A Road Paved for the Future

            The date is April 19, 2009 and it’s ten o’clock in the morning. I’m sitting with my grandfather Francisco Grado and my father Rudolfo Grado and we’re drinking coffee in my parents kitchen. My grandpa Frank Grado a.k.a Kiko is a migrant from Chihuahua, Mexico and I have chosen to interview him for my final project. My father is present to act as a translator for me and my grandpa because he speaks only Spanish and very little English. When first asked my grandpa if I could interview him he replied with the usual “Why? My life isn’t interesting enough to write about.” Just from this simple statement I knew I was in for a great story.

            The year is 1948 and my mother who I loved deeply has just died. I find myself face to face with my father who has been in and out of my life since I was born. My dad if you can even call him that has just kicked me out of the house, I was only thirteen. I find myself doing odd jobs throughout Chihuahua just to put food in my stomach. I sleep when I need too; meaning when I find myself with the ability to sleep in a bed I jump at the opportunity, otherwise I sleep outside under trees or on benches. At the age of thirteen I know I need to head to America if I want to make something of myself (Mexico’s per capita is 8,950 compared to the United States which is 37,500), I know this even though I only have a fifth grade education.

            I make my first trek to America only six months after my mother’s death (30% of the immigrants in the United States are from Mexico). I head to the border and meet other men heading in the same direction so we start to form a group knowing will break up once we pass the border. We talk about we will do once we get to America and what jobs are waiting for us there; I kept to myself most of the time because I was just thirteen and didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to myself. Even though back then I was tall for my age and could easily pass for someone older than thirteen. Don’t let my current appearance fool you mija, your grandpa was someone you didn’t mess with, ask your dad. But back then you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself, you wanted to get a job make money and go home (Unemployment in Mexico = 3.7% plus underemployment = 25%).

When learning about my grandpas decision he made to come to America at such a young age made both sad and glad that he had to make the decision by himself; sad because of the fact that he was alone at the age of thirteen faced with this big decision and glad because he didn’t have to worry about anyone else but himself. My grandpa’s decision to cross the border was less of a hardship, unlike the families in the book “The Culture of Migration in Southern Mexico” by Jeffery H. Cohen. In this book a family would openly discuss the pros and cons of a family member going across the border (Cohen 144). It was a lot harder for these families because of the longer distance they had to travel. For my grandpa the border was more or less in his backyard. Where as the families in this book had to face thousands of miles to get to the Mexico/American border. Not all migrants have the opportunity of living close to a border where travel is the least of their worries. Most migrants have to travel great distances to a border where they believe their dreams and great opportunities are held, on just the other side.

            Speaking of home I would return back to Chihuahua after every job because that was where I considered my home was; that was until I met your grandma. I met her in the summer of 1956 we fell in love your uncle Robert was born and the rest is history. When your grandma became pregnant with our first son, your uncle Robert, I knew I wanted my children to be U.S citizens, so I took your grandma across the border when it was close to her due dates and she gave birth in America. We repeated this nine times.  All the while I would make the trip from America to Mexico doing jobs that would allow me to send money home to your grandma (Remittances has declined 3.6% from 2008 to 25 billion).

            Some of the jobs I did included chili picking in Arizona, New Mexico, and California. I also held jobs in construction, cotton picking, and mining in New Mexico. I did these kinds of jobs mainly because they were the only ones given to me but also because I loved to work with my hands. I’m good with my hands I love to build things; it makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something. When you work with your hands you get to see the things you’re working with from start to finish, I like that.

In this part of my interview my grandpa shed new light on why I always found him outside working on something. He was always fixing stuff and he was never inside. He only went indoors to sleep and eat; sometimes not even for the latter. When he told me how much he liked working outdoors with his hands I decided to look more into the jobs being offered to Mexican’s around that time. What I found out was that in the 1940’s around the time my grandpa first crossed border, the United States had passed a program called the Bracero Program. This program started in 1943 because of  World War II and it allowed Mexican immigrants to either hold arms in the military or work in agriculture. As stated above my grandpa chose to work in the fields. This program offered to my grandpa, even though he didn’t know it, reminded my of the story of Amarel in the book “Crossing the Blvd” by Warren Lehrer & Judith Sloan. In this story Amarel is a teacher from Barbados who migrated to the U.S to teach (Lehrer & Sloan 55). Both Amarel and my grandpa migrated to the U.S because of programs being offered to them; even though only one of the two knew about the programs. These programs are what allowed many immigrants to come to the U.S without fear of deportation.

            The best job I held was at Banner Mine in Lordsburg, New Mexico. I was a blaster, which means I would blow walls of rock up that were too big to take apart manually. This was an exciting point in my life because for the first time in my life I had a steady job with set pay and hours. I knew I had a job in the morning every night and that allowed me to finally relax and be content with my life. All that changed in a matter of seconds.

            I was setting up to blast a wall and the day was just like any other day. I hit the switch to set the explosives off and that’s when things turn bad. There was crack in the rock above us and I didn’t notice it so when the explosives went off a piece of the rock above me broke free and fell on top of me. I broke two discs in my back that was the day that I regret most in my life. If had paid more attention I would have seen the crack above me and I wouldn’t have gotten injured. If I hadn’t gotten injured I would have been able to return to work instead of having a doctor refuse to give me the ok to work, costing me the only job I loved.

            Let’s get back to better times like when I was finally able to move my whole family to America. This happened in 1972 your dad was only five (Him and my grandma became U.S citizens in 1996. Because of the Control Act of 1986 my grandpa and grandma were granted amnistey since they were in the U.S prior to 1986). I was so happy to bring my family over the border because there was nothing left for us in Mexico. Both of my sisters were already here in the U.S there was no reason for us to remain in Mexico. It felt good to bring my family over here because it meant that I was able to provide a stable living arrangement here in America.

            After my mining accident I began to do other odd jobs in New Mexico to continue to provide for my family. I became a mechanic did more farm picking; I basically did anything that would pay. One thing that I remember now from talking about my past is the trade work talents I gave to your dad and his brothers. I was able to teach them about cars and how hard work gets you far in life, I’m glad that I was able to do that for them.

             I’m also proud that I brought them all to America, your dad and your aunts and uncles. Here they have the ability to get a better education then I did when I was their age. I pushed all of them to at least get a high school education the rest was up to them. I can only push them so much at one point you have to want it for yourself. Like your dad here, I’m so proud of him and what he’s accomplished in his life, he has a beautiful family that carries on the drive that I had when I first came to America. Even though that drive is driving them to bigger and better things. That’s how I dreamed things would turn out, when I came to America. I would get us here and make sure we had the things we needed but the future was in the hands of my children and their children.

            I don’t regret any thing that has happened in my life. I would do it all over again if I had the choice to do so. I’m humble now because of what I’ve gone through I’ve been at rock bottom and know what it’s like to have nothing, and now I know that having experienced that to get my family where they are today gives me joy. My family secure future is a reward to my struggles in life; I wouldn’t change that for anything in the world.

Hearing my grandpa explain to me his hardships he faced growing up and the struggles he faced in his adult years reminded me of Yolanda’s story in the book “Lives on the Line” by Miriam Davidson. Yolanda’s story is not much different from my grandpas they both faced a rough start in life but in the end with determination and hard work they achieved the goals they set for themselves; mainly securing a future for their children (Davidson 45). Both Yolanda and my grandpa migrated for better opportunities and for survival. As with most migrants, migrating to another place is a chance at a new life pinning dreams and expectations to this new chance at a better life are what keeps these migrants going during the hardships they face when migrating.

            America is what I expected it to be just another place to work with exception of better pay. When I first came here I remember thinking what is all the hype about. The way people talked about America you would think it was paradise, where everyone is rich and there are no poor people, and everyone lives in harmony. When I came to America it was during the civil rights era, people were discriminated against for the color of their skin. This was something that I hadn’t experienced in Mexico so this frame of thinking was different to me. Again I minded my own business during all of this; but the places that I moved around to didn’t have very many black people but those that I did encounter I was civil too. They hadn’t done anything to me so I wasn’t going to be rude to them.

            In America the big problem I faced was communication. Once my children came to the United States I began to teach myself English. When my kids learned to speak English they would help me out. Your dad and the rest of my children knew better then to try to pull a fast one over me when it came to school, I may have not known English but I also wasn’t stupid. One thing that I appreciate from my children is their help in translating for me when it came to dealing with bills and stuff like that. I hated that people thought I was ignorant just because I didn’t speak English. To this day I don’t speak it unless I have to; I’m comfortable with my Spanish because it’s what I know best. Besides I’m still not fluent in English I just know enough to get by.

This part of the interview reminded me of the book “The Spirit Catches you and you Fall Down” by Anne Fadiman. When my grandpa started to speak about the struggles he faced because of his inability to speak English my heart went out to him. Here he was forced to migrate to survive and provide for his family and he was looked down upon because he couldn’t speak English. In the book by Fadiman I remembered the Lee’s family story of how miscommunication led to the misdiagnosis of their daughter Lia (Fadiman 26). Communication is a necessity in all cultures and when a person migrates to another country, they don’t necessarily know the language of the country they are going too. This is something I learned while studying migration this year. Most of the migrants in the world don’t have the luxury of migrating to a country that speaks their native tongue and those that do have to consider themselves lucky; because this is one less obstacle they have to face.

            One thing that I do like about America is the Hamburgers and hot dogs; these are my favorite American foods to eat when I go out. But when I’m home I’m still a papas (potatoes), frijoles (beans), and tortilla man at heart. This is my comfort food I can eat it all the time and not get tired of it. In fact I do eat it all the time. One of these things is at least one dish in my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. No regrets and contentment is what I would say about my life right now. God gave me a good life and even though it sounds like I had it bad. I know that there are many other people out there that have had it a lot worse than me and I count my blessings every day because of that. I hope you got everything you needed mija and I hope your dad translated well enough for you because between me and you his Spanish is getting a little weak from lack of use.

When my grandpa started telling me about all the things America has allowed him to give to his family. I began to think about the book “Voyages” by Cathy A. Small because no matter what America has allowed my grandpa to do he has never forgotten where he came from. In the Book “Voyages” I remember reading about all the rituals, beliefs, and celebrations the Tongans brought to the United States and how they incorporated their old culture with their new culture in America (Small 70). In my grandpa’s case he practices more of his old culture from Mexico then he does with his new culture in America. This mainly means that he eats more of his native foods and speaks his native tongue. He doesn’t interact with other people from Mexico and he’s never been one to celebrate holiday’s from either country but he does remember where he came from and because of that he holds Mexico in a high esteem. Mexico represents his past and America represents his present and future. My grandpas story of his remittances also shed light on what I learned about the Tongan culture. The Tongans would send money back to Tonga to ensure the survival of the family they left behind but they also made their homeland dependent on the remittances they received from loved ones that lived abroad. In my grandpas case he only looked out for himself in the beginning and then only sent remittances to Mexico when he started his family. This all ended when he was able to move his whole family to the United States.