This story was written by Lizzie Bassett as an assignment for her Challenge B short story unit.
Live in the Light
Isabel stood, taking in the view before her, acres of lettuce, tomatoes, and grapes. Walking past the landscape, she remembered all the things that had happened there. Memories flooded her mind, ones that both stirred anger and brought tears to her eyes. She thought of Papi, of Lupe, of how much she missed them both. As the sun set over the fields, she wished it would seem beautiful, but there was no way, not after all that had–
“Isa! Come eat!” Isabel turned and ran toward the shack that she called home, kicking up dirt as her long legs flew along the path.
Isabel skipped up the steps and ran through the door. “Coming, Mama! Vaya, it smells delicious!” Everyone else was already sitting down, and Isa joined them, half falling into her seat.
“Ay, Isa! Slow down!” Isa’s grandmother, who everyone called Tia Elena, sat at the head of the table, spooning beans and rice onto everyone’s plates.
“You looked crazy, Isa,” said Héctor, her gangly, fifteen year old brother. Isabel promptly kicked him under the table and started eating.
After a few minutes of quitely eating, Mama broke the silence. “How was your last day of school, mi cielo?”
Isa sighed. “Okay. I’m going to miss my teacher.” she paused for a moment before adding, “And my hair. Mama, it’s a tonta rule.”
“I know, mi cielo, I know.”
“Well, I don’t get it, it’s only hair, if that makes you feel better,” Héctor interjected, taking a huge bite. Isa kicked him again.
Abuela tsked. “You two have to learn. You can’t resort to fighting like cat and dog,” She said. “Isa, we need water. Go get some, so you will stop this locura, craziness.”
Isabel grabbed the bucket and headed outside, breathing in the cool, nighttime air. She used to love it this time of year, the whole summer ahead of her, but now, she had only a week until she, too, had to work in the fields, beginning to pick tomatoes. She had to cut her hair, her most prized possession, because of the rules for farm workers. She could not imagine such a loss. She reached the well and began to draw up the water, staring up at the sky as she did. Lupe would have loved how many constellations were visible tonight.
Suddenly Isa heard a rustling behind her in the tall, dry grass. She quickly whipped around, heard a small gasp, and saw the moonlit silhouette of a tall girl wearing a shocked look on her face.
The girl sighed in surrender and walked towards Isa. “Hi, I’m Jill,” she said slowly.
With a shock, Isabel realized she wasn’t a worker, as she had been expecting. No, she was white! Isabel’s mouth hung open in shock before she could force out a response. “Isa.. I’m Isabel. What are you doing here?”
The girl, apparently Jill, looked surprised. “You speak English?”
Isa was slightly offended. “Of course. I usually do. This is 1962 America, not the stone age. But seriously, why are you here? Do you live in town?”
Jill shuffled her feet. “Kind of. Listen, I have important information, and I need to share it with you. There are things that will–”
“Really? Like what?” Isabel interrupted.
“You won't believe it. All of you, everyone who works here, is at risk.” The look on the girl's face made her look genuinely scared. “And listen, I could be in big trouble telling you this, so, we need to–”
“Isabel Rivera! What are you doing out this late?”
The girls whipped around to see an older woman balancing a water bucket on her hip with a confused look on her weather-worn face. Jill froze.
“Tia Rosa! Hello I'm getting the water, and talking to my friend, who you don’t know... Carmen.” She gave a nervous laugh.
“All right,” the old woman clucked her tongue. “You tell Elena I said hello, and that I will see her tomorrow, bright and early.”
The girls waited till she walked away, and then Jill spoke, “I'm not Carmen.”
“Now you are,” Isa responded. “ If you haven't noticed, the adults around here don't exactly love white people because of how we are treated often,” She explained solemnly. “If my mama found out I was even talking to you, she'd be muy enojado, very mad.”
Jill knitted her brows together. “Okay, fine. Meet me here tomorrow, before school.”
Isa nodded. “Will do.”
The girls parted ways, oblivious that this encounter would be a defining moment– in the history of the world.
א
Isabel woke up, already sweating in the humidity of the Californian late spring weather. It was around 6:30, and Mama was already working in the field. Her Abuela was, without a doubt, talking with all the older women in a sewing circle they set up every morning. Isabel quietly slipped out of her bed, careful not to wake Héctor, across the room. She put on her favorite blue dress and dashed outside, taking the water bucket with her, as not to look suspicious.
While she walked, she took in the view. To her left, bunches of grapes, heads of lettuce, tomato vines. Workers, teenagers to old men. To her right, shacks like her own surrounding the deck where all of their festivities took place.
And ahead, the Evans’ house. Mr. Evans was the owner of the farm, and as Abuela said, “He’s a greedy man, only out to make a profit.” Everyone knew he didn't pay enough, but it was the only work around for people like Isa and her family. If there was no work, there was no food. Everyone knew that also.
Suddenly, Isa heard footsteps behind her, crunching the dry grass. She turned around, and saw her brother, a guilty smile on his face. “Héctor!” she cried. “What are you doing here?”
“Following you. Who is that girl? Some kind of superhero, like Batman?”
Isabel was shocked. “How...Why…”
“I watched you last night too. Come on, let's go meet her.” Isa was not amused.
She waved at Jill as they arrived at the well. In the light, it was clear: she was a complete white, American girl. “Hey!” She smiled. “Who's that?” She questioned, nodding at Héctor.
“My older, annoying brother, Héctor.”
Jill laughed. “The more, the merrier.” She stared off into space for a minute before saying, “Okay, listen. I have insider information, from a source I can't tell you. You know how things are right now, here at your farm? They're only going to get worse. More work, less money, worse housing. Someone has to step up and do something, and that person I think is someone young, someone who still has the energy to fight for the truth to be known.”
Isa felt chills go down her arms. “What do you mean?” She asked. “How bad?”
“I don't know,” Jill said solemnly. “All I know is it has to happen. Now. Someone needs to stand up, and not back down. And I have a plan.”
“How do we know if we can trust you?” Questioned Héctor. “You're just some white girl who showed up. You don't know our situation.”
Suddenly, they heard a call from behind them. It was a group of girls, all white, dressed identically to Jill in private school uniforms. Jill groaned. “I have to leave for school,” she said. “Meet me here tomorrow.” She quickly waved goodbye to Isa and Héctor, and grabbed her bag, walking toward her ‘friends.’
If they knew, Jill thought to herself, if he knew. I'm risking so much, for what?
Isabel and Héctor walked home, thinking their own thoughts, imagining the best, and the worst. Héctor cleared his throat and spoke cautiously. “So, Isa. Do we trust her?”
Isa shot him a look, and said, “Yes. She’s trustworthy. She wants to help us! She knows things that we don’t, and if we want to finish what Lupe started…” She slowly trailed off, seeing the sad, glazed over look in her brother’s eyes. He held it in as well as he could, she knew. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, giving him a knowing, loving smile.
א
Late that night, long after her family fell asleep, Isa lay awake, wondering. If she went through with this, it would be both good and bad. She was tired of the way her people, her family, were treated. Isa dreamed of a world, of a life where they were no longer slaves to society, no longer judged by where they came from, by what they looked like. If she was brave, she would be one step closer. But, it was going to be hard. Things might get worse. And that was scary. Really scary.
Suddenly a knock sounded on her home’s thin plywood door. Héctor sat up, but the women slept still, practically impossible to wake up after a long day’s work. The brother and sister crept to the door, and Isa flung it open and pulled Héctor outside. She was right, it was Jill.
“Listen,” she hurriedly whispered, “I just found out about a meeting that is at Mr. Evan’s house… involving information about his farm hands.”
Héctor was amazed by this girl. How did she know all this? “Why did you have to tell us this now?” he asked, intrigued but confused.
“Because… it starts in ten minutes. We need to go- now.”
Isa turned to her brother, who just shrugged and said, “Let’s go.”
The trio took off, dashing toward the large estate-like plantation home. Jill led them around to the side of the home, through a partially hidden door, and into a large storage closet with slats in the door, just before a group of men, in business suits walked in.
“Sorry for the late notice, but of course you know why,” The man, who Isa recognized as Mr. Evans, said. “We gathered here tonight at this hour, because of my farm.” The three teenagers shifted uncomfortably, highly aware of the reason.
“Yes, Jim,” one of the other men said impatiently. “Now get to the point.”
He sighed. “Well, as you know, the chicanos at my farm, well, I have to pay them less. A lot less. I don’t have enough money to keep running the farm, but I still need my workers. So, I have to make them work longer and harder. But in secret, so the state doesn't know… it’s not exactly legal.”
Isa suppressed her shout. That’s not true! He has plenty of money, and he’s keeping everything for his own! The threesome listened in pained, horrible silence to the details of Mr. Evans’s plan for several minutes. Then the men all left, driving back to their homes in their fancy, new cars. They opened up the door carefully, then walked out of the closet staring at each other in silence.
Jill, however, didn’t skip a beat. “Well, we have enough evidence now to go to court. I can schedule something, it’s not that hard, and it’s necessary for…”
“Wait,” Héctor butted in. “A court hearing? Really? Do we have enough to prove it?”
Isa glared at him. “Yes, and Héctor Rivera, you will do it. Do you realize how huge this is?!”
Jill smiled. “Cool. I’ll come to your house in three days. I will have information by then.”
They nodded and then parted ways. Isa sighed, “Three days? Really? Ay, I’m going to die!”
Héctor laughed. “You sound like Abuela.”
She shrugged. “Sometimes, Abuela actually makes sense. Let’s go. We have to work tomorrow.”
As they walked away toward their small home, they heard a voice behind them- that wasn’t Jill’s. “Honey, I was worried, and I didn’t know where you were.”
The two turned around. In the dimly lit sky they could see Jill and Mr. Evans, standing on the front porch. “Sorry, Daddy, I was just looking at the sky. I won’t do it again.” The pair walked inside.
Isabel turned toward Héctor, shocked. “No. It- it can’t. She’s… too nice.” They remained there for a minute, too shocked to move. Even though they’d just met her, she was one of the most trustworthy girls Isa had ever met. How? Why?? Suddenly, the door opened and shut quickly. A paper fluttered to the porch. Isabel snuck forward to grab it. It read simply; I’m still on your side- Jill. Isa smiled and held the note tightly. This was going to be an adventure.
א
The next few days passed without hearing a word. Isa did her normal jobs: swept the deck, babysat for some of the families, and made dinner. She was counting down the days until she, too, had to work in the fields. It was torturous work. Every afternoon, her family came back, coughing and dirty. Three days after Héctor and Isa had last seen Jill, Isa’s family came into the shack for dinner, looking as though they had just been through a dust storm. Isa served them, and the family sat down to eat.
A knock at the door resonated. Héctor leapt up, and opened the door. They watched him look to both sides, nod, then look down. He bent over, picked something up, and sat back down.
“What is it?” Mama asked.
Héctor and Isa exchanged nods and head shakes for a minute before he reluctantly handed it to her. She took it and read aloud.
“Isa and Hector, the hearing is scheduled for 12:00 tomorrow at the town hall. We need you. I have a lawyer, but my father doesn’t know he’s representing me. You both need to testify. Bring anyone else, including your parents.” Here, Mama paused and looked at them. “I promise, it will be worth it in the end, but it’s a hard fight. Signed. Carmen.”
“Anything you two want to say?” she asked, setting the paper down on the table. She and Abuela watched another fierce yes-no-what-does-she-know-just-tell-her facial expression battle between the two teenagers, until Isabel broke the silence.
“Mama, there’s a girl, a white girl, who is helping us get a court hearing, and, well Héctor and I are going to testify against Mr. Evans.” She watched her mother's face change from confusion, to surprise, to sadness, and then finally to a warm smile. She got up and gave her children tight hugs.
“Your father would be proud. I'm scared for you, of course, but if you know and trust this girl, I know this will be for good.” She turned her head toward her mother-in-law. “Elena?” she asked.
“Ay, They are so young! Are you sure you trust them, Ana?” Abuela asked, a concerned look on her face. “Do you want them to suffer like Guadalupe and Luis?”
“Of course not, Elena, but I trust them. They’re sensible children, and I’m proud of them.” She turned toward them. “Now, what is the girl’s real name? I believe it’s not Carmen.”
Isa hesitated before saying, “Jill. Jill... Evans.”
An uncomfortable silence filled the room, before Mama exploded. “No! No, mis hijos no pueden con ella! Porque dios, los amo y-”
Abuela cut her off. “Ana, you just said you trust them. What changed?” She looked at her grandchildren. “I believe that they are going to start something amazing, but they can’t without their mother. Are you in, Ana?”
Mama breathed in, and out. “I guess.”
Isa’s smile was so wide nothing could have broken it. She got straight to business. “Mama, Abuela, we need a list of the bad things Mr. Evans has done. Can you make that?” They nodded. “And Mama,” she questioned, “Can you talk about Papi?”
Mama smiled. “I would be honored to.”
א
The little family got to work. Mami talked to her friends and Abuela to hers, and before sunset, Héctor had transcribed two pages of wrong doings. Isa had walked around, knocking on every door, telling everyone to tell everyone else: tomorrow, town hall, a revolution. Everyone was in. Only a few people, men who were too scared to lose their jobs, disapproved.
Isa was overwhelmed by the attention, knowing that she would have to speak. What if people laughed? What if the white people threw fruit at her, like in those comics Héctor read? What if they didn’t like her? No, she had to do this. For Lupe. For Papi. She thought about what she wanted to say, and early the next morning, she had some questions for Abuela while Mama and Héctor were out, convincing the last few neighbors to come.
“Abuela? Can you tell me the story of my name?”
Abuela sat down her sewing, an apron she was patching, and smiled, remembering. She began.
“Thirteen years ago, your Mama was having a baby. She had a plan: to name her Guadalupe Arizona, which meant wolf. She wanted a strong baby, and for her baby to remember she was American. I was there with them, along with your Abue, and your Papi, my son. Héctor was there too. He was a little one, only two. At the time, we were on our way to California, to find better work, but we stopped for the night. Your Mama had her baby that night, and we named her: Guadalupe Arizona. But then, all of a sudden, there was another baby, another girl! We were so happy! We named that baby Isabel California, so her baby would always remember, God provides, and that she too, was American.
“The babies grew up, best friends, and they lived up to their names. Guadalupe Arizona grew up strong and brave, fighting for change. She didn’t like it when something was unfair. The other baby, Isabel California, was kind and caring. She was quiet, while her sister was loud. And yet… They were the best of friends. But then....” She trailed off.
“It’s okay, Abuela. I know what I will say now.” Isa smiled, sad, but re-strengthened. This was going to be wonderful, hard, but wonderful.
א
They began walking to the Tulare town hall about thirty minutes before noon, all in a crowd, about a hundred people in all. Isa and Héctor led the pack, walking with their heads held high. They had no clue as to what awaited them there.
When they arrived, having walked about two miles, dozens of people, all from town, all white, stared them down. All Isa saw were scowls, all she heard were shouts; words filled with lies, sentences brimming with hate.
Jill stood there next to a tall, African American man who appeared to be in his twenties. The crowd seemed to be mostly avoiding them both. The man walked straight to Isa and said in a thick accent, “Isabel Rivera, I am proud of you. My name is Henry. We are the odd ones out. My people have begun to stand up for their rights, and now you are standing up for your people and yourself. Thank you. I am proud to represent you today.” Henry’s voice cracked in a simple, lovely way as he shook Isa’s hand, then Héctor’s, then Mama’s, and Abuela’s. “Let’s go inside.”
They walked to the front row seats, across from Mr. Evans and the same men the teenagers had seen three nights earlier. As they passed them, Henry, then Isa and her family, the men looked on with scowls. As Jill passed her father, his jaw dropped. “Jillian? Honey, what are you doing here?” He managed to stutter out after a few seconds.
“Standing up for what’s right, Daddy, and it’s about time you did too.” She turned and walked away before he could respond.
Isabel and her brother shared an admiring, shocked smile. This girl meant business.
The man representing Mr. Evans stepped onto the platform at the front of the room .
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, today we are here to clear the name of Jim Evans for mistreatment of his chicano workers. This will go quickly. As Jim’s representative, I must say, he treats his workers with the deepest respect, and he would never do anything of this sort.” A murmuring of agreeing swept the right side of the room. “I believe that Mr. Henry King would also like to speak.”
The men shook hands respectfully as Henry stepped up. “Hello, everyone, my name is Henry,” he began. “I am representing today not just the Mexicans in this room, but every Mexican who has been mistreated because of what they look like. I, too, have seen this happen. My grandmother was born a slave, and she worked hard, so her family would not grow up in poverty. Over the past few years, my people have begun to stand up for what is right, and things are not good, but they are getting better. And today, I have the honor of representing Miss Isabel, Miss Jill, Mr. Héctor, and every other Mexican, or should I say Latino, in this room.” He nodded and took his seat, the left side of the room thundering with applause.
The hearing began, Mr. Evans pleading his case. Isa caught herself many times angry at the untrue things he mentioned. He went so far as to say that chicanos were ruining the town. Héctor had to physically hold her down for that one.
It droned on, every man telling the same lies, over and over. Finally, at one thirty, Henry called Mama up to the platform. Their order was simple: Mama, Jill, and Isa. Henry was certain that was all they needed. Mama cleared her throat and began.
“Eighteen years ago, I married my husband, Luis. Shortly after, we came here, from Mexico to America, with Luis’s parents. We had three children together. Five years ago, we went to work at a large farm, all of us. Luis’s father died only a month later from dehydration and fatigue while working in the fields. We mourned his loss for a short time, but of course we had to get back to work. We were hardly making enough money, three of us picking crops and my mother-in-law watching my children.
“We continued this way until two years ago when things started getting worse. There was no money, less food. My children were growing, and I had to watch them go to bed hungry. Elena offered to work, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Then, one day, I received some of the worst news of my life. Hundreds of the men in the fields had been rounded up that day and been deported, they called it, taken back to Mexico, without any opportunity to plead their case. The one day you stayed home, I told myself. You could have done something.”
She paused, and Isa noticed a tear slip down her mother’s cheek. “That day, everything changed. My thirteen year old boy, he had to work so I could put food on the table. My twin ten-year-olds had to watch their Mama and Abuela suffer because of the cruelties and injustice of Mr. Evans, this town, and the country I had once proudly named them after. So, today, I ask you to think about how many people have suffered under this,” she pointed directly at the man guilty, “this, cruel hate filled, prejudiced, racist man.” There was no noise in the whole room.
Mama stepped down from the stage. Isa’s mind was racing. She had known the story, of course, but she had never considered how much had been sacrificed for her. She hadn’t deserved it.
Jill walked up to speak, but Isa did not hear a word. This, she realized, was what true, selfless, love was. She recalled the nights when her mother and Abuela had not eaten, just so she could. She remembered her Papi, so brave, so kind. Isa had believed he was the best, ever. And then one day…
Before she knew it, Henry was calling her name. “Isabel? Are you ready?” With shaky legs she stood, walking up to the podium. This was her moment to make a difference. No one noticed a young man walk into the back of the building and stand against the wall as she approached the stand.
Isabel breathed in, exhaled, and began. “Hello, my name is Isabel California Rivera. I live with my Mama, Abuela, and brother, Héctor. Thirteen years ago, I was born, along with my twin sister, Guadalupe, or Lupe, as I called her. I was born in America, but my Papi and grandparents were not. They were all born in Mexico. When we came here, to Tulare, California, my parents and Abue, my grandfather, began to work, along with over a hundred workers. Then, it was the best work around. When Abue died, we had to sell our beat down car to be able to survive. Not long after that was when Mr. Evans began to treat us poorly. We couldn't get out of it. He would force our family to work long hours, no food breaks. And when there was a dust storm, all they could do was duck and cover, hoping they would not get dust in their lungs.
“Three years ago, they rounded up all of the men who were not American. Including Papi. We don’t know where they went.That was a heartbreaking day in our familia. Héctor quit school that next day. We continued like that for many months, until, suddenly, we were going to bed hungry. It wasn’t enough food for five people. Mami asked for more pay, but Mr. Evans refused. I wanted to start work, but Lupe wouldn’t hear of it. “You’re going to be a teacher,” she said, “or a lawyer. You can’t quit school in seventh grade.” So, instead, Lupe quit, with the compromise that I would join her when I finished eighth grade.
“So, while I learned, soaking up all the information I could, Lupe, my favorite person in the world, picked grapes, pulled weeds. Until one day, four months ago. You all may recall it, the biggest dust storm in California in thirty years. Most of my family was able to rush to a small makeshift shack, but that was on the other side of the field from where Lupe was. So, along with about twenty others, she covered her mouth and eyes and prayed to God for the best. After it passed, she found my family and they all walked back to our home.
“All was fine until the next morning. She woke up coughing, and she was having trouble breathing. By noon, it was clear; she was dying. She had a lot of dust in her throat. Mama stayed home that day, so did I. Everyone who had been caught without shelter had also contracted dirt in their lungs. A few of us gathered up the courage to plead with Mr. Evans, to ask him to call the doctor. Our families were dying. But what did he tell us? No. “It’s their own faults,” he reasoned. It wasn’t. The next morning, we honored eighteen lives, lost. Eighteen lives, lost because of greed. And was there any sympathy? No. We received only an hour off work. Gone were siblings, children, parents. Gone, were some of the only things we could cling to that were good in this world.
Isa took a breath. You have to get this right, she thought. For Lupe. “There’s a part I haven’t told you yet. My sister, Guadalupe Arizona Rivera, was a born fighter. Two years ago, she vowed to me that before we turned sixteen, we would march up to the California Capitol building and tell them, hand in hand, “We need freedom!” Of course, I laughed it off, but then, I never imagined I would be here today. And today, I proudly stand in her place, pleading for freedom. We cannot hide in the shadows, when we were born to live in the light. There is a time for everyone here, I believe, when we can stand up, be courageous, and this is our time. We were born to be brave. The only question is, are we going to take that opportunity?” She caught Mama’s eye. She wore a proud smile. “I have barely scratched the surface of the injustices we have faced,” she continued. “But I’m afraid I have no more time. But there is one more thing I must say: just because someone looks a certain way, or is not a perfect, white American, does NOT mean they deserve to be treated like a second class citizen. I leave you with this: Sí, se puede. Yes, we can. Yes, it can be done!” Applause filled the room, this time from both sides. Isa’s grin was enormous. She began to walk away, when Jill shot out of her seat. “Sí, se puede!” she cried. Héctor followed. “Sí, se puede!” One by one, shouts of the phrase came from every corner of the room, until a chant had begun.
The next twenty minutes were a blur. Henry spoke again, recapping what had been said. The verdict: undecided. They would go to the state! Lupe’s dream would come true after all. And after all of that, the family walked outside, into the sunshine, of what seemed like a brighter, more beautiful future. Outside, Isa saw a man, a Spanish man, that she had never seen before. The man who had slid into the courtroom as she began to speak. “Who are you?” She asked.
“Caesar. I, too, am an advocate for the rights of people like you and me. And I'm proud of you, for what you're doing. And, I would like you, and your friends, to join me. Me and others like us are going up, against the State of California, for equal rights for workers like us. What do you say, Isabel Rivera?”
Isa beamed. “You mean it?”
“Absolutely.”
She looked to her brother, and her new friend. “We’re in.”
Caesar nodded. “Perfect. By the way, Sí, se puede, I like it. Can I steal it?”
א
Three years, four months later, Delano, California
They stood, shoulder to shoulder. They held signs, declaring, Strike! Unite us! No California Grapes! And the proudest, largest sign, was held by three teenagers. Two girls and a boy. Two Mexican and one white. The sign read, simply, Sí, se puede. Yes, we can.
The Mexican girl looked behind her. Hundreds of people, workers on strike. “Are you ready?” She cried. The response was a shout of a determined yes, toward victory. They knew, this was not going to be an easy task. But they were ready.
The crowd marched forward. “Sí, se puede! To Sacramento!”
Isabel smiled. “To Sacramento indeed,” she said to herself. “For Lupe. One more step toward freedom.”
The End
Though this story is based on true events, there are a few story elements that have been altered. Because Isa, Jill, and Héctor’s story takes place in the span of only a week, some historical details have been changed in order to display the full scope of injustices that were committed against Latinos of the 1960’s. That doesn’t change the fact that many Mexican Americans like Isabel stood up for their rights and changed history as we know it. If this story inspired you, and you would like to learn more, there are many incredible resources available. The two most impactful role models of this movement were Cesar Chavez, whom I included, and Dolores Huerta. Thank you for reading and I hope you were inspired. Sí, se puede!
A few Spanish words:
Vaya: an interjection, like wow. More literally, “Go!”
Mi cielo: my sky, a term of endearment
Tonta: dumb
Locura: craziness
Muy enojado: very mad
Chicano: what Americans called Mexicans and
any Spanish speaker in the mid-20th century,
now often considered an offensive term
Ay: a filler, interjection
Abue: grandfather
Familia: family
Sí, se puede: yes, we can
