I met with a friend on Wednesday to catch up on life. We had lunch and discussed various topics such as the interesting work he carries out in defence of human rights etc. I then briefly mentioned to him what I was up to lately. 

After a bunch of minutes talking and eating nice Mexican food, I introduced the topic of migration in the American continent. The fact that this phenomenon, has for many decades, generated tremendous problems in many parts of the region, specifically between Central America and the USA, etc…

I obviously get that there is a migrants crisis currently affecting not just Syrians but Afghanis, Pakistanis, Iraqis and everyone who is escaping the violence in the middle east and northern Africa. Having said that, it seems as if local governments in Central and North America, that includes Mexico when I say North America by the way, as well as the entire world are ignoring the migrant crisis in Latin America.

After lunch with Robin, I said goodbye and headed towards la Condesa, an affluent neighbourhood where people are too busy to stop and chat, in other words everyone is on a mission to ‘look and act important’.

I was walking past a petrol station when suddenly a man approached me and asked me how to find the Honduran Embassy. He added that he had just got deported from the USA when trying to enter it illegally. 

Nobody wanted to stop and talk to him even though he had asked numerous amounts of people. He said that he felt ignored by everyone all the way. 

As he was talking to me, I observed his facial expressions. He looked tired and sad. He was carrying a small white tote bag which contained a bottle of water to keep himself hydrated. I didn’t noticed he was wobbling until I said goodby to him later that day.

My obvious assumption was that he was in such state due to the hardship he went through over the last 4 months since he departed from his hometown in Tegucigalpa, Honduras up to his last destination in Nuevo Laredo Tamaulipas. That is where he was arrested and put in a detention centre for a month and a half before finally being deported to Mexico City. He identified himself as a Mexican citizen to avoid being returned to Honduras.

I asked him if he was hungry; his straight answer was yes! We looked for a food stall, tortas o tacos, it did not make a difference to him.  Eventually we found some tacos; he ordered three, I ate one as I had already had lunch earlier. I insisted he asked for a few more though he was already full. 

For the entire time I spent with him, not once did he ask me for a penny. All he wanted was the Honduran Embassy’s address and help to get to the city centre so he could ask for a job.

I eventually asked him what his name was, - My name is Ricardo! Ricardo Sandoval and I am 35 years of age. I shook hands with him as I introduced myself as well.

After we finished eating we headed over to a phone box so I could make a few calls to get the details he required. I wanted to help him as much as I could though my attempts were not as successful as I wished. 

Ricardo was telling me fragments of his journey on The Beast, terrible indeed!! He wanted to avoid returning to Honduras since he said that there are were no opportunities at all and life was very hard and dangerous. 

I wanted Ricardo to get in touch with his family to let them know that he was fine though he did not have a number. He then added, - My friend, we are very poor over there and my Mom does not have a telephone at home. 

Eventually I was able to get through to a friend who kindly passed me the phone number and address of a local refuge centre located in central Mexico City where Ricardo could stay and avoid the park he was sleeping at. I also managed to get hold of the Honduran Embassy’s address which I wrote on a piece of paper for him.

As I walked him towards the city centre, he kept asking for advice. Whether the best plan was to go and get help from the Embassy first or go and get a job in town. My response was that I did not know to what extent the embassy would have the will to helping him, although my naive assumption was that it was important that he registered with them in case his family asked the Honduran government about his whereabouts. 

I warned him however about the fact that his government was pretty corrupt and dangerous, something he obviously already knew. He then said that the Mexican government was also pretty nasty too. 

He was slightly clued about the dangers in Mexico. He vaguely knew about the students that disappeared in Ayotzinapa on the 26th of September of 2014. 

We finally got to the corner of a busy road where we parted ways not before I wished him the best of luck and observed him as he crossed the road and lost himself amongst the crowd.

I turned round and continues my journey without looking back but thinking…