Macho! by Victor Villasenor

Author:Victor Villasenor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books/Beyond Words
Published: 2012-10-02T00:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

Juan Aguilar wanted Little John to take them into Sacramento and drop them off in the streets so the farmers could come and get them and they could negotiate for work. He knew that during harvest time even the Border Patrol looked the other way, for the rancheros were strong and the Border Patrol did what the growers wished, and the best thing was to go into Sacramento.

Luis Espinoza shook his head and said, “No, that’s no longer true. The Chávez Union is as strong as the rancheros now, and the Border Patrol doesn’t look the other way anymore. They’ll pick us up and deport us if they find us. So I suggest,” continued Luis, “that Juanito take us to a work camp I know south of Sacramento. There, in camp, we’ll be safe from la migra.”

“No!” said Aguilar. He was angry. He had to keep face. This Luis was contradicting him too often. “If we go to a camp, they’ll have us by the balls! They’ll give us whatever they want. I say we take our chances in Sacramento. We are illegal, so we’re free. And there we can get work by contract. Not by the hour. And by contrato a good man in one day can make thirty dollars. ¡Dinero americano!”

“Mira, amigo,” said Luis quietly. “What you say is true, but this is not like a few years back. Times are changing. Chávez is getting us alambres driven out and fast. We’ve got to go easy, amigo.”

“That damn pocho, Chávez, I’d like to chingarlo!”

“That’s not necessary. This camp I know is safe. I personally know the owner, Mr. Davis, and I think I can get us work by contrato.”

“Truly?” asked Aguilar. “By contrato?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Well, then . . .” said Juan Aguilar, and he glanced around, then spoke strongly. “Maybe we should consider this camp.”

Luis smiled. “Yes. I think we should.”

So Luis spoke to Little John, who was driving, and asked him if he could please take them to a camp in Acampo, this side of Sacramento. Little John said, “Yeah, man!” But then he asked, “Hey? Why are you guys talking bad about César Chávez? I thought he was trying to help unionize all you poor farm workers.”

“¡A su madre!” yelled Aguilar. “¡A su madre! ¡Es un cabrón pocho!”

“Pocho?” asked Little John. “What’s that?”

“Pocho,” said Luis, “is a Mexican born here in los Estados Unidos.”

“Oh . . . and you guys born in Mexico don’t like them?”

“Well . . .”

“¡Son cabrones! They are half-breeds who wish to cut our tanates!”

Roberto smiled with the word tanates, and Adrene Jones, sitting next to him, drew close and rubbed her head against his shoulder. They were being lovers at the far end of the VW.

“No,” said Luis. “Aguilar is being too unreasonable. They don’t wish to cut our tanates. They simply wish to protect their own way of life. You see, we from Mexico come up here and work a few months and make . . . oh, maybe

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