LORENA’S STORY

 

…When I came walking my son got sick. We were in the desert on the border and all night he had a fever. There was no one there who I could ask for help. I wanted to turn back, and forget about it. It is very difficult when your child is sick and you cannot ease his pain. In the morning, the person who was to help me cross the border helped me get some medicine for my son’s ear infection. I still wanted to go back to Mexico.  Then we were in the airport at El Paso.  My son was following these men. It had been awhile since he had seen his father, so he thought these men were possibly his dad. He

started calling to them, “Papa, papa!” So these two men turned to look at my little boy. They were immigration officers. They looked to see who the boy was traveling with and realized it was me. I was detained. My son was hungry.  There was only soda and I didn’t have any water to give him. It was horrible. Horrible.  But, one has to continue. 

 

I phoned my husband in Chicago. We discussed our choices and he urged me to try again. I agreed since I was already there on the border. And so I tried again and I made it across.  My husband came to the US in September, 1976.  I came in February, 1977. After this we were ok for a few years. Then I was arrested at work with another woman. Handcuffed, detained for five hours, and released. 

 

Then came the amnesty. I had these big illusions of applying for my residency. I went to various places that said I could not apply because of my deportation. I know people whose records were worse than mine and were able to apply; but every place I went, I was told not to apply. The time arrived when my daughter who was born here turned 21 and applied for me. It was a slow process—two years without getting an appointment for my fingerprints. Finally, they took my fingerprints.  Then I had to go back so that they could take them gain.

 

I went to the interview. I was asked if I’d ever been arrested. I told them the truth, that yes I had been arrested and deported. They asked me the date. They were unable to find a record on me for that date. They told me that I should pay the $1,000 fine and that they would contact my daughter. I paid the fine and waited to hear from them. Two years passed. In February 2005, I received a letter denying my petition because I had been deported.

 

Today I am scared to go out and get the mail.  It worries me the situation that we are living in right now. There are some people who look at us with distrust. It bothers me a little bit. I understand that some undocumented people have done something wrong—but not all of us. Today I am here. I do not know if I will be tomorrow. I don’t know. I hope in God that there is a solution for people like myself.  Some people make me feel like a criminal.  The only thing that I have done is to make a better life for my family. This has been my only crime. I am conscious of the laws of this country. But I want to know what any other woman would do to be back with her children.  I want you to understand that we did not come here to take jobs from people. Really, we came here to take jobs which many people are too well trained and cannot do.  Also it is not true that we are taking public benefits. I have never used benefits. Three of my children attended private schools. I believe that we are contributing more than we are taking away.

 

(from Interfaith Worker Justice, “For You Were Once a Stranger: Immigration in the U.S. Through the Lens of Faith,”  http://www.iwj.org/template/page.cfm?id=62)