Personal Narrative: My Trip To Presidio

My grandfather Frailan Sendejo’s father Gregorio Sendeja would take him to work in the fields every summer. So, just like his father, my grandfather got married and had my father Enrique Sendejo and worked in the fields every summer just like they did with him. My father said to me “My dad and I went to multiple states like North Dakota, South Dakota, Minnesota, and Wisconsin.” (Sendejo) It was tough for my father because he never got to go to a full year of school, he had to leave during the school year and then come back late in the next school year. My father told me “Some summers were harder than others because I would go on a bus to another state and work without my parents to pick cucumbers.” (Sendejo) He also said ”I had to walk on my knees all across the fields and back to help support my family, and I would only get paid $40 for the day.” (Sendejo) When he went back to Crystal one year he went to school and met my mother Gina Sendejo. My father was going to have to leave to the fields again, so my mother decided to go with him. Though, after a few years they decided to stop migrating up North to focus on their careers and family. I never realized how difficult it was for my father to get to be the person he is today, but I’m glad that he and my mother brought me to where I am today, so I can continue to share their

I grew up in a small town in the state of Michoacan, Mexico until a few weeks after my seventh birthday. In 2001, after six years since my father petitioned to have us come to the United States with him and finally he had received a letter from U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services that his request had been approved. Being of that age, I was my mother’s companion everywhere, however, all I could grasp from those conversations was that we were going to the United States. I don 't think any of us knew what this meant or to what extent this would change our lives, not even my parents whom I thought knew it all.

I was borned in a small village call San Bartolome Quialana located in Southeastern Mexico. It is best known for its indigenous peoples and cultures. Here, in San Bartolome Quialana, women proudly cover their heads with multicolored chews and protect their satin dress with their gauze blouse and bib garments, each made with their own hands. The fabric is reserved for the women who also work in the fields. I mostly grew up with my mother Guadalupe,Smirna and Friedy. My brother being 14 years and my sister 12. In San Bartolome Quialana I grew up speaking an indigenous language call Zapoteco. I lived in a bigger house there but didn't have any warm water, nor a shower. Our kitchen didn't have a stove we made our own tortilla in a comal. My

People in Central America especially, long to have their basic necessities met. Visiting Guatemala and Mexico at the age of ten was a hard site to see. Kids walking on the street barefoot not because they wanted to, but they had no money to buy shoes. Making their dirty feet ache at night. Wearing the same clothes full of filth because they could not afford to buy clothes and soap. Parents struggling to provide for their family. They would often sent their child to school without lunch, making it hard for the student to concentrate at school. Any little money counts and they would make it last. Yet they were so welcoming and loving to guest. They had nothing to offer but the little they had they would offer. Family’s full of frustration and no hope turn to the journey of going to “el Norte”. Hoping to have a better life and help their family improve their social status.

It was a wonderful eye-opening experience to interview Carmen Anton, a Spanish immigrant for this project. I learned so many things about how she arrived in American as a small child with only her sister by her side and her strive to become American. The emotional struggles of Carmen and her sister, Elena, were real and I didn’t realize it was that emotionally draining to come to a new country. Her experience showed me how hard it is to fit into a new society knowing absolutely nothing about the world she was dropped into. The fact that she flew here with her younger sister and then live for three months without her parents to guide her in this unfamiliar setting, shows me how strong and brave Carmen was at the young age of eight. When she first came, she assumed it would be like

The entire time I was reading Enrique’s Journey, I kept asking myself, “What would I do?” If my mother left me to go to another country when I was five, would I try to find her years later? Would the abandonment and neglect by my family members lead me to resort to drugs? Would I make an eighth attempt to cross the border of the United States after my first seven attempts failed? These, and many other questions, ran through my head as I read Enrique’s Journey, the story of a Honduran teenage boy’s attempt to reunite with his mother, Lourdes, after she leaves him for the United States. Lourdes, a single mother, leaves her children with obviously good intentions— she wants to get a better job and send money back to her children, but it is hard not to resent her a little. As I was reading, I kept trying to think of ways Lourdes could have stayed with her family in Tegucigalpa, Honduras and still have sufficiently provided for them. Maybe there could have been a way, but Lourdes obviously did not think there was. Leaving her family is not easy for Lourdes; she cannot even take a picture of Enrique with her because it would make her too sad, but she feels that this is the only way to give her children more than she had.

My mother’s journey began in her hometown, Mexicali. She had heard that there were reliable coyotes who could get you to the US through “La Tierre de Nadie” (No Man’s Land). My mother spent the first few months of her pregnancy working any jobs she could find. Even as her belly grew larger and her feet got more bloated, she spent every hour of her day working. Her whole existence was devoted to escaping poverty. My mother was terrified that her due date would arrive before she was able to reach the States. She walked alongside the wall everyday on her way home, dreaming of the life she would make for her daughter. Finally, my mother had saved enough money to pay the coyote and traveled to Tijuana to find one to hire.

In Sonia Nazario’s Enrique’s Journey, readers are able to view the undeserved hardships migrants, such as Enrique, undergo, all in search of one thing, freedom. Enrique is a 17 year old Honduran boy, whom was left lonesome when his mother decided to take on a dreadful journey to better her family. After many years without his mom, Enrique goes on a perilous mission in order to reunite with his mother, Lourdes. This expedition involved extremely challenging and life threatening missions, which many migrants face daily. Once they arrive to the United States they realize that leaving their culture and families behind was all for a hostile country in which survival is not definite. Little did they know that living in the U.S would not be stable

The first time I set foot in Mexico was when I was four years old, with my uncle and cousins. We had gone to see the circus, but at that time my parents didn’t understand how important it was for me to have a

It was the year of 2023 I just got out of San diego Marine corps Infantry training. I work with the L.A.V squad team. I shot the light machine gun on the top of are vehicle Some what known as a rifleman. We are the first to go into a war zone to check it out before we all go into fight.

We had been walking back from the Jorgensen general store when Jimmy saw a kid his age and they started playing catch. We had been sitting there for hours and my wife had been talking to his wife and they invited us to their wagon train because I had told told them how we don't have one yet. Leaving independence, Missouri tomorrow March 8th.

Hey freshmen, don’t worry I was one last year as well. But I’m writing some advice down for you to survive a year here at Edgecatraz, so listen up. The dorms, where you live for the school year, has it’s natural rules. The school is serious and you will need to keep up to stay. The climate is usually different from home so we dress differently. Well let us get with the lessons.

I was born in February in Nineteen Ninety-Nine. As a little kid all I would do is whine. I played on a soccer team with my friends. We would always hang out on the weekends. I went to a small, private elementary school.

Many people travel every day to different places across the world. I usually travel a lot within and outside the United States, but I wouldn’t call those other places within United States my second home. I would call my first home Los Angeles because I was born there and I’ve lived in that city all my life. But I wouldn’t call that my only home. As I said before, I usually travel and it is true. I didn’t get to go this year to my second home because of financial problems, but for the past five years, I have visited my extended family in a small town called Asuncion Mita in Guatemala. I love going there and I feel welcomed every time I go with opening arms with people who live over there. In his short essay titled “Living in Two Worlds”, Marcus

My family and I went to the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. The first thing we did when we got there was to take a tour of a space shuttle that once flew into space.  During our tour, an astronaut showed us her spacesuit. I even got to try on the space boots.  Next, we tasted the food astronauts eat while they are in space. It was really different from other foods that I had eaten but it tasted pretty good.  Finally, we got in a special booth that showed us what it is like to be weightless! It was an amazing