La Clínica: A Doctor's Journey Across Borders

Chapter Seventeen

 “EL OTRO LaDO,” THE oTHER SIDE, WAS HoW PEoPLE IN THE village referred to the United States. The term referred to the Rio grande, which separates much of Mexico from the United States, but the other side also meant more. The other side of the world—a mysterious world of dreamlike quality where anything was possible. A world of money, food, and safety, without soldiers, without tragedy and sickness . Anyone who could pass across to the other side was imbued with a special mystique and power. Carl Wilson passed across to the other side several times every year, bringing back medical equipment, books, money, and doctors. He also had the power to take villagers with him, as if he wrapped them in an impenetrable cloak that allowed them to pass only with him. Usually he took children needing operations , but he also took Luis regularly for extra schooling and training, and others might go along to help at fund-raising events or to learn special skills. As I loaded my clothes into the Jeep, young children gathered around, laughing and smiling, hoping to touch me or one of the others , much as visitors to a space launch watch the astronauts wistfully before they blast into space. I said my good-byes with a certainty that I would return to this place and these people. Although Ricardo and Rosa shed tears, I maintained an emotional detachment that I didn’t understand. Ricardo’s arms shook as he hugged me, while Rosa held her fingers to her eyes as if she could change the picture in front of her. Did my tearless eyes prove how I really felt, or was I just drained, focused on escaping all of chapter seventeen  • david p. sklar the demands and needs around me? I occupied my mind with tasks. I put my bag of medicines into the Jeep as if I might need them along the way in the United States. Carl wanted to drive, and Luis sat next to him, so I jumped into the back with the clothes and boxes. By repositioning boxes, I created a soft nest of blankets and sleeping bags. once it became clear that Carl was determined to drive all night, Luis and I took turns sleeping in the nest. It made for a bizarrely fragmented night of interrupted dreams, shadows, potholes in the road, and pieces of conversation with Carl. one went something like this. “I saw Demetrio,” I said. “He’s growing dope—marijuana. It’s all over Chilar.” “yes, and it’s not only Chilar. It’s all over the mountains. Fields that used to be corn or beans have become row after row of marijuana. And the villagers are different. Sometimes you’ll hear them at night coming through the village, their mules packed down with drugs, hurrying to a rendezvous. Later you can recognize them with their new radios, clothes, and boxes from the city. Soon they’ll want cars and electricity. And the federales, those soldiers you see, they take money from everyone—the growers, the buyers, the government.” The Jeep bumped along as we lapsed into thought and memory. “They all want to either be soldiers or kill soldiers,” he said. “Who?” I asked. “The boys,” he said. “They used to come to the clinic to watch us and learn, but not anymore. Now they have their guns, and they’re macho. They think they’re grown up. Like that Demetrio.” “Well, but there’s Luis,” I said. Luis was sleeping in the back. “yes, because I’ve taken an interest in him. Shown him things. His parents have given him to me because they can see what’s happening out there.” “They gave him to you?” “yes. Told me to take care of him, teach him, like a father. They’re old and sick—tuberculosis. Luis has a wild streak, and they knew they couldn’t handle him.” “He loves to drive the Jeep,” I said, because what I really wanted to say, that real parents don’t sleep with their children, would have exploded his fantasy. And as we talked, I felt myself treading close to the line where the truth would come out. “oh, there are at least ten families that have asked me to take their  la clínica • sons. And the boys all hang around the Jeep and ask to drive it. But Luis is the...