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    The Illegal Immigrant and God
    The Illegal Immigrant and God
    The Illegal Immigrant and God
    Ebook95 pages1 hour

    The Illegal Immigrant and God

    By Evangelina Sosa

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A young Girl been left orphan and after her mother re-marry found her self and a abusive home ,and after few year have been send to the streets ,but faith lid her to find a healthy way to survive and found strength to conquer and transform her live and others .
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateApr 14, 2017
    ISBN9781483597300
    The Illegal Immigrant and God

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      Book preview

      The Illegal Immigrant and God - Evangelina Sosa

      1

      The Caves

      I was born in 1957, and my father passed away when I was just over a year old. I have no memories of my father. My mother was pregnant when he died, and so she moved to her father’s house and her father became my Papa. My mother was able to use my father’s heritage to settle in with real estate and cattle. She was a beautiful woman, a young lady in her early thirties, with tan skin, green eyes, and perfectly shaped eyebrows. Her wavy hair cascaded off her back, and she looked like a princess in her pale yellow dress with a v neck and flowing skirt. On top of her beauty, she was a very intelligent woman with a passion to grow her businesses. Her entrepreneurial spirit wasn’t lacking, and she opened a few businesses: the first was a small pig farm, the second a market, and the third a restaurant.

      I most remember the market and the restaurant, their smells wafting from the kitchens. Mother would use fresh meat, all organic, for the posole, which is a very traditional plate, served with a very finely sliced cabbage and radish and a piece of lemon. The lovely aroma from every single plate served to the clientele spread throughout the restaurant, accompanied by her very delicious homemade tostadas, refried beans, and meat and dried cotija cheese.

      She employed several people, and she was a very hard worker herself. Many times at the end of a busy day, she would collapse in bed without even removing her shoes. Mom grew up without a mother as her mother died when she was nine years old. She was raised by her older sisters and her father, who was a wealthy, influential man. He owned a lot of land and sugar cane fields and cattle, and was the largest employer of the region.

      We had two full-time cooks and a part-time cook who worked most of the time at her home. She was the one in charge of making all the homemade tortillas. We had a full-time babysitter. She was in charge of getting us out of bed and fed, and she took care of all our needs, as Mother was always working and busy.

      On the days she was not serving at the restaurant we went out for field trips, such as to fairs. The field trips were a lot of fun. The adults sang, and my mother had the gift of a beautiful voice. She was one of the singers for the family birthday parties, held to honor her father and her older brother on their birthdays. Crowns of white flowers adorned their heads, and there was a great celebration with mariachi bands and large meals. Sometimes the celebrations would last for two days. Papa Jose’s farms were very well blessed. His crops were abundant. During the rainy season we would move to the upper lands with plenty of green pastures and crystalline waters. This was the time for cheese production. There was a creek where I went with my brother. We used to play, finding rocks and choosing among their different sizes and shapes, then throwing water at each other and collecting avocados that fell from nearby trees. Other times we picked guavas, and fed cheese to the birds. Outside of our home was a giant tree that held several bird nests. I used to climb up the tree to feed the birds.

      Back in the village where Mother had her business was Papa Jose’s crops. The time would come when all the crops were ready to be sold or saved, and Papa Jose hired a lot of workers to sort, clean, pick. It was a lot of work. The piles of corn and other grains were very tall, but before he got the grain into his barns or sold anything, no one was allowed to touch anything. After surveying all he yielded, he would choose the best product to be given to the district church. The district priest’s name was Jesus. He would send his staff and a big truck to pick up the grain. Father Jesus had education centers, a food pantry, and a medical clinic. I believe he was a doctor himself.

      Papa Jose was a good and happy man. He stood just under six feet and was not too big. His gray mustache was graceful over his full lips. His hair was cut very short, but his bangs were long, hanging into one side his of face, which was always tan. His strong attitude was adorned by the huaraches he wore all the time and the white shirts that protected his skin from roasting in the everyday harsh sun by working in the farm fields. He used to go to the town and a mariachi band would follow him around the plaza. Other times we went to family reunions away from home, and on our way back he would carry me on the back of his horse. There we were late at night under the moon and the stars in the middle of the sugar fields singing. I loved him very much.

      Mama Maria, his wife, was also concerned about me and my brother. Papa Jose was a godly man. He was always reading his Bible. I believe he was one of the few that owned a Bible. He would often read it to me, and we were always fasting and praying. Sometimes the priest came to our home to perform religious services, and people and the workers would attend. No one was allowed to go to bed before praying, and at every meal we prayed. Mama Maria was a small lady with long, black, very thin hair—she refused to have a gray hair so she was always pulling or shaving any white strands. She loved having Coca-Cola and a piece of French bread every day, and she would go to the local market and sit there with the coke and her bread.

      I was five years old when my mother remarried. Papa Jose was opposed to the marriage. He said that he was not a good man. Mother went her way and married the man anyway. He was related to me, as he was my father’s cousin. I didn’t have any feelings for him, but Papa Jose insisted that mother was making a big mistake. Mother’s sisters and brothers also did not approve of their union.

      Papa Jose was very concerned for my future and my brother’s. The day of the ceremony, Papa Jose was not present. Mother was very pretty with her bridal outfit, and the people who arrived soon pitied me and my little brother who was around three years old. There was no one attending to us, and everyone moved into the reception. It was late afternoon, and my little brother was crying and hungry, but our babysitter was not with us. She was busy helping to serve food and drinks to the people. At that point I took action and got under mother’s table and started kicking her white, shiny shoes to get her attention, but she ignored me.

      My brother kept crying. I grabbed his tiny hand and began walking and moving away from the gathering. I told him not to worry, that we were going to see and stay with our father, who was living in heaven. At his young age he asked how we were going to get there, and I pointed to the big mountain that was far away and explained that we were going to walk to the top of the mountain.

      And there was

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