What do you think?
Rate this book
Refugio: notas de un centro de niños migrantes detenidos
En este único relato desde dentro de los centros de detención de ICE, catorce niños son seguidos desde su arresto por la Patrulla Fronteriza de EE. UU. hasta el día en que salen de los centros para menores. Niños en edad preescolar y adolescentes, los niños ofrecen una variedad de historias una niña maya sordomuda de quince años; un adolescente de la India que ha caminado tres mil millas; una niña guatemalteca que ha escapado de la esclavitud doméstica y está huyendo con sus hermanos pequeños. Cada niño ofrece un relato de su caótico viaje desde Guatemala, India, Honduras o México, y la situación que los llevó a ingresar ilegalmente a los Estados Unidos. Obtenemos una visión íntima de la larga y difícil espera a ser unidos a parientes en los EE. UU. y de la vida cotidiana dentro de los refugios de detención de EE. UU. El autor, psicólogo en un centro de detención ofrece una descripción vívida y sorprendente de la vida diaria de los jóvenes, y tambien de los esfuerzos complicados, a menudo heroicos, de los trabajadores de los albergues. Aprendemos de los procesos y políticas que deciden si un niño es deportado o se le permitirá unirse a la familia.
78 pages, Kindle Edition
Published January 3, 2023
1 person is currently reading
1 person want to read
About the author
Arturo Hernandez Sametier
9 books15 followersFrom jimmyojotriste.com:
Así Está La Cosa
Biography Arturo Hernandez-Sametier
When we bought the oldest laundry in Los Angeles, it came with an old man. He was an ex-monk, ex-merchant marine, a scrappy little man without family who slept behind the dryers since 1952. We kept him and we kept the same machines for another twenty years. I grew up in East L.A., my head stuck in the back of ancient GE washers, fighting with frozen bolts and listening to Little Joe's stories.
The Monte Vista Arms, a massive tenement across the street, kept my father busy making crosses out of old machine parts. He would tie them to pipes along the alley anytime another gang member died on our premises. The last I remember was a kid named Huero. His parents sold tamales from a barrel on the corner and they pulled him off the fence the day they cut him up and left him there.
My life has since been divided between dedication to troubled, marginalized kids, a need to tell stories and a love of music. My first book told the story of a one room school for the Clanton and First Flat's gangs of South Central – I built it when I was a 20, still a kid and with little fear. Everyone came by to help: nuns, Kentucky Fried Chicken, local cops – the universe does seem to encourage a little crazy idealism. The next book added what I had learned working with Pima and Apache gang youth in Indian Country, and then with the inner-city gangs in Boston, Oakland and Phoenix. I'm now working with Guatemalan refugee kids arriving at our borders without parents, and hoping our politics is kinder than it sounds at the moment.
Between these projects I went to college, wrote a musical with my brother (actor Marco Hernandez), had children, and bought an Ice Cream truck when my kids needed their dad to be home. My kids worked it after-school, and sometimes during, and we were the best damned Ice Cream Truck in Phoenix.
The Music of Jimmy Ojotriste has been an intense labor of several years. Like many authors, I write stories that I want to read: tales imbued with the human warmth, humor and subtle magic that has permeated my experience. This year will be about sharing this story of music, glass eyes, brujos, abuelas, amigos, locuras and illusiones.
Así Está La Cosa
Biography Arturo Hernandez-Sametier
When we bought the oldest laundry in Los Angeles, it came with an old man. He was an ex-monk, ex-merchant marine, a scrappy little man without family who slept behind the dryers since 1952. We kept him and we kept the same machines for another twenty years. I grew up in East L.A., my head stuck in the back of ancient GE washers, fighting with frozen bolts and listening to Little Joe's stories.
The Monte Vista Arms, a massive tenement across the street, kept my father busy making crosses out of old machine parts. He would tie them to pipes along the alley anytime another gang member died on our premises. The last I remember was a kid named Huero. His parents sold tamales from a barrel on the corner and they pulled him off the fence the day they cut him up and left him there.
My life has since been divided between dedication to troubled, marginalized kids, a need to tell stories and a love of music. My first book told the story of a one room school for the Clanton and First Flat's gangs of South Central – I built it when I was a 20, still a kid and with little fear. Everyone came by to help: nuns, Kentucky Fried Chicken, local cops – the universe does seem to encourage a little crazy idealism. The next book added what I had learned working with Pima and Apache gang youth in Indian Country, and then with the inner-city gangs in Boston, Oakland and Phoenix. I'm now working with Guatemalan refugee kids arriving at our borders without parents, and hoping our politics is kinder than it sounds at the moment.
Between these projects I went to college, wrote a musical with my brother (actor Marco Hernandez), had children, and bought an Ice Cream truck when my kids needed their dad to be home. My kids worked it after-school, and sometimes during, and we were the best damned Ice Cream Truck in Phoenix.
The Music of Jimmy Ojotriste has been an intense labor of several years. Like many authors, I write stories that I want to read: tales imbued with the human warmth, humor and subtle magic that has permeated my experience. This year will be about sharing this story of music, glass eyes, brujos, abuelas, amigos, locuras and illusiones.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
No one has reviewed this book yet.