Border Journalism Network
10 de Abril, 2011
Escrito por Cassandra Weinman Traducido por Zandra García por El Independiente
Una ligera brisa sopla una aroma de cebollas y tocino chisporrotea alrededor de la pequeña parrilla de la carreta de hot dogs. El domingo los clientes de Ruiz Hot-Dogs se sientan cómodamente en sillas de plástico a platicar y a probar la selección del carrito.
“Hemos venido más de una docena de veces desde que descubrimos este lugar”, dice Nancie Gamble, una residente de Tucson, después de comer un bocado de su hot dog sonorense preparado especialmente para ella. “¡Está delicioso!”
Disponible en puestos o en restaurantes por todo Arizona, el hot dog sonorense es un giro del suroeste de un clásico americano.
April 8, 2011
By Karina Salazar for El Independiente
Three generations of Sotos have lived in Nogales, Sonora, and have watched the border change and evolve. Marta Soto remembers crossing from Sonora to Arizona as a kid in the back of her parent’s pick-up truck. Even once in Arizona, from the rear window she had a clear snapshot of the vibrant curio shops along the streets and the colorful homes slowly crawling up the hillsides above the curved flatlands of Sonora.
Now 45 years old and a new resident of Nogales, Ariz., the view is obstructed by fear and politics. Like other border residents and law enforcement agencies, Soto continues to declare that the border is safer than it’s ever been. And they are backed up by cold hard facts.
“The wall has changed, and the security has changed,” said Soto, who moves back and forth daily between Arizona and Sonora. “But it’s not this dangerous, violent place people have said it is. With a 10-foot metal wall and national troops around, it’s a bit different.”
Marta Soto looks toward the U.S.-Mexico border in Nogales, Ariz. during one of her many transits between the two countries.
Article Continued at Elindenews.com
2 de enero de 2011
Por Cindy Von Quednow para El Nuevo Sol California State University, Northridge
Every time María (fictitious name to protect her identity) gave birth, the father of her children threatened to kill her.
“I was with my (first) baby, I had left the hospital three days prior and I was breast feeding,” remembers María while crying. “The father of my children had a knife and he put it on my neck and when he grabbed my arm, I couldn’t move anywhere.”
Maria left her house several times, but she always returned to him. She had three children with her abuser.
“He convinced me to return and I would get pregnant, and every pregnancy was the same… it was his intention to end my life,” said María, 40.
This violence occurred in the United States, where Maria thought she would to find a better life.
December 17, 2010
By Karina Salazar for Beyond the Border AZ
You might be tempted to discount the economic impact of immigrant-owned Mom & Pop businesses, but—as we hear in this report from Karina Salazar—the chain of employment they create makes them a significant source of job creation, even in a large market like New York City.
December 2, 2010
By Devlin Houser for the Tucson Weekly
NEW YORK — A small kettle of coffee spiced with sugar and cinnamon steeps atop a gas griddle nestled carefully in a shopping cart.
Yazmín Ortega, wearing a houndstooth coat, an apron and a baseball cap, adeptly flips a corn tortilla. She fills the taco with guisado, adds a dollop of red salsa and, with a shy smile, hands it to her customer.
The scene could easily be one in Ortega’s native state of Guerrero, Mexico. Instead, the scene plays out in New York City’s East Harlem, a neighborhood that in recent years has earned the well-deserved nickname of “Little Mexico.”
Along 116th Street, the epicenter of East Harlem’s Mexican community, shops advertise red-white-and-green long-distance calling cards, foods like tamarind and dried hibiscus, and CDs sporting the visages of Los Tigres del Norte, the popular Mexican-American band.
New York City has experienced huge growth in its Mexican population, changing the nature of long-established neighborhoods like East Harlem.