El caso padre maciel

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  • Publicado : 26 de enero de 2012
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That night is still here fresh in my mind, like some of us remember our first day of school or the first day living apart. I was only fifteen years old. It was a dark and tremendously cold night, The moon was the ultimate source of light and the wind continued blowing and whistling at the distance. The truck stopped near to the great wall which was covered with crosses and photos all along itsperimeter. There were still tears running down on my face, I could believe that just a couple hours before my mom and I were having our last talk. Suddenly a solid hit on the door brought me back to the brutal conditions I was trying to repress.
Armando had enough experience guiding people across Tecate desert, he told us how well he knew these territories and the twenty years of his life he hadspent taking people over this no empty piece of land. We began our journey in the middle of nowhere the only thing that my senses captured was the smell of that night it was intense and overwhelming but it was there, floating in a dense ambience of fear and regret. Deep inside we knew it was to late to quit, I remembered the shadows projected on the sand, a group of sixteen people holding handstrying not to waste any time as we were walking at such fast pace that we did not notice it that we were not able to see the old truck anymore.
Certainly it was too late. Culture, language, friends, family and my dear motherland were staying behind as we all together continue to walk towards this gigantic wall of solid steel which had an inscribe and clear message to all who dared to interpreted.The colossal wall arose in front of us like a giant looking down with unquestioned authority, guarding his most precious belongings.
After ten minutes we all could see the big lights glowing not to far from the wall. That was it, it had been easy after all. I was for the first time setting foot on American territory. I remember all the euphoria and excitement, but the silence of the desert wasinterrupted, a blast of wind hit my face and suddenly many lights were pointing to us.
I did know what to expect my body was invaded by fear, my heart was beating hard and the blinding lights were making this experience even more intimidating.
The helicopter flew over me speaking to us with a broken Spanish. The man requested the group to stay still, if not they will open up fire against us,but the warning did not seem to be enough, everyone ran away towards the bushes and to the small creek near the wall. I did not know what to do, certainly I was not leaving my family behind just to be caught few seconds after crossing through this wall. So I run all the way along the wall the helicopter was not able to follow me, it was impossible to follow us all, I kept running and running untilI fall over, exhausted. I hid beneath some bushes and waited, I heard two shoots and then another one, immediately the screams did not stopped ringing. I knew that I was not going to die that night, I had promise myself.
My commitment to survive was this miraculous light that guided all the time I spent under the bushes, I want to see them again and tell them about everything I learned in US,I started to say this to myself. Those hours in total solitude helped me to understand how sometimes being poor was not the worst but having poverty of mind is the worst of all, the poor struggles and put all the effort to maintain a living but the poverty of the mind is like cancer that does not allow the human spirit to shine its beauty, the beauty of the heart. The desire of experience newadventures, the ability to be less critical and begin to be more spiritual. Suddenly I heard “ Hey you boy, are you okay?” I got up quickly trying to see who was calling me. I felt save when I knew that person was speaking Spanish that was a good sign.
There he was, Armando. He got wounded over his shoulder but he said the bullet just did not hit him it was a minor wound. I was impressed he could...
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