Immigrant Musings
Angelika Yesterday my first English course ended with a celebration. Since 95% of the course participants were Latin Americans, it was quite a party! We danced to hot rhythms and nobody stayed seated. The course had not only helped me to learn English, but I also learned a lot about other countries and what life is like as an immigrant in the USA. To give you a small sample of what we did in the course, I'm sending you two texts that were published in our college newspaper. We had the task to write about our dreams. One text is from me and one from a classmate from Nicaragua. Maria's text also shows well how life can be here as an immigrant and with what different experiences and ideas everyone comes to the USA.
My Dream -- by Maria B.
A 15 year-old dating a U.S. citizien in Nicaragua? Oh, yes! How we dream when we are 15! I had a yellow moon, shining stars and red hearts. I had a marriage, a white picket fence, a pink and blue pastel-colored home, some children, all the necessities of life. It didn't matter where -- here in the US or in Nicaragua. I had the perfect, loving, hard-working husband, the perfect, well-cared-for house, the perfect income, the perfect children -- and the perfect me: the wife, mother, housekeeper. Yes, everything! ... A dream ... Well! I got married to that old windbag, had two children. After a lot of trouble, I found out my mother-in-law did not like the idea of what had already happened with her son (a 48 year-old by this time). Well, no step back! He brought us to San Francisco -- two baby girls and me. By this time I was nearly 18. My first address was his mother's house. It was pure hell: a possessive mother who did not have one millimeter of desire to share her son with anyone and the man who enjoyed every bit of this relationship and the situation that brought such disastrous consequences to my children and me, because this man cared more about his egocentrism than the family he had created. My children and I almost drowned in the rage of jealousy and selfishness of these two people. Well, today -- 20 years later -- my children are alive, married, each one with two children. My daughter and I are still dealing with the painful consequences of the past. It seperates us; and, as a result I cannot see my grandchildren. Today my pain has been eased by the death of the mother-in-law and the adulthood of my children and the relief of having done the best I could. Well, as for me, I will grow. Now I have come into a new era of life. I'm taking classes in Introduction to Computers and English as a second language, and I'm finishing my General Education Degree, which I'm about to get.
And here's my text:
My Dream -- by Angelika Schilli
Thinking about a very special dream of mine, a lot of different things come to my mind; for example, to live in an old Victorian house at the beach, to study medicine, to write a famous book or to be a popular photographer. Although some of these dreams are very unrealistic, it is good to have them, because perhaps some day a dream will come true. You never know. So I like to play with my imagination; for example, if I go to the beach, I'll look for a niece place for my dream house. If I read a book, I'll think about my own book. But most of all, I want to be a photographer. I love to take pictures, so you often see me with a camera wandering around and looking for a good subject. It's the play of the light and the colors that are fascinating to me. In my opinion, a picture tells you a lot about the feelings of the person who took the picture. That means you can express your feelings with a photo. When I came to San Francisco, the first thing I did was to take pictures of my new neighborhood. I've learned a lot with the help of my camera about my new surroundings. For me, San Francisco is a very good place for photography. It's a colorful city with interesting people and dramatic views. So in a way my dream to be a photographer has come true. I'm not a famous one, but I can enjoy my hobby every day, and the pictures I've taken will always be a memory of my time in San Franciso.