The Furrow and the Daily Wage

Translated by Katrina Hassan Rosa tries to reposition the nylon bag full of oranges that she carries on her back. She is barely able to take a step because the bag weighs fifty pounds. She is short in stature and the bag is half her size. The pain in her back makes her walk hunched over. Rosa has been working in the same job for sixteen years ever since she came to California from Xicotepec, Puebla, Mexico. She barely speaks Spanish. English even less, she know only very few words. Rosa is an indigenous Otomi. She speaks mountain Otomi, one…

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The Taste of a New Day

Translated by Katrina Hassan Justina cleans hotel rooms for a living, twenty two of them a day. Sometimes it can be twenty five, depending on if any of her colleagues miss work that day. Her shift begins at 5 a.m. and finishes at 7 p.m. fourteen hours in total. Monday through Friday. Saturdays and Sundays she rents a space at a Mexican supermarket. One square meter for twenty five dollars a day, where she sells hand embroidered blankets. She embroiders them on nights when she can’t sleep, and there are many. Money from the blankets pay for her gasoline. From…

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The Desire of the Street Vendor 

Translated by Marvin Najarro He turns the iron on, and at the same time prepares a recipient with water to sprinkle it with his finger on his pants. Fulgencio follows in his maternal grandfather’s tradition of wearing shirts and dress pants, wool sweater and moccasins. He always keeps a well ironed and neatly folded cotton handkerchief in the back pocket of his pants. He uses the same – forty years old – leather belt.  Once he has his clothes ready he takes a shower with cold water from a barrel, but first, he washes the clothes he wore the day…

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The Value of Remittances 

Translated by Katrina Hassan He never knew about salmon until he saw it being cooked on big trays in the New York City delis. It is twelve dollars for half a pound. Twelve dollars. He asks himself what he could buy back home in Todos Santos Cuchumatán, Guatemala with that money. He could feed his family for three days, without a doubt. Back in Todos Santos Cuchumatán, Clementino worked in a cementery since he was a teenager. First he was a helper to his uncle. There he learned to do a little of everything. Some days he buried the dead,…

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A Quiet Day

Translated by Marvin Najarro She sits down to rest for a while; she has been standing for ten hours with two ten-minute bathroom breaks, and half an hour lunch break. November weather is very cold in New York, these are the days of dressing in three layers of clothes, heavy winter gloves, two pair of socks, and truck driver boots. Nemesia always wears a cap and hat to protect her from the cold and the sun. The kerchief that covers his face she uses it all year round, it helps her somewhat as a protection against sun burns in summer,…

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The Plum

Translated by Katrina Hassan Guillermina leaves the grocery shopping on the table and urgently gets a plum out of one if the the bags. She washes and bites it. It’s juice spills from the sides of her lips. She closes her eyes and thanks the hands that cared for the plant, from seedling until tree. Ever since she was little, her grandparents taught her to appreciate the work of those who cultivate the land. Guillermina who is originally from Parramos, Chimaltenango, Guatemala, hardly spoke anything other than her mother tongue Chakchikel when she arrived in the US. She knew a…

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The Wound of Absence

Translated by Katrina Hassan He wakes up, prepares the coffee and opens a small window in his room. Instantly the cold autumnal air enters the room and it chills his bones. He never thought October could be so cold. His native town of Cabañas, Zacapa in Guatemala is an oven year round. Lindomar has homesickness seeping from his pores. He misses his land and his family with all his might. He has only been in the United States for one year. The wound is still fresh. He has wept every day and every night. He never thought being homesick could…

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