Nunca supe que esa era la última vez que lo vería, debí suponerlo, su voz quebrada debía delatarlo, su mirada perdida tenía que ser la señal, tal vez la emoción de verlo me confundió. Para mí fué un fin de semana con Papá, para el era la despedida más dura de su vida. Nunca tuvo el valor para decirme en la cara que iba a arriesgar su vida por nosotros, que sería nuestro "Superman", porque sabía que no lo íbamos a permitir.
Cuando supe que estaba cruzando esa selva, caminando entre serpientes, con cadáveres de otros héroes bajo sus pies, supe por primera vez lo que es el miedo, pero el miedo real, crudo, no de ese que se le tiene a algún insecto con aspecto un poco desagradable, miedo, de perder para siempre al hombre que te mostró el camino, que me sostuvo la mano cuando apenas comenzaba a poner un pié delante del otro, al que metió su pecho entre el Toro que intentaba atacarme y yo, a ese hombre, tuve miedo de perder.
Llorar!! a escondidas de mi hermano, secar mis lágrimas y contarle que papá estaba incomunicado porque se le averió el teléfono, nunca antes le había mentido, solo lo intentaba proteger, creo que fueron las mentiras más bonitas que le han contado.
Cada día que pasaba era un puñal penetrando en mi esperanza, descargas eléctricas inyectando mi impotencia, pero confiaba en mí héroe, el siempre puede.
Esa videollamada fue, al fin, la prueba irrefutable de que ese hombre tiene poderes, casi no puedo descolgar el móvil del nerviosismo, mi papá estaba bien, y esa era la prueba. Salí disparado a abrazar a mi hermano, y contarle todo, después de responder su interrogatorio, volví a ver la luz, volví a sonreír, y fué entonces cuando vino la pregunta más difícil de responder, en su llanto desconsolado me preguntó:
- ¿Cómo es posible que te rías?¿Te das cuenta que vamos a estar al menos un año sin verlo?
-No sé Yordy, quizás sea porque estoy nervioso.
Si el supiera todo lo que le oculté, quizás entendiera mi alegría, pero creo que es mejor que nunca lo sepa. Es cierto que duele saber que 90 millas no se pueden recorrer todos los días, pero es mejor que no saber dónde está.
Mi héroe no es el único, hay muchos como él, intentando darle una vida mejor a su familia, aunque esto signifique arriesgar su vida, alejarse de todo, y todos, no tener con quién hablar, ser humillados con tal de preservar un empleo, que te paguen la mitad del valor de tu sudor, por el hecho de no tener derecho a estar donde estás, vivir huyendo para no ser deportado.
(recoge migajas o muere de hambre)
Para todas las personas que están haciendo el trayecto, intentando emigrar a otro país, y sus familiares:
FUERZA, TODO VA A ESTAR BIEN!!!
[ENGLISH]
I never knew that was the last time I would see him, I should have guessed it, his broken voice must have given him away, his lost look had to be the sign, maybe the emotion of seeing him confused me. For me it was a weekend with Dad, for him it was the hardest goodbye of his life. He never had the courage to tell me to my face that he was going to risk his life for us, that he would be our "Superman", because he knew we would not allow it.
When I knew I was crossing that jungle, walking among snakes, with corpses of other heroes under his feet, I knew for the first time what fear is, but real, raw fear, not the kind of fear you get from some nasty looking insect, fear, of losing forever the man who showed you the way, who held my hand when I was just starting to put one foot in front of the other, who put his chest between me and the Bull that was trying to attack me, that man, I was afraid of losing.
Crying!!! hiding from my brother, wiping my tears and telling him that dad was incommunicado because his phone was broken, I had never lied to him before, I was just trying to protect him, I think they were the nicest lies he had ever been told.
Every day that passed was a dagger penetrating my hope, electric shocks injecting my helplessness, but I trusted my hero, he always can.
That video call was, at last, the irrefutable proof that this man has powers, I almost couldn't take my cell phone off the hook from nervousness, my dad was fine, and that was the proof. I rushed out to hug my brother, and tell him everything, after answering his interrogation, I saw the light again, I smiled again, and it was then when the most difficult question to answer came, in his disconsolate crying he asked me:
- How is it possible for you to laugh, do you realize that we are going to be at least a year without seeing him?
-I don't know Yordy, maybe it's because I'm nervous.
If he knew everything I hid from him, maybe he would understand my joy, but I think it's better that he never knows. It's true that it hurts to know that 90 miles can't be traveled every day, but it's better than not knowing where he is.
My hero is not the only one, there are many like him, trying to give his family a better life, even if it means risking his life, walking away from everything, and everyone, having no one to talk to, being humiliated just to preserve a job, being paid half the value of your sweat, for the fact that you have no right to be where you are, living on the run to avoid being deported.
(pick up crumbs or starve to death).
For all the people who are making the journey, trying to emigrate to another country, and their families:
STRENGTH, IT'S GOING TO BE OK!!!!