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NEWS THURSDAY, APRIL 29, 2010 THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN KANSAN.COM
Photo by Jon Goering
Javier embraces his younger sister iren at her 15th birthday celebration, or quinconcha. A quinconcha is a coming-of-age ceremony for young Latina girls and is often considered as important as a wedding. Irieri had 14 attendants, like bridesmaids, and more than 350 guests. Javier asked his current girlfriend to prom that night. A few days before, he had been accepted to the University.
Photo by Jon Goering
LIMBO (CONTINUED FROM 5A)
His second thought: I'm paralyzed. He felt his hands were tied. He had hired Raul that summer as part of the HawkLink program. Even though he had no idea at the time that Raul was undocumented, it is illegal to hire an undocumented worker.
Izagiru told Claudette that on an institutional level, as a KU employee, there was nothing he could legally do to help Rand
On a personal level, held do anything the family needed.
She never called him back
Raul center is featured on this poster used by KU Admissions for multicultural recruitment. He has since been deported.
--come home after classes, sit at the dining room table and in the moments before his departure for work, tell her about his day and all the things he had learned.
KU Office of Admissions and Scholarships
Raul was sentenced to four months in prison. The charge? Identity theft. Raul had been using someone else's Social Security number so he could work.
He was transferred four times to different prisons in Missouri and Kansas. Upon completion of his prison term, he was transferred to Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the largest investigative agency of the Department of Homeland Security.
ICE officials questioned him repeatedly, trying to get him to sign deportation papers. Raul refused. Finally, it didn't matter whether he had signed them. His deportation date was set. Raul never appeared before an immigration judge.
In September 2008, Raul was taken by bus to the border, a trip that lasted three to four days because of the many stops and starts. Raul was handcuffed the entire journey, sometimes to the man next to him.
"A lot of times, I want to go to sleep and not wake up, not because I want to die but because I see them in my dreams, and in my dreams, nothing stands before us, no borders — nothing."
It wasn't until he was actually there, standing in Ciudad Acuña in the state of Coahuila, Mexico, that he closed the chapter on his American life.
This flag hangs across the bedroom window of iteri, laveri's younger sister. The words on the flag are free from More *Trouble* by Bob Marley, Laveri, IJeri, 16, is undocumented. She hopes one day attend the university.
He ran hot water over his aching red wrists and worried about his parents and siblings back in Kansas City.
In the Grupo Beta aid center, Raul wearily called his grandmother in Mexico City and prepared to move there.
RAUU
His flashy red car, damaged in a wreck, now sits in the family's yard.
They have many reminders of him
Photo by Jon Goerina
His mother recalls how Raul would
Raul's absence is a special loss for his younger brother Sergio, 16. He remembers trying to translate complex mail into Spanish for his parents shortly after Raul left.
"It was overwhelming, having to do all that grown up stuff while I am still just trying to settle down," he said. "It's a big responsibility."
"A lot of times, I want to go to sleep and not wake up, not because I want to die but because I see them in my dreams, and in my dreams, nothing stands before us, no borders — nothing," he said.
In Mexico, Raul dreams about his family.
Raul texts or calls his family daily, but the technology available to him in Mexico City isn't good, and he doesn't always have access to the Internet or phone service.
"There are hundreds of Rauls in Lawrence. We just don't know them," he said. "It's about putting yourself in their shoes. Would you be able to work a 12-hour shift and then go to class and somewhere in that process make time to sleep? It's about opportunities in front of you — becoming better than what your parents are."
Eloy Gallegos, his friend at the University, thinks about Raul and others like him.
Raul's new life is worlds away from his old one. He returned to his family in Mexico City and now lives with his grandmother, aunt and uncle in a suburb. Each day, he volunteers at an old cinderblock house converted into CAMISE school, a school for children with special needs. CAMISE, which serves 35 children from low-income families, is in Tultitlan, one of the most dangerous and poorest parts of the city. On weekdays, Raul works with children with Down syndrome and cerebral palsy. To make ends meet, he sells sporting goods at flea markets over the weekend.
"There are hundreds of Rauls in Lawrence. We just don't know them."
ELLOY GALLEGOS Raul's friend
"If you have a college education here, they treat you like a god," he said. "But there are still no jobs."
Raul says that what matters in Mexico is who you know. Unlike in the United States, where a hard-working person from any background has a chance at success, in Mexico, you have to have contacts.
Raul no longer has money to buy flashy clothes or jewelry. Even if he did, it would be too dangerous to wear them.
Nice tennis shoes are an invitation to be mugged.
The kid formerly known as "Flash" has to dress down in Mexico
Raul now dreams of helping those around him: He wants his grandmother, uncles, aunts and cousins to feel safe when they leave their homes. He wants to help people at the community center where
he works. He wants to get the kids wheelchairs and walkers and to raise awareness about impoverished places like the one he lives in now.
He dreams of change, but he knows they are just dreams.
Sometimes, Raul goes online and looks at the KU website — and he remembers.
"It just seems like another planet," he said.
Edited by Lauren Keith
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