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The lives of immigrants
The lives of immigrants
A life as immigrants
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It was just a normal day. I was living at home with only me, John, and my mom. My dad had died trying to protect the village from a wild animal from the forest. My mom wanted me to go to the market and get some food. So I did. As I made it to the market I could see all of the things being traded. I went to were the food was being traded and traded some stuff for some food. As returned home I noticed a couple of strange voices I didn’t notice. I walked into the house. It got dead silent. Then all last I heard were gunshots until everything went black. I woke up with the biggest headache I’ve ever had before. I realized I had never been to the place where I was. I also noticed that there were a lot of people here with me. We all looked slightly …show more content…
up to see a person who said “You either start marching or get shot.” So we did as we were told and started marching. As we marched I saw that we were headed towards a boat. As we reached the boat the same guy who told us to march to the boat lead us to the area we would be held in. We were held in this very cramped room with only one or two buckets. Luckily I was one of the people who were near the bucket, hower it smelled horrible after a couple of days. I was pretty sure some people near the back of the room were just pooping were they were standing because of how far away from the bucket they were. It smelled horrible especially when it was a hot or rainy day. A Lot of people had died on are way here. Whether it was from a disease or gunshot. Most of us stood there or layed down because we didn’t want to die. Some wanted to take over the ship and get back to their families, but only ended up with a bullet in there head. The sailors also started wiping us so we would be be active, but it only made things worse when it hit someone. Their skin would come off and get infected because of all of the filth on the ground. I was very worried at what happened back at home.
One million things rushed through my head every time I thought about it. What if she’s still alive or what if those gunshots were aimed at her. Either way I knew there was a very slim chance of getting back home. I was horrified at what might happen next on this boat. The boat stopped for some reason. We almost all hoped it was land. About a minute or two later a sailor told us that we had made it and that we could leave this horrible room. If I could take a guess on how many people died on the way here I’d say around twenty to thirty. We all made are way out of the boat to see a big feast of food. We all thought it was a bit fishy but we still ate. A sailor came around with a branding iron. We wonder what he was doing with it untill he used it on a slave. He was screaming in pain. One slave tried to run of but they caught him then used it on him too. Everyone was in pain after the day then we all set up camp. We were all being sold of to different places. I was sold for $150 to a farm. I worked on the farm for a couple of days working and working. I had a surprisingly nice owner. he didn’t treat me horribly, however I was very sad to know I was never going to see my mother again. Then I came up with a plan. A plan to
escape. At somewhere around 2 A.M. my owner was sleeping so I decided to move. I made my way through the forest hoping to go to somewhere be where I was. As I was running I started to hear gunshots. I ran and ran until BOOM a bullet went right by my head. BOOM BOOM more bullets flew by. The BOOM it hit me in the head.
It was almost dark when the man said maybe some flying fish will jump in our boat for us to eat. Phillip didn’t like the idea of eating raw fish but he was hungry. The next day Phillip woke up and his eyes were blurry he hey there’s something wrong with my eyes. So the man took a wet towel and put it on his head it started to get better. Then Phillip fell back asleep and when he woke up it was dark. Phillip screamed what time is it the man said ten then Phillip its nighttime right the man laughed no its morning. Phillip screamed I’m blind the man was shocked he said here look at the sun, and he pointed Phillip to the sun Phillip said its still dark. During that night he asked what his name is the man said my name is Timothy. Phillip said do you have a last name the man said no Phillip was shocked at this then Timothy said lets get some sleep we have a long day tomorrow.
I am an chinese and mexican american. You might think those are the best mixes of race you can get but you are truly wrong? Growing up in a small farm town in the outskirts of San Diego I truly wish I was white like the rest of the kids at my school. For the hardships I have faced with race discrimination I am truly ashamed of being the color and human genetics I have.
Hate, shame, and guilt are the emotions I internalized for fourteen years of my life as a result of crossing the border illegally. An event that brought me face-to-face with death and was detrimental to my life since the age of eight. A traumatic experience that has placed me in the hands of therapy sessions and antidepressants to strengthen my emotional stability.
I hear the crunch under my feet and the smell of the salt in the air. I hear the waves crashing and see the boat coming. With my entire Junior Lifeguard group we jogged towards the south side shore of Seal Beach. The first half of my group had already gone to do boat drops, but it was my turn now. My instructor Jeremy was with us and we were getting ready to swim out to the length of tower zero. As I waded into the water I could feel the shock of the cool, crisp wind blowing against it. Once we got out to tower zero I could see the boat nearing. We floated in the chopping water as the boat was getting ready to help us in. One at a time the lifeguards on the boat would tell us to put our back to the swim step and give them our hands, which were
Immigration is undoubtedly the root cause for our diverse population. There are factors that contribute to the act of immigration from one’s native country to a foreign country. Factors that contribute to this consist of obtaining a better life for one’s family and acquiring better living circumstances. My family’ immigration story is based on just that. My personal immigration story dates back to the mid 1900’s. A section of my family immigrated to this country as a result of the bracero program. The term bracero can be defined as manual laborer. Author Schaefer (2015) notes that more than 80,000 Mexican nationals were brought in as braceros to grow and harvest crops. My great-grandfather on my father’s side of the family took part in the
The waters were rushing into The submarine. Flashes of red lights went off signaling the people in the submarine were in danger. The submarine shook the helmsman tried to stop the water from entering only for another side of the submarine to crack and more water to rush in. A mother grabbed her child and held him close since she was terrified and was beginning to realize death was upon them. Everyone froze in complete an utter fear when they heard a voice say “I’m coming for you all!” The helmsman shouted “I am not afraid of you! Show yourself!” Then suddenly more water rushed in and a great fog was down in the remaining of the clear submarine. Many screams were
At a young age, my teachers and parents taught me to believe that I could do and accomplish anything that I set my mind to. I grew up thinking that I was unstoppable and that the only limit to my achievements was the sky. However, during my second year in high school, I began to realize that I was not as unstoppable as I had thought. I began to experience the consequences of my parent’s decision of bringing me to the United States illegally. Among those consequences were, not being able to apply for a job, obtain a driver’s license or take advantage of the dual enrollment program at my high school, simply because I did not possess a social security number. I remember thinking that all of my hard work was in vain and that I was not going to
Language can sometimes make us feel not resembled. As it was written on the original piece, Elizabeth didn't like to speak Chinese because it made her feel uncomfortable and sounded ugly to her. I can relate to the author because I am a Cuban immigrant that struggles with the language. I came to the United States when I was thirteen years and was placed on a 8th grade classroom on middle school. I used to be the girl at the end of the classroom who did not have friends and never talked to anyone. It was frustrating that every time I opened my mouth to say a word everybody would laugh at me and make cruel jokes about my little English. I can say that within a couple of months I understood most of the English that was spoken in front of me,
I was born with a unilateral cleft lip and palate, this was devastating for my parents who had no idea of what was to come: years of rushing to doctor appointments, taking loans out for surgeries, having to see me being picked apart by my appearance, helping me recover from every operation, it was a burden most parents would never have to deal with. The pain of looking different was a big mountain to climb, I struggled for years with feelings of inadequacy and trying to get my physical appearance align with what was inside. Yet the NYU Langone medical center saved me. In the waiting room, I would meet many children with cleft disfigurations just like me, I was able to connect with them through the NYU medical center. It facilitated our sense of belonging, my parents were told this was the best place in the world to go for treatment. I first entered its doors as an infant, Dr. Cutting
No one else except for my friend sitting next to me seemed to notice that the raft in front of us was stopped. As we got closer we heard them shouting something, but no one could understand them over the sound of the water clashing against the rocks. We kept approaching, getting closer and closer, and out of nowhere we saw something bobbing up and down in the water – all I could tell was that it was bright orange. It only took a few seconds to realize that it was someone holding onto their life jacket was latched on a rock, and right behind him was a small waterfall that was trying to suck him in. We got closer and I realized that I would be closest to him as we passed, but I would not be able to reach him with my arms. I reached out as far as I could with my paddle, yelling at him to grab it. I was not even the one in the water, and yet it was still one of the scariest moments of my life when he let go of the life jack in order to reach for my paddle. He grabbed it as tightly as he could and my friend next to me helped me pull him in. Everyone else was trying to slow down the raft so that he could get pulled in before we went down the waterfall, and thankfully, due to everyone’s straining effort, we were able to accomplish just that. The look of relief on his face said it all,
Our routine was the same every day, wake up, shower, get ready, eat, do chores and finally go to bed. The orphanage was a government funded shelter located in Auschwitz, across from what I called the “forbidden dungeon” which in other words was the mental institution. I remember looking out the window of my room from the top of my bunk watching the the buliding for hours as if it there was something connecting me to it, as if something was calling me from the inside. It was a dark place, there were no windows only barbed fences, the grass never grew and the doors never opened yet there was a weird sensation I would get every time I went close to the humongous gates with the devil gargoyles sitting on top. I was very young and caught up in my own world of sorrow to pay heed to those sensations especially with all the things that would happen to the kids within the orphanage. Every year a child would go missing never to be heard or talked of again, as if they never existed, this time I was the target. I’ll never forget that day in June and how it changed my life
My grandparents were born in Mexico. My whole family was born in Mexico They were poor they didn't have money and they lived in a small house. They were not happy. They had 10 kids 2 of them died when they were 12 years old.. My grandparents’ jobs were being a farmer they had to hunt animals for dinner. Their language is spanish. My grandparent’s are stills alive that is good news. My parents are from Mexico. My parents are wealthy people. They were poor in Mexico that is why they came to the United States to raise a family.
I could feel the boat underneath, being pulled down into the watery nightmare, as the boat begins to fill with water, just like a bathtub, covering my lower body. There was a hole at the right hand side of the boat, about 3 inches in diameter, increasing in size as the waves continue to tease, and my boat continues to creak. I pulled my hand out and touched the deadly water, waiting for it to pull me in, since there was absolutely no use for the boat anymore. The world rushes by in a blur, I held my breath, shut my eyes, and fell back. My blood felt frozen in my veins, and my skin was rough, filled with goosebumps. “Cold water is the most efficient thief of heat.” I thought. Every cell in my body was screaming for oxygen, as my legs struggled, attempting to reach the speckled surface. I was drowning. It wasn’t loud, splashy, and dramatic, like the movies, my movements were more subtle and quiet, but I knew I was getting closer to death. I let the salty substance take over my body, until I felt a sleek, rubbery texture take me up to the surface, and I was suddenly filled with hope
I stood on the firm sidewalk with a pink suitcase in my hands. Puzzled, I stared at the beautiful, white, house in front of me. Large windows and a big front porch stared at me. I was completely afraid of what was about to happen to my seemingly perfect life. I remember standing there, feeling as if my body was frozen. I couldn’t seem to pick my feet up and join my mom and dad at the front porch. I saw my mom wave at me to come inside. As I start to walk, I remember seeing my two brothers come out of the car, as well as, two other familiar faces. Everything at this point didn’t make much sense to me, but I just did as I was told and walked. I meet my brothers and two cousins at the door. My mom is smiling from ear-to-ear. All I could think
My mother was taking care of me, and my three other siblings all alone by herself. When my father was living my mother only had one job, but now she had to work more. She had a massive impact on our lives by making sure we had everything we needed. Because I was the oldest of my siblings, I felt like I was a parent. At just eight years old, I had to skip school just to make sure my siblings had someone to look after them while my mother worked. I was obligated to feed them, give them baths, and put clothes on them. It was very difficult, but I knew my mother had to pay bills, and take care of us and herself, so I knew she couldn’t afford a babysitter. When times got very tough, my mom would get stressed out and take it out on us by throwing tantrums, hollering at us and beating on us. I didn’t have a choice but to encourage my mother, and be the one to push her to not give