Green Card and Other Realities
By
Sabella Ogbobode Abidde
Sabidde@yahoo.com
Before coming to the United States of America no
one told you “life is hard in Yankee.” I bet no one told you. And even
if someone had told you, you wouldn’t have believed his or her
counsel. Would you? Indeed for the vast majority of Africans, no one
told us the truth about how difficult, complex and discouraging life
in this country can be. No one told of how America messes with
people’s mind. No one told us how this country tests ones faith. Of
how this country can transform one’s essence, for good or for bad.
We are willing to sell our soul to come to this
country. We are willing to fake this or that document to come to this
country. We are willing to commit slight or significant transgressions
to come to this country. We are willing to leave our familiar lives
for the unknown in America. And those of us who were “somebody” in our
departing countries are willing to come to America and start afresh as
“nobody.” The pull of this country is so great that the vast majority
can’t think of a life without living in the United States.
A medical doctor in Lesotho would rather come to
America to be a Certified Nursing Assistant; a Togolese trained lawyer
would rather come to America to be a paralegal; a Ghanaian trained
bank manager would rather come to America to be a grocery store clerk
or security officer; a Namibian trained geologist would rather come to
America to be a gas station attendant. A Nigerian lady would rather
come to America to marry her dish-washing lover rather than marry a
promising civil servant based in Akure or Enugu. Such is the lure and
allure of America that twenty percent or more of the continent’s
population would migrate to the US if allowed.
People come to America for different reasons. We
succumb to different pull-push factors that include religious or
ethnic persecution or displacement as a result of war or natural
disasters. Some came because of the possibility of better education,
employment and economic stability. Some came because their home
countries offered no hope for a better tomorrow. And indeed, the
reasons for migration are endless. But unfortunately, most of us leave
home without knowing what we are getting ourselves into; all we know
is that there must be a “better life yonder.”
Whether one fails or succeeds depends on several
factors, and some of these factors are, for the most part, completely
beyond ones control. There are those who have tried and tried and
tried without success or success came at a painfully slow pace --
while some seems to have the golden-touch, especially in the
acquisition of the Alien Registration Card (popularly known as the
Greencard). Life in America without a Greencard? Ha!
I have witnessed grown men weep over Greencard. I
have witnessed grown men and women lose their minds after being turned
down by the immigration services. I have witnessed men and women, who
are otherwise intelligent and rational, do the unthinkable over
Greencard. The Greencard process is akin to going to war: you must
“know thy enemy,” you must have a strategy, you must be patient and at
the same time be aggressive; and by all means there must be no
paper-error during the entire process. All supporting documentations
must be “clean and clear,” and submitted in a timely manner.
There are those who stroll into the United States
of America with Greencard in their possession, i.e. the so-called
greencard lottery winners. How fortunate they must be! While a great
many Africans have to suffer through years of immigration palaver,
these lottery winners just stroll into the country as though they own
America. How lucky they must be not to have to go through some of the
indignities and iniquities that are associated with the process.
You weep when the immigration officers rejects
your application. You weep when the officer tells you “you will be
investigated.” You shiver when the officer tells you your papers are
not in order. You weep when your significant other refuses to show up
for the joint interview. You weep when within a few days or weeks
before the interview your significant other tells you he/she has had a
change of mind or that he/she suspects you are “no good and of no
use.” You weep when things that ought not to go wrong go abysmally
wrong. And you die a dozen times when you get a deportation order.
In such moments you pray for seven days and seven
nights. You remember all the sins you’ve committed and then go to
confession. You fast for forty days and forty nights. You give
offerings and pray for INS-mercy. Most people will suddenly become
born-again Christians and at the same time send messages to their
folks back home to consult with the Imam, the Babalawo or the head of
their alternate religious faith for fortune to smile on them. They
will give to God and to the gods and to Caesar. Whatever it takes
folks; whatever it takes! War is war and you go to war with whatever
you have!
I have no qualms offending God. I really don’t;
but to offend the tax office, the police, or the immigration folks?
Please don’t! That would be suicidal. No matter what you do, please be
honest with those folks. Otherwise, they will turn your life upside
down. They will make your life a living hell. Yet, they also could be
your best friends. And in fact, make them your best friend. To start
with, no tax frauds; no trying to outmaneuver the immigration folks;
and no drugs, no credit card or insurance fraud or other prosecutable
offenses. And by God, do whatever it takes to stay away from child
support mess; otherwise, your life will be on hold for 17-years, as
month after month, year after year 20-35% of your net income will be
withheld.
Some of the newly arrived Africans are taken
aback by the concept of tax and other deductions. A few will resist
the idea of going to work on Saturday and Sunday and on public
holidays; but with time, most will beg to work on such days. Ha, the
power of the dollars! And then there are those things most Africans
back in Africa take for granted, for instance, how to talk to and
interact with women in the workplace without running afoul of sexual
harassment laws; and when to stop when a woman says “stop!” even in
the heat of passion, without running afoul of rape laws.
Before the end of your sojourn in this country --
be it five, ten, fifteen or twenty years be sure to acquire an
American education. If you are into the social science, be sure to
earn at least a master’s degree or its equivalent. Otherwise, get a
marketable technical skill or natural/hard science education.
And please stay away from driving cabs unless of
course you absolutely have to (in times of financial crisis). Why?
Because driving cab is one of the most addictive jobs there is in this
country. Yes, some cabdrivers own the cab they drive or own a fleet of
cars and are therefore businessmen. They have the money and live a
comfortable life. Generally speaking however, a good number of those
who drive cabs will keep at it for upward of ten or more years without
evidence of financial mobility. Most cab drivers will tell you they
have a master’s degree in this or that field and yet seem stuck
driving cabs. It is a dead-ender.
Don’t get stuck with life. Don’t get stuck in or
with anything. Live a wonderful life. And please remember not to live
and die in America. “But of course, not everybody cares about how and
where they die; not everybody cares whether they die amongst strangers
or among loving faces; not everybody care whether they die in a stormy
weather or atop a mountain. Death is death. But to the extent that you
care, it is better to die among friends and family. If you lived all
your productive life in this country, you are likely to end up in a
nursing home amongst strangers; you are likely to die alone and lonely
and be buried in a cemetery with unknown ghostly faces. Even the earth
and the worms and the moisture will wonder about you. You will not be
acknowledged. You will not be celebrated. Your life would have been in
vain, meaningless. So, please die an African death…with dignity.”