5-4-7-6-9
Five-four-seven-six-nine. Jose Guadalupe didn’t know whether
he would have to show the card with the numbers or whether he’d have to
repeat them. And if he had to say them, would he have to say them
in English? He would be inside the American Embassy.
Jose’s appointment for a visa interview was fast approaching.
Only a 4 day backlog had existed when he made the Telmex call. He
took that for sign of good luck. The 3 week wait that Carlos suffered
almost killed him. Carlos had bought good papers and had memorized
the answers to the standard questions. But 3 weeks of
liquid courage had made him forget. Jose was determined to stay sober
and to remember his new identity.
Four days wasn’t long enough for mama’s novena to Our Lady of
Guadalupe but if “Lupita” blessed his trip north, he’d get the visa without
the novena. He was sure that his mother had been saying prayers to
make him stay here. But then, she needed a roof on the cement blocks
which almost formed a 2 room house. Jose couldn’t provide more
than a piece of tin on his minimum wage job of 32 pesos/day. Friends
who had been to ‘the other side’ had told him that he could make
enough money for his mother’s roof and for a car, TV and satellite dish.
Jobs were plentiful and he could send a small fortune to mama. He
just had to get there.
Jose had been ready to go with the coyote who took Carlos.
But Carlos left 3 months ago and he hasn’t heard a word. Maria Esperanza
at her Tienda de abarotes, made sure that the phone was free every night
between 7 and 9 when Carlos promised to call. Maybe he was
wandering in the desert, lost and disoriented. Maybe he had been
killed by polleros rather than give up his gold charm and cross hidden
deep in his boot. Jose knew that Carlos would never give up his charm
because it was his collateral for the other side. Carlos hid a watch
and some dollars that he expected to use as ‘morditas’. But never
the charm.
No word from Carlos was bad news. Jose was sure that he
was dead. Otherwise he would have called Maria Esperanza’s as planned.
Silence from Carlos made Jose decide to try his luck with a visa.
Silence and the convincing words of a new coyote who promised that his
new supply of documents were just what the visa officer wanted.
Jose invested four month’s laborer’s salary on his new papers.
The coyote told him that the documents showed that he was a school teacher
who owned a house and had money in the bank. Jose recognized the
logo of the bank on some of the papers. Those would tell the visa
officer that he had ‘economic solvency’. So, with the exchange
of some pesos, Jose had a respected job with a good salary, a house and
savings. Oh, if life were that easy! That’s really all
he wanted out of life. And now he had it. Folded inside his
shirt, close to his heart.
Now he had to remember to thrust the papers in the exact order
they were placed at the official and to act confident. Confidence,
almost arrogance, the coyote had prompted him. That’s what the Americans
want to see. That’s how people with money act. Jose tried to
imagine that he was the person in the papers. Did he look like a
school teacher? No, everyone would take him for the campesino he always
has been. But maybe the Americans wouldn’t know. Jose knew
that he’d have to rent a suit and shoes. Carlos told him not to wear
his wide brimmed straw hat. That would confirm his old identity and
day laborers never get visas. Jose didn’t know how he could feel confident
without his well worn sombrero. It grew on him as naturally as his
hair.
The trip to Mexico City took only two hours on the local bus.
Jose and Carlos had come to the outskirts of the city a few years ago to
watch a bullfight. But Jose had never been downtown where the
huge buildings were higher than the clouds. Carlos gave Jose
the address of his cousin, Lupita. Jose took that as another sign
of good luck. He needed all the help from Lupitas!
His mother prayed to la Virgin de Gualalupe every day for his future.
Jose had been waiting for his luck to change and he felt it in his bones
that this was the beginning of his future. Our Lady of Guadalupe
never failed those who prayed hard enough. His mother had even gone
on her knees to the Basilica. Jose had a good feeling about his interview
even though mama hadn’t had time to say her surefire novena.
Mexico City overwhelmed Jose as his eyes searched for the tops
of buildings and the traffic whizzed by him on Paseo de la Reforma.
He stood in front of El Angel which was his landmark. Finding the
Angel, a huge brass topped statue, brought him to the block in front
of the embassy. Within that one block he could find everything that
he needed for his interview. The pesos in his pocket would supply
the wardrobe and accessories to make him look like a prosperous teacher.
He would even find someone who could fill out his application and take
his picture. Carlos told him to go to Foto Lerma for the application
and to watch when the woman wrote down his answers. But Jose wondered
how he would know what the woman was writing. Jose was determined
to remember the information confirmed in the property title, pay slips
and bank statements. “Confidence, almost arrogance , and 5-4-7-6-9.”
Jose repeated the mantra as he pondered his appointment the next day.
Five a.m. approached much too quickly. Jose put on his rented
suit and squeezed his feet into the hard soled shoes. On second thought,
he’d carry the shoes till he went in. His appointment card said 7:30
but he knew that he had to stop at Foto Lerma for the application and picture.
In his haste out of Lupita’s one room house, he almost forgot his
packet of documents. Confidence, almost arrogance, numbers AND the
papers.
In front of the embassy milled thousands of people. How
could he ever find where he was supposed to go. Did all these thousands
have appointments at 7:30? Jose had never seen this many people in
one place. Not even the time he went with Carlos to the bullfight.
Sweat started to stain the underarms of his rented shirt. He didn’t
feel right without his hat in this crowd. It defined him. But
then, he was a teacher today.
As the line snaked its way towards the Pavilion, a one story
waiting area which encompassed a city block, Jose observed the guards asking
the people questions and separating them into sections. He was sure
that this is where he’d have to repeat his numbers. The guards looked
like Mexicans. Good. He couldn’t remember how to say the numbers
in English. The coyote had made him repeat them 100 times but Jose’s
nervousness left him with just Spanish.
Still 50 meters from the building, Jose could see the security
line and hear the guards circulating, probing . What is the purpose
of your visit to the American Embassy? Do you have an appointment?
What time is your appointment? Please proceed to the door of the
building. Or, please wait in the line on the other side of the street.
Or, without an appointment, you can not enter this restricted area.
Please call the Telmex number on this card and request a day and time.
Jose blessed himself 3 times and silently repeated his mantra.
When his turn came, Jose showed the card and was directed to the entrance.
He didn’t even have to say his numbers. 5-4-7-6-9. They had
become a kind of soothing chant. The numbers along with: Confidence,
almost arrogance. Keep the bank logo on top. Thrust the papers
with confidence. Walk tall. 5-4-7-6-9. Jose relaxed a
bit more as he looked around. There was an organ grinder and a monkey
providing entertainment across from the entrance to the visa pavilion.
Pavilion. What a name for a tin covered city block! He was
4 groups away from the opening. He observed the other members of
the line. Did he look as desperate and poor? Everywhere he
looked, Jose could hear dialogues being practiced. Where are you
going in the U.S.? Why are you going? How long do you intend
to stay? All kinds of advice was circulating. Coyotes circulated
with prepared answers you could buy for between 10 and 1000 pesos.
The higher the cost the better the answers, Jose surmised. Why would
anyone buy the 10 peso answers? He was confident with his packet.
He was a teacher with a good income, a house and money in the bank.
Jose could almost imagine the house. He furnished it in his mind.
His mother would really like it. She would have a separate kitchen
and there would be running water in the indoor bathroom. He could
almost smell the tamales steaming in the tiled kitchen. He hoped
that the visa officer would ask him all about his house. Not the
job. Jose couldn’t imagine what he would d o as a teacher other than
demand discipline from unruly children. Also, money in the bank was
a foreign concept. He used every peso he earned. Why give it
to a bank? Jose wanted to feel the pesos in his own hand and buy
what he needed when he had enough.
Slowly the line moved and Jose found himself inside the pavilion.
Hundreds of people were directed in orderly lines towards the various stations.
He passed the identity check. He showed his new passport and the
Mexican guard checked his face and the one in the passport. Then
a Mexican lady checked his application, made him put his hand on a screen
and lean forward. He heard a snap but didn’t feel anything.
Jose stood in another line and was told to have his documents ready to
be inspected by the anti-fraud unit. The coyote had told him that
the papers were good so Jose felt no fear. Others around him were
shuffling papers and hiding some under others. Jose knew that if
he changed the order in his packet he’d never knew which was what.
Papers were glanced at and both blue and red marks made on his
application. Jose was told to move on. He was told to wait
for his number to flash above one of the windows. He clutched his
ticket with the number. What windows? Oh, now he saw the Americans.
The officers were sitting behind glass windows. He had imagined all
of them as tall, blond, blue eyed men. But of the fifteen Americans,
only one matched his image. Some of the officials looked Mexican
and maybe African. He had never seen such a variety of people
so close up. Most were smiling. That made Jose relax a bit
more. He signed the cross again three times. He felt
so close to getting his visa. He had the right papers, he made the
trip, he said the prayers. Mentally he was crossing the border without
fear of being robbed or killed. He would make his new life in Texas.
He would send money home and his mother would be proud of him. Maybe
he would stay long enough that mama could come and live with him.
Jose wanted his mother to be proud of him.
The guard was saying something to him. Oh, yes, that was
his number. Jose proceeded to the window. The American was
a young woman about his age. He could smile at her and charm her
into believing his story. Confidence, almost arrogance. Jose
finally felt that confidence. Smiling broadly he thrust the documents
at the officer through the opening at the bottom of the window. “No,
not all of them.” said the officer. “Only your passport and
your application, please”. Jose knew those documents because one
of the examiners had separated those two and put them on top. The
officer quickly glanced at the passport. “Why did you get a 3 month
passport?” she inquired. Jose snapped to reality. What
did she mean? He didn’t answer. The officer looked at the application
and smiled at him. “What do you teach?” He was ready for that.
“How do you like teaching?” “Very much”. “Tell me about your
teaching schedule”. Jose kept his answers short and crisp.
They sounded good to him. The officer must have been convinced because
she moved on to his travel plans. “Where are you going?” “Disneyland”
“How long are you going to stay?” “One month” “How much is
it going to cost you” “$500”. Show me your bank statements.”
He thrust the papers at her. “No, just the bank statements from the
last 3 months.” OK. That should be easy. The papers with
the bank logo. “These papers say that you have an account but they
don’t show the balance. Please give me your statements.” He
once again tried to push all the papers under the opening. “No, sir”, just
the statements from the last 3 months.” “I guess I left them at home.
On top of the table in my newly tiled kitchen”. He wanted to get
her to ask about his home. The officer moved on. “Who are you
traveling with?” “By myself”. “So you are going to Disneyland by
yourself for a month and going to spend $500? Do I understand correctly?”
Jose started to shake. This sounded so right to him but the officer
seemed to doubt him. “That’s right”, he said. “I’m sorry,
the visa is denied. Your plans don’t make sense.” “Please take
my papers. My papers are good.” “Yes, but you can’t tell me
what they say. You say you are a teacher and yet my instinct tells
me that you can’t read. Is that right?” “Right, but please
look at my papers. They will show you that there is money in the
bank. I am economically solvent. That’s what I was told I had
to prove. The papers say that.”
I’m sorry, sir. Your papers may say that. But a teacher
would know how to read. I’m sorry. Please take your passport
and proceed to the exit.” Devastated, Jose retrieved his passport
and shuffled defeatedly towards the exit sign.
As Jose left the pavilion and crossed the street, he was accosted
by another coyote. “What were you missing? I can get you any document.”
Jose took issue with the document vendor. “ I have great papers.
I bought the best. Mine say that I’m a teacher and that I have money.”
“Oh no. You don’t look like a teacher. You need to be a land
owner. Your hands show that you work outside. I can sell you
papers to say that you own 2000 hectares of prime farmland. You’ll
get the visa for sure with these.”
Jose left the embassy area his old bounce back in his step.
Next time he would be a landowner. He didn’t look like a teacher.
The suit wasn’t right. He would feel more comfortable in farm clothes.
He could rent a good shirt the next time but his own sandals would
make him feel more grounded. And he could wear his hat. He
always felt better with that wide brim. Jose’s momentary disappointment
lifted as he walked away with new dreams of the land he owned. Next
time mama would have time for a novena. Lupita would surely bless
him. Mama was convinced that with the full 9 day devotion Our Lady
of Guadalupe would inspire him with the right answers and guide him through
the process. With Lupita on his side, with his lucky hat and
his new papers , Jose could almost feel the fresh wind from the other
side. The next time would be the charm.