I Don't Cry, But I Remember: A Mexican Immigrant's Story of Endurance

Introduction

1 Introduction the room simmered quietly with anticipation and not a little fear, a bubbling pot of incompatible tongues, as at least a dozen languages momentarily emerged and receded in the hot room. Viviana and her son sat on folding chairs in the open space between balustrades that lined both long walls. “¿’Tá seguro que me preguntarán en español? Are you sure they’ll ask me in Spanish?” she queried for the fourth time. “Ma, ¡te dije! I told you! They even let you study in Spanish. Don’t worry about it.” She was silent again. How had she let her son talk her into this? She had tried to study the naturalization guidelines several times, but someone always had to read them to her, and nothing would stick in her head. When she took the classes with the other women, it seemed to her that she was the only stupid person in the room. Many of those women could actually read and write. What made her think she, a sixty-three-year-old woman, could learn all those facts about branches of government and civic duties when she had less than a first-grade education? On her right, a pale woman in a sundress was immersed in a pamphlet bearing a US flag over a faint eagle on its cover, plus a lot of words Viviana could not read. She thought she recognized United States, but that was all. Beyond the woman, a couple spoke animatedly to each other in what sounded like German. She looked at the rows of people facing her from behind the balustrades —so many people! Those seats were for onlookers who came either to support friends and relatives or to watch the process as preparation for their own citizenship exam. There must have been as many, if not more, people in the balconies as there were seated around her in folding chairs on the floor, today’s hopefuls. Flags from many countries hung along the walls above the side windows. 2 introduction “¿Crees que me requerirán nombrar los derechos de ciudadanía? Do you think they will want me to name the rights of citizenship?” “I don’t know, Ma. Just tell them what you remember and—hush, now. Here they come.” Two uniformed men, one stocky and dark-haired, the other taller and lighter complected, came in and stood behind the table at the front of the room, each holding a clipboard full of papers. Behind the table on either side hung the flags of the United States and Colorado. Silence gradually followed their appearance, and Viviana felt a rush of the long-ago cold dread that had surged over her when she entered her small elementary school with her younger brother, knowing he might be beaten on the ears for not knowing his lesson, while she could only look on helplessly. Well, at least if she failed here, no one would be beaten for it. The officials conferred a moment before the taller one began to speak loudly in English. Viviana was hearing the words, but even though she understood some English, nothing registered. Before she could try to concentrate harder, she heard her name called. “Guillermo Salguero and Viviana Salguero!” The very first names called! With no time to marvel more at the strangeness of what was happening , she stood with her son and let him guide her to the front of the room, where she was confronted by the tall official. “English or Spanish?” asked the darker man to her son. “English for me, Spanish for my mother,” replied Memo. Turning to Viviana, the tall official didn’t change expression other than the hint of a smile in his blue-grey eyes. “Where were you born?” he asked in her clear, lovely Spanish. “En México,” she answered, pleased to hear her voice actually produce the sounds. “And do you still love Mexico?” came the second question. What a silly question! “¡Claro!” she said, caught up now in the dialogue. “Of course! I could never forget Mexico. It is the land of my heart, the land that gave me my birth.” “But you want to be come a citizen of the United States of America.” It wasn’t a question, but she knew it required a response. “I love the United States, because it gave me my freedom. Mexico gave me life, but the United States gave me freedom.” [3.140.242.165] Project MUSE (2024-04...