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Bob H
Elite Nomad
Posts: 5867
Registered: 8-19-2003
Location: San Diego
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What an absolutey incredible story! WOW
Bob H
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gnukid
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 4410
Registered: 7-2-2006
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So young and so much time ahead for adventure...
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Minnow
Banned
Posts: 1110
Registered: 8-30-2002
Location: Lost Wages
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Mood: Embarrased Harry Reid is a Nevadan
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| Quote: | Originally posted by ELINVESTI8
30°41'44.73"N 116° 0'5.82"W
COLONIA LOS MOLINOS BAJA CALIFORNIA |
That is right on the beach near Vincente Guerrero.
You sure that doesn't have something to do with why you ended up that far south?
Proud husband of a legal immigrant.
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Osprey
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3694
Registered: 5-23-2004
Location: Baja Ca. Sur
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Some mighty cruel circumstances all got together to start you off in some of the most unforgiving country in the west. Then, left to wander about in
dangerous territory helped you grow up fast, become a survivor. Can’t imagine such a lifestyle – while I was left to roam the swamps of Florida and
the barren deserts of the Great Basin I was cared for, spoiled and pampered.
I’m strictly a fiction writer and wouldn’t know where to start to write an autobiography; yours will be exciting, unique. I encourage you to put all
this great stuff down in Word for Windows, save it all in a safe place and after you have the draft you want your kids to read someday, spend some
time fleshing the work out for publication.
If you can remember your life in chronological detail as your draft reveals, perhaps you can bring back even more details; the nitty gritty landscape
of the where and when, the smells and smiles – all the furniture. I can do that, go back there, drum it back up just from the awful power of self
suggestion.
Most of us were comfy each night in our downy beds when you were sleeping under bridges – we had hot chocolate while you grew used to the taste of
grit if and when you could find a meal, a patron, a friend.
Your perseverance is an inspiration we hope you’ll share more of with us. I’m not a professional but I would be glad to edit anything you’d like to
send me.
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DianaT
Select Nomad
Posts: 10020
Registered: 12-17-2004
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It really is a story that needs to be told. It not only is one of survival, but a great example of that often little understood quality of
resiliency.
As you write, more details will probably come back to you. Your story could perhaps help a lot of people who come from difficult circumstances.
We look forward to reading more.
Diane and John
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bajafun
Newbie
Posts: 1
Registered: 11-25-2007
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The more people tell their stories of their life, the more interesting life is. Thanks for sharing. MY life is vanilla next to yours.
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ELINVESTIG8R
Select Nomad
Posts: 15882
Registered: 11-20-2007
Location: Southern California
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Thanks everyone for your comments. They say what does not kill you makes you stronger. I guess that is true.
I just want everyone who reads my story that I was not involved in any of the bad stuff Ervil LeBaron had his followers doing on his behalf. I was
long gone before that happened. When I started hearing about the bad stuff I was already a CID Agent in the Marines. Just thought you should know
that.
I will sneak this back in today 12/29/2009
DAVID’S LIFE STORY FROM CHIHUAHUA TO BAJA AND BEYOND
Caveat...The story you are about to read is true and I never killed anyone unless it was a justifiable homicide.
My name is David M. and I am 57. I was born on December 16, 1952 in Mesa Arizona. I am the eldest of 12 children. I am a Sagittarius and I love
adventure. My adventure started when I was five years old after my parents Nephi and Anna Mae took me to live in a colony of ex-Mormons in the state
of Chihuahua Mexico called Colonia LeBaron. This colony is a small place that is just south of Galeana Chihuahua Mexico and is and just north of San
Buenaventura Chihuahua Mexico. This is a colony where they practice polygamy. (I do not practice it.) During my childhood I did not have time to be a
kid because the elders had us all in the fields clearing it so they could plant alfalfa, tomatoes, sugar cane and corn. It was difficult time to say
the least. By the time I was 9 years old I was taught how to plow the cleared fields behind a mule team and was out there plowing the rows to be
planted. That is the way it was between 9 and 12 years old.
During that time my mother left my dad Nephi and married the second in charge of the church called Church of the First Born of the Fullness of Times
or as call I call it “The Cult.” His name was Ervil LeBaron (Look him up on Goggle) and he had 9 or 10 wives and many children. He was an evil man
with the soul of the devil. Ervil hated me with all his might because I was the eldest son of my mother and not a product of him. This is the only
explanation I can come up with because before I started rebelling I was an obedient kid. Well because of his hatred for me through no fault of my own
I became rebellious and refused to follow his orders and defied him at every turn. One day when I was 12 years old I flat out refused to do something
he ordered me to do so he ended up beating me with his fists and kicked me with his feet to the point I lost consciousness. I remember that before
losing consciousness I saw my mother standing at the front door of our house watching what was going on and she walked back into the house.
When I regained consciousness in the dirt street in front of our house I dragged my bleeding body to a hand cranked well where I drew water and washed
the blood from my body. It took me a lot of years to forgive my mother for that but I have since forgiven her.
She was caught up looking at Ervil as a living God because she felt he was a Prophet and felt he could do no wrong. Even though my mother says she
does not remember the incident I have still forgiven her and moved on from that. I remember while cleaning up the blood from my body I felt such a
burning rage sweep through me. I had such pure hatred pulsing through my heart and soul for Ervil that I decided then and there I was going to kill
him even if I had to do it with my bare hands. Ervil was a huge man compared to me but I really did not care at that point.
I remember getting a kerosene lamp (We had no electricity) and going down into the dark basement of the house. I was always scared to go down there
but this day I was not scared. I rummaged though the boxes and odds and ends looking for something to use to kill him. I eventually found a rusty
single shot 12 gauge shotgun and some old shotgun shells. I remember sneaking the shotgun out of the house then going far away from the house where I
tested it to see if it worked. I figured out how to load it and boy did it work. I nearly broke my shoulder firing it. I then hid out where I knew
Ervil would come by in his truck and waited and waited until he showed up. While I was waiting, something happened to me that to this day I cannot
explain. While waiting with this rage which was building and building, I began to feel an intense heat begin to permeate my body.
It started at my feet and worked its way all the way to the top of my head. The sensation was so real I remember being confused and wondering where
the heat was coming from. This heat was of such intensity I can only describe it as if one is too close to a raging bonfire and your flesh feels like
it is coming off. I dropped the shotgun on the ground and as soon as I did the intense heat dissipated. I picked up the shotgun and took it to a small
manmade lake located nearby and threw it in the lake. I believe there was some Devine intervention that day, which stopped me from becoming a
murderer, well that is what I think anyway and I am glad I did not kill Ervil even though he was an evil, evil man. After throwing the shotgun into
the lake I returned home where I took a blanket and four loaves of my mother’s homemade wheat bread and with the clothes on my back I walked to the
highway and hopped a ride never to return.
From the age of 12 until I was 16 years old I roamed alone throughout Mexico working as a cowboy field hand and construction worker. I spent much of
my time living under bridges, bushes the stars and in culverts along the highway. Needless to say I had many adventures. (More to plug in here) I
eventually ended up in Tijuana Baja California Mexico during winter time. I only had a blanket to keep warm which did not do very well in that respect
but it was better than a stick in the eye. I was freezing and hungry and sick with a nagging strong cough. I found myself on a street in Tijuana where
all the prostitutes hang out. I walked up and down the street to talking to several of them individually asking them for some food. All but one yelled
at me something to the effect “Lárgate Niño malcriado” which loosely translated means “Get the “F” out of here you miscreant child.” One of the women
named Maria took pity on me though and got me something to eat and took me to a pharmacy where she paid for some medicine. I remember the guy gave me
a shot in my butt which seemed to eventually cure whatever I had.
She bought me a warm coat and let me live with her down at the Tijuana River where back then people lived in board and tarpaper type shacks. It was a
filthy place to live but at least I had a roof over my head. I think they have all been torn down now. I lived with her for about 3 or 4 months and
she treated me like her little brother. I walked the streets with her to keep my eye one her so she would not get hurt. I think I was 14 years old
then. I then left and continued my way down south never to see her again. I wish I knew where she was so I could find her and thank her for helping me
in my time of need. I then ended up in a small community just south of Ensenada called either Ejido or Colonia Chapultepec where Estero Beach is
located. I ran into a local kid named Felipe on the beach who rented horses to the American Tourists. I hung out with him during the day and at night
I lived under an overturned boat on the beach just outside Estero Beach next to a dilapidated bait shack where I later sold salted anchovies to the
tourists. I remember one day while walking along the highway in Maneadero Baja California I stopped to rest in an olive grove next to a ditch. I
distinctly remember asking myself if being a homeless person was all I was ever going to amount to.
It was at that point I decided I had to somehow find my way to my grandma’s house in Mesa Arizona. All I knew at that point is that I had a
grandmother named Hattie in Mesa Arizona and an Uncle Melvin. I said goodbye to my friend Felipe and headed south. While walking along the highway
between Maneadero and Colonia Vicente Guerrero one night I decided to sleep in a culvert under the highway. I was out in the middle of nowhere. I had
been walking along the highway picking up cigarette butts people had thrown out of their cars and was smoking them. I went down into the culvert and
wrapped myself in my blanket and fell asleep. The next thing I remember is hearing these God awful snarling sounds coming from the area of my feet. I
woke up and realized that a large pack of coyotes were in the culvert and in the process of attacking me. They must have thought I was a dead body or
something and were going to eat me. I probably smelled pretty ripe at that time. When they started biting my shoes and tearing at my blanket I rose up
in such a fright I began screaming at them at the top of my lungs. I picked up anything I could lay my hands on and threw whatever I had in my hand at
them.
I ran up to the highway and just kept running with a rock in my hand and looking behind me to make sure they were not coming after me. When daylight
came I was going to throw the rock away but realized it was a crystal about the size of a half a pack of cigarettes or a little less. I kept that rock
all these years and made a small crystal rock necklace with it which I have to this very day. I continued my journey south and ended up in Colonia
Vicente Guerrero where I found a job digging for clams at the beach. It was cold work because I had to go out into the surf waist deep early in the
morning and dig them out with a garden type pitch fork and put them into a gunny sack. I worked as a clam digger for a while living in a rusted out
car next to the sand dunes and ate clams everyday. I then headed south again and got a ride in a pickup truck with a Mexican man who ended up dropping
me off in the middle of the desert because he was turning off the main highway and going east up into the mountains. There I was, without food and
water in the middle of nowhere during the middle of the day. It had been raining so I looked around in the desert for any pools of water may have
collected and the only water I found was that which had collected in some cow hoof prints. Of course I drank it.
I found a rattlesnake by accident which I killed with a rock and skinned and gutted with my bare hands because I did not have a knife. I did have
matches though which I used to light the cigarette butts I found discarded along the highway. I found some dry grass and started a little camp fire
which I used to cook the snake over the coals. I had done that before with jack rabbits I had killed while roaming throughout Mexico. I then found a
Cholla Cactus and an Ocotillo bush. I removed several sections from the cactus and Ocotillo with some rocks and sticks to form a ring on the ground so
I could sleep in the middle and keep the snakes away from me. I had a restless sleep that night and the next day I was picked up by another Mexican
man in a pickup truck and off I went making it to El Rosario Baja California. I remember coming down into the town from the mesa and being dropped of
at Mama Espinoza’s Restaurant. There was one of those old gas pumps in front of the restaurant the type where the gasoline was hand pumped into a
glass container on top of the pump. I think I was 15 years old then. Back then there were no paved roads that I recall beyond El Rosario. I remember
that I was starving and that Mama Espinoza took me in and gave me food and a warm place to sleep.
She treated me as though I was one of her own children. I told her my name was David Martinez because I was an illegal alien in Mexico and did not
want to get in trouble. Back then I was a kid and I think I was not expected to have a Mexican Government ID but just the same I did it to be on the
safe side. I worked at the restaurant for a time then I went to work at a ranch called Rancho San Juan de Dios located in the mountains south east of
El Rosario where Anita’s husband Heraclio Espinoza owned a small ranch. One of Mama Espinoza’s sons and his wife lived on the ranch at the time.
Before her son was at the ranch he worked as an abalone diver and wore a hard hat type diving suit to gather abalone. While I was at the ranch an old
man came who was hired to build an adobe house next to a water tank and a small stream. One of my jobs was that of helper and had to haul big adobe
bricks to him. The man was an alcoholic. I don’t know how, but he managed to keep everything level and plumb. Whatever he was drinking he always put
it in his coffee morning noon and night. At night after work he would drink some more and walk along the lonely dirt road in the hills of the ranch
singing and yelling. There was nothing around for miles and miles but cactus, wild animals and cows.
One night the old man took off on one of his walks and I fell asleep. I was suddenly awakened and could hear him yelling very loudly from a long way
away. It sounded as though he was injured or something. I went to wake up Mama Espinoza’s son at the main house and found he too was awakened by the
yells of the old man. We walked for a long distance down the road in pitch black toward the yelling old man. When we found him he was lying on the
ground drunk as a skunk with one of his arms over the neck of a calf and singing to it. We dragged him for what seemed like an eternity back to his
bunk where he refused to go to sleep and kept arguing that he wanted to go back and sing to the calf some more. We had to hold him down until he
finally passed out. The next morning he denied he did any such thing and was peeed at us for making up the story. I wonder what happened to him. After
I returned to the restaurant from Rancho San Juan de Dies, one day a young American Tourist traveling alone stopped to buy gas at Mama Espinoza’s in
an old World War II 4X4 ambulance wagon. It was still painted in the military green.
He told me that he was going to cross over the mountains to the other side of Baja California and head over to San Felipe Baja California. I told him
I was an American and was trying to get to my grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona. He offered to give me a ride as far as San Felipe so that day I
told Mama Espinoza I had to leave. I thanked her for her kindness and left with American who gave me a ride to San Felipe. I got a job in San Felipe
working as a dishwasher at a restaurant on the beach north of town. I slept in a small rat infested trailer while working there. I remember the owner
had an old, old Toyota Helix pickup truck that we always had to park on a hill to start it by popping the clutch because the starter would not work.
One day I got so sick that I remember dreaming that rats were eating me. The next thing I know is I am waking up in the surf and the pickup truck is
parked on the beach. I guess I drove it to the beach and jumped into the surf which must have reduced my fever to some degree. I remember an American
tourist couple were walking on the beach and pulled me from the surf. I guess I was out of my mind because the next thing I know I was at the local
clinic where they paid for my care. I wish I knew who they were so I could thank them.
I had the Hong Cong Flu or something. One day after I felt better and working at the restaurant a shrimp boat captain came to the restaurant from his
fishing boat on a smaller boat which he beached and came into the restaurant to eat. I found out he was out of Guam’s Sonora which was on the other
side of Bhatia de California and one step closer in getting to Arizona. After explaining my situation and wanting to get to my grandmother’s house in
Arizona I asked if he would give me passage to Guam’s which he said he would. I worked for 2 or 3 weeks on the shrimp boat. I remember that for the
first couple of days I was so seasick I was in the fetal position in the living quarters. After that I was ok and got my sea legs. The captain dropped
me off in Guam’s where I got work with Circus Vargas feeding the elephant and cleaning up their poop. I remember they had such large poops. While
working at the circus I found out there was a warehouse near the Port of Guam’s where semi tractor trailer drivers loaded up to head to Nogales Mexico
which borders with Arizona. I asked around for passage to the border until one of the drivers finally consented to give me a ride.
He gave me a pack of Raleigh cigarettes and told me to meet him at the warehouse the next morning before light. I camped out near the warehouse next
to some trash cans all night long until he showed up at the warehouse then next morning. The trucker gave me a ride to Nogales Mexico. He drove me all
the way to the border and pointed out a line of people walking into the United States and told me “Kid get in the line and when you reach the
immigration man tell him you are an American Citizen.” I got in line and continued forward with the rest of the people. At the time I was wearing rags
for clothes and had cardboard in my shoes to cover the holes in the soles of my shoes. I also spoke better Spanish than English at the time. Well when
I reached the immigration guy I told him I was an American Citizen trying to reach my grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona. For whatever reason he did
not believe me, and neither did any of the other immigration guys. They ended up turning me over to the Mexican Immigration who locked me up in the
Nogales Mexico Jail. God was I scared. I was in a big cell with many criminals and with only one toilet to go to the bathroom. I spent the night wide
awake and never used the bathroom once.
The following day the Chief of Police had me brought to him and asked me what the hell I was doing in his jail cell. I told him about Colonia LeBaron
and my homeless travels throughout Mexico and that I was a 16 year old American Citizen just trying to get to my grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona.
God did he raise the roof at the police station with the people who placed me in the jail cell. The Chief made a telephone call to someone and the
next thing I know is two Americans came to interview me at the police station. I told them my story and the names of my grandma and uncle and they
said they would try to find them for me. For the next 4 months or so I lived at the police station in a small room where they put a cot so I could
have a place to sleep. The policemen bought me some new clothes and new shoes and some of them even took me to their house so I could take a shower. I
became the official police shoeshine boy, office cleaner and interpreter until my Uncle Melvin showed up with my American Birth Certificate and took
me home to my grandmother’s house in Mesa Arizona.
At the Age of 17 I joined the Marines and went to Boot Camp in San Diego California. God only knows how I passed the test to get into the Marines
since I had no real formal education before the little I received when I went to my grandmother’s house. At the age of 19 I married a girl while
stationed at Marine Barracks, Naval Ammunition Depot Hawthorne, Nevada. Her name is Donna. We were married for 10 years and had 3 children Katrina,
David Jr. and Dana. I now have 6 grandchildren. While in the Marines I was a Military Policeman then went on to become a Criminal Investigator with
the Criminal Investigation Division. I was sent to Okinawa Japan where I worked with the drug suppression team. We worked closely with the Japanese
Narcotics Control Department, which is the Japanese D.E.A. because the Military personnel would trade military equipment and arms with the Japanese
Mafia called the Yakuza in exchange for drugs.
One day our team consisting of Americans and our Japanese counterparts entered into an operation against the Yakuza. One of my responsibilities was to
be a lookout on the outer perimeter looking for anyone sneaking up from behind us while the assault team entered the building to take down the Yakuza
and any military personnel in the building.
I was located in an open raw sewage ditch we called “Benjo Ditches” which is common in Okinawa. What a stench. I had my .45 Caliber pistol locked and
loaded in my right hand with several other loaded magazines at the ready. I had just looked back toward the warehouse from my rear when suddenly the
hair on the back of my neck rose up. I whirled around my pistol in hand with my elbow tucked into my side and to my horror there was a Yakuza pointing
a shotgun at my head from about 10 feet away. It seemed like everything slowed down at that point.
I remember realizing he was not one of the good guys because he was not wearing the yellow pieces of cloth each of the team members tied around their
left and right upper arms. This all must have happened in microseconds because as soon as I turned I pulled the trigger as fast as I could and emptied
my magazine into the man and he fell dead. I remember that one of the first things I thought about afterwards was that moment many years back when I
was going to shoot Ervil LeBaron with the shotgun and wondered if I had shot him would I have survived this shotgun encounter. To this day I wonder if
there was a connection with the two incidents. I later had to go before a Japanese Judge where I was exonerated and the incident declared self
defense.
After coming home from Okinawa I divorced my first wife and three years later I married a Marine. We had a son who now works for the Riverside County
Sheriff’s Department as a Corrections Deputy. My second wife the Marine and I ended up going to the first Gulf War called Operation Desert Shield and
Operation Desert Storm. She was in the desert closer to the enemy in Kuwait than I was. She was near Al-Saffaniyah and I was assigned to the Port of
Al-Jubayl and was the Chief of Detectives in charge of seven Criminal Investigators responsible for investigating crimes for 75,000 Marines. My wife
was an Electronic Repair Technician. We rarely saw one another. Occasionally I would sneak away from the base and drive the one hundred miles at
breakneck speeds in my white Crown Victoria to get there before dark. I wore one of those red and white checkered Saudi Arabian headdresses to blend
in with the rest of the Saudi Arabians driving on the road. I would bring her things she could not get out in the desert and only had time to spend an
hour or so with her. Before heading back I would have to fuel up at the fuel farm from big bladders of “Mo-Gas” and head back on the dirt road at
night with my headlights out because they were in black out conditions.
It was a b-tch driving in the desert on the dirt road with my head poked out of the driver window trying to keep on the road and going through
military check points in a civilian car hoping they would not shoot at me while trying to get back to the highway. Once on the highway though I drove
the 100 miles back to Al-Jubayl at 100 miles an hour or higher in that Ford Crown Victoria. I loved that car. I went to see her only a couple of times
during my 9 months in Saudi Arabia. When I returned to the states I retired after 23 years and would only drive a Ford Crown Victoria for years up
until recently. Since my retirement I started another career as a Criminal Defense Investigator and I work for a county government in California. I
have about eight years left before I can retire and get my second retirement. My wife continued on with her career in the Marines and also did two
tours in Iraq before she retired this year after serving 30 years. We have been separated for the past 15 years but still live under the same roof.
She lives in her side of the house and me in mine. Life continues on. Let’s see where my next adventure begins.
MY TRIP TO MAMA ESPINOZA’S AFTER 40 YEARS
Trip to see Mama Espinoza after 40 years – On December 15, 2007, I plugged in my Baja Expeditioner GPS Map SD card into my Garmin Nuvi 250W GPS and I
left home in Lake Elsinore about 8:00 AM in my 4X4 Ford Ranger. My truck door clicker was acting up (dying battery) so I stopped at Sam’s Club in
Murrieta Hot Springs where I bought gas and looked for a battery for my clicker. They did not have one so I stopped off at Best Buy and found the
right batteries. Thank goodness they had them because without my clicker I could not have gotten back in to my truck. The only key I have is for the
ignition which will not open the door. I programmed my Nuvi 250W GPS to take me to Intercam Casa de Cambio (No Commission) 364 E. San Ysidro Blvd. San
Ysidro CA. The exchange lady was friendly and I was in and out and on my way to the border in a couple of minutes.
I arrived at the San Ysidro Border about 11:10 AM and went to the last window along a row of many to see the Mexican Immigration man. He was cheerful,
friendly and very helpful. I gave him my driver’s license and my birth certificate and he handed me the visa form to fill out. I forgot my glasses in
the truck and could not see the small print very well and I told him I was going for my glasses and would be right back. He said “No, no I will fill
it out for you,” which he did. I walked back down to the Bancomer window paid 237 Pesos and went back to immigration where he stamped it and wished me
a great trip, shook my hand and I was on my way. I am glad I can speak Spanish. I saved the border location on my GPS and away I went. My GPS Baja map
has a detailed street map of Tijuana and I watched the streets fly by as I drove up the hill to get to the toll road.
The drive from the border through to Ensenada was great and I did not experience any problems. I saved the first toll road booth into my GPS for my
trip back. My Baja GPS map worked great. I saved a waypoint for the left turn to take me to El Gigante Market and another waypoint to take the right
turn to Highway 1 at El Gigante. I drove to Maneadero where I filled up my tank and arrived in San Quintin about 4:00 PM. I filled up at the Pemex Gas
station across the street from the church and bought a calling card for 50 Pesos from one of the attendants. I have been corresponding with Shelly the
wife of one of Mama Espinoza’s sons named Santiago and promised to stop by on my way down.
I called and Shelly came to get me at the gas station and took me to their home. I saved their house as a waypoint onto my GPS to find their house on
the way back to say good bye when I left Mama Espinoza on the 18th. Mama’s son Santiago was not at home as he was at his (Piedra Laja) rock quarry
down past El Rosario. I visited with Shelly and their 21 year old son Emmanuel who is studying in Ensenada to be a lawyer and their 16 year old son
Heraclio who wants to be an Engineer. Heraclio is named after Mama Espinoza’s husband. I was invited in and had coffee with Shelly and talked about my
time with Mama Espinoza 40 years ago. The time flew and before you know it the time was 5:30 PM and dark. My trusty GPS took me back to Highway 1 and
I was on my way to see Mama. I arrived at Mama Espinoza’s sometime around 6:30. I drove slowly because the road is narrow and I was unfamiliar with
the road.
I checked into Las Cabana Motel at Mama Espinoza’s and was given room number 1. The room was nice and had a wood stove for heat. I went to the
restaurant and introduced myself to Gerardo who was at the cash register. Gerardo is Rolli’s son-in-law. Rolli and her husband Oscar now run Mama
Espinoza’s restaurant and the motel. I met with Rolli and we hugged and I kissed her cheek. Rolli was very busy running the show but she would stop
and sit with me from time-to-time as I ate my Bistek a la Ranchera. Boy was it good. I was starving as I had not eaten breakfast or lunch. Rolli told
me she did not remember me herself because she lived in Ensenada at the time when I was there in 1967 but that Mama remembered me and was telling her
stories about me. Rolli said that all of her four remaining brothers, Santiago, Sergio Eugenio and Mario all remembered me and were anxious to see me
again after 40 years, but that Mario was living in Ensenada and was not going to be able to make it down to El Rosario.
Rolli told me Mama was in bed and I could see her the next day on the 16th which was my birthday. I After dinner Rolli gave me the run of the place so
I was all over the outer portion of the restaurant then into the kitchen (My favorite area) poking my nose into everything introducing myself to all
the workers and telling them of my time when I lived with Mama Espinoza’s 40 years ago. As I was having coffee Gerardo sat with me and I told him my
life story. He was in disbelief. I laughed and said it was all true. I hung around the restaurant until closing time then bought some firewood and
made a fire in the wood stove of my room and went to bed sometime around 10:00 PM.
December 16, 2007, I woke up at 5:00 AM and built a fire to warm up the room. I opened my door to look out and my first sight was that of a small bird
who was resting itself on a ledge under the roof eaves in front of my door. I took a picture to remember the sight. The water for my shower was hot
and plentiful and the steam from the hot water helped warm up the room too. At 6:30 AM when the restaurant opened I went for breakfast and was greeted
by Gerardo. Rolli said I was family and gave me the run of the place telling me I could poke my nose into anyplace I wanted to. I spent most of my
time in the kitchen talking to all the day crew of workers telling them of my experiences those 40 years ago. I walked around outside waiting for Mama
to wake up taking pictures. I met their maintenance man Eduardo outside who was feeding Rolli and Oscars dog Palomo. I then saw a Crow named Emilio
and took his picture. I later met with Rolli’s husband Oscar who told me most of what I saw of the restaurant and the outer buildings had to be
rebuilt because of the 1992 flood/mudslide that had wiped Mama Espinoza’s off the map with the exception of the original building Heraclio had built
and two Quonset huts Mama used as Bungalows for the few tourists who stopped by.
Only one bungalow remains which is the one I used to sleep in when I lived with Mama Espinoza. It is now storage for Mama’s Alberque Para Niños. Oscar
said the only thing that saved the restaurant and house where the extra thick walls Heraclio had built. Oscar said that at the time everyone laughed
at him for making such thick walls but he told them when your houses fall apart mine will still be standing. Those walls were the only thing withstood
the brute force of the torrent of water and the mudslides that came down the canyon from the mesa above El Rosario. Oscar said that Mama Espinoza was
in her room at the time of the flood and had to get on top of a round table in her room to save herself from the 3 to 4 foot of water and mud entering
the house. Mama was floating and swirling around in her room yelling for help and no one could rescue her until the water receded. Her sons had to dig
the mud away from her room to get to her. The only thing that saved Mama was the thick walls and that round table. Oscar says that that very same
table is now in the restaurant being used for guests. As you walk into the restaurant the round table is located straight ahead underneath the
pictures of Heraclio and Mama Espinoza.
At 9:00 AM I saw Mama sitting inside of her living area taking in the sun of the day from her window and knitting slippers she sells in the
restaurant. The little money she makes selling the slippers she uses to support her children’s home and to buy beans, rice and soap for the many
surrounding poor people who come in from all around looking for her help. Mama never turns anyone away. When I first saw Mama sitting there knitting
away tears started rolling down my cheeks. A large lump began developing in my throat. A flood of guilt came over me for having waited 40 years to
thank this woman who took me in from being that homeless 15 year old boy all those years ago. I mustered the courage to knock on the door of Mama’s
living quarters. The door was answered by Mama’s helper, Hortencia. Mama knew I had planned to visit her but not when and no one told Mama that I was
there to see her yet. When Mama saw me she immediately yelled out “MI HIJO” (My son) “Praise the Lord” and tears of joy filled her eyes. She stretched
her arms out inviting me into them. I could not hold back any longer and began to weep uncontrollably as I rushed to her outstretched arms where we
held each other for a very long time weeping in each other’s arms.
No one but Hortencia was present when this happened and she too broke down in tears at seeing what had just unfolded in front of her. This was our
private moment which I share with you now. I gave Mama her birthday present a cashmere shawl which she loved. She told Hortencia “Tencha come over
here and feel how soft it is.” She loved it. Hortencia then made breakfast for Mama and I and we ate and talked the morning away. Mama told me that no
forgiveness was needed for waiting for so long to come and see her. She said she understands that sometimes circumstances do not allow us to do what
we want to do. During breakfast we laughed and cried together. She reminded me that I lived with her for one year after I showed up on her front
doorsteps. Mama told me she remembers when I first arrived I was this skinny cold, hungry and a filthy dirty kid wearing rags for clothes and that my
pants were so baggy that my back pockets hung down past my butt. She said her son Sany had found me outside of the restaurant and brought me inside
and after taking one look at me her heart melted because I looked so bad. Mama said she first gave me something to eat then gave me some used clothes
and shoes she had in reserve for the poor people she helps.
She then gave me some soap and told me to take a bath and scrub all the dirt off of me. She then burned my clothes in the fire pit where she boiled
lobsters back then. Mama went on to say that I was a good kid and that she thought of me as one of her own sons. I cried again when she said that.
Mama said she always wondered what had happened to me after I left. Mama said she only knew me as David Martinez because that is what I told her and
that she never knew my real last name. I told her that when I was living under the small boat and selling bait to the tourists on the beach on the
side of Estero Beach my friend Felipe who rented horses to the tourists suggested I use a Mexican last name so no one would know I was a Gringo. I
told Mama that the reason I left Estero Beach and headed south was for two reasons. The first, was because I was tired of living as a homeless person
without family and the second was because I had been threatened by two older men who approached me at the bait shack on the one side of Estero Beach
and that these two Mexican men told me that they wanted me to sell Marihuana to the local tourists. When I told them that I would be too afraid to
sell marihuana they told me that if I did not sell the marihuana for them they would hurt me very badly. I told her I believed them and fled in the
middle of the night and headed south.
I told Mama about being attacked by coyotes when I was sleeping in a culvert under the highway between Maneadero and Colonia Vicente Guerrero. I
showed her the crystal necklace I had made from the crystal rock I carried around with me from that time forward. Mama told me that I liked helping
her in the kitchen washing vegetables and washing dishes but that her husband Heraclio would always yell at me to get out of the kitchen. Mama told me
that Heraclio would say “Get out of the kitchen and get outside and do man’s work, the kitchen is for women’s work.” Mama said Heraclio was a Macho
Mexican man and that is how he felt. During my visit with Mama, Sany’s daughter Ruth arrived with her husband Jose, their 10 year old son Henry and
her mother-in-law Maria. They said they were on their way to Rancho El Metate to cut some firewood and told me that Sany was out there working on the
roads with a caterpillar. Mama told me to go with them to go see Sany because he was anxious to see me again. Mama said Sany knew I was coming down to
Baja to visit but did not know I was there yet. She said Sany had fond memories of me because I had lived with him and his wife Lyly at the ranch for
about half the time I lived with Mama and that he considered me as his own brother.
I followed Jose in his 4X4 pickup truck in my 4X4 Ford Ranger to a tire shop in El Rosario where Jose loaded up a tired he had punctured earlier while
at the ranch. Jose got in with me and we took off with Ruth and the rest of her crew in the rear. We turned off the highway before reaching El
Arenoso, which used to be the old turn off. We started our trek inland toward the mountains on some bad roads. Jose said that we would be seeing
Mexican Soldiers on the road where were heading and that they are now a permanent fixture on the dirt roads leading inland. Ok so I am fat dumb and
happy bouncing down the rut filled dirt road when I had to stop to go to the bathroom and do a #1. My kidneys would not hold on anymore. As I was
going to the bathroom Jose said look. I looked up the road that went on over to another little hill and could see some tents. I then saw the sun
glinting off of binoculars. I said to Jose, “Oh great what a place to stop just before an Army checkpoint and them looking at us through binoculars. I
told Jose they are probably going to think we’re either gun runners or Narcotraficantes and he said “Si eso creo.” (Yes I think so) Well I was not off
the mark with that comment. When I pulled up to the check point several of the soldiers armed with their automatic rifles positioned themselves a
little distance from the checkpoint and were pointing their weapons in my direction.
When I stopped I was immediately recognized as a Gringo because the soldier said “You are an American!” Of course told him I was. The soldier looked
over at Jose who was sitting next to me and whom he recognized from previous trips to and from the ranch. The soldier asked Jose “What are you doing
out here with him”. Jose responded “Ask him” referring to me. The soldier then started questioning me in a rude tone of voice as the other soldiers
came in closer. I kind of got peeed off at his tone of voice and told him to talk to me in a civil tone of voice and that I would tell him. I said
look you and I are brothers. I told him I was a retired Chief of Detectives in the Marines and showed him my military retiree ID card and my retired
detective badge and identification. His demeanor immediately changed and apologized for his rudeness and asked me to please dismount the vehicle so
they could search it. The officer in charge came up to me as they were searching the truck and I showed him my badge and ID and I told him I was on my
way to Rancho El Metate where I had lived 40 years ago.
He seemed surprised that this Gringo had lived out here 40 years ago. I told him a little of my life story as other soldiers came up to listen and
they were surprised by my story. Anyway, they were all happy and friendly after the initial encounter and when I was told I could leave I asked them
if I could play my guitar and sing them a song. I was looked at like I was nuts but they asked me “Can you sing and play the guitar.” I confessed that
I was not very good at either but still wanted to sing them a song. I broke out my guitar and handed a soldier a piece of paper with the lyrics of the
song I wanted to sing and asked him to hold it against the bed of the truck so I could read it as I sang. I then put my left foot on the back tire of
my truck and began to sing “Mexico Lindo” (Beautiful Mexico). One of the soldiers was filming me with his cell phone as I sang. As I was singing more
soldiers came out of the woodwork and walked up to listen. When I finished the song all of the soldiers started applauding and shaking my hand. I
heard some of them remark “That Gringo can sing in Spanish what a surprise.” As I was getting back into my vehicle to leave another military vehicle
pulled up and I could hear my singing voice in the distance as the soldier was showing his friends my performance. I heard the soldier say “Can you
believe this, a Gringo all the way out here who can sing in Spanish and play the guitar. Unfortunately I did not get a picture of this event.
[Edited on 12-29-2009 by ELINVESTI8]
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Oso
Ultra Nomad
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Registered: 8-29-2003
Location: on da border
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Just have to add my "wow" to the others and ditto on the "and I thought I had a rough start".
I too had a hated stepfather and left home early, but I was 16, not 12, I hitch-hiked from Maryland to Missoula, Montana, lied about my age, fought
forest fires in Idaho, was a gandy on the Northern Pacific, rode freight trains to Yakima, slept on the ground in hobo jungles, worked in the
canneries, drifted down to Venice, CA, slept on the beach, lived among the strange people before hippies were invented and made my first trip to
Mexico (TJ) on the back of a stolen Harley with a Hell's Angel friend, busted in Imperial Beach on the way back.
But, chingao, that was a cotillion and stroll in the park compared to this guy's experience!
Amigo, you have definitely got some material here, and the nucleus of a good writing style. My advice is to check out your local community college
for a creative writing class. You could always collaborate with a ghostwriter, but I think you can do it yourself with a little "polishing".
Best of luck and welcome to Nomads!
All my childhood I wanted to be older. Now I\'m older and this chitn sucks.
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ELINVESTIG8R
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Posts: 15882
Registered: 11-20-2007
Location: Southern California
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Thank you Oso for your nice comments. Most of us have had problems in life. Some worse than others. As someone once said. What does not kill us makes
us stronger. That is a true statement. Saludos and thanks again.
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Oso
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 2637
Registered: 8-29-2003
Location: on da border
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Mood: wait and see
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| Quote: | Originally posted by ELINVESTI8
As someone once said. What does not kill us makes us stronger. That is a true statement. |
If so, then the Miami Dolphins must be the strongest team in the NFL just now. (followed closely by the Carolina Panthers)
All my childhood I wanted to be older. Now I\'m older and this chitn sucks.
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ELINVESTIG8R
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Cypress
Elite Nomad
Posts: 7641
Registered: 3-12-2006
Location: on the bayou
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Mood: undecided
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Thanks for taking the time to share your story.
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dean miller
Nomad
Posts: 456
Registered: 1-28-2004
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Read you history with interest..
I was unaware that the Church of the first born was in Chihuahua, especially in the 1950s. That sec and its leaders are with out a doubt one of the
most evil organizations operating under the banner of religion.
A component of my family was also in the colonies at Colonial Dublan. Lead by colonizer Henry Bowman they had migrated in the late 1800s to pursue
religious freedom and maintain the integrity of the extended family .
They considered them selves Mexican citizens and had been law abiding but probably were supporters of Diaz.
After the 1916 raid of Columbus NM, they were forcibly expelled from their homes and their land expropriated by Pancho Villa's troops. With only the
clothes they had on their backs they walked several days to the rail road tracks where they camped until a train carrying the US troops of Black
Jack Pershing arrived. They rode the same train back to ElPaso where they were unceremoniously deposited on US soil ...Perhaps one of the first group
of displaced persons to land on US soil
General Pershing conducted the retaliatory action in Chihuahua for several years with out success until he was called to lead the AEF in WW1.
Some of my family returned to Chihuahua, most remained in US. For this I am forever grateful.
I read with interest your description of the WW11 Dodge ambulance. I had a 1942 1/2 ton grey one and my traveling companion had a brick red 1943 3/4
ton model. During the 1950s and into the 1960s we explored the unexplored in Baja down to Punta Baja below El Rosario. Always stopped for gas at
Espinosas. I think the last trip was in early 1960s as I recall the road at that time was to about San Q...So doubtful if we would have met...but?
sdm
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ELINVESTIG8R
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Hi Dean Miller,
I re-read my Grandmother Hattie's life story again today and found that she was born in Pacheco Chihuahua Mexico. She was a Mormon and I guess many
Mormons back then lived in Mexico. She refers to 1912 as a time when there were problems in Chihuahua and the Americans had to leave by train to El
Paso Texas where the government put them up in tents until she and her family could take a Wagon Train to Tucson Arizona. I guess that is the time of
the Revolucion.
Who knows Dean maybe you or your friend did give me that ride to San Felipe all those years ago. My recollection is that the ambulance was painted
military green but my memory could be faulty. Anyway, if you or your friend was the person who gave me that ride 40 years ago I thank you guys with
all my heart.
David
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fdt
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 4059
Registered: 9-7-2003
Location: Tijuana, Baja California
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Mood: Yeah, what if it all goes right
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| Quote: | Originally posted by Oso
| Quote: | Originally posted by ELINVESTI8
As someone once said. What does not kill us makes us stronger. That is a true statement. |
If so, then the Miami Dolphins must be the strongest team in the NFL just now. (followed closely by the Carolina Panthers) |
I also think this is an amazing story, wow ELINVESTI8 I admire you.
And with the quote of What does not kill us makes us stronger I must ad that then "La Seleccion Mexicana de Futbol" should be the strongest
team on the planet.
A well informed Baja California traveler is a smart Baja California traveler!
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Neal Johns
Super Nomad
Posts: 1687
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Location: Lytle Creek, CA
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Mood: In love!
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ELINVESTI8 and Dean,
I'm a little late reading this but felt that another WOW! could not hurt. Having some Mormon (regular LDS of course) friends in Colonia Juarez near
Colonia Dublan, and being familiar with Mormon history in Mexico (including the LeBaron cult) really makes your writing come to life. Congratulations
on making a good life for yourself (even if you did join the Marines - sez the Old Navy Chief ).
My motto:
Never let a Dragon pass by without pulling its tail!
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dean miller
Nomad
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Registered: 1-28-2004
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I am recalling from my dim memory of an event I was not part of, it probably was 1912, rather than later
There are two good but unfortunately rare books on the Mormon colonies in Mexico.
The first one is titled "Mormon colonies in Mexico" by Dr. Thomas Romney (that name sounds familiar) published in 1938. I owned a copy but it has
been passed around the family and I have totally lost track of who might currently have it..
The other is Mormon Colonies in Mexico--1885-1980 by Clarence Turley, published in 1996. This book addresses the various Mormon settlements inclosing
Pacheco and Dublan.
I have been all over Mexico in the last 60 years but never have I visited the colonies..Maybe some day??
sdm
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Oso
Ultra Nomad
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Registered: 8-29-2003
Location: on da border
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Jeez, I just remembered that my stepfather was a Mormon too....
Nah, I don't think there's a connection between religion and being a SOB.
Besides, he was what you call a "Jack Mormon". He drank, chewed tobacco and never went to church. In all fairness, he never imposed his religion or
lack of it on me and he wasn't as pure evil as Ervil. He was just an A-hole... and an Army Officer.
But I may be getting redundant here...
All my childhood I wanted to be older. Now I\'m older and this chitn sucks.
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ELINVESTIG8R
Select Nomad
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| Quote: | Originally posted by Pompano
I don't want to hijack David's thread...but did you ever tour around Baja or the mainland with this early Baja fellow? Just thought I would throw a
memory your way... |
Auxilio Auxilio me sequestraron la pagina.
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ELINVESTIG8R
Select Nomad
Posts: 15882
Registered: 11-20-2007
Location: Southern California
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| Quote: | Originally posted by dean miller
I am recalling from my dim memory of an event I was not part of, it probably was 1912, rather than later
There are two good but unfortunately rare books on the Mormon colonies in Mexico.
The first one is titled "Mormon colonies in Mexico" by Dr. Thomas Romney (that name sounds familiar) published in 1938. I owned a copy but it has
been passed around the family and I have totally lost track of who might currently have it..
The other is Mormon Colonies in Mexico--1885-1980 by Clarence Turley, published in 1996. This book addresses the various Mormon settlements inclosing
Pacheco and Dublan.
I have been all over Mexico in the last 60 years but never have I visited the colonies..Maybe some day??
sdm |
Gracias por la informacion.
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