The next bus, which we took in San Pedro Sula, had more capacity than normal, because it had three seats on one side and two on the other, so luckily we were able to sit down. I think that on the other bus some people did stand up, but on ours they put the bags and backpacks in the middle and people sat on top.
We left there at five-odd in the morning, and they took us to some mountains in the north of Honduras, next to a steep hill, where we had to wait for the trucks that were going to take us through that mountain range to enter through Morales. , in Guatemala.
We were there, on a hill muddy from the rain, and fear took hold of some of us, because the drivers and passengers carried pistols, some even long weapons. That impressed us, but at the same time we felt protected. We told ourselves: “Well, if these people are armed it will be more difficult for them to rob us on the road, but even if someone has a problem, they will surely shoot him in the head and throw him down a ravine.”
We were there, on a rain-soaked hill, and fear took hold of some of us, because the drivers and passengers carried pistols
Then between 20 and 25 trucks arrived and they had 15 people in each one, although there were 12 or 13 of us in mine. In the mountains, the situation was quite complicated. The truck, a Toyota with a lot of power in the motors, jumped a lot when we passed near the cliffs and the bushes. We men grabbed each other and made a mesh protecting the women. It seemed that we were going backwards. Then, a girl from Cienfuegos began to cry; We all tried to calm her down, but she didn’t stop all the way.
In some parts, where the hills were too steep and everything was full of mud and stones, we had to run up and down the hills to push. The first two hills cost me less and I managed to get on at the same time as the others, but on the third I thought I would not make it. I’m asthmatic and I thought: “oh, my God, they’re going to leave me here dumped.” Fortunately, one of them helped me a lot, he got out, grabbed me to ride and gave me water. In addition, they all agreed that if they had to go back down to push, I would not do it.
On the way, despite being so unpleasant and having mud everywhere, we saw some very beautiful landscapes, with exuberant vegetation, and a river with transparent water. All the Cubans who were in a broken-down van were washing themselves there.
We didn’t know we had crossed the border until we saw a stone, half covered by vegetation, marking it: “Welcome to the Republic of Guatemala.” There they took us out of the vans and put us in some small Van’s squeezed together We were almost 200 in three vehicles. We arrived at a post where there were many Guatemalan soldiers with their machine guns, but what they did was open the fence and let us through, no problem.
When we arrived in Morales, they left us in a house on the outskirts that was full – of course – of Cubans. We crowded into a patio of that house, because they told us please not to be in the street so that the police wouldn’t see us. Inside the house itself, a woman had a table where they sold everything: drinks with electrolytes -to avoid dehydration-, soft drinks, water, apples, bananas… Captive public, we bought some things although they sold at a fairly expensive price.
The intermediaries that were there said that they would contact the relatives of those who did not have money, so that they could send it to them.
Coincidentally, there was the group of 15 Cubans who had been robbed in Honduras, at the Danlí terminal crossing. Most were from Havana. According to his version, the old man who was driving the van was in cahoots with the assailants, three Hondurans who appeared in the middle of nowhere, at four in the morning, in the dark with pistols and began to shoot into the air telling everyone that they will go down They were then lined up and searched everywhere. They took absolutely everything, they only left their clothes and coats. Although they had come this far because they had paid for it, they couldn’t continue, because at that point we had to give more money.
The intermediaries that were there said that they would contact the relatives of those who did not have money, so that they could send it to them. At least half fell by the wayside. The rest of us were sent to a little hotel to rest to continue the next day. They called you by the name that the coyotes. They told us: “Junior’s list, top, money”, for example, although the coyote in many cases he already had our money, from the relative who advanced it, and he gave it to us to pay for food and basic things.
From the house in the outskirts to the hotel in Morales, we arrived as if in a cocotaxi, whose driver told us: “Do you know that Ricardo Arjona is Guatemalan? I’m going to play a song by him called Wetbecause in the end you are going to get wet in the Rio Grande and this song talks about that“. I tell him: “Come on, yes, put it on”. I went with a girl and a boy, and the three of us sang it. There was a moment of emotion, because one wonders: “What am I doing here? What am I doing here?” It’s kind of hard.
In that hotel there were more Cubans, two from Santiago, with whom I spoke. One of them had the loud voice of a television announcer but multiplied by ten, but it was to make a video call with her daughter and tell her that maybe he would never see her again, because they were going to kill him on the way, and he began to cry. That made me remember my family, call them and cry too, like them. From Cuba, my wife and my parents encouraged me, told me that everything was fine, although I knew it wasn’t, that the pain of having to separate us was the same as mine.
That night I was able to sleep, although there were eight of us and there were four beds, two in each. I was also able to bathe, with very cold water, which came directly from a spring.
I brought enough wet wipes from Nicaragua and I began to clean the clothes, the shoes, the backpack, full of mud, as best I could. We were also able to shop at a small lobby water, beer, soft drinks… I spent a dollar on a bottle of apple-flavored water and I didn’t like it. The others started to buy beer and drank their beer. I wasn’t in the mood for beer.
As the food was not good, one suggested that we buy some pepperoni pizzas that cost 15 dollars and, as they were very large, we shared them between two. They also brought us three-liter bottles of a carbonated orange soft drink that I loved and drank throughout my stay in Guatemala. Imagine, Little Caesars pizza… The pizza made our night happy, it was a moment like being with family.
Morning:
Scare in Guatemala: Cubans looked at us with a bad face
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