Chicano for Life

Luis's Dirty Shoes

"Life cannot get any harder," exclaimed Luis Coronel from Michoacan, Mexico. Standing five feet- seven inches tall wearing tight vintage blue Levis jeans, plain white shirt and a faded Dodger baseball cap, the worker gets prepared at the crack of dawn to go to work. As Luis gets ready for work, he eats a slice of wheat bread accompanied by a glass of ice-cold milk. "Working hard has its rewards and usually they are worth the fight," replied Luis as his fist raised into the air, like a fist full steel. Luis looks down with a weary face and as blood rushed to his head, he softly whispered, "My life is a everlasting struggle to survive in this world."

"My daily struggles affect how I manage my life," stated Luis as he grabbed the mug from the small wooden table. Luis focused at a "Casadores Tequila" bottle across the room and replied with calm voice, " Nothing in this world is easy. I had to work like a slave since the day I learned to walk and talk," murmured Luis. " My father made me a better man knowing how to manage the pressures and stress of struggling." Luis looked at the wrinkles on his hand and with a melancholy voice said, " My father was a bracero, the idea of migrating north seem reachable," Luis paused as he was looking for a something to blow his nose. Luis continued with great inspiration, "My father told me to do my best and put all my heart and effort into everything I do." Minutes of silence pass, Luis cried and softly mumbled, " I look back at my daily childhood struggles in my father's farm and those struggles are just experiences for my own benefit. Never give up is the idea planted in my head," Luis looked at the worn out black working boots and stares at them for a long period. "The daily struggle to get food on the table or getting new shoes gets tougher and tougher every day."

" I left Mexico, because of what America has to offer in terms of opportunities." replied Luis as he stood up walked around in circles by a coffee table. " I thought it was competitive in Mexico, but the United States is more competitive. Everyday me and my friend stood in front of the Pico Plaza in Pico Rivera seeking work," answered Luis with a low voice. "I stood there in the Plaza like a stone and nothing good came out, I felt like I wasted a day doing nothing," replied Luis. Taking some moments to blow his nose, Luis continues, " It was on a Friday that I worked with this white man, who picked me up one morning. Now, the thing is that he needed help replacing his lawn with new grass. I told the man, 'Yes, I will do it for fifty dollars.' We got to his house which was in Whittier and this house was huge, it looked like the white house." Luis drank some water and stated, " I did the work in a short period of time than expected and the white man paid me in cash and said, 'What a job well done.' I was proud of doing a job well done." Finally, Luis looked straight up at the ceiling and thanked God for the money he earned.

Then, as our conversation continued, Luis proceeds in telling his story of the journey he made to the U.S.-Mexico border from his native town called El Poblado de Dolores, Michoacan that is more than 300 kilometers north of Mexico City. "When I began my journey, I was afraid, for I had no idea of what to expect or where to go." Luis recalled, "All I knew was that I had no future in EL Poblado and by emigrating to the US, I believed that I would have more or less of an opportunity." However, to achieve those opportunities, which America offered, Luis hitched a ride with his uncle, who works as a truck driver for a multinational corporation in Morelia, to El Paso where he would then undertake the risky job of crossing into one of the most scrutinized borders in the world. Facing Luis were numerous obstacles. Since the border between Ciudad Juarez and El Paso possessed many surveillance cameras and was guarded by numerous Border Patrol personnel, Luis was left