Bertha’s Journey

It was the year 1920, and Namiquipa, a sleepy village in the northern part of Chihuahua, Mexico, had become a place of nightmares. The Revolution was a raging fire consuming everything in its path. Pancho Villa, the famous revolutionary leader, and his army of bandits had brought chaos to the region. The once peaceful town, nestled between the jagged mountains, was now a place where men with rifles moved in the shadows, looting and killing without mercy. The women of Namiquipa lived in constant fear, their lives shattered by the raids and the violence that followed. Bertha, a fourteen-year-old girl with dark, wide eyes and a heart full of dreams, had already seen more than most children her age. The years of war had turned her home into a place where safety was a luxury few could afford. Bertha's family, poor farmers who lived on the outskirts of town, had heard the stories of Villa's men and the atrocities they committed. Yet, it wasn't until that fateful night that Bertha truly understood the depth of that terror. It was late, and the sounds of hooves clattering against the dirt roads were unmistakable. The distant gunfire echoed in the hills like the warning of a storm. Bertha's mother, Dolores, had always been strong and calm, but tonight there was something in her eyes that told Bertha to be afraid.