SAN JOSE LAS FLORES, Guatemala — Gilberto Ramos wanted to leave his chilly mountain village for the United States to earn money to treat his mother's epilepsy.
His mother begged him not to go. "The better treatment would have been if he stayed," Cipriana Juarez Diaz said in a tearful interview with The Associated Press on Tuesday. When he wouldn't relent, she draped him with a white rosary for safe passage.
A month later, his decaying body was found in the Texas desert. Now, the boy has become a symbol for the perils faced by a record flood of unaccompanied children from Central America who are crossing illegally into the U.S.
Authorities said Monday that Gilberto was 11, which would have made him one of the youngest known children to die crossing the desert. But his parents said Tuesday that Gilberto was 15.
The parents explained that they had taken several years to register his birth because of the remoteness of their village in Guatemala's northern mountains. When they did, they had forgotten Gilberto's actual birth date, so they listed the same date as his younger brother.
The boy was shirtless, having likely suffered heat stroke, but still wearing the rosary.
"He was a good son," Juarez said. "May God give me the strength to endure."
Teenage boys seeking work have long been part of the stream of young men heading north from Central America to escape poverty and gang violence.
But the number of unaccompanied immigrant children picked up along the U.S. border has been rising for three years.
Migrants tell of hearing that children traveling alone and parents traveling with young kids would be released by U.S. authorities and allowed to continue to their destination. Gilberto, too, had heard in Guatemala that if he got in, he would be allowed to stay, his family said.
He was born and grew up in San Jose Las Flores in a modest wood and sheet-metal home in the Cuchumatanes mountains of Huehuetenango province along the Mexico border. At 6,600 feet above sea level, the exuberant beauty of deep-green hills and canyons, shrouded with clouds and floral bursts of purple and yellow, is a stark contrast to the extreme poverty.
There is no running or potable water and only a latrine in the family home. In the kitchen, there is food, tortillas or wheat atole, an oatmeal-like drink, but never enough.
The cluster of homes where Gilberto lived is accessible only by foot, a difficult walk of nearly a mile (about 1 ½ kilometers) along a rocky and often muddy mile-long path through the canyons. Gilberto took that path each way to school, where he went as far as third grade before dropping out.
"He had to work to help the family," said his teacher, Francisco Hernandez, who remembered that Gilberto loved to draw.
More than half of 50 schoolchildren attending now raised their hands Tuesday when asked if they had family in the U.S., shouting, "I have eight," ''seven," ''three!" While many migrating minors say they are fleeing violence, the biggest threat in San Jose Las Flores is poverty. There are both mining jobs and drug traffickers in the border state, but neither touch the remote village where Gilberto grew up.
"Here most of the people are farmers. They grow beans, rice, potatoes," said Raul Cifuentes, president of the town's development committee. "But they don't have a way to import or export, so they stay poor."
Gilberto and his father, Francisco Ramos, hired themselves out to harvest and clean corn. Things improved when the oldest son, Esbin Ramos, reached Chicago and started working in a restaurant. He sends $100 to $120 a month when he can afford it, allowing the family to build a two-room home out of cement block to replace their wooden shack and paint it bright red and green. Gilberto slept on a piece of foam on the floor.
Short, quiet and humble, he stayed close to home. But he grew despairing and bored, Esbin Ramos said. Meanwhile, their mother got sicker. The older brother suggested Gilberto come to Chicago, where he could return to school and work at night and on weekends.