Safety

This is what you’ve prayed for and worked for; a second chance; the American dream. This is “the land of opportunity” where someone can come from another country and become a billionaire, right? Streets paved of gold and I’m here and now I’m free, so now what?

It’s said, “Home is where the heart is,” but in my country, that’s bullshit. “Home is where the” hell is. Women get beat up by their boyfriends or husbands and nobody cares. We can’t own property, we’re not allowed to file for divorce, we’re dogs in a cage.

But, through ingenuity, I escaped. God only knows what they’re doing to the rest of

my family. Can’t think about that; hurts too much.

Need to figure out how to get ahead though. Food’s everywhere here since Americans are idiots. Go in the dumpster, full pizzas, not even touched thrown away, because? Don’t matter to me. You want to throw away your food and money, go ahead. I’ll take it any day of the week. Health care is more complicated. Go in free clinic, but they ask me for ID. I don’t know what that is, so I ask and they say a driver’s license. I don’t have a driver’s license so they send me to the DMV and they want things like a certificate of birth, a passport, and I don’t have any of those things.

They then ask where I’m from and I tell them. So the DMV sends me to the USCIS: The US Citizen and Immigration Services office and I ask about getting a green card so I can get a license. They ask me a bunch of questions and have me fill out forms in my native tongue, and I do that, then they tell me they’ll file my papers and get back to me. I ask get back to me when? They’re not sure. There’s a backlog and a lot of people from my country are trying to get into the USA. No shit. We live in hell. They can’t even give me an estimate. So I ask what I do in the meantime. Can I get a work permit? Not until my green card’s been approved. What the fuck do I do until then? Would I like to speak to a social worker?

Sure. The white lady entered with a smile. She gave the usual American bullshit greetings: “Hi, how are you?”

“How you think I am? I can’t get no job without no driver’ license and I can’t get no driver’s license without no green card and I’m broke and these people are telling me I got to wait God knows how long to get a green card and I got no place to stay, no place to shower, I ain’t got nothing and they’re saying wait. She tells me about churches and other shelters that allow migrants in limbo to stay, but ICE could raid any place at any time, so no where is safe but if ICE comes, tell them you’ve applied for a green card and are in limbo.

Great. So I have to act like a fugitive. I told this lady what the Statue of Liberty says: “Give me your tired, your poor / your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. / Send these / the homeless / tempest-tost to me / I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

The lady told me that was an old wives’ tale, so I asked to speak to these old wives and the lady gave me a puzzled look. She explained it’s a figure of speech. So, I’m walk off to this church this lady be telling me about and there be a lot of people there; different people. People from Venezuela, China, CAR (Central African Republic) and almost everywhere. Some of us spoke the same languages, but most of us didn’t.

The church was nice to me and they did have a volunteer who spoke my language. He said the church would provide me with food, clean water, a shower with supplies, a toothbrush, toothpaste, etc until I could get my green card, but then, I’d be on my own and if I got on my feet, I’d be expected to donate to this church. I could agree to that. Don’t seem to have any other options. I would also need to sleep on the floor, but the church would provide pillows, pillow cases, and sleeping bags.

The other immigrants are ok. They’re not social, but they’re not aggressive either. I get to know the ones who speak my language too. They’re from different countries than I am. I hear their stories. Less aggression in their countries, but more poverty. I tell them about America trash, but they already know.

So, I ask the volunteer how I’ll know if my green card comes through. He says the church has great relations with USCIS and USCIS would call them. I asked, What if ICE raided USCIS and he encouraged me to pray with him.

*

I’m grateful for the shelter and the charity of the church, but after four months, I’m getting cabin fever. Every day I’m looking at the same four walls, the same hues, the same cross, the same people. They’re scared, I’m scared, and we’re praying for the same thing, the church to get our call. What if USCIS lost my file? What if I was denied citizenship and USCIS doesn’t inform the church? At least I’m not in my homeland anymore. This church is better than there.

*

Then, it turns out a friend of the church is willing to foster some of us in their homes. Kind of like the Underground Railroad and I was selected. I’m going to live on a subway?

An old Latino family picked me up from the church at 3:17 am and drove me to their home. It was a one story house with the bedrooms and two-and-a-half baths. They offered me some plantains, some fried chicken, and some water and I asked their names. The man’s name was Jorge and the woman’s name was Mary.