My Genesis and Journey

The deafening sound of gunfire tore through the velvet darkness on that tranquil May night. It aroused an eerie amalgamation of fear and uncertainty, shattering the peace like delicate glass. I was four years old, and my life took a drastic turn. That night, May 11th, 2011 is a memory that is forever engraved into my mind.

“Mija, ya estás lista para dormir?” my mother had asked me in her sweet, gentle voice as she lulled my one-year-old sister to sleep.

I had just finished putting my pajamas on, and I hadn’t even answered her question before the familiar nightly routine was shattered by the thunderous sounds of gunshots followed by my mother’s horrified screams. Living in El Salvador, it was common to hear about the vicious attacks and actions of the gangsters who plagued my country.  However, the shock we felt that night as they broke into our home and held us at gunpoint was unmeasurable. I could only look on in horror as the armed men aimed their guns at my father’s head. I froze as thoughts and questions raced through my head. 

I was very young, but my survival instincts told me I should try to run. However, I could only stand there at the side of my bed, unable to make my body move. It felt as though I was in sleep paralysis, aware of my surroundings yet not able to interact with them. Then I felt my mother pulling me into her arms along with my little sister, shielding us from the armed men who became aware of our presence and now had their weapons aimed at us instead.

My father desperately pleaded to the monsters in human skin, “Por favor, no las lastimen. Haré todo lo que me pidan, solo por favor, por el amor de Dios, no lastimen a mi familiar!”  (Please don’t hurt them. I will do anything you ask me to, just please, for the love of God, don’t hurt my family!)

“Bueno, entonces si no quieres que matemos a tu encantadora familia, entonces te irás. No solo esta casa o distrito, sino salir del país. Y si eliges no también, lo sabremos y sería una pena si tuviéramos que matar a toda tu familia.” The one who seemed to be the leader viciously snarled in my father’s face, delivering his cruel ultimatum: Either leave the country or die. 

My vision became blurry, and my cheeks grew wet with my tears; I was terrified. I was only a child; I didn’t know what we had done to deserve this, and for a moment, I thought I was going to die, that I was going to die in the arms of my sweet, loving, and brave mother, that, those heartless monsters would end the lives of my entire family for no reason whatsoever, and only for their sadistic pleasure. I still remember very clearly how they spoke, their words, filled with unspeakable malice, still reverberate in my head. The way they threatened to end our lives if we didn’t leave the country and the way they didn’t hesitate to point their guns at me and my sister is a memory that I haven’t been able to forget, no matter how much I’ve yearned to.

As I heard their unreasonable demands, myriad emotions built inside me. I was scared and anxious, but more than anything, I was angry at the monsters that wore human skin. They wanted me to leave my home, country, and family. I was devastated, yet I feared for our lives.

We left. We had no choice. It was either leave the country and find a safe place to settle down or stay and face the consequences. At the time, I was so confused. I thought we would move to a different house, a different district even. I had no idea I would be leaving the country. I didn’t know we wouldn’t come back and I wouldn’t see the rest of my family again. If I had known I wouldn’t be able to see my grandmother ever again, I would have hugged her one last time, and I would have let her know that I loved her very much. I still remember her last words to me, which I’ve kept safely in my heart to this very day: “Te quiero mucho mi niña. Nunca olvides eso. Te prometo que nos veremos algún día, ¿de acuerdo? No llores y sé fuerte, por mí, por tus padres, por tu hermanita y por ti mismo.” (I love you so much, my little girl. Never forget that. I promise we’ll see each other someday, okay? Don’t cry and be strong, for me, for your parents, for your little sister and for yourself.) She spoke softly, her voice slightly trembling and laced with heavy emotions. Yet her eyes were filled with love and warmth. Her gentle yet firm embrace made me feel safe momentarily.

My dad owned a red Nissan pickup truck, and we loaded it with a few essentials. We left the country with little more than the clothes on our backs, managing to take only a few items of clothes, non-perishable food, water, plates, cups, and a large pillow and blanket for me to sleep on. My dad got behind the wheel, my mom in the passenger seat holding my little sister close to her chest, and I rested on my pillow in the backseat. The exhaustion I had gone through in the previous 24 hours had finally caught up to me, and before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.

I woke up a few hours later, hoping, pleading to God that all that had occurred was just a horrible nightmare, one I would wake up from. I wanted to go home; I wanted to be with my grandmother, safe in my home. I didn’t want to be in the car going to a place that was most certainly not my home. My heart quivered, my eyes burned with the intensity of burning flames, my chest constricted, and I felt my throat closing and throbbing. I wanted to cry so badly. I wanted my mother to take me in her arms and reassure me that everything would be okay, that I was safe. 

As if sensing my distress, my mother said, “Mi niña, ¿estás despierta? ¿Cómo te sientes bebé? ¿Tienes hambre?” (My girl, are you awake? How are you feeling baby? Are you hungry?) She spoke with such tenderness and love that I couldn’t stop myself from bursting into tears. I couldn’t stop the tears from cascading down my cheeks. I just wanted to be held. My parents seemed to sense this, and my dad pulled over, turned off the truck’s engine, and took my sister from my mom. My mom reached over to the backseat and took me in her arms in a loving and warm embrace. I just continued to cry in her arms. My emotions raged with such intensity, I didn’t know how to process them all at once. Then, as I gasped for breath, my vision blurry, my mother ran her hand through my hair as she squeezed me closer. “Shah, mi niña, todo va a estar bien, estás bien, estás a salvo,” she whispered in my ears, her voice soft and reassuring. She sounded so sure we would be okay as she continued to gently whisper reassuring words and caress my back. It took a while, but my sobs eventually turned to sniffles. My mom placed a final kiss on my forehead.

We arrived in Belmopan, Belize on May 12th, 2011 at 10:45pm. I remember waking up and going round in circles around a roundabout. My dad had been driving since we left El Salvador and was extremely exhausted. My mother said to him, “Vi un hotel en el camino desde aquí y estás realmente cansado. Creo que sería mejor si conseguimos una habitación para pasar la noche y descansar un poco.” She spoke softly, exhaustion lacing her voice.

As my mother said, there was a hotel just down the road, and we booked a room for the night. I watched as my father collapsed onto the bed, sighing heavily with relief as his muscles relaxed. Within seconds, he succumbed to a deep slumber. In the meantime, my mother did her best to satiate our hunger and soothe our frayed nerves. We all eventually drifted into deep, sleep, our limbs heavy with fatigue.

I woke up to bright rays of sunlight drifting through the window. However, I can’t recall most of the details of our hotel stay.

I distinctly remember, though, later that morning, coming face to face with a stunning two-story building and being greeted by two adorable German Shepherd puppies. It turned out that my parents had a friend from the Catholic Church in El Salvador who had relatives in Belize, and they had kindly offered to let us stay with them until we could get back on our feet. We stayed with them for about six months, in their spare room. It was a big and beautiful white-walled room with pristine white tiles.

And so my life changed. Both of my parents had to work. My dad worked for a delivery company with his truck, and my mom worked two jobs: as a house cleaner in the day and in the night in a small restaurant. With both of them working all day, at the young age of 5, I was in charge of taking care of my baby sister. It had taken about 6 months before we were able to afford to rent a small wooden house with one bedroom, one very claustrophobic bathroom, and a small living room. We couldn’t afford electricity, so we had to rely on candles for those never-ending nights. We also couldn’t afford to buy a table and chairs to eat our meals, so my dad got a big box to use as a table, and we sat on the floor.

Soon, I had to start going to school. I absolutely dreaded the idea, but I knew I had to. Two weeks into school, I was already frustrated. I didn’t know how to speak English, and it was very hard for me to make friends because I didn’t know English. I was lonely, but, in hindsight, I realize that only motivated me more to learn. It took a while, but eventually, I learned to speak English and I was able to make friends a lot easier.

Having to leave my home country and endure all of the challenges in navigating this new country, my new home, was what caused me to be the person that I am today. Who am I?  A girl who is no longer afraid of change. One who is now brave enough to face anything life throws, and a girl who is as compassionate as the people who helped her family. My life took a complete 180-degree turn, and I faced many difficulties, but I never gave up, and I feel proud of myself for that. My parents wanted the best for me, but I knew I needed to put in my part, and I managed to succeed in that. I graduated from primary school as valedictorian, then I graduated from high school third place in my class. Now, at 17 years old, I’m pursuing my Associate Degree in Business Science at the University of Belize.

As I look back to my past, I realize I hold no feelings of remorse for the path I had to embark on. I truly believe that everything in life happens for a reason because now I can’t even imagine how my life would have been if it hadn’t been for the events of that night. I can’t imagine being in any place other than here in Belize, my home. I’ve grown to love Belize. It’s where my friends are, where the places I love are, and where my happiest memories reside. And it’s where I know I will continue to live my life and make even more memories, surrounded by the people I love.

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Fatima Gamez Corado is a business science major at the University of Belize. She lives in Las Flores, Belmopan, and enjoys reading and writing during her free time.