Jesus Nava, today a self-confident and cheerful 15-year-old, remembered his reaction five years ago when his mother left him behind in Guadalajara, Mexico and came to the United States to join her husband.

"I remember grabbing her ankles, crying, crying, begging her not to leave... they had to pull me away," Nava told the Federal Way News last week, when his family shared their story and permitted this reporter to accompany them to the protest marches in downtown Seattle May 1.

The Federal Way News was introduced to the Nava family by Ricardo Ortega of the 'Committee for General Amnesty and Social Justice', one of the May 1 rally organizers.

During a meeting at a spacious, immaculate brand-new home hear 356th and 21st Avenue SW in Federal Way, recently built and then purchased by Jesus's uncles, Jesus translated for his family as they sat around the kitchen table prior to leaving for Seattle.

The Nava family came to this area much in the same way thousands of others have; methodically, after lengthy planning and one-by-one with dreams of economic opportunity firmly in mind. First his uncle Pavlo came to the area to be near a friend. Then Jesus's father, Adan Nava, 36, joined his brother eight years ago. Adan got a job in construction and started saving money to bring his family to the U.S.: his wife Maria five years ago, and then their three children in 2003. The children had stayed behind in Guadalajara with Maria's mother, Guillermina Mojarro, who now sat proudly at the kitchen table, holding the newest arrival to the Nava family and surrounded by her extended family. Jesus and his parents live in Auburn where Jesus attends Auburn High School, while six Nava adults and nine children live at the Federal Way house.

"I also call my Grandma 'Mom', so I wasn't scared to stay behind, I just didn't want my mom mom to go, I was scared for her to come here, of what would happen to her," recalled Jesus. "But we're all together now."

The Navas are all together and hard at work, building a new future. They spoke about the many challenges they face daily. They said the biggest one is the racism they regularly encounter.

"I can't speak English yet, and that makes it very hard to get around, to talk to people," said Maria Nava, a trim woman of 33 with a forthright manner and a ready smile. "Many people are mean because of this."

The other adults remained silent, reticent to relive particularly ugly incidents, but their faces held a resigned sorrow easy to interpret.

Guillermina spoke up. "All five of my sons work in construction, they built this house, and they work very hard, leaving the house at 5 a.m. and coming home at 10 p.m. Although we are undocumented, we have all been paying taxes for ten years now," Mojarro said in Spanish.

"We are all working as one, we are human, and wish to be treated equally," she softly added.

As the discussion turned to the day's protest marches, the mood lifted and the family spoke of what they hoped the marches would accomplish.

"We would like to become citizens. We don't want to live in fear, scared that the INS will come any moment and take away what we're worked so hard for, what we've sacrificed so much for," said Maria, while Adan, a strongly-built man of few words, who followed the discussion carefully with an air of protective concern, stood closely to his wife and nodded in agreement with her words.

Maria's sister Azucena said, "We would like the government to listen to us, we want to contribute legally."

Soon it was time to leave for the marches. Scheduled to start at 4:30 at Judkins Park in Seattle, the demonstration marchers protested recent efforts by Congress to criminalize illegal immigrants and to strengthen security along the U.S.-Mexican border, in particular HR 4437, also known as "The Border Protection, Antiterrorism, and Illegal Immigration Control Act of 2005". Sponsored by Wisconsin Republican Jim Sensenbrenner, the bill was passed by the House of Representatives on December 16, 2005 and currently under consideration by the Senate.

Seattle Police declined to provide an official estimate of the crowds on May 1, but estimates by attendees and organizers range from 30,000 to 60,000.

Jesus was one of many young people who had missed school to attend. He said he came with the full blessing of his principal at Auburn High. In Federal Way, the district reported last week that among the high schools, about 70 percent of the Latino population was absent that day.

At the march, a mosaic of skin colors, flags and banners assembled peacefully and joyfully to make the trek from Judkins Park to the Federal Building downtown. Maria handed out Mexican sweets to her fellow marchers, while Azucena left hand held her husband Ramiro's and in her right, a sign that read "Trabajos Con Justicia/Jobs With Justice."

Until arriving at the march, Jesus had served as the perfect, self-possessed interpreter, clarifying questions and solemnly translating his family's hopes and dreams. As he linked arms with his two teenage cousins, his interest in the interview waned, and he once again became a regular 15-year-old, surreptitiously distancing himself from the adults accompanying him, eager to free from supervision.

"Can you believe this? This is so cool!" Jesus exclaimed, before disappearing into the massive, jubilant crowd. Marie and Adan watched him go with permissive smiles and a gesture for him to call them on his cell phone at their destination.

He responded with an enthusiastic thumbs-up and waved goodbye.

The time for talking was over.