Neither From Here Nor There: The Harrowing Metamorphosis of a Shoeless Latino Peasant Who Journeyed North in Search of a Dream

By Mauro H. Cruz Ph.D.

This work is an autobiographical synopsis of an immigrant whose diasporic decision came crucially at a time of tribulation and despair amidst the civil war in El Salvador.

In the special chapter, you will find the compelling story of a shoeless child who lived in one of the country's most depressed, conflicting areas.

Chapters 1 to 4 give you an account of the discovery of America. The ensuing genocidal obliteration of the Mesoamerican civilizations and indigenous cultures at the hands of the Spanish colonizers.

Chapters 5 to 13 show a brief narrative of the evolution of El Salvador from a peaceful autochthonous Maya enclave to a fully independent nation.

Chapters 14 to 16 present with mesmerizing accuracy a series of events that probably helped shape my appreciation of life. Instill in me greater consciousness of my mortality and, therefore, my future in the USA. All these traumatic events, no doubt, have given me a new sense of purpose in life.

Chapters 17 to 22, I exposed different perceptions and analyses of life before and after in El Salvador and the United States.

Chapter 23 vividly describes the events leading to my becoming a US citizen.

Chapter 24 focused on the contradictory reverse cultural shock when I traveled to my native land.

Finally, in chapter 25, I formulate my honest feelings of love and patriotism toward America, its institutions, its Constitution, its Flag, and my faith in its promising democratic, republican future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887513706

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Neither From Here Nor There

The Harrowing Metamorphosis of a Shoeless Latino Peasant Who Journeyed North in Search of a Dream

Mauro H. Cruz, Ph.D.

ISBN 979-8-88751-369-0 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88751-370-6 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by Mauro H. Cruz, Ph.D.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Foreword

Introduction

Graph #1 UN Macrotrends in Life Expectancy in El Salvador in 1952

Graphic #2 UN Macrotrends Birth Rate/One Thousand Inhabitants in El Salvador in 1952

Map #1 Pre-Columbian El Salvador (200 BC–AD 1524)

● Red Dot = City of Concepcion de Oriente

Map #2 Postcolonial El Salvador (AD 1882–AD 2022)

● Red Dot = City of Concepcion de Oriente

Map #3 Mesoamerican (Maya) Civilization (200 BC–AD 1524)

Map #4 Christopher Columbus Sea Journeys (AD 1492–1505)

Map #5 Rise and Fall of the Aztec Empire (AD 1427–1521)

Map #6 Mesoamerican Maya Archaeological Ruins

Map #7 Mesoamerican Civilizations (200 BC–AD 1521)

Map #8 Mesoamerican Civilizations Sites

Map #9 Three Independent Civilizations

Map #10 Treacherous Trajectory Throughout Mexico (March 1981)

● = Places Where Attacks Took Place

Fig. #1 Maya Calendric System

Fig. #2 Teotihuacan Aztec-Maya Ruins in Mexico

Fig. #3 Copan Maya Ruins in Honduras

Fig. #4 Tikal Maya Ruins in Guatemala

Fig. #5 Tazumal Maya Ruins in El Salvador

Fig. #6 Casablanca Maya Ruins in El Salvador

Fig. #7 Xunantunich Maya Ruins in Belize

Special Chapter

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Selected Bibliography

About the Author

For Linda M., my beloved wife

Foreword

The migration of people from the south has been through the southern border of the United States. It has been debated in high political circles for decades.

Contained in this book is the voice of one such migrant. His journey from childhood to old age will explain why they come.

I am an American, born and raised, and I love my country and believe it is the best country in the world.

I have traveled from Iceland to Israel, Latin America, and New Zealand.

After traveling to twenty-one other countries worldwide, they all were very different. No one country is like any other. Seeing impoverished countries was shocking to me.

It was deplorable to observe war-torn countries, starving people, disease-stricken, and no hope of tomorrow. As an American, I was totally ignorant of those conditions before traveling.

To my Latin American friends, I say, forgive the ignorance that we as Americans possess. Every American will be better if they read this book and understand why immigrants come. Besides, in his personal testimony, Mauro Cruz has explained history, science, and psychology to profoundly impact his readers.

May understanding eliminate prejudice in us all.

Ed Schneider

Introduction

I was yearning to breathe free. But I was downtrodden!

Although multifaceted, this book's primary goal is to tell you the story of a godforsaken immigrant who came to America at a globally convoluted time, 1981.

Let's not forget that from 1979 to 1985 was the last phase of the Cold War (1947–1991) between the Soviet Union and the United States.

Coincidentally, a vigorous US response to communist subversion in El Salvador (sponsored by Cuba and Russia) exacerbated the country's political instability, established the foreground for a civil war which claimed one hundred thousand lives and devastated the country from 1980 to 1992.

The creation of a counterinsurgent state as a bulwark against communism bore an unexpected fruit: watershed government repression. El Salvador, a third-world country, was caught up in the throes of a revolutionary social transformation. People, therefore, found themselves in the crossfire. The latter caused an unavoidable diaspora to the north and elsewhere.

I am the product of that forced diasporic transmigration.

As an honest man yearning to breathe free, I felt beckoned by the American nation because of its very principles of welcoming the downtrodden and persecuted to its shores.

I became a US citizen by the consent of the American people, as expressed through their laws.

Immigration for America might be a blessing in disguise after all is said and done. Immigration, we have seen throughout American history, has strengthened our country's social capital, contributed to the expansion of our economy, and participated in the constant renewal of our national purpose.

When living in El Salvador, I went through different life-and-death close calls. Thanks to the Almighty for pulling me away from harm's way and keeping me unscathed.

While coming to America, I faced death in its weirdest ways, especially when I was kidnapped and assaulted by xenophobic Mexican organized crime.

But I had a dream! My firm purpose of reaching the Promised Land would outweigh all those risks. I overcame different life-threatening situations on that crime-infested trek of Mexico. Thank God.

Since I am aware of the implications and intricacies of the immigration policies, I feel qualified to argue that immigration, although it might constitute a problem for some Americans, might be a solution for others.

For my American audience, to invoke our founding fathers' desires for equal rights and consent, I would implore you to accord equal divine rights to the life, ethnic, and religious identity of our immigrants.

This book is not a panacea by any means. Still, it will bring to light the many sufferings of millions of immigrants and present to you with gratitude, the magnificent benevolence of the American hearts in welcoming them.

Contextually, in some chapters of the book, I describe the adversities I went through when I was assimilating into American society. Furthermore, I went into detail about my college, graduate, and professional school days.

The book, in no way, serves as a word of encouragement for future immigrants. Instead, it informs them about the risks and realities if and when they think about undertaking that kind of enterprise.

One of the main syncretistic aims of this work, however, is to illustrate and guide you through the numerous definable aspects of my eventful life in a synchronistic way. My brushes with death, my tribulations, and also my successes.

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness were edged in my mind when I decided to undertake this journey.

As an enlightened friend of liberty and a partisan in the joint experiment of self-government, my book explains to the average reader several important topics highlighting especially those of history, science, social psychology, the political process, and respect for the institutions of the United States.

For all these reasons and more, I cordially invite you to accompany me on this adventure that, I am sure, will bring you many satisfactions.

Happy readings!

Graph #1 UN Macrotrends in Life Expectancy in El Salvador in 1952

Graphic #2 UN Macrotrends Birth Rate/One Thousand Inhabitants in El Salvador in 1952

Map #1 Pre-Columbian El Salvador (200 BC–AD 1524)

● Red Dot = City of Concepcion de Oriente

Map #2 Postcolonial El Salvador (AD 1882–AD 2022)

● Red Dot = City of Concepcion de Oriente

Map #3 Mesoamerican (Maya) Civilization (200 BC–AD 1524)

Map #4 Christopher Columbus Sea Journeys (AD 1492–1505)

Map #5 Rise and Fall of the Aztec Empire (AD 1427–1521)

Map #6 Mesoamerican Maya Archaeological Ruins

Map #7 Mesoamerican Civilizations (200 BC–AD 1521)

Map #8 Mesoamerican Civilizations Sites

Map #9 Three Independent Civilizations

Map #10 Treacherous Trajectory Throughout Mexico (March 1981)

● = Places Where Attacks Took Place

Fig. #1 Maya Calendric System

Fig. #2 Teotihuacan Aztec-Maya Ruins in Mexico

Fig. #3 Copan Maya Ruins in Honduras

Fig. #4 Tikal Maya Ruins in Guatemala

Fig. #5 Tazumal Maya Ruins in El Salvador

Fig. #6 Casablanca Maya Ruins in El Salvador

Fig. #7 Xunantunich Maya Ruins in Belize

Special Chapter

Childhood in a Quaint Town

In an era of innocence, toward the end of the rainy season, just on time to enjoy the typical never-ending, nightly buzzing of winter cicadas and the glowing of fireflies admonishing their impending doom. The swirls of playful Aloysius winds that roll down south from the dreamlike Honduran mountains of Curaren and Caridad would bring the subliminal intuition of joyful peace to the humble dwellers of this small, quasi-lost village.

This quaint little town used to live under the spells of the Demigods of the Kingdom of Cuzcatlan. Moreover, with the valiant protection—as a Lenca autochthonous reduction—of the powerful, brave chieftains Atlacatl (killed in 1528 in Cuzcatlan, now El Salvador) and Lempira (killed in 1537 at the Penon of Cerquin, Lempira, now Honduras).

Oriente was founded around the seventeenth century by Spanish colonizers who named it Concepcion de Saco (Nahuatl for a site of the Four Stones). Then by a legislative decree of February 23, 1882, the town was renamed Concepcion de Oriente.

Hereon, I will call it Oriente.

I was born in Oriente on September 12, 1952.

In Oriente, as anywhere in the tropics, summers were dry, hot, and sunny. On the other hand, winters were rainy, tempered, and cool. We had only two seasons in that cul-de-sac of quintessential El Salvador (please refer to maps 1 and 2 on page xviii).

Humble lifestyles were prevalent in my innocent, quaint little town.

According to the United Nations Population Mega Trends for that year (1952) as displayed on graphics 1 and 2 on page xvii, in El Salvador, the life expectancy from birth was around 44 years and the birth rate was approximately 46 per every 1,000 inhabitants respectively.

I am the fourth child in a close-knit family of six siblings: Carmen, Wilfredo, Ismael, Margarita, and Jose. My father, Ernesto Cruz, was a self-taught carpenter, and my mother, Emma Umanzor de Cruz, was a housewife, all natives of Oriente.

Typical of a small village was the fact that everyone knew everyone. Everyone was aware of the goings-on in the daily life of the whole town. For lack of printed or radio or television or internet media expression, the grapevine was the premier, strongest, and most convenient media communication system among the dwellers.

Life in general and living conditions were indisputably harsh. We were isolated from the world. My family used to live in primitive conditions in an adobe dwelling. We had no plumbing, potable water, electricity, telephone service, medical clinic, or priest in our parish.

In spite of living in that isolation (please see maps 1 and 2 on page xviii), we transpired into a peaceful world of innocence. Innocence and ignorance, in tandem, played a very decisive role in the ways of living, in a community, and respecting each other to the utmost.

As unappealing as life was in my small town in economic terms, people always welcomed you like family. Socially, thus, Oriente was a great small town. For the spiritually inclined, my village was compellingly attractive. Oriente was, by any means, the epitome of the laid-back country style in an urban setting. The relaxed, slow-paced lifestyle of Oriente was why generations lived there their entire lives.

As you would imagine, my upbringing took place under extreme conditions of poverty and limitations. From my birth to the young age of twelve, my feet had never had the delightful sense of protection from a pair of shoes, however cheap they might have been. But innocent life had continued naturally occurring in my town nonetheless.

There was neither a kindergarten nor a preschool program for me to attend in my town.

Coincidentally, I started attending elementary school at the tender age of five. My school functioned in a century-old adobe building that had been the town's city hall. There was no major hope other than getting to sixth grade. It happened to be the highest level of education at my disposal in that geographic region. I thought that after the sixth grade, my most fantastic opportunity would, at best, be learning and following in my father's footsteps in carpentry. But deep inside me, there was a fire for the sciences. That notion, however unreachable, was burning my mind and my consciousness since pretty early in my life.

At that time, the life expectancy in the country was only approximately forty-four years. The reason is the inherent hazards of persistent poverty and the consequent lack of good nutrition and nonexistent health services. Additionally, the constant repression of the military and paramilitary services of the oligarchic government. Lack of education contributed to the increased levels of criminality, and so did the absence of public safety in the country.

The political instability of the government aggravated the reigning conditions in 1952. We had just come out of a tyrannical military semi-dictatorship under a Revolutionary Council of Government and fallen into other similar conditions and characteristics under President Coronel Oscar Osorio (1910–1969). The prevalent assumption was that the next government perpetuated those conditions of sociopolitical uncertainty in turn. But ironically enough, while the expectations were for more of the same, my native town started waking up from that long political and social lethargy.

Those poor social conditions of environmental uncertainty, domestically, gave way to an environmental lassitude because our home became our safe haven and our comfort zone. Our home was a place where we could build memories together and develop love for each other. So much so that I remember when I was four, while my mother was taking care of the domestic chores, my oldest sister Carmen was teaching me at home, subjects such as arithmetic, writing, and reading. Therefore, when I started attending school, I already knew most of the subject matter taught to us in the first grade.

As for my parents' account, my older brother Ismael started his first grade in school at the age of seven (the average age for any child to start school). I don't remember why, but I found it challenging to be at home by myself. Possibly so out of envy (the most probable explanation), I started urging my parents to send me to school with Ismael. I begged them to let me go to school.

Reluctantly, they finally assented. They got me a ten-cent notebook and a number 2 pencil. I started to attend first-grade classes as a non-matriculated student.

After a few days of instruction, my teacher noticed that I was doing better than most classmates. Therefore, my teacher (Mrs. Delmy Yanes) talked to my parents and suggested enrolling me as a regular first grader.

Subsequently, I felt that the materials we covered in the first-grade curriculum were so easy that I devoted my time to reading history and geography.

And even amid my puerility, I had the genuine desire to learn more advanced topics such as mathematics, history, geography, literature, etc.

Coincidentally, among my sweetest memories was one wherein my maternal grandparents owned an old geography book. The inevitable passing of time, and most importantly, the wear and tear destroyed the hardcovers and some book pages. It was at times used by some of my cousins. Just imagine the treatment that that old book had gone through. But it was my faithful friend, out of which I extracted the most I could and probably all I know of geography today.

My youngest memories are all scattered through the innocent but colorful tapestry of the history of my poor infancy. I recall that I was a child who, in his daydreams, was oblivious of his sad reality, But with inexhaustible energy and illusions in his soul, I prayed to God to be able to become a scientist.

At this very point, I would like to make a brief parenthesis for a funny story that occurred in my town. Reminiscing about it gives me the goose bumps.

When I was about ten years old, I used to build wooden toys that, more than being toys, were curiosities that almost everyone in town admired. There was also a young boy named Quincho (short for Joaquin). He used to live with his parents in front of the then public plaza of the town.

Once in a while, we enjoyed meeting at the plaza with other kids my age to play with the toys I made. In and around the playground, some of the boys started calling me by the nickname Cientifico, which means scientist, because I used to experiment with and invent a lot of curious and sometimes weird toys. But Quincho, quite often, misinterpreted and mispronounced some words.

We all know that we should never underestimate the power of a single word. In some situations of our lives, one wrong word or a misinterpreted word can change the meaning of an entire expression and start a war. We also know that one right word, or a kind word, can grant you the heavens and open doors.

It just so happens that whenever Quincho wanted to talk to me, instead of calling me Cientifico (Scientist), he mispronounced and misunderstood the word and called me Tisico. Tisico in Spanish refers to a person who suffers from tuberculosis. Thank God, I was not suffering from such a disease. But the other kids, to tease him, also called me Tisico.

I dreamed of getting to know the other phase of the world and its harmonic motion. I also dreamed of bidding farewell to my innocence. I didn't know when that would take place. But I was fully conscious of my getting of age. Perhaps I was foreseeing the potential departure from my ancestral home. I did not fathom imagine how I would achieve such a feat. I also knew that that was the price for going out to the world to seek experience and knowledge that would enable me to achieve the abilities to realize my dreams.

Events occurred the way they should. New knowledge came to me as a consequence of furthering my studies. I started opening my eyes to a new horizon, especially with new teachers and advanced teachings. The expected expansion of my views and understandings of the day's world and my parental guidance provided me with much-welcomed wisdom.

Despite many environmental deprivations, I never felt like a wounded and defeated warrior. The allegory of success was ever omnipresent in my set of expectations. Truth be told, but inexplicably enough, as I sorted out the different adversities, I was always abstracted by the perception of non-belongingness. I always felt like a wayfaring stranger in my original town. Perhaps because I had realized that attaining my dreams was impossible, had I stayed at my ancestral abode. I always felt like an indefatigable, ever-migrating eagle in a pathfinding mission in the blue skies of the future. There was