Bertha Preciado
A lady with a lot of courage and talent

by georgina arias avila

Bertha Preciado does not lose her spark at 85 years old. She looks back and talks about her life story with joy, without hard feelings. This elementary school teacher came to Alaska in a “tantrum,” as she puts it. “I got divorced and for my parents what I had done was unthinkable because they were very religious, and they were worried about what people would think. My dad had a map of the world on his desk and the first place I saw was Alaska. So, I chose to start a new life and leave Mexico City.”

Bertha sets her feet at the Anchorage airport in 1977, holding her hand were her three little children, Rogelio, Fernando and María. She didn’t have a plan. A traveler offered her shelter in her home until she settled into a small apartment.

She started working in the kitchens of Mexican restaurants. First at La casita and then at La Mexicana, where she worked for many years and feels grateful because the owner sponsored her to qualify for American citizenship. Later, she was a teacher at a Montessori kindergarten, while at night she was a maid at the Hilton hotel. “One night a drunk guest hit me in the face. That unfortunate moment made me, along with my daughter, decide to start a business. We opened Maria’s Learning Little Land, which had a bilingual preschool program. The children wore uniforms, and were children of lawyers and judges, since we were close to the courthouse. I have attended the high school graduation of several alumni in different states.”

Bertha has worked in various fields; she is a dancer and choreographer of traditional Mexican dances. Since she was little, she was part of the Fine Arts ballet in her native Mexico. She created the first ballet group, called ‘Viva México,’ in Anchorage. She is a writer and poet. She has written books of romantic poetry and even a play called “Adáptate,” which presents the pros and cons of life for Latino migrants in the United States.

In each of her life stages she felt that Latin culture was always a support during the hard moments of life. “There were few Latinos in Alaska in my time, and we shook hands.”

She had one more son, his name is Oliver. “He belongs to the same dad,” she said. But she clarifies that she did have a beautiful marriage for more than 20 years to a man from Guatemala. “He left after many years, but it was a nice support that lasted a while.”

Bertha adapted to Alaska and described her achievements this way. “I felt like I belonged on ‘the last frontier.’ I loved the cold weather. It was me with my children and I didn’t have to answer anyone. In a world where I needed to prove who I was. I was proud about everything I could accomplish with my own effort. I learned to lend a helping hand and to receive. I love Alaska so much.”

She lives in an apartment for senior residents and enjoys her days knitting, painting and embroidering. Her greatest pride is the triumphs achieved by her children, all professionals on their own merits. “You do not expect payment from your children. In my house there were no punishments, only rewards. History is written by the wind and the wind has no memory,” she concluded.

Bertha shares a poem of her authorship.
The Latin voice
By Emilia

We are already part of the stars that swell your flag
We grew up in your history and your battles
Our names are pronounced like picturesque birds
Chavez, Perez, Diaz…
 
We swell the crowds in the lines of work
We are already citizens of a country of privileges
Nobody recognizes our footprints,
we remain invisible
We are different.
 
Our children do not know the reason for the color of their skin
The rhythm of their hips
and laughter so loud
They don't know our land
They didn't talk to the grandparents
but they still sing our songs
and they like my cooking.
 
They were born with the inheritance of their mother's language
I already know your language, but I have that hint of a Latin accent
In my eyes there is nostalgia for other skies
There is my guitar and its echoes.
 
You know son I don't know who came first
The English, the Chinese, the Mexicans or the Irish
But we all arrived
We mixed the flavors
Cueca, cumbia and salsa.
 
Whose privilege is it to say who we count?
Who came up with the form to know who we are
Legal or illegal
We are just citizens of a foreign country
We are the Latin star
that makes up the flag.
 
And a coffee with two sugars