At the instant the plane descended into the lower atmosphere, a wave of humidity almost knocks me out. Even in the cabin of the plane, the heat makes my clothes stick and the air feels like a mass in my lungs. As I step out of the plane, a wave of carbon monoxide washes over me and I fight to breathe. I was still in the safety of the terminal. Outside, the sun feels like it is pushing down high above us.
There are so many people outside. We are all divided by a metal fence. Everyone is facing each other, looking and looking, shouting at each other. Arms flail around attempting to make a signal in the crowd. I fight harder to breathe. I’m being shoved around clinging to my backpack. My eyes scan the crowd too, but find nothing familiar.
Eventually I get pushed to the front of the crowd and make my way through the fence. Two small girls push their way to me. They shove water bottles into my hands as if they know me. Their skin is dark as if they spent everyday of their lives underneath this sun. Their clothes are thin and colorful with childish characters printed on the pockets. They stare at me and I continue to hold onto the bottles and return the stare.
“Mom, she gave me water bottles,” I say. My mind is blank. I give confused looks to the girls and my mom, expecting them to exchange warm welcomes of familiarity but none of that happens.
“You’re suppose to pay for that,” my mom says and searches through her purse. She hands the girls some bills. They break their stare, suddenly turn their backs to me and push their way back towards the fence.
I can’t see anything past people’s heads. I hold tightly to my mom who is barely taller than me and let her shove through the crowd. Another wave hits me with sewage and sweat. Everyone is touching me all at once and I continue to catch my breath.
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