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El Corrido de Antonio Beltran

John Duncklee

He had listened to the tales of his father
about the days and months away
in the land that paid in dollars
the trips north
the bus to the border and the walk along the river that runs north
hiding days and walking nights
watching the migra
stopping at ranches and farms
meals sometimes for work
sometimes just a meal
Tucson
Phoenix
harvesting the produce from farms
sleeping in shacks or under trees
always on the lookout for the migra
their green uniforms and green trucks
caught and sent back only to slip through the fence and return
walking along the river again
going from harvest to harvest
sending money back to Tinaja Verde
and finally home to plant his own field.

Now it was his turn
his father spent by a lifetime in the fields
sitting outside rolling tobacco in a husk
remembering the trails
drawing his map in the dirt with a stick
where to walk and where not to go
friendly ranches
unfriendly ranches
towns
roads
where to find food in the cities
dress like a pocho
look like you always lived in the states
the farmer who didn’t pay for two weeks
and when the crop was in the migra came
no pay
he had worked two weeks for nothing
nothing to send back to Tinaja Verde.

They had all tossed pesos in the hat
he would try to repay
but there were no expectations
Rosa with his four and one in her belly
they would stay to tend the field
wait for the money orders at the correo
the last night before the bus to the border
no fears
just a part of life
not poverty
they knew no other way
wealth only a word and not a state of their minds
adios
buena suerte
Tinaja Verde obscured by the dust from the bus wheels
towns
cities
the tortillas and beans wrapped in the worn cloth
a small amount remaining at the border
enough until he found a friendly ranch by the river
maybe
plastic water bottle filled
ready to slip through the fence after dark
head for the river
stay away from railroad crossings
stay away from roads
the migra stay in their green cars on roads.

First sunrise
a mesquite bosque to hide and sleep
last of the tortillas and beans
sleep
awake at the sound of a rattling pickup truck
dirty white not green
a ranch in the distance
the friendly one according to his father’s map on the dirt
wait for just before sunset
approach with care
remember the words
food for comida
please for por favor
thank you for gracias
work for trabajo
water for agua.

No work but a meal
frijoles with some meat in a tortilla
enough food for two days
back to the river
north again along a trail
sometimes in the sand
heavy walking
a town with a church
keep going by the moon’s light
another bosque
hidden for the day
sounds of traffic on the camino real
no matter
sleep.

Hot
sweat
wet air beneath the trees
sleep again until sunset
awakened by the sound of diesel
eat
back to the river in the dark
wait for the moon
walk walk walk
lights from Tucson getting brighter
under the bridge
more heavy-sand
another bridge
noisy youth drinking beer
“Cervesa?”
“No gracias”
have to reach Mendoza before sunrise
the city asleep
fourth crossing to the right
eight cuadros
corner house with name on mail box
almost sunrise
knock
no matter
early risers
Mendoza comes to the door
“Si, I remember your father”
the Spanish is comfortable
the coffee brings new vigor
the chorizo and eggs fill the void
the cot behind in the yard
sleep.

Mendoza knows about some work
three days work
washing dishes in El Sombrero Cafe
regular dishwasher gone to Phoenix
Mendoza won’t accept dollars for his help
Mendoza knows a man driving to Phoenix
gives Raider hat to wear
green car migra parked ready to chase
the hat fools
safe from Tucson
melons ready to pick outside Phoenix
two weeks
another farm
ten miles to walk
dollars in pocket feel good
ask about correo for money order
one hundred to Tinaja Verde.

They say there is work in Idaho
a long way to travel
bus
a chance for the migra
always the migra
always the migra.
Idaho
fruit to pick
hay to stack
big machines do the grain
friendly farmers glad to have help
pay every week
money orders to Tinaja Verde
how big is Rosa with the new one
how is the field
is father all right
how tall will the children be when I return
some of the friends plan for California
good money but lots of migra
some say best to find migra in Idaho
free trip back to border
free comida
California
more money orders to Tinaja Verde.

California by bus
lucky no migra
plenty of work
grapes
thousands of toneladas of grapes
the vines hide us from the migra
more money orders to Tinaja Verde
six months
I wonder about Rosa and the new one
should be born soon
boy or girl
maybe a boy to help in the field
I will draw him a map in the dirt when he is ready
time to think about going back
two more weeks work in the grape vines
farmer asks me to stay for planting
steady work
I say I will come back in a month
I must see Rosa and the children
the new one
I want to see the field
I will come back in a month
the farmer says to stay
I want to stay for the dollars
there are other farmers
there will be work again in a month
I say gracias and adios.

The highway
no migra
Raider hat in back pocket
straw hat for the migra
a ride to the border
no migra
a policia stops and asks questions
he talks on his radio to migra
bueno
a free ride to the border.

Mexicali
big city
first two nights in jail at the migra office
there are thirty of us
loaded into bus like cattle
some did not get far from Mexicali
dollars inside shoes
unload from bus like cattle
through the gate
Mexico
bus to Sonora
south from Santa Ana
Tinaja Verde through the bus windshield
the bus stops just for Antonio Beltran
quickly I walk to the house by my field
Rosa hands me our new son.

After comida I take the old guitar from the wall
I begin playing and singing
new song
El Corrido de Antonio Beltran.

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