Chased by the Federales: Part I
Past Stories
On August 21, I crossed the US-Mexican border on my bicycle. I was incredibly excited to ride through a country that I loved so dearly. “I did it. I traveled the entire US Pacific Coast and now I am in Mexico!” I was so proud of myself. But as soon as I hopped onto my bike on “Avenida de la Amistad”, my stomach churned. The street was filled with people, and the roads were anything but logical with twists and turns like no other. My smile disappeared. Am I really going to bike tour alone in Mexico?!
My emotions quickly progressed to fear as I foolishly found myself on the Via Internacional highway. My warmshowers host, Miguel, was only about 8 km away. This was the longest 14 minutes of my trip. No shoulder, EXTREMELY busy, and glass and metal all over the road. I was praying my heart out. “PLEASE NO FLATS. PLEASE STOP HONKING AT ME!” My whole body felt tight. I was terrified. At one point, I heard someone yelling at me. I immediately thought the authorities had come for me, and were trying to get me off the road. Well, it turns out that this is not the part of the story where the police were actually chasing me. The man yelling at me was just encouraging me.“Sigue! Sigue! Sigue! [Go! Go! Go!]”
I FINALLY get off the highway and feel a huge sense of relief. I bike a couple extra kms and arrive to Miguel’s house. “Welcome, welcome! Come in, would you like some water?” Another load lifted off my chest, “I am safe” I thought to myself. Miguel laughed when I told him the route I took, “You did a nice hill then, didn’t you?”
Miguel was a 35-year old Tijuana native who had also done some bike touring across Mexico. He was so proud of his city and his country, and rightly so! He wanted to show me some of Tijuana’s colours in the short time we had. He first took me to the waterfront. Children were playing in the sand, couples were watching the sunset, older women were laughing while sipping on their tea in cute little coffee shops. I mean, it was picture perfect. This was NOTHING like what was described to me by folks on the other side of the border. It was beautiful.
We walked by the water, all the way to a very tall fence. “And now we are at the edge of Mexico”, he said. “Is this like Friendship Park” I asked. I knew Friendship Park was the only designated bi-national meeting place along the US-Mexican border where families, who have been separated for years, could see each other for the first time. “Sort of, if you stick your hands through the wires, you can touch the United States. The actual park is a few minutes from here”. Thousands of thoughts rushed through my head as I imagined mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, cousins and grandparents sticking their fingers through the wires to simply touch their loved ones. My heart sank. In particular, my mind flashed to the face of my close friend back in New York who had not seen his family in 12 years and is constantly struggling with the uncertainty of life as a dreamer”. Life is not fair, I thought to myself. The area all of a sudden felt eerie.
Miguel then decided to brighten my spirits and check out Tijuana’s infamous nightlife. It turns out Tijuana has an awesome craft brewery scene. After bar hopping for a couple hours, drinking some surprisingly delicious beer and sharing many great stories, Miguel and I decide to call it a night. We make it back to his place and my body sinks into his couch. “In the morning, I will explain the route you should take to avoid the checkpoint on the road tomorrow. Goodnight Mariam!” I’ll break some news to you, no route planning occurred the next morning.
As I closed my eyes, I reflected on the myriad of emotions I had experienced in the last couple of hours.
Pride as I crossed the US-border.
Nervousness as I landed on Mexican soil.
Fear as I biked on a glass and wire infested highway.
Relief as I arrived at Miguel’s home.
Sorrow as I imagined the suffering of people who visit Friendship Park.
Joy as I sipped on craft beer and shared stories with Miguel.
Little did I know that within 12 hours, I would experience yet another series of emotions: panic, guilt, and determination. The next morning, I would do something that I never thought I had the willpower and nerve to do.
To be continued....
Location: Tijuana, Baja California
Date: August 2017
I was never a rebellious child growing up. There are some people on this planet who are just exceptionally good at lying or staying cool while knowingly doing something “wrong”. Well, until now, I am the polar opposite. But here I am, telling you a story about being chased by the federal police in Mexico.
Let’s go back a few hours.