Many of you know the story. Me packing up and leaving my comfort zone. Headed south to Mexico with a few belongings and my dog, my best friend Seven. We crossed the US/Mexico border without a question. “Have a nice time” they told me. And for 5 months that is exactly what I did with a few little hic-ups along the way.

March 15th. I decided not to cook that day, I wanted to go again to this fabulous little café down the road.  Put on some clean clothes, told the dogs to be good and I will be back soon. It was around 12:30, the sun was shining and the café was just around the corner, well a leisurely 25 minute walk. Suddenly without warning there was a van from the Mexican Migration and 2 cops on their 4-wheelers. Pasaporte y papel, por favor. Now because of my easy entry into Mexico by car, my passport was not stamped. So as far as the Mexican Migration were concerned, I was there illegally. Yes I take part and only a very tiny part of the blame here for not insisting that my passport be stamped, but I had the paper work for the car and my Seven, so I did not worry.

I then find myself being told to get into the back of the van.

I tell everyone my story but they do not believe me. As the title say, Truth without Proof ain’t worth Shit.  I am finger printed, photographed and told to remove all my jewellery and hand everything over including cell phones. I cannot return to my house. My dogs. My Seven, my Stella. They were my only concern at that point, my babies. It was obvious that I could not go back to house. My dear friend saved the day, went to feed and play with my dogs and she brought my passport which I was told I needed or it could be longer that I would be held. How long? I was never told. I was given a meal and told to sleep. A 10×10 room is what I had with 2 bunk beds. I am thankful that there were no other “illegals” with me. Eventually I found myself signing a whole bunch of papers that I was told would allow me to re-enter Mexico. Six hours have gone by. By this time I am a nervous wreck. I cannot stop shaking, crying with both anger and fear. I manage to get a couple of hours sleep and I am told that I must be taken to the migration centre in Mexico City and be kept there until “my case” is reviewed and a decision is made on what they are going to do. At this point only a handful of people know what has happened. And truth be known did I? I had no idea that my friends and family were working to resolve this and get me home. I had no access to the outside world.

I was given the essentials to clean myself and then the ride to Mexico City in the same van followed by a police car.  Arrival at the deportation place. Again everything has to be handed over. I am given a bag with the essentials, 2 blankets, a quick body search, more papers to sign and then the door opens into where I stayed for eight days. Eight days of my life that I will never ever forget. This is the only picture I can find of the centre I was in, taken in 2008 from this article. Really not much has changed in 10 years.

Cold showers, no towel, sign for toilet paper, sign for 3 meals a day which looked like something the dog threw up, line up for detergent, line up for diapers or sanitary towels. Phone calls can only be made certain times of the day. And my God if you asked one minute after the alloted times, you missed your opportunity. One day this guy came in and was blabbing about something for half an hour. When I asked if I could make a phone call, he said no it is past time. I said yeah, cos you have talked for half an hour so I missed it. He let me make it but when I called my friend was not home! The gate to the dormitories was closed around 10 and not opened til 9am the following morning after the head count.  No lights out, you sleep with bright flourescent lights. The yard was size of maybe 2 basketball courts. Walls of 12 feet and topped with barbed wire and was watched by employees of a security company.  Making us wait to go outside was crazy – where were we going to go? Not unless we grew wings. The excuse was so the place would be cleaned. Mexico is ripe with fresh vegetables and fruit at amazingly low cost, there was no reason why the food should be so bad. In 8 days I had one orange, 2 slices of lime and one piece of watermelon. The odd colour of the vegetables in the food made it hard to decipher what it was. The food was served on styrofoam plates and make sure you damage it before throwing it away. I was told that the plates were taken from the garbage, rinsed and reused the next meal.

I think I was the first Canadian there as the international dialling code was not written in one of their many books. You are allowed one free phone call a week. So you better have all your facts together not to miss the window. Every federal migration officer I spoke with knows that there is a serious problem with land border crossings. I said fix it! They said that is never going to happen.  I arrived on Friday and then it was yet another holiday in Mexico, so nothing would be done until Tuesday. I wasn’t sure if I could make it. My friends told me to be strong. It was really difficult. You are helpless. You are a number. You are nothing. Your life is in the hands of strangers. I now know what it feels like to be a caged animal pacing, pacing, pacing.

As the days meld into each other, one becomes numb, void of any feelings. Then there were days when I felt I could take no more and I would sit there and cry. One family took me under their wing. They were from El Salvador and seeking asylum in Mexico, because if they returned, they would die. They had already been there 35 days. She was a strong woman and gave me strength while I was there. I missed them when their day came for them to leave but so happy for them. I intend to keep in touch. There were many who were looking to go to the US from Honduras, Guatemala, Chile, Peru caught before they made the border and sent back to their home countries. Many escaping abusive relationships with kids in tow and/or pregnant. Their lives on hold as mine was.

Daily I was worried about Seven and Stella. They are my life. But I shouldn’t have been, my friend arranged to put them in this kennel very close to where I live. They were safe and looked after by an amazing couple who run Caralampio and their Facebook page where these pictures came from.

Now it was mid-week and by now the lawyer who my friends and mum paid for was working on getting me out at any time. Manana, manana. I know things move slower in Mexico, but for me these days were an eternity.  The day finally arrived. Friday March 23rd. I was told that the migration agents who picked me up 8 days ago would be taking me to the airport at 4pm and bringing with them my passport so I could leave the country. I was not deported and there is no record of me being in Mexico illegally for the past 5 months.

With a flurry I was told to grab my belongings and the 2 blankets that were given me. I was leaving and it was way before 4pm.  More papers to sign. Grab my things that were put in a safe, check that they are all there and then back in the van to the airport. Walking through the airport terminal with 2 immigration officers get quite a lot of looks. Yep, I am the bad ass Canadian lady of 68 years being sent out of the country, have a good gander. Many checks, more forms to sign. They stay with me until I am walking down the ramp to the plane. I feel for them, do they feel like shit? I bloody hope so.

The free flight back to Canada with Aero Mexico was great and I took full advantage of the free booze, I figured I deserved it at this point.  You know how one always complains or hears complaints of bad food on planes? Well let me tell you it was like heaven to me and I must have devoured it within 5 minutes, right down to the last bread crumb.  Settled down to a some shows and began to relax a little. Customs in Canada, yes I was questioned. I was away for 5 months, declaring nothing and carrying only a small back pack.  They had to make sure I didn’t have a kilo of cocaine on me.  My best friend met me and drove me to my mum’s.

What now? After 3 busy days back in Toronto filled with tears and laughter, I have returned to Mexico. My passport has been stamped and I am legal for 180days. I have my dogs, my best friends back. Where I wonder will I go from here?