Abel
Prologue
I came to know Abel (pronounced
ah bell) only in passing. He
serves as the mozo (butler) for two gentlemen living in San Miguel de Allende,
Mexico. Last November I was their
guest for one week as I was interviewing them for a book I was writing. I observed Abel masterfully managing a
staff of five as they hosted comidas (luncheons) for as many as 100 guests,
along with smaller more intimate dinners and cocktail parties. He is now 53 years old, a father and
grandfather. He is fit and ruggedly
handsome. I've never seen him when
he wasn't immaculately attired in a white tuxedo shirt, black slacks, and spit
shined shoes. Upon grabbing his upper arm in a greeting one is met with solid
muscle.
He banters easily with his two
employers, and it is obvious they have a good relationship, a good thing
considering Abel has worked for Howard and Bill for the last twenty years.
I returned to San Miguel for a
week of events surrounding the publishing of my second book (Ordinary People
Who Aren't). We didn't stay at
Howard and Bill's, but we attended four or five events overseen by Abel. I listened to some entertaining stories
told by Howard about Abel, and I was curious to learn more.
What follows was picked up by
quizzing Abel while he was in the midst of serving drinks or food to hordes of
needy party-goers over the course of a week:
Going to America
When Abel was 19 he was in love
and decided he would cross the border into the United States to earn sufficient
money to buy some land near his home in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. This would be an important first step
towards marrying his sweetheart.
In January 1983, he boarded a
train to Ciudad Camargo, a border city upriver from McAllen, TX.
In Abel's paraphrased words:
"It was very cold when we
arrived. I wasn't used to this
type of weather, and we didn't have warm clothes. The Rio Grande River was wide but shallow, and it was
partially iced over. We went to a restaurant that was really just a large tent
with a fire and stood close to get warm.
We were told this is where we would meet the coyotes that would help us
get across the border. I didn't
have any money, and the price was $500 U.S. Most people didn't have money, but the coyote would take us
based on the promise to pay, usually from someone already in the U.S.
"We were housed and fed for
a couple of weeks waiting for the right time to cross. The coyotes became impatient with the
costs of keeping us, so we were put to work in a factory soldering parts for radios. After one day in the factory the coyote
came to us and said, 'Today is the day.'
"There were four of us,
three men and a young woman. We
were told to take off all our clothes and put them in a plastic bag to keep
them dry. We waded across the river
naked, holding our clothes above our head. It was chest deep and very cold. When we got out of the water one of the guys laughed at how
his companion's pee pee had shrunk.
Then he looked down and noticed that we all had the same problem. We put on our clothes and were told to
get into a car parked nearby. We
were stacked like cordwood in the back seat, at least a dozen people. We were driven nonstop to Dallas. They didn't even let us stop to use the
bathroom, and someone in the pile soiled himself.
"We arrived in East Dallas
and were put to work fixing up a house where we were taken. Those who knew someone with the $500
for the coyote were released to go wherever they might go. I wasn't so fortunate, so I was put to
work cleaning and cooking for the others.
We were locked up whenever the coyotes would leave. After several weeks
the coyote told me, 'If no one comes to pay for you, I'll have to kill you and
toss your body away.' He said it
so casually it was frightening, like he was talking about going to the
store. The coyotes have no
heart. They are ruthless.
"One day the lead coyote
came back and he was drunk. He
always carried a pistol, and I thought this would be my best chance to get the
pistol away from him and escape.
Just as I grabbed his gun, another coyote came and aimed his gun at
me. They said not to worry; they
weren't going to kill me. They
admired me for standing up to them and then took me to a 7-11 store and bought
me socks.
"A few days later, a man
from my hometown came and paid the coyote his $500, and I was free.
"Within a matter of days I
was hired on a construction crew in Plano. It was very heavy work, mostly hauling bags of cement and
mixing concrete. For the first few
weeks I was more sore and tired than I had ever been. We'd work from sunup to sundown, but I was finally making
some money.
When I asked him if the
construction people cheated him, Abel said, "No. No. They treated me very
well. I was making $1,100 U.S. per
week. Once I had a little money, I
repaid the man who paid my $500 coyote fee and gave him another $200 in
thanks. I also sent most of the
money home to my family to save for me to buy my land.
"At first I was living in an
apartment with a lot of other people.
Then I got my own apartment, but I would put people up who needed
help. Every weekend the Mexicans
in East Dallas would congregate around a soccer field near where we lived. Whenever we'd see someone new, we'd
introduce ourselves and hand him $20.
If there were four of us, each would give the new man $20 to help him
get started.
"After several weeks of
heavy construction, the weather turned bad, and the work ended. Someone told me that the Dallas Country
Club needed a dishwasher. I went
there to meet the sous-chef. I
asked him how much he paid, and he said, '$365 a week.' I told him that wasn't enough. He said it was steady work, and he
would help me get raises if I was a good worker.
"When I arrived for work the
first day, he told me he had a little problem. He currently had four dishwashers from Guerrero (a state in
southern Mexico), but they weren't good workers. He wanted me to pick three other guys, and he would hire all
four of us. When the four of us
arrived the next day, the sous-chef told me, 'You're going to have to work it
out with the guys you're replacing.'
I was bewildered, but he told us to go out back where we confronted the
guys we would be replacing.
"We were lined up four
against four, and their lead guy said, 'We're not leaving.' I told them that yes they were leaving,
because we needed these jobs. I
told him that we were from Guanajuato and that our state motto is 'Life holds
little value'.
"Their lead guy and I
started to circle around to fight, and the other six formed a circle around
us. I was a pretty good soccer
player and was pretty strong even before the construction work. I knocked him down with a kick to the
face. Then he got up again, and I
kicked him again in the face. Then
I physically picked him up and threw him in the back of a trash truck that was
nearby. It was one of those trash
compactor trucks with the big hydraulic crusher. It had a red and a green button. I pushed the red button, and it started to close on the
Guerrero boy. He started
screaming, and I pushed the green button to stop it. He got out of the trash, they left, and I never saw them
again.
"After a few months I was
promoted to work in the dining room, and within a year I was promoted to
bartender. I spoke no English when
I arrived, but I started picking it up little by little. (Author's note: Abel's
English is very good. He speaks
and reads well, but does not write in English.) I was learning a great deal about the world of restaurants
and service, and I kept sending money home.
"After two years the
sous-chef who originally hired me took me aside and said, 'I've accepted a new
position in Los Angeles, and I want you to come with me. I'll buy you a truck, and I'll pay you
well.' I was thinking this would
be a good thing, then a few days later, the sous-chef walks into the kitchen,
he places his arms around a refrigerator, picks it up a few inches off the
ground, then drops it, and I could hear glass breaking from the mess. Then he went out to his car, a Chevy El
Camino I think. Before he got in,
it broke out in flames and exploded.
"I decided that it wouldn't
be a good idea to go with him. A
few months later I decided it was time to return to San Miguel.
Postcript
Abel returned to his
hometown. He did marry his
sweetheart, and they purchased a home together. He went to work for a Tex-Mex restaurant in SMA where he
stayed for eight years. Then a
friend told him about two Americans that had moved to SMA and were in need of a
mozo. Would he be interested? He
said yes, and has stayed twenty years, affording his family a comfortable
middle to upper middle class life style in a beautiful community.
Charles A. Wells, Jr.
3317 W. 68th Street
Shawnee Mission, KS 66208
816 289-1924
Author of: Ordinary People Who Aren't: An Anthology and
Nude Nuns and Other Peculiar People
Now available in all ebook formats on Amazon at: http://www.amazon.com
Follow my blog at: http://www.ordinarypeoplewhoarent.blogspot.com
Available at:
Rainy Day Books, 2706 W. 53rd Street, Fairway, KS
