Homecoming

There’s a guy named David who has a little store just across the street from the school in my village where he sells soda, chips and other snacks like that. Nothing big really, probably not all that profitable from what I’d imagine. David was born in El Salvador and lived here until he was 14, moved to Miami for six years until his temporary visa ran out, and just got back here in the village about the same time I did. He’s 20 now and speaks English almost as well as you or I. David doesn’t like living in El Salvador. He misses his friends and family, and that’s a big part of it. Another part of it is that he doesn’t feel safe. People see him as a target. He’s never told me this but it’s not hard to gather from the stories he tells me.

Right after he opened up his store, a guy shows up with liquor on his breath and gives David a piece of paper. I’ll be by once a month to collect $50 dollars from you, it says. Pay up or else. David ripped the paper up and dropped it on the ground as the guy was leaving. That night people showed up at his house and broke the aluminum roofing with a big rock. David got out his gun and shot three warning shots. Maybe they were just trying to scare him, or maybe they were coming to get him. There is a lot of extortion done by the gangs here in El Salvador and people who don’t pay often don’t live very long. David doesn’t sleep in the bedroom in the back of his store anymore. He stays with his uncle instead.

That was the worst, but it wasn’t the only time he’s been messed with. He’s almost been robbed twice in the town down the road. Once for his gold chain while he was eating dinner. His uncle pulled out a gun and got him out of that one. Another time for the money they assumed he was carrying. He gave up a quarter and talked himself out of that one on his own. What did the police do? Nothing. Not that time at least. Though another day they did threaten to take him into the station for smoking a cigarette without having ID proving he was over 18. He started laughing and the cop told him to shut up unless he wanted to get hit.

His eyes get red when he tells me these stories. He looks like he’s about to cry but I know he’s not going to. After spending six years in the States, struggling to learn English and then, at last, fitting in, feeling comfortable, feeling at home, he has to come back to where he’s from everyone is out to get him, take advantage of him and get their hands on the money they assume he has. It’s not just gang members or strangers either. His aunt and uncle have taken care of him, but he’s only talked to his dad once since he´s been here. He showed up drunk in the middle of the day and asked David for money. David offered a $20 bill and his dad pushed his hand away and said he needed $100. He shook his head and said he didn’t have it. His dad grabbed the $20 and walked away. They haven’t talked since.