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Showing posts from July, 2012

Cristina is Not Dorothy and There is No Place Called Home

PART I -- Cristina on Her Way Imagine if it is at all possible crossing into an unknown, volatile, and extremely unpredictable future -- an unknown landscape, an unknown "unknown," if you will, all because they killed your husband. They rapid fire shot him (whoever they are) in front of you, your three children, mother, brother and his three kids. The crossing has nothing to do with looking for a better economic life, or a job, or anything to do with money. She and her husband had jobs. She and her husband supported her family. They lived in Juarez, Mexico, and did not fit the typical profile of the immigrant who travels the expanse of Central America to find a better life. I have images in my own mind of centuries ago a man, a child, and a woman are warned that soldiers are coming to kill the child and they must flee from one poverty to another for the sake of staying alive. In panic, one foot before another, a chain of human beings careen the bridge silhouetted by flood