“We’re Screwed!”

Posted on April 2, 2015


Chíngala,I’m heading for Los Angeles, where my uncles are!”

“And school?”

“School’s worthless. We get our hopes up, puf! Jodidos!

“We don’t need the school! It’s our project—”

“—finish it ourselves!”

Chinga qué no. It’s not our land. We’re screwed.”

“This is very different from what we intended,” Humberto’s father interceded. He explained school officials labeled the project a white elephant; that’s why they were cancelling the class credits they’d promised to give.

“Jodida madre! We don’t care about credits!” Mando flashed the smile he seemed unable to repress even when he was angry. “We do it ourselves, chinga the rest—math, Engli-…!”

“The land was donated to the school. It goes back to the donors—“

“—with our reservoirs..?”

“—the work we’ve done!”

Jodida santa qué no!!”

“We fight! Get machetes!”

Tonto! Get ourselves killed..?”

“We abandon the chavitos, then what?Claudi tugged George’s arm but spoke loud enough that her terse urban Spanish could be understood by everyone. “What kind of message does that give?”

“You need to understand,Elias tried to mollify, “we are not from the city, urban. These students come from poor families. Many broken homes—migration. Not like you and—”

“Chingada, Elías! I’ve been kicked out of five universities, marched against the pinches policías! I’m not about to—”

“We are not abandoning them,” Ofelia Contreras’ soft, authoritative voice interrupted. “And we’re not going to machete anybody. Livi,” she turned to her daughter, “enough of this. Bring plates so we all can eat. And little cups for mescal.”



Posted in: Life in Mexico