It was four AM. The rain had stopped, but the low whimpering sounds of a small baby woke the mother’s heart. Cristina Ortega was twenty-one. A Mestizo(Spanish Indian), she had lived near Mesidda all her life. Inside the cabin it was almost empty except for a chair, a bed, and one table with a broken leg. Cristina began to cry aloud sitting up in the bed. She knew what she had to do today. Ruben was three weeks old and hungry. Cristina had no food in the house, a dead husband, and no money. She was very sad and very scared. Yesterday soldiers were outside looking around. She feared they would return today; she feared what they would do to a woman with no protection whose husband they had killed two days before.

     Cristina wrapped a dry blanket around Ruben. She held him close to her breast for several minutes and talked to him, “I love you my child; I always will.” No one could have loved a child more than she did. Then she wrapped a poncho around herself and Ruben.

     Many are born in Mesidda, but many do not survive. “Will the world be a better place tomorrow?” she asked herself. She had to think about the baby’s future. “I must take Ruben to a safer place now!” she reasoned. “Blessed Virgin Mother Mary watch over him. Holy Father forgive me.” A baby would bring half a million pesos($184) and a better life for the baby. What else could she do? She left a lighted candle in the cabin as a decoy that she was still there.

     It was a two mile walk to the city. Everyone knew where the baby market was.

The crying stopped. The deal was made. Mother and son were never to be together again!

     Hear the crying of the earth and the rivers, lightning and thunder.

     Without hope?