Solito

“It’s because our parents are not here and we’re not there that Mays and Junes are sad. For most of us, our grandparents are the ones who show up for Mother’s and Father’s Day assemblies.”

Javier is not the only child whose parents have had to emigrate due to economic stagnation, lawlessness, and violence in El Salvador. Rather than discussing these political and economic issues, Javier Zamora shows the reality of postwar life in El Salvador from a child’s perspective.

“It’s Mom’s name.”

It is a symbolic coincidence in the memoir that a woman named Patricia cares for Javier during his migration journey, and Patricia is, in fact, his mother’s name. This foreshadows that importance the two will have to each other; Patricia has her own daughter, but she acts as Javier’s surrogate mother during their journey to the US.

“This is my only grandson, Javier, who will be with you after you leave this town. I won’t be. We just met, but I ask, when I’m not around, that you please take of him. He’s little, and won’t have family. You are his family. Please take care of him.”

An important aspect of the book is the importance and definition of family. Chapter 2 introduces the members who will play the greatest role in the coming events, when Javier travels from Guatemala to the US, and who become, for all intents and purposes, his second family.

“I don’t understand why Grandpa, Don Dago, Don Carlos, a lot of people in La Herradura and here in Tecún, say that word with so much disgust.”

The word Javier is talking about here is “indio,” to mean someone of low breeding and culture. The word originated with the Spanish explorers who thought they had discovered the West Indies, and thus, called the Indigenous people they met indios, i.e., people from India and/or the Indies. The term has evolved derogatory connotations, which reflects anti-Indigenous racism.

“Tattoos are for bad people, mañosos, convicts, mareros, the ruthless, malacates, people without faith.”

This quotation not only addresses cultural stereotypes, but it also uses these stereotypes to throw suspicion on Chino and Marcelo as to whether they are criminals. It also creates suspense and even foreshadows Marcelo’s eventual betrayal of the group. The fact that Chino becomes a heroic character toward the end of the memoir challenges these stereotypes.

“Grandpa isn’t here to talk to me before falling asleep, to go out for walks and explore the town, and because of that I feel alone, lonely, solo, solito, solito de verdad.”

The title of the book is Solito, which is Spanish for “alone.” It is the defining emotion that describes Zamora’s ordeal in migrating to the US. He had to leave behind his family in El Salvador, and then on the border of Guatemala, had to leave his grandpa, which left him completely on his own and dependent on the charity of strangers. Fortunately for him, he found that in Chino, Patricia, and Carla, but it could have been different.

“‘Vayan con Dios,’ the old coyote says, softer than any order he’s given. People cross themselves. I cross myself. Gracias, Cadejito, I whisper. Gracias a Dios.”

Spirituality and religion are an important element of Latin American culture, and they form an important and powerful motif in the book. The cadejito is a mythical protective spirit, and invoking it and God shows how much those traveling with Zamora call upon higher powers to help guide and protect them because of their vulnerable situation.

“‘You’re pinches migrantes.’ That word again. ‘Locals can call the cops, who will take you, rob you, or kill you.’”

This quotation highlights how precarious the migrants’ situation is, as they are unwanted wherever they go. Javier notes the sting of the phrase “pinches migrantes” (“fucking migrants”), and throughout the memoir, he struggles to understand his new identity as a migrant and the fact that people look down on him because of it.

“The lizard gets closer to my hands covering my eyes, my face, from the dust kicked up by The Boots. She’s small. I name her Paula.”

This passage shows Zamora’s use of literary devices. Javier’s description of the soldier as “The Boots” is an example of metonymy, a literary device in which a part stands in for the whole. The soldier kicks up dust, so to Javier, his boots define him. The soldier’s boots also loom large to Javier because Javier is lying on the ground after being forced off the bus with the others. Javier’s focus on naming—both the lizard and the solider—gives him a feeling of agency in the otherwise hopeless situation.

“We’re poor, but that doesn’t mean we live in filth.”

An important aspect of Zamora’s memoir is to show the humanity of migrants, and one way he does so is by destroying negative stereotypes associated with them. Through Patricia, who speaks this line, Zamora makes sure to point out that being poor is not a negative characteristic in itself.

“Ve-te-ra-ni-to, I repeat in my head. I like that. Maybe Marcelo does like me. I’m cipotillo to Chele. Hermanito to Chino. Marcelo is less scary now that he’s been talking to me.”

This quotation provides another example of the power of naming to make things feel more familiar. Everyone’s nicknames for Javier show that they care about him and want him to feel comfortable. Now that Marcelo has given him a nickname, it signals that Marcelo is showing him affection, and Javier relaxes around him.

“Coyote handles the money. He buys us food, gets us a place to sleep, buys us bus tickets. He’s our wallet, our voice, our brain.”

Not only is Javier alone in the sense of not having any family or friends and having to rely on strangers, even though those strangers are increasingly becoming like family to him, but those strangers themselves are also fairly alone. This quote illustrates just how dependent the migrants are on others, how much their lives are in the hands of the coyotes.

“‘You’re our chickens.’ When Coyote says that, the only thing I hear is: Los pollitos dicen pío pío pío […] We are like chickens. Coyote brings us food. We ask him for stuff. He brings it. Now we’re cold. Pío pío pío. He gets us ‘chamarras.’ We’re going to the store. ¡New clothes! So we walk across into La USA with our warm feathers.”

Again, the migrants are utterly dependent on the coyotes, and the new name polleros that the coyotes use to describe themselves emphasizes their inability to act on their own behalf. Zamora quotes a Spanish song that is typically sung to children; “pío pío pío” is an onomatopoeic reference to the sound baby birds make.

“‘If you get caught, but I know you won’t –– you have a number,’ Paco says.”

Until the first attempt to cross the border, The Six’s journey has been relatively successful; they were able to avoid detainment by paying off the soldiers and eventually reached their safe house. This quote reminds the reader that getting caught is a very likely scenario.

“Both polleros tell us that if we get caught, we must say we’re from Nogales, Sonora. That we’re Mexican. Never Salvadoran.”

Javier begins to understand that passing as Mexican is necessary so that they only get deported from the US back across the Mexican border. But he also begins to understand that Mexicans see Salvadorans as “less than,” as they are associated with the migrantes who try to pass through Mexico just as Javier and the others are doing. By having Javier repeat the polleros’ words, Zamora shows how children learn to internalize the identities that other place upon them.

“It’s not supposed to feel like this. I want to be laughing, jumping into my parents’ arms.”

Here, Javier and the others have been arrested by Border Patrol. He has already lamented the breakup of his second family; he is scared he might wind up completely alone if things continue. The dream of going to America, of being reunited with his parents, whom he hasn’t seen in years, has turned into a nightmare.

“Everywhere we’ve been, the same artists follow us.”

Oftentimes the importance of language seems to be more of a dividing, separating factor for Javier and the others from El Salvador. In Mexico, they cannot use their accents and slang because they need to appear Mexican for safety’s sake. However, Spanish grants all peoples of Latin American a point of commonality, and this is also reflected in their music.

“‘They’re like us,’ Patricia says, looking back at Chino and me. She’s already in line. But ¿where is the beehive’s honey? ¿Why are they moving?”

The idea of migration has taken on several connotations over the course of the memoir. Migrante, for example, is used derogatorily, and Javier has found the process of migration confusing and frightening. Here, Patricia adds a new, kinder, analogy of migratory bees seeking a new home. Javier, who often relates his experiences to plants and animals, still struggles to understand why bees need to migrate.

“If Cadejo was real, we wouldn’t have gotten caught. Patricia wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Coco Liso would still be here with us. Our prayers haven’t helped either.”

Ever since leaving El Salvador, Javier’s grandpa’s promise that a protective spirit will watch over Javier along the way has been a crucial source of strength and hope. However, having been caught once already and seeing the situation rapidly worsening on the second attempt, Javier loses hope and belief in his protective spirit. This loss of hope signals the climactic scene in the book when the group seems lost, just before the scene with the ranch and the beginning of the denouement.

“Hoy es día de suerte.”

Similar to the above quote, this one marks the point when the climax of the journey has been met. The Spanish phrase “today is a lucky day” is spoken by Mister (the lenient border agent) and foreshadows that the next attempt to cross will succeed.

“La tercera es la vencida.”

Throughout the journey, Javier relies on certain beliefs, words, and objects to keep his spirits high and to keep himself motivated. In this instance, the group of four uses this phrase (“third time’s the charm”) to stay motivated and hopeful. This phrase may be a cliché, but it works because it reinforces the previous foreshadowing elements.

“Our shadows are so small, but they touch. We’re one big shadow. Our own family. I hope we rest a long time.”

As the book progresses, the notion that Chino, Patricia, and Carla are Javier’s second family increases in importance. There are many examples of this, but this quote specifically uses the shadow metaphor to illustrate how inseparable and conjoined Javier feels with the other three.

“I don’t want to be separated from my second family.”

After all Javier has been through, his companions Patricia, Carla, and Chino have come to form for him a family that goes beyond simple blood relations. The cover has moved more toward becoming reality, and having to say goodbye to them is a painful experience that moves beyond the scope of the text. The irony of Javier’s migration journey is that, when he succeeds in reaching his parents, he must separate from another family with whom he feels just as close.