Free This Is for the Mara Salvatrucha by Samuel Logan Page B

from Denis and the Mara Salvatrucha world. That break she longed for set her on a path to becoming something she never thought possible: an informant.

CHAPTER 14
    F airfax and Arlington counties, the city of Alexandria, and the surrounding region of northern Virginia became a collage of international culture as wave after wave of immigrants settled within commuting distance of Washington, D.C. Immigrants from Vietnam, Africa, Eastern Europe, and Central America, especially El Salvador, flocked to the region in the last quarter of the twentieth century.
    Hundreds of Salvadoran immigrants fled the civil war that raged across their country in the 1980s, settling in Culmore, a six-block area near Bailey’s Crossroads in Fairfax County: Culmore had become a hub for the refugees, where Spanish was the first language, housing costs were low, and groups of day laborers could almost always find work.
    Pioneering immigrants served as anchors in the United States for a long line of relatives and friends who would follow them there, seeking a better life. It was a simple pattern: Once established, the pioneers sent word that they had arrived and where they were situated; others followed. Soon the lack of space in small apartments became a problem.
    If someone was not already sleeping on the balcony, it was used as outdoor storage space. Couches and tables were exiled from the living room to make room for more beds. Hot cots, they called them. The sleeping rotation was so tight, the beds never had enough time to dissipate heat. Adults had priority for mattresses, and the kids fought over any that remained. The middle was a coveted spot. Those who didn’thave a bed slept on the floor wherever there was space—in the bathroom or on the linoleum under the kitchen table. There were so many inhabitants in these one-bedroom apartments that they slept in shifts and ate meals on the run.
    For new arrivals, life was about keeping a low profile and earning as much money as possible to send home. Fathers left behind their families. Married couples left their children with grandparents. The parents always left home with a promise: we will send for you when the time is right.
    Years might pass, sometimes ten or more. More children were born in the United States. When reunion was finally possible, the older children who traveled to the United States experienced the severe culture shock of their new home, their parents’ new reality, and a biting truth: American-born children were always placed above the others. They were U.S. citizens. They could speak English and they had a future. In many cases, the children born in Central America were an afterthought, little more than a fulfilled promise made during a desperate time.
    The displaced kids, by the nature of their situation, triggered a crisis for each family. The parents were unable to devote much time to work through their family problems. Mom and Dad each worked two jobs. Earning money was paramount. The American-born siblings resented the newly arrived foreign siblings they had never met. The new arrivals didn’t even speak English and found further humiliation at school, where they were often held back a grade.
    When Denis was four or five, his parents left him and his sister with their grandparents and didn’t return for years. Denis had little contact with his parents, just the occasional phone call or letter. When his parents finally did send for him, the new home life he found in the United States was not a happy affair. He shared the house with two younger brothers. To him, they were strangers who also called his mother Mamá. Both were born in the United States, which gave them an unspoken level of status above him and his sister.
    There was also a whole new set of rules. English was the language at school and a constant source of frustration. Denis was in class with black and white kids, adding to the novelty of his experience. It was stressful. Culture shock and difficulty with the