When I left Cuba for Brazil, we had to go through Venezuela to reach Brazil, where we crossed the border. We left Cuba on April 17th, a Monday. The plane we were supposed to catch at 4 PM never left because it didn't arrive in Havana. We left Cuba at 12:17 AM on Tuesday. At 8:00 AM, we had to catch a flight within Venezuela to another city, so if we were delayed any longer, we wouldn't get on. But, well, everything went well, and we managed to catch the other flight. From there, we arrived to the city of coyote , and that day we couldn't leave by car because there were roadblocks (protests) by miners on the roads. So, on Tuesday, we couldn't leave and had to sleep in that city. Coyote's house was extremely dirty; he even had mice in the room. So, thank God, the people who were helping us in Brazil—his parents lived in that same city—and they picked us up and took us to their house. On Wednesday, we left the city at 9 AM, heading for the Brazilian border. Halfway there, the car broke down and we were stranded in the middle of nowhere. Imagine, me, my wife, and a one-year-old child in the middle of nowhere. At that moment, a thousand things go through your head: are they going to kill us and leave us there, stealing all our money, etc.? Well, the guy managed to get someone to tow us to the nearest town, and we slept in a seedy motel. The next day, Thursday, he still hadn't fixed the car, so another coyote had to come and sort it out. From there, it was nonstop until early Friday morning when we finally reached the border. We crossed with other people on motorcycles, and the coyote took us to the hostel where we were going to stay.

After I took a bath and collapsed into bed, it was like all the stress vanished at once; it was like I'd finally exploded.

It had been almost five days without sleep, and with all the psychological burden of knowing my family's life was at stake.