Haitian and Male in Canada Ch 06
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The name is Lucien Bardeaux. I am a young Haitian-American law enforcement professional in the state of Texas. I make my living as a Border Patrol Agent. Recently, I’ve had an epiphany. I ran into this brave, fiery Mexican woman as she was crossing the border with her family. They told me they were fleeing a vengeful Mexican criminal overlord whom they had wronged and were desperate to escape from. Their story touched my heart. Thus, I allowed Marisol and her mother Elena to take refuge at my house, along with her younger brother Emilio. I had no idea how much they were going to change my life.
Recently, I’ve had to readjust my concept of right and wrong, good and evil. Is it wrong for a person escaping from a criminal mastermind to flee to another country by whatever means necessary? Normally, I would say no. As an agent of the United States Government, I was sworn to follow certain rules. However, I’ve had to reconsider a lot of things lately. What would I do if the Mob was after me? I shudder to think. The Mob is all-powerful and they are everywhere. They can get to anyone. They can do anything. And the Mexican Mob makes the American Mobsters look like Choir boys. They’re that ruthless.
Marisol and her family escaped from the Mexican city of El Pueblo after her fiancé Guillermo was gunned down by a ruthless Mexican mobster. The young Mexican had gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd and he had unwittingly dragged his unsuspecting girlfriend and her family into the big mess. And now, they were on the run for their lives. I will never forget the night when I met them. Marisol and her family crossed the border with a Coyote. And things got really hairy. In case you don’t know what a Coyote is, I’m not talking about the animal. What I’m talking about is the worst kind of predator out there. Those men and women who make their living by promising illegal immigrants from places like Mexico safe passage to the United States of America. The Coyotes usually rob their charges first chance they get, murder them and bury their remains in the desert. That’s what a Coyote does. They prey on the illegal immigrants who only want to have a better life by coming to America. These Coyotes are the worst of the worst.
In America, a lot of people are always complaining about their problems. As if they’ve got it so frigging bad. If you want to know what hardship is, you’ve got to take a look around other countries sometimes. Life is really tough in Mexico. Hard-working men become slaves of the system in order to feed their families. Women are exploited by the Powers That Be. And don’t even get me started on what happens to them. Yes, ordinary men and women have it tough in Mexico. There are very few jobs available. The system controls everything. The government is a draconian and controlling, all-powerful entity. And it crushes whoever gets in its way.
You might think you’ve got it tough. After all, life in America is no picnic. We’ve recently entered what can only be called a Recession. Hard-working men and women are losing their homes to foreclosures. Jobs are hard to come by. People are getting fired left and right because the workplace can no longer afford or support them. We’re finally realizing how limited resources truly are. Public libraries and schools are feeling the pinch. Downsizing is crumbling the major corporations and big-shot executives find themselves facing unemployment with the same helplessness their blue-collar colleagues do. Yes, we’re in hell right now in the United States of America. But for decades, we’ve had it good. America is a country where women starve themselves to get thin. Out of vanity. Mexico is a place where women sell themselves to feed their families. Out of desperation. See the difference?
Yes, my friends. We’ve got it tough. But others have it even worse so shut up and suck it up. That’s what I tell myself every day. The field of law enforcement is starting to feel the pinch as well. I used to think that when one makes a living as a police officer, a firefighter or a social worker, unless you really screw up, your job is secure. Well, not anymore. Policemen and policewomen are losing their jobs in police precincts across the United States of America. Why is this happening? Could it be random drug tests? Widespread corruption and scandal? Nope. These hard-working civil servants are losing their jobs due to a force more powerful than random drug tests, corruption and scandal. All state-funded agencies and entities are feeling the financial pinch and sacrifices must be made. The agency leaders face the hard job of deciding who among their colleagues must be let go, through no fault of their own. Yeah, that’s how it is these days. Welcome to the United States of America circa 2008 folks.
Now, Marisol and her family have been staying with me. I’m not a rich man. As a law enforcement agent, I make fifty five thousand dollars a year, after taxes. That’s not a lot, especially in today’s economy. The house where I live is a nice little spot in the suburbs of Kati, Texas. My parents left it to me. They live in Maine now. It’s where my father hails from. They’ve decided to enjoy retirement living in New England rather than to endure the desert heat. I am happy for them. For a time, I was quite thrilled to have the place to myself. It’s a duplex, with four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room and a kitchen. Oh, and a basement too. I told Marisol she and her clan could stay with me until they got on their feet.
The resilience of this family continues to amaze me. When they left Mexico, they left behind everything they’ve ever known. They left their hometown, their friends and neighbors. They left a world behind. They braved myriad dangers to come to America, a place where they would be treated as second-class citizens at best and criminals at worst. And I was a man who made a living hunting people like them. I’m not proud of it but it’s what I do. It’s what pays the bills. But I don’t have to like it. Marisol has managed to find a job as a waitress for a Jamaican restaurant. It’s something, at least. Her mother, Elena, works as a seamstress for a local garment repair shop. And I’ve managed to get her younger brother Emilio enrolled at the local high school. I had to pull some strings and the head of a certain social agency owed me a favor, but I got him in school. For now, life is okay. It seems like I’ve gained a new family, of sorts.
Marisol and I are good friends. It’s not what you think. For starters, I am gay. And she’s a few years older than me. I am well aware of the danger she and her clan are in. Texas isn’t that far from Mexico and the Mexican Mob is still looking for them. They’re in deep shit, though I will help as best as I can. I am well aware of what will happen to me if they’re ever discovered. I will lose my badge. I might also face some jail time. Though I’ve grown fond of them, I really hope they get their shit together within a year or less and then move on. Preferably without costing me everything. I warn Marisol to save every penny and she does, brave girl that she is. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I dread the day my parents will come to visit. I could tell them that Marisol is my girlfriend and that she and her clan only stay with me because an abusive ex is in the picture. But they would never buy it. Especially my mother. She knows I’m gayer than a two-dollar bill. Against all these unpleasant eventualities, I say a prayer and keep my fingers crossed. Hopefully nothing will come along to tear apart my new family.
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