Migrants work hard for the American Dream. Some march to support legislation that would allow them to stay.
Sacrifices make migrant families stronger
Migrant families sacrifice a great deal for the American Dream, but these sacrifices make the migrant families stronger and closer-knit.
Student participants in the Migrant Education News Writing Contest share how their families’ sacrifices have turned to their benefit.
About 100 students competed in this year’s contest. It was very difficult to determine a winner -- particularly from among the top 10 entries. This year’s first-place winner is Sonia Ruiz. Here are all of this year’s winners:
FIRST PLACE ($200): Sonia Ruiz, a junior from Union Gap
SECOND PLACE ($100): Melissa Espinoza, a senior from Wapato
THIRD PLACE ($50): Sandra Martinez, a sophomore from Yakima
FOURTH PLACE ($25): Carlos Estrada, a sophomore from Forks
FIFTH PLACE ($20): Nuvia Chavez, a senior from Selah
SIXTH PLACE ($15): Rosa Picazo, a senior from Sunnyside
SEVENTH PLACE ($10 apiece): Diana Reyes, Yesenia Hernandez, Molina Ibett, Eduardo de la Torre, and Alfonso Guzman.
Some participants wrote their stories in English, some in Spanish, and many mixed the two languages liberally, which is allowed in this contest.
Because some of the students who participate in Migrant Education News Writing Contest may be undocumented, ALL names in the stories printed here have been changed, and the stories are NOT printed in order of their award. Not all the stories could be printed, and some have had to be edited down to fit the space available.
Dad’s death, poverty led to move to U.S.
By Doris López (pseudonymn)
It was a cold, rainy night full of anguish. It was that same night when our yearning, our love and the most important support in the world was taken from our lives, mine and my family's.
That same night, who would have imagined that in the blink of an eye the world would be so different for all my family. That night is so painful to remember because it was such a hard blow for all of us.
My father's death was the reason why my family had to leave and confront the world barefoot.
Within a few days after my father passed away, my family didn’t have anything to eat. My siblings were very hungry, and the only thing we had to eat was a few pieces of very hard bread and beans, the only thing we never ran out of at home.
Things went from bad to worse for my family. My mother couldn't find a job to keep going. Jobs were scarce and also were low paying.
My siblings and I couldn't even attend school due to the lack of money. In order to attend school we had to wear uniforms, and that cost a lot of money. Moreover, it was very difficult for my mother to get enough money because there were five of us, and we were all young children.
That also meant my mother would have to work a lot -- not only for our uniforms but for the school utensils that were very expensive.
She thought a lot and said, “If we use some of the money for school, we won't have enough for food.”
I was only 9 years old. I wasn't old enough to find a job, much less my siblings, who were younger than I.
But I felt a great responsibility because I was the oldest, and I decided to work. I went from store to store looking for a job, but luck didn't seem to be on my side. Nevertheless, I didn't give up until I found a job as a maid. I bore all that an orphan girl had to.
I put up with abuse, humiliation and a lack of respect sometimes. But can you imagine, I just did this for only a few pesos in order to help my family keep going with all the hardships they were suffering.
But I put all that in God's hands -- God who sees all, knows all and can do everything.
I always knew someday luck would be on our side. I always listened to my father when he said that, and I understood something I hadn't appreciated for a long time.
It was early in the morning, I was half asleep when someone urgently knocking at the door startled me. It was my uncle who came to speak with my mother. His voice sounded very worried, which piqued my curiosity. I couldn't help but listened to the conversation he had with my mother.
In a very worried voice he said to her, "Woman, understand there's no future here. Your children need it. You have to go to the other side of the border. That will be the best you can do. You don't have any other option. If you don't leave with your children, they will starve to death.”
That same night I understood that our lives were going to change. I didn't know if it was for better or worse. It was our destiny.
My mother, in great desperation, awoke all my siblings without any explanation. She urged them to prepare a set of clothes; we wouldn’t need anything else. I was very afraid, but I didn't know what to do.
Close to my heart that was beating so furiously hung the crucifix that my father gave to me as a present before his died. I pressed it with humble hands, and it gave me strength to begin to arrange my clothes. And, of course, I didn't want to forget the photo of my father.
All I needed was to have him close to me to be able to have the sufficient courage to support my mother and my siblings, who were the ones who needed it the most.
Once and for all it was the time to leave. We were all ready. My mother entrusted it all to God.
My family traveled in silence in the back of a truck. Another large family also traveled with us. On the way someone began to cry, and then a man with a lantern showed up. I could not see anything but frightened faces, so I grasped the crucifix on my chest.
The truck finally came to a complete stop. We climbed out of the truck onto a dirt road.
We had to follow two guys through a maze of cactus for at least two more days. We didn't have any time to sleep or eat; we had to walk most of the time in order to get where we were supposed to go.
We suffered a lot -- especially my little sisters when they were hungry or they wanted to sleep. Finally all the suffering ended. We had crossed to the other side.
But even though all these sacrifices were great, the hardest part was to come. It was very difficult for my mother to find a job.
School for my siblings and me was extremely difficult. Not being able to understand the language affected us the most. But every sacrifice has its end and its reward. We kept on going.
All our suffering and hardships finally would end, and life would be as fair as it should be.
Thank God my siblings are learning the language with more enthusiasm. My mother has a stable job, although it doesn't pay much. And I continue working hard in order to have a better life.
I love my studies now that I have the opportunity to attend school, and I hope someday to be able to help my mother who has supported us until now.
The truth is that all the sacrifices one as human being has to make serve to open our eyes to the real world and make us stronger.
Mom’s fatal illness brings family to U.S.
By Cristina Flores
With each and every struggle and problem our hopes were renewed. With each and every concern and despair our faith grew. With each challenge we learned to dream again. Through discouragement and defeat we learned to love and care for one another.
Every obstacle brings with it problems, and each problem is a new challenge. Each challenge involves hardships. And with each of these things we have learned that it is possible to keep on going. That it is possible to achieve what one believes to be impossible.
And each obstacle we have faced has made us stronger and more mature.
I grew up in a family of nine --five boys and four girls. In 1985 my mother saw my oldest brother leave for the United States. He didn't know where he was going to live; he didn't know anyone there. Tears were flowing from my mother's eyes when she had to say good-bye to her son.
My brother was sad and fearful because he was leaving his home, the small town called Santa María Asunción. He only carried a few coins in his pocket. With empty hands, he carried a dream in his heart and a hope that someday he would help his family to get ahead.
That same year my mother gave birth to her eighth child -- a girl.
She didn't have a husband to lean on. My father was an alcoholic. Only from time to time did he take care of any family expenses. But my mother always did everything she could to feed my siblings, even with a single “taco.”
Nights came, and with them came a drunk father, ready to beat and to mistreat his wife once more. My siblings, always in fear, learned to protect one another and to find refuge together.
There were times when there wasn't anything to eat, only a hard day-old “tortilla.” And the other children had to sacrifice so the smallest could eat.
I was born in 1990, and the following year my mother had to witness another of her children leaving for the U.S. Looking at the misery my family was living in, my brother decided to leave his family and headed to the United States carrying the illusion of improving his life.
Now there were two who could help my mother with the family expenses. It wasn't easy for both of them to send money to her, though. They didn't make a lot of money, hardly enough to survive. They worked in the fields from dawn to dusk.
But that wasn't the kind of life they really wanted. They longed for something better. They each took their own path, not knowing what destiny awaited them. They only hoped to find what they were looking for.
In the course of time, despite all kinds of challenges, they knew how to keep going, and they obtained all they wanted. And my oldest brother kept helping my mother and siblings to make ends meet.
Then another brother decided to leave, and again my mother had to experience the pain of saying good-bye to a son. But, as all mothers do, she never showed her pain. She always pretended everything was fine.
She always knew what to do in order to give us what we needed. We could be short of food, or not have some other things we wanted ... but we would never yearn for love. It didn't matter what situation we were in, she always showed us her love and affection.
In 2000 a tragedy happened. That year my mother just collapsed. She was out of energy, and our ordeal was just beginning.
Our hope was she would get better, but as time went by she got worse. Eventually we were told she had brain cancer. The Mexican doctors could do nothing for her. We needed more advanced help.
In 2001 my mother, my oldest sister and I decided to come to the U.S., looking for better medical care. It was useless. My mother passed away six months later.
The person who taught us to be who we are now was gone. We lost the one who helped us to grow up with love.
Each one of us looked for a way to console each other. We grew strong and accepted reality. Even though my mother wasn't with us, each one of us extended a hand to help one another. We put into practice what she taught us, taking care of one another in the same way she took care of us.
That was the greatest obstacle we have overcome. Not having our mother at our side, made us grow stronger and more mature. We knew that there was nothing worse that could happen to us. We were ready for whatever life would bring us and what destiny had prepared for us.
My sister and I were under age, and that was the reason my brother took charge of looking after us. We didn't return to Mexico because we knew there was no future for us. We didn't want to live the same life my mother lived.
My siblings in Mexico learned not to commit the same mistake my father did. Each one fought to keep their family going, being a good example for their children.
With the support of my siblings here, my sister in Mexico decided to study nursing, and now she is a nurse. And my sister who came with me is attending the university.
Even though it was difficult in the beginning as we had to adapt ourselves to a new culture, a new language and a whole new life, with the help of everyone, we learned to get ahead.
Now I am almost finished with high school with good grades, and I have the desire to go to the university.
We thank God because he was the one who helped us and the one who gave us the strength to keep going. Without realizing it, he was always in our corner taking care of us and helping us with each step we took. In those moments when we saw only one set of footprints, he was there carrying us.
I know my mother is in heaven with a big smile on her face, because her wish was to someday look at her children all together.
Even though we are not all reunited physically, we are together in our minds, in our souls and in our hearts.
Despite hardships, migrant family keeps dreaming
By Elizabeth Corona
When society doesn't want you to get ahead, it is difficult to be strong. Except for those of us who have always had to be strong.
When you grow up in a family where everyone stops believing and dreaming, being strong isn’t a factor, it becomes a routine.
When you work hard to get somewhere, people decide to take everything away that you earned, and even more. When people call you racist names and expect you to work basically for free, being strong is your only choice.
My family has been overcoming obstacles since before I was born. But their biggest challenge yet was when they decided to set foot on American soil. My father was just a young boy with a big dream, which was to get his family out of poverty.
His family wasn’t poor, they were beyond that. They were living in misery. His siblings and parents lost hope that one day they could eat warm bread, own real toys, and have the farm they always wanted.
His family didn’t dream anymore. They never spoke about going to the "North." They never talked about their living conditions or what the future might hold for them.
My father left home, family and everything he had ever known. He believed his family was just poor, not poverty stricken. He still had hope, dreams and ambitions. When he left everything and everyone behind, he realized it was up to him to change not only his life, but his family’s.
When my father got here, from a long and exhausting, physical and emotional “trip,” little did he realize that “trip” was the easiest part of his journey.
But his arrival was not one with open arms. He faced racism, and everything that comes along with it. It wasn’t as hard finding a job as it was find somewhere warm to sleep. My father never let what other people thought of him stop him from dreaming.
He constantly was looked down on when he made an effort to speak English, because it wasn’t perfect.
Some of his past employers would speak to him as though he didn’t have a soul, a life, a future. In fact they never really spoke to him, they spoke at him.
At times daddy would ask himself, “Is this really worth it? To be treated like an animal without a soul? But he knew if he were to go back, it would not only be a disappointment, but he would be a quitter.
Many didn’t believe he would make it here. He didn’t have anything or anyone. He lived in abandoned cars, migrant cabins, and sometimes in the orchards. He walked for miles at a time to find different work during different seasons. He never gave up looking.
His personality is one of a gladiator. You can knock him off a ladder, and he would just get back up. Although words hurt an enormous amount, none has stopped him from conquering all he has conquered.
He is a very quiet and humble man, speaks when spoken too, yet works when nobody is watching.
My father is a prime example of a migrant who is here to work the jobs that many are unwilling to do. He didn’t care in what conditions he worked, or how much they paid as long as he got some money, because any amount was more that what he had.
Although most of society has tried to knock him down, he never stopped dreaming or thinking of new ambitions. He tells me that our dreams are one of our most valuable assets. It’s something everybody wants, and can never take away from you.
He has done his best to give my family everything he never had, and everything we ever needed. I have learned from just watching him that grace and determination are necessities in order to be a valiant person.
It irritates me to know that many in society want my family and me to leave, just because we are immigrants. Recently, the pending law HR4437 (the law that would label millions, my family included, felons for being immigrants) has strengthened my family and my Hispanic community.
I believe it is healthy for our community to just acknowledge this law, even if it means we will disagree, but acknowledging it will help us grow.
Even though many disagree with me, many such as the “Minutemen” group, all I have to say to those people is, “Sorry, for wanting a better life, sorry for picking all your apples, sorry for the cheap labor, sorry for all we ‘minorities’ do, and sorry for also paying taxes.”
It's strange to know that my great-grandparents, my grandparents and my father have overcome the same problems that I have to overcome today.
Society would like to see my family and me just give up and go back to where we came from. But my father did not go through everything he’s gone through just so he could turn away now.
My journey has just begun, and because of all the obstacles my father has gone through, and all the obstacles I have overcome, my roots are embedded in my ground -- American soil -- deeper then ever. My stem is now stronger, and I am not going anywhere but to the top.
Hard work helped family fix burned home
By Luis Arévalo
Imagine being out in the hot sun crouched on the ground in a strawberry field with a bucket that will end up weighing about 30 pounds. That will earn you $2 to $3.
You have in mind that the money you are making is not going to be for your personal use, but for your family. In other words, you are working with your entire family, making money to survive and fit in with the rest of society.
But you also have in mind that even though you are trying to blend in, you still stick out because you are one of the few kids out in the field of strawberries.
You are working to fill that bucket of strawberries while most of your friends are probably at home or outside playing and having fun. They are not worrying about waking up the next morning at 5 a.m. to prepare themselves for another day of work in the hot sun.
This was the summer of 2006. This was my, or should I say, our family’s summer. We usually have these type of summers, but what made this one different from the rest was a completely different obstacle that changed my view of life forever.
It all began on Dec. 13, 2005, when everything took a turn for the worse. That day seemed like any other day of school. As a matter of fact, it was one of the best days I have ever had because we had a party during one of my classes.
By the end of the day, there was a call for me to go to the school office. I thought that maybe my brother or sister had gotten hurt or something, but when I entered the office, it turned out they were already there.
Once we were seated in the dark gloomy room, I started wondering about all the possibilities for this weird call. Then I noticed, sitting next to the counselor, was one of our neighbors and wondered why she was there.
“We called you guys here because there has been a tragedy,” our neighbor said.
“Nobody is hurt or anything like that, so don’t worry,” the counselor said. We actually had small nervous laughs at this because it was starting to get very serious.
“As it turns out, your mom had gone out of the house … and when she returned home, she saw the house was on fire. She’s fine, but the fire was a complete shock to her, so we want you guys to be supportive and help her get through this.” As soon as I heard this, my mind went numb because it was just a shock to me.
As it turned out, our neighbor was there to take us home. She told us the reason for the talk was so we wouldn’t be shocked when we arrived at our burnt house.
This was our first real house, and we had lived in it for only a couple of months, after working hard that summer to afford it.
Once I saw the house, a sort of relief came over me because I saw the house was still standing and was not completely burnt. The windows were shattered. There were blackened, burned parts of the house. Our belongings were all destroyed, and the wall that separated the dining room from the kitchen was gone.
My father had gone south to fix some other problems, and as soon as he heard about what happened he drove day and night, trying to reach us as fast as he could.
The next day, Dec. 14, we went after school to my aunt’s house, where we were staying. When we got there, we saw my dad had come home.
He didn’t seem shocked, but on the contrary, was very supportive towards my mom.
We asked him what his opinion was, and he told us very calmly, “What else is there to do but get through this. I can’t do anything about the house burning because it already happened. Every day is new, and that’s when we have a chance to change things, but the past is unchangeable.”
Those few words caused the biggest impact that I will ever remember.
Almost five months later, the house was fixed and in better condition than before. Moving in was completely different because we had few belongings, but thanks to many people, the house is starting to look like the home we once had.
The whole incident now lies in the past and in the memory of my mom, who was there at the fire. That summer, the obstacle was an incentive for me to work harder and get back to the old life that we used to have.
MY UNCLE GALDINO'S SHOES
By Beatriz Pérez
Now he doesn't have to sell tamales in the street. Now he doesn't have to make his cars out of maguey leaves. And he doesn't crave for other people's food.
Now he doesn't have to put up with jokes from his classmates. He doesn't have to eat tortillas out of the garbage can. He doesn't have to set up his street stand of “two dozen guarachitos.”
Not any more, because every obstacle has brought him more strength and success.
Motecillos, Hidalgo, México, 1964. The figure of the father no longer remains in the house, only his soul resides. The four pines that he himself planted and watched to grow are still there.
Agustina, my grandmother, was left alone by the murder of her husband, my grandfather Ricardo. But you can still see the shadow of the four pines through the window.
The 6-year-old Galdino, the oldest child, was brought up by his mother. A mother who had to become a father at the same time. She took care of her three daughters and son every day with the sweat of her brow.
While he was at the elementary school, Gardino was serious, but smiled at life and its trials. The thin child with green eyes and straight brown hair didn't have low scores. On the contrary, he usually brought home good grades. He wasn't lacking in intelligence; it was in his nature.
His mother made tamales for Gardino to sell and bring in a little money for food.
Gardino placed the newly made tamales in a cardboard box, and carried it on his back, tied to his shoulders. Each time he would go to sell, he would not forget to wear his hat, an ugly, red, torn one, but a hat nonetheless.
The aroma of the hot tamales reached his nose while he had his hat on.
He used to walk from house to house trying to get the country dwellers to buy them.
One day he approached a maguey plant and stopped. He was pensive, half frozen, and allowed his dreams to extinguish reality. He wanted a toy; he dreamed of a toy car to play with. A little fun, a little joy, a little childhood, a little reality.
He took out a sharp-edged knife, hook shaped, like a sickle. He began cutting maguey leaves. He sat down on the still fresh ground. With his fantasy, he cut pieces of the maguey leaf, creating windows, doors and car tires.
And with a maguey leaf strips he tied the pieces to make a hand-made toy. Made out of desire and hope. The hope that someday he would have his own car.
Galdino got up, leaving his shoe box-sized car on the ground. Took a chalk out of his pocket and marked "1 kilometer, 2 kilometers, 3 kilometers, etc." on the ground with spaces between them.
He stood up on the 1 kilometer mark, looking at the road ahead, and took his hat off to use it as a steering wheel, as if it were a real one. Then, leaning back, he started making a motorcycle sound with his mouth and took off at high speed, running through the pretended kilometers.
At times Galdino craved for other kid's candies and food. He couldn't ask his mother for money; it was just something to dream about. However, desire is stronger than anything else, and when his mother wasn't looking he took a few kilos of corn and sold them.
He didn't do this because he was a thief. He sold them to buy something to calm his craving and the taste of desire.
But his teachers knew his family, and they would suspect and look into how it was possible for him to have that amount of money in his hands. So he decided to dig a hole outside his house and hide most of it, taking as little as necessary.
One day he looked for the hole but couldn't remember exactly where it was because he didn't mark the spot. He never found it again.
So were his childhood days, as tamales street vendor, with his maguey car collection and his cravings.
When Galdino started secondary school he got up at 6:30 a.m., and he walked about 40 minutes to make sure the bus wouldn't leave him behind.
Every day he wore the same set of clothes, combining a shirt with a tie and pants. The uniform was green, like the leaves of the trees. For a poor kid like Galdino one outfit was more than enough.
In his backpack he carried his lunch, only a bean "torta." But that was a lot because other days he didn't have any food at all. On those days “lunch” for him was just a word.
When he went back home from school, he had his life marked with bad memories, and bad jokes. His classmates used to call him “dog,” “cat,’ and “dumb.” And they wrote on his shirt with their ballpoint pens.
He never fought back because his mother had forbidden him to do that. She always would tell him to ignore them, leave them alone and not give them “the evil eye.”
He usually went home downcast. For Agustina and her daughters, it wasn't a surprise to see Galdino in such a condition, but there was nothing they could do. So, his mother washed the uniform every single day.
With the passage of time, the uniform was too small for Galdino. Sometimes it was still wet, even after being ironed. But, it wasn't an excuse not to go to school.
That was the young boy's life, walk to the bus stop, take it and get off at the place where he would endure humiliation. But he accepted the way life, never grumbling, since he believed it was just God's test.
Later, he enrolled in college in Tula, Hidalgo, México. He rented a room from some distant relatives. He had to take care of himself in order to continue his studies.
He often visited his mother in the country. When it was time for him to leave, she gathered the eggs and gave them to him with the little money she managed to save. However, sometimes the eggs and the money was not enough.
There were times when to satisfy his hunger he had to look through the garbage. Most of the time he could only find spoiled and hard tortillas. But he couldn't do anything else. Despite his efforts, his pockets were empty.
He worked in a refinery, for a manufacturer selling machinery, and laters as a private accountant.
He was loved by the people who knew him and those who grew up with him. They admired him for what he had been achieving, for getting where he was without a father to support him.
He was always a kind and gentile person, appreciating his education and what he had, as little as it was.
One day he filled out a Mexican football league betting slip. He won a small amount of money that he saved.
Shortly after he won the lottery. He saved that money, too, and kept working.
Then he bought a piece of land in Atotonilco el Grande, Hidalgo, and built a big house for him and his family.
He then went to Guadalajara, Jalisco, and with the money he had saved he bought two dozen sandals. Back to Atotonilco el Grande, Galdino set up his sandals stand in one of the streets he used to walk down selling the tamales.
He became well-known by the people, and his stand became very popular.
Since his business was doing pretty well, his trips to Guadalajara became more and more frequent. He began riding his bicycle to sell the sandals. He invested all his profits into buying the “guarachitos.”
Eventually he would buy different kinds of shoes, not only sandals. And he didn't have to go to Guadalajara; he just ordered the shoes and borrowed a car from one of his friends to pick up the orders.
The business was such a success that he had to use a wheelbarrow instead of the bicycle in order to carry all his merchandise.
Gardino's business started growing. He met other sales reps from León, Guanajuato, where the main shoe manufacturers are located. He became a sales rep himself.
Finally, Galdino had the money he had craved. The money he had won with the sweat of his brow. A reward for his efforts and humiliatons. The money to buy his own car; not the most expensive one, but his own car.
With time, Galdino, the child, made his dreams come true. The young boy had achieved his goals, and the man became a successful businessman.
And then he bought a brand-new van. It was the toy car of his childhood, the car of his dreams. It brought joy and happiness. It was real!
This was a complete change in his life. No more tamales, nor maguey cars. No more craving for other children's food. No more being called names. No more tortillas out of the garbage can. And no more sandals stand.
Now he is a successful businessman. He runs his own shoe store with pride because it is God's reward for all those trials.
But more than a businessman, he played the role of a father for his three sisters.
He was the main support for his family. He walked the path of humiliation and poverty but he never gave up.
His footprints are deeply imprinted on that path, and my family would never forget his efforts. Galdino is our biggest reason to be proud.
Adapting to American society no easy task
By David González
I remember it well. It was the year 1998. The day I left what I had called home for nine years. With devastation portrayed on our faces, my family and I moved here to Washington in pursuit of “the American Dream.”
We have been here for eight years, and although we have gone through many hardships and obstacles in our “new” life, the unity of our family is what has kept us reaching for that “dream.”
Saying that it was easy to adapt would be a lie on my part. Even though I consider myself a strong person and try my best to be an appropriate role model for my three younger siblings, I have to admit that coping with our new life would prove to be a challenge nonetheless.
I believe all of this was harder on my parents than it was on us. It was their decision to provide us with an opportunity for a better education and a better life, and I am grateful to them for that chance.
Being the oldest, I had to put my anger aside and try to convince my two sisters, Diana and Isabel, that moving here was the best thing we could have done. Telling them they would soon make new friends in school and things would get better each day comforted them for a while and made them want to explore this new life.
My parents were dedicated to giving us the best life they could, and I was dedicated to giving them support and understanding. In the long run, this helped tremendously to keep us united as a strong family. However, there were times in which we would almost give up because of pressure or frustration.
As soon as we had arrived, my parents knew they would have to start working right away in order for us to be able to find a decent place to live in.
At first we lived at the home of my mom’s brother. But when you live in a house with five people already in it, the space one has to inhabit is limited. This is definitely not what my parents had in mind.
A couple of years went by and my parents decided it would be best if we moved somewhere smaller. That year, my mom surprised us with a new member in the family: my brother Kevin.
While others would have thought that a new addition to the family would mean one more mouth to feed and care for, joy and excitement filled our family instead.
It was hard to adapt to a new situation, but when there is love, nothing is impossible. As the years went by, we moved seven times in five years, even to Chicago.
In 2004 we qualified for new apartments the government had built for people of low income. Having my own room never felt so good! We all made an effort to keep the apartment in good condition and followed the management rules as well as we could.
Nine years have passed, and my parents’ hard work has finally paid off. We now live in a house we can call our own. No more worrying about making too much noise, or being able to celebrate a birthday outside without the neighbors complaining.
Knowing it took my parents endless hours of hard work, money that had been saved up for years, and countless amounts of paperwork to be able to continue with our dream, my siblings and I were very proud of my parents.
Now that we have a house, I feel the strength towards staying together keeps coming and is gradually building up. But owning a house was not the only obstacle we had to overcome.
Learning English as a second language was the hardest thing I thought we would go through when coming here. I recall well that not knowing what these foreigners were saying made me feel ashamed of myself, and somewhat embarrassed when I didn’t really know what to say when asked something.
When my sisters and I would get home from school, my parents would see our frustration in our faces. They knew it was because we did not know how to speak and understand English.
My inspiration to learn came when I saw my mom crying one night after she had given us a talk on how everything would be better and how we would learn in no time.
Although I did not mention this to my sisters, I knew everything I did, they copied. I worked hard on my assignments and was certain I could achieve what I put my mind to. In less than two years, my sisters and I had learned English.
My parents, on the other hand, relied on us as their interpreters. It was a small way for us to pay them back, so we did it with pleasure. Overcoming this obstacle permitted us to work together for a better living; my parents did the physical work, while we handled all the social work. Eventually, this would bring us even closer.
As of the summer of 2004, one of my sisters and I started working out in the fields with my mother. I then understood my mother when she would come home and complain of pains she had throughout her body.
Working out in the fields is no easy job, especially during the summer. Sweat dripping from our foreheads and dirt all over was how our days would be, 10 hours straight, six days a week.
My dad works as a mechanical engineer for a fruit company, except he worked more hours than we did.
At the end of each summer, each of us would end up making close to $1,000. We gave all the money to my parents to help them out with the expenses around the house and other things that were necessary.
My sister and I never regretted giving our parents the money because we knew that it would end up being for us. Working out in the fields is how we advanced our lifestyle.
It hasn’t been easy, but nothing really should be. When it is something worth fighting for, that’s when it takes work and determination to achieve it.
Our main goal was to stay together as a family, and overcoming four of what I consider to be the hardest obstacles in our lives is something you can’t put a price on.
I know at times we fought, but if we hadn’t, I don’t think we would be were we are now. Kicking all these stones in our way allowed us to experience many things for the first time. Our unity only grew stronger every time we were faced with a problem. But together we achieved our “American Dream.”