodolfo and Rudy, but I knew that it was a bad idea.I got introduced to Rodolfo’s and Rudy’s older brother as well as other members of the gang. To gain respect and more protection, I stopped going to work with my father after school as well as stopped helping my mother clean houses on the weekends. I preferred to hang out with my friends because I thought that they cared about me. Eighth grade, however, would change how I viewed the gang. Rodolfo went to juvenile jail for stealing, and Rudy had moved to a different city because his older brother was shot, and it was too dangerous for his family to stay. I had spent three years in the gang trying to gain their respect that I had forgotten to talk to other students, which is why I was alone. My enemies noticed it as well, and 98

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was a great chance to make my life miserable. The second week of eighth grade, I got beat up in the locker room and of course the third week, fourth week, and so on. But it all came to an end when they were caught, except for Andrew. It was a friday afternoon that I was walking to the South Side store alone and I saw Andrew and his friend. I got beat up outside of the store. As I was on the floor, Andrew looked me in the eyes and said, “We will kill you and hurt your brother if you don’t leave that gang.” They ran off, and I sat there. The only thought that ran through my mind was what had I done. My brother did not deserve to get hurt. My family did not deserve to live in fear. I went to talk to Jose, an older friend who had more time in the gang, yet he ignored me and said to figure out my problems by myself. Now I understood what my mom meant when she said, “watch who you call your friends.” By the end of eighth grade, I was no longer the same. I stopped going out to family gatherings and stopped going on walks because I was scared that something would happen to my family or me. I lived like that for the rest of the year. However, I was able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. The rest of that summer, I attended a summer school program that was offered by the Migrant Education Program. I also went back to work with my father and mother. I was once again living the best life with no drama and no drugs, but just school and work. Everything was great until an unexpected tragedy occurred. It was a weekday afternoon that everyone decided to meet up and hang out. Everybody was having a good time, talking to each other, and telling jokes. As we all know some people can go over their drinking limit and that is when problems occur. Unfortunately, that is exactly what happened that night. An older member was playing around with his gun showing it off to his nephew when it accidentally went off. His nephew was shot in the neck and nobody did anything to help. In fact they picked him up, laid him on the sidewalk and left. The fact that everyone left and did nothing to help hurt, but the saddest part Memorias del silencio vol. XII 99


was that his nephew was only twelve years old. Was this how I really wanted my life to be? I knew I could not see myself as one of them any longer so I decided to change. The problem was that I did not know how to. When I first stepped foot in Ukiah High School, I was ready to make new friends, but I was immediately labeled, and it felt as if a baseball bat had hit me. Was I ready to live this nightmare again? I spent two months fixing my relationship with my family just for it to be gone in a matter of seconds. Who would have thought that it would be this hard to leave a gang? At this point in life I asked myself, who am I? Through sophomore and junior year it was always the same situation with fights, drugs and referrals. However, as I said earlier, I wanted to change. I wanted to keep on hanging out with my friends to have protection, but there was also a part of me who wanted to be a good student, so I decided to balance both. I was that student who was known to be gang-affiliated but would walk around with his Calculus book to do homework in his free time. Although I was enjoying learning, it only took one decision to bring it all downhill. Late February of 2018, as I was getting ready to go to school, I grabbed a bag of marijuana that I had from a while ago. I decided I wanted to make a little bit of money, so I took it to school to sell it. I was confident that it would sell quickly, and besides, I had never been caught before. During the break, as I was walking to the bathroom to hand it off. Two of my other friends were in the bathroom, smoking. They asked me if I wanted to smoke, but I said no. I then went on and used the bathroom, and as I was washing my hands, I was asked again, “Hey Joel, are you sure? Just do it before I put it away”. I said “Sure, why not?”. As soon as I finished, two campus supervisors walked in. I rushed to a stall and took out the bag of marijuana I had and I hid it in the toilet seat cover dispenser. They never found the marijuana, but as I came out of the stall I was immediately taken to the office. We waited for the police officer to show up, and when he did, the officer suggested for us to go to juvenile jail. I couldn’t believe it, was this really happening? 100

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My principal said to me, “Joel, I have two options for you. I can either let the officer take you to juvenile jail, or I can keep you here at the high school in order for you to go to college, I’ll let you decide.” I thought to myself, was this even a possibility for me? I was always told that college was not for everyone, but then it hit me. This was my one last opportunity and I could not give it up. I said, “Mr. Osluin, I’m going to college.” My mother, a hard working woman who had sacrificed her life to come to the United States to give me a better life and a chance of seeking an education, had now lost hope in me. My father, a hardworking man who became well recognized for all his hard work and the leadership he has shown within the community, was now embarrassed of me. Going down the wrong road was not how I was going to pay them back. After three days of suspension, I went back to school with a different mentality of what I wanted to do with my life. First, I made the big decision that I would go to college. Second, I got in contact with my mentor from the Migrant Education Program. They strongly suggested I joined the College Assistance Migrant Program as it would make my transition from high school to college easier, which it did. Third, I fixed my relationship with my father and mother before coming to college. Without them, I would not have made it this far, which is why I wanted them to be part of my journey. After switching my lifestyle, I went on to attend Sacramento State, where I met my CAMP family and attended events such as the CAMP Statewide Leadership Conference as well as Student Migrant Day. After gaining professional development and leadership skills, I encouraged my brother to take all opportunities presented to him, which he did, and as a result, he is currently scheduled to also come to Washington D.C. next week with the Migrant Education Program for a week. As for my mother and father, they are currently taking advantage of the High School Equivalency Program to improve their English speaking and writing skills. As I stated earlier, I often compare my life to a grape vine. You see, when a grape vine gets planted it often grows and produces Memorias del silencio vol. XII 101


grapes within a year. However, some grapes vines might need a little more care in order to produce grapes. Overall, I was one of those vines that needed that extra care. It was programs like the Migrant Education Program and the College Assistance Migrant Program that made me realize that there is hope and opportunity for all students no matter your background, as long as you have the desire to be someone in life. Even after experiencing many life-changing events, I am proud to say that I am not ashamed of who I was as it has helped me become the person I am today. I believe that all students deserve an opportunity, which is why I have decided to major in Sociology and minor in Counseling so that I can help and motivate students to aim for higher education. As Alexander Den Heijer once said, “When a flower doesn’t bloom, you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower.” With that I would like to thank all of you here today and remind each one of us que “Si Se Puede.”

Thank you.

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Lizbeth Maldonado Memorias del silencio vol. XII 103



Memorias del Silencio:

Footprints of the Borderland Vol 12 El volumen XII de Memorias del Silencio es el resultado de una colaboración entre BorderSenses y El Programa de Educación para Adultos de El Paso Community College.

BorderSenses (est. Fall 2000) es una organización literaria no lucrativa que promueve proyectos educativos a partir del arte y la literatura y provee espacios en los que escritores y artistas pueden compartir su trabajo.

El Programa de Educación para Adultos de El Paso Commutniy College ofrece educación gratuita y servicios de apoyo que incluyen GED (equivalente de preparatoria), educación para la salud y alfabetización para residentes de la comunidad de El Paso con desventajas económicas y académicas.

•• Volume XII in the series Memorias del Silencio is the outcome of a collaboration between BorderSenses and El Paso Community College´s Community Education Program.

BorderSenses (est. Fall 2000) is a non-profit literary organization that promotes educational projects using art and literature and provides venues for writers and artists to share their work.

El Paso Community College´s Community Education Program provides free educational and support services, including

ESL, literacy, GED, health literacy, and community literacy instruction to economically and academically disadvantaged residents of El Paso County.



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