Credit to: Creative Commons
When I was living in Colombia and someone ask me about Central American migration to the United States, the first thing that came to mind was what the news was showing. A group of people departing from El Salvador, Guatemala or Honduras to North America, traveling thousands of kilometers and facing a lot of danger that could be found along the way. However, I never imagined that while I was sitting in that park in North Philadelphia, I would face the other side of the Central American migration and that is not usually shown in the media.
I arrived a few days ago from Colombia and I was taking advantage of my free time to find a place to play football, or "soccer" as is best known in this country. It had been quite difficult because, unlike my country, in most of the parks I did not found a field and, on the contrary, I only found basketball courts crowded with young people between the ages of 13 and 20. However, after many hours of walking through the northern part of Philadelphia, I found a soccer field in which a large group of young people were playing. I cannot deny that I was briefly moved since, I felt a small part of my country and my city in that place. Also, when I approached and could hear some words in Spanish, I was much more excited.
So, I decided to sit on the side of the court and watch the game of those boys, most of whom were of Hispanic origin. The wait became quite difficult since the temperature was close to 30 degrees while I waited the game to end.When it was over, a boy left the court and sat a few meters from where I was sitting to change his clothes. While he was changing his clothes, he started talking on the phone and it was inevitable to recognize a Central American accent in his voice.
When he finished talking on the phone, I approached him quickly trying to start a conversation. When I approached, he looked at me with a slightly rough and aggressive gesture. But when he heard me speak in Spanish, his expression changed completely and he looked at me with a smile from ear to ear. I was quite surprised by the change and the kindness with which he responded by asking for his name.
He told me his name was John but, if I wanted to, I could say "Yeyo." Although the cold was impossible to ignore, we sat down to talk for almost half an hour. Since I'm not good at identifying accents, he told me he was from El Salvador and that he was 17 years old. He told me that he had been living in the United States for almost three years and that he had come from El Salvador traveling with his dad through Mexico.
He told me that he had two sisters, but that when he began his journey with his father, his sisters were still very small, so they stayed with his mother in El Salvador. In addition, he told me that he was waiting to be of legal age to start his legal process since he belonged to the DACA program.
I didn't ask him why he was playing soccer in the park because it seemed pretty normal. Before I had any doubts, he came forward and told me that, despite the cold he was doing, he had decided to go out and play with his friends because he worked every day during the week.
Work? I thought internally. “But if he is only 17 years old, even in my country he would still be considered a minor ” was the only thing I thought. He told me that although he was waiting to turn 21 to start his documentation process, he could not "stand still." He has to work to send money to his mother and his sisters in El Salvador, since the situation over there was quite difficult. To my surprise at his young age he replied that he had to say that he was 22 years old to be allowed to enter most of the work and that his appearance helped him because his face and his little beard made him look a little older.
I was surprised when he told me about the type of jobs that he do., Most of the work he had done was in warehouses on the outskirts of the city, in which he had to pack and wrap boxes that were about to be sent. When we said goodbye, he told me that it was impossible for me to take a picture of him because of the legal processes he hoped to start, but that he could share a picture he had taken a few days ago in one of the wineries he used to work on, so that I had an idea of the work he did in the United States. I will always remember that day because that little guy for me is the face of the migration, he is a kid who have to act as an adult, as a father, as american.