“El Globo”

A novel excerpt by Dr. Martin Meráz-García

“Mamá said not to be out too late, she wants to talk to us when she returns from work.”

Oh no—she’s going to tell us she’s leaving for the U.S., I thought. Although I was worried, it didn’t deter me from running outside to join the other kids from the neighborhood. Today we gathered to see the deployment of the globo, the sky lantern.

The globo was a magical and enchanting event. The success of the launch required team effort and nature’s cooperation. Now light winds blew and scattered clouds floated by, but all in all, nothing would avert the globo’s success.

Three people held the balloon in an effort to expand the globo to its full capacity. The flame from the candle illuminated the colorful thin paper shades as it filled the remaining cavities of the balloon. By now the fully inflated globo easily floated against the palms of one of its handlers.

We were euphoric. “Suéltalo,” we shouted.

The handler moved to the middle of the street to avoid the power lines. “Se va,” we hollered, and the globo began its climb.

When the balloon cleared the power lines we screamed, “Se fué,” and prepared to chase it.

The globo first headed north, so we ran down the cobblestone street. When we got to the bottom of the hill, we turned left. We lost sight of the globo momentarily but picked it up again as we reached la secundaria and the soccer field. We crossed over the bridge of El Río Chiquito. Some of us covered our noses so as to not take in the stench coming from underneath the bridge. That river, where the sewer was discharged, acted as the treatment plant for Coalcomán city dwellers. This year not much rain had fallen, so the water level was low and the stench atrocious. We crossed over as quickly as we could. As we reached the next street, the corner store introduced more pleasant smells: fruits, vegetables, cheeses, candies, soaps, and the aromas of other goods they sold. A couple of street dogs patrolling the corner store gave chase, forcing us to run even faster.

“Corre, corre,” we encouraged each other.

The sun was now setting on the horizon.

“Look carefully where the balloon is headed,” one of the boys said.

“We have to find it before it gets dark,” said another.

Soon after, we observed the balloon starting its descent. We wanted the candle, a small trophy for whoever got it. We’ll be able to sell it or re-use it to send off a globo of our own, we hoped.

The globo was now on a free fall as the flame faded. The thick shrubbery didn’t allow us to advance fast enough to catch it but we were able to pinpoint a vague location. When we got there, we could not locate the candle or the remaining debris from the lantern.

“It must have burned up when it crashed into the shrubs,” someone said.

We looked for a long while.

It was getting dark now and no one had a flashlight. We gave up and went back to town. It was dark already as we descended the trail of La Peñita. We stopped briefly to admire the stunning view where the trail and the road of La Peñita met. The sky had cleared up by now and we observed the lights of the town as well as the starry sky. I was more worried about Mamá being annoyed than the street dogs that had chased us earlier. I thought about the family talk we were supposed to have, the instruction to return home before dark.

When I got home, everyone had already gathered and Mamá had told them about her El Norte decision. Mamá Goya had said she would go only if she could bring all of us siblings along. Tía Chuy had agreed, but we would have to wait until the following year to get things lined up. I was relieved Mamá would not leave us, but I worried about having to leave our hometown.

Will I ever chase after globos with my friends again? I wondered. Many other questions remained about what our eventual trip to the U.S. would be like, but for the time being I was glad Mamá wasn’t upset about my getting home after dark.

Dr. Martin Meráz-García is a professor in the Chicano/a/x Studies Program at Eastern Washington University. This chapter excerpt is from his autobiographical novel-in-progress about his childhood in Mexico and his family’s immigration to the United States and the Tri-Cities area. Meráz-García was the first person in his family to graduate high school, then college, then obtain a PhD.