Illegal immigrants cross the border like the wind; their entries come and go as silently as the wind
The need to feed one's self and one's family is the primary impetus to travel from one's homeland to Babylon be it the U.S. (for Mexicans and Central Americans) or France (for Algerians and other French-speaking countries in Africa - irony there, no? The fact that some Africans speak French suggests that the French once entered without documentation into a foreign country. But their travels were not illegal - they were exploratory because the powerful get to define the context - but colonialism nevertheless produced the conditions of the present.)
Sometimes you get lucky when crossing the border. You survive - make a living - send money home. Other times you do not. There are many bones in the desert in the U.S.side of the Mexican border (read Dead in Their Track for this account or watch the DVD Mojados to get a glimpse of the process and trajedy). There are many who drown in the sea (Africans).
"El hambre viene. El hombre se va. Cuando volvera. Por la carretera" People are left behind when someone decides to leave. Mothers. Grandfathers. Grandmothers. Wives. Children. Their loved one disappears into the wind and when, they must wonder, will they return? What if they die in route and they become the nameless victims of our social and economic policies - will we ever know that they perished? Will we ever know if they made it? Thousands of people disappear into the wind. And those that stay behind to see the person they love walk away for their economic benefit - eventually all they see is empty space and the sound of the wind, which is what we hear at the end of this track.
Only the wind.
Fingers crossed.
Hope in their throats.
But for many, they will never know what became of their loved ones, family, and kin. All they know is that they left por la careterra.
Illegal immigrants cross the border like the wind; their entries come and go as silently as the wind The need to feed one's self and one's family is the primary impetus to travel from one's homeland to Babylon be it the U.S. (for Mexicans and Central Americans) or France (for Algerians and other French-speaking countries in Africa - irony there, no? The fact that some Africans speak French suggests that the French once entered without documentation into a foreign country. But their travels were not illegal - they were exploratory because the powerful get to define the context - but colonialism nevertheless produced the conditions of the present.)
Sometimes you get lucky when crossing the border. You survive - make a living - send money home. Other times you do not. There are many bones in the desert in the U.S.side of the Mexican border (read Dead in Their Track for this account or watch the DVD Mojados to get a glimpse of the process and trajedy). There are many who drown in the sea (Africans).
"El hambre viene. El hombre se va. Cuando volvera. Por la carretera" People are left behind when someone decides to leave. Mothers. Grandfathers. Grandmothers. Wives. Children. Their loved one disappears into the wind and when, they must wonder, will they return? What if they die in route and they become the nameless victims of our social and economic policies - will we ever know that they perished? Will we ever know if they made it? Thousands of people disappear into the wind. And those that stay behind to see the person they love walk away for their economic benefit - eventually all they see is empty space and the sound of the wind, which is what we hear at the end of this track.
Only the wind.
Fingers crossed.
Hope in their throats.
But for many, they will never know what became of their loved ones, family, and kin. All they know is that they left por la careterra.