Freedom Fighters

10. Veracruz

September 1956
Veracruz, Mexico

Bustling. The word came to Dario's mind when he peered out of the little window beside his seat. Multitudes of people brushed against one another on the port, indistinguishable amongst the cacophony of constant haggling and chatter. The ferry veered into its assigned berth, and Dario could feel it slowing down.

"Veracruz. The mouth of Mexico, they say," Camilo commented beside him, keeping the novel he had been reading into his bag below the seat.

A crewman came in from the outside began shouting for people to get ready to move out.

Dario grabbed his duffel bag and stood up, stretching his shoulders that had grown stiff from two days of mostly sitting. He slung the bag over his shoulder with ease, noting its light weight. They had both decided to take only their essential belongings, donating everything else.

That very Sunday morning, they informed the landlord, a kind elderly Mexican man, that they were leaving Miami for good. They spent their afternoon saying their goodbyes to the close friends they had made in their year in Miami. The hardest goodbye was definitely with their employers at the quaint Cuban restaurant they worked at, a good-natured couple well into their fifties.

The crowd snaked its way to the exit. Amidst the jostling, Dario felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned his head, only to have his heart flutter at Juanita's smile. He gave a shy smile back but immediately reverted to his neutral expression at the sight of the Almeidas. Despite Juanita's words, those scowling expressions still instilled an unease in him.

Shuffling out into the openness of the starboard, he felt the force of Mexico's scorching morning sun. He lifted his spare arm to shield his eyes from the reflection from the sea's waters. A man in front of him grunted at him to jump the gap onto the pier and so he did, but not without a stumble, much to Juanita's amusement.

After finding Camilo who had been waiting for them, the group followed the crowd to the customs checkpoint where they got their identity documents checked and paid their tolls for entry into Mexico.

Emerging from the customs checkpoint into the city, they entered another world. Immediately, they got caught in the wave of human traffic and had to muscle their way around to move. Dario gasped at the scene. This was the sight that he caught a glimpse of from the ferry.

A sweltering mass of humanity lay before him as his nose got invaded by all sorts of smells. He could smell the fragrant spices, a slight hint of heat from peppers, the muskiness from meat produce. Before he could identify more of the smells, a wave of tangy saltiness wafted in from their right, as a huge fishing net full of fishes was thrown onto the pier by men in a fishing boat.

"Wow. And I thought Havana was crowded," Camilo said.

Dario grunted his agreement, feeling slightly claustrophobic. It was getting difficult to maneuver through the crowd with a duffel bag on his shoulder.

"Over here!" Juanita shouted from in front of them. "Follow me!"

Flanked by the twins, she led the way, navigating through the throngs of people.

"This is the largest marketplace of the city," she explained to them. "With fishes and other goods coming in every day from the port, it tends to be very crowded."

"Crowded is a understatement," Camilo muttered as he brushed past another man, mumbling an apology.

Just then, Dario felt a hand tug onto the seams of his pants. Jolting from the shock, he turned to confront the culprit, only to stop midway. Huge vacant black eyes stared out of a face plastered with dirt and grime. At his hips stood a skinny little boy dressed in rags.