Interview with Cristina, A Migrant in Chicago
Similar themes, but also some surprises
I spoke with Cristina from Mexico (not her real name or country) about her predicament (a real one) recently and she told me some things I had not expected.
For one, she is here with a young daughter who does attend school and is doing very well, learning English and getting a chance to explore her talents in science. Why science? Her mother claims she does not know where that came from, but it’s a great example of why she brought the girl here: to have better opportunities than at home.
Cristina did intend to get “some kind of job” and luckily in Chicago “you don’t need that much English for a basic job.” Cristina says she would like to take classes in English—and in other topics and subjects—but they are at difficult times. She has to be out, accepting gifts of food and money from generous people who are “doing the work of God.”
I have heard this many, many times before. Most English classes are at times that migrants and the homeless and the poor are doing other things. What this means, exactly, is hard to sort out.” However, the theme that the English classes “go on forever” is a common one also. What does it mean? Is a ten-week course too long? How can people learn English in just a few sessions?
English can in fact be taught that way. It is harder work for the teacher, but we do know how to teach important phrases and pronunciation and practice listening to questions, etc., and it demands more than one teacher in the room—and events happening in more than one room. To get enough English into the migrant’s brain takes work for everybody.
So what is the pressing predicament? Cristina did have a work permit, she claims. However, that benefit ended. The work permit issued a year ago has been rescinded. Cristina claims that President Trump has cancelled her work permit. She has to start over again.
She is not stressed out over this reality. Nor is she stressed out over the notion she might be apprehended and sent back to Mexico. But she does not want to go to prison—here or in El Salvador—and she is stressed out about what could happen to her daughter.
My daughter is smart and beautiful. “What if somebody takes her and abuses her? Sells her? Takes her to another place?” she asks. Cristina has heard what happens to young girls whose mothers “get disappeared.”
The daughter is learning English and has good pronunciation. Most of her school day is in English, and she is slowly teaching her mother more words and phrases. They practice English while waiting for cars to drive past with well wishes, cash, and food. They are looking for milk today, and they are happy about the muffins I have brought them. Strawberry cookies and donuts are their favorites. (I make a note of this.)
What is their plan? Have they been hiding from the immigration police? Do they understand their rights if they are detained and questioned? Cristina says she is trying to learn some of the important phrases in English, like “Do you have a signed warrant with our names on it?” Also, she is learning “Please wait while I call my lawyer.”
Cristina says she is fluent in Spanish and a language from her village. She is working hard on English, she claims. She knows other migrants from her country—and other countries—and they are very concerned they will get caught. She is resigned to the reality she may get sent back to Mexico, and she says, “So be it, if that is what God wants.”
She does not really feel it would be the “end of the world” to go home, she says. She wanted to come here to have better opportunities for her daughter—and for herself—but will simply try a different plan. She and her daughter have been here over a year and in September it will be two full years. She does not look forward to another winter in Chicago—the cold weather being hard on her daughter. Cristina says she herself does not mind it so much…. but knows it is distressing to the daughter to deal with so many layers of clothes and not being able to go outdoors much during the worst of the winter.
Another reason she is not against going back home is that her mother is not well. She is diabetic and needs a lot of care. If it is meant for Cristina to return and help her mother, that is of course an acceptable plan.
She feels she is good at taking care of people, and she has practice helping her mother with her health needs and medications. Cristina would love to be a nurse, but “that is a lot of work and study.” She would study toward that, if she got the opportunity “someday,” she mentions.
Cristina and her daughter have a place to live, and they have some “contacts” they can call for rides or emergencies. I tell her that is a great idea, and I remind her of some nearby agencies and churches where there are plenty of speakers of Spanish who can provide a variety of help—and who know of whom to call for the help, if they themselves do not have access to whatever is needed.
Cristina prays each morning when she leaves the house and hopes she remains “invisible” to those who would capture her and arrest her. She understands the risks, and she knows at the same time that to get money and food she must go out and try to find those resources. She says she will survive, and she says she does not know what God has planned for her.
Cristina has not mentioned having a husband or boyfriend—and I have not asked about this. For many reasons, it would be inappropriate to bring up this topic. It may be that one of the reasons she left her home over a year ago was because there was not husband and she suffered from the judgement and comments of neighbors. Again, none of my business.
The fact she and her daughter are seeking resources alone is another example of how many different kinds of “family units” there are among the migrants—and the fact they are from a country other than Venezuelans or Colombians—the two largest groups of Chicago migrants right now comprising the over 53,000 people from that part of the world now found throughout our city.
Does she know many Venezuelans? Does she get along with them? Can she understand them? Cristina says she is often in groups of them seeking resources at a variety of agencies and pantries—and she says everyone gets along.
She says it is not hard to understand Venezuelans, and they can understand her. Sometimes they will surround her and “stick up for her” if people raise any issues. “They can hear from my Spanish I am not Venezuelan,” she says, and she notes that they can communicate with only a few words being different and the big differences being in how people sound. The pronunciation is a give-away, she hints.
Cristina says the Venezuelans are united. However, they do help her. For example, if she is near some Venezuelan couples with children, those people will include her in their group. Waiting for food or other items, the couples “wrap themselves around Cristina and her daughter” as if she were a member of the group. She is protected, especially, if a stray man lingers near Cristina and her daughter. “That guy cannot get near us,” Cristina explains. The Venezuelan men will stand in the way and not let the man near them.
Nothing needs to be said, and the group protects others. Sometimes her daughter will play with the little Venezuelan girls if they have a doll or other toy, and they talk together.
She says she even tries to dress more like Venezuelan women, “with lots of sweaters.”
To outsiders, she says, “it looks like we are part of the Venezuelan group.”
She says she is aware of a general feeling among a lot of the migrants that they do not want to go back to their countries of origin—and certainly not be sent to the concentration-camp like facilities in El Salvador that are constantly in the news. She keeps “working hard” by going to the places where she can hang out and get cash and food. She must pay rent and buy the kinds of things people do not give away.
Another issue is paying her cellphone bill. This and CTA passes are two expensive parts of the world of the migrant (and the homeless and the poor in general).
Those two areas are constantly sucking every dime out of the hands of people who simply cannot afford them—but who also cannot afford not to have them.
They need updates on food pantries, job interviews, info on places giving away gift cards and personal items like shaving cream, razors, toilet paper, and women’s products. They need updates on meetings and health care. Where to get a vaccination for measles or flu? And then how the heck do you get there to make use of that benefit?
Listening to Cristina is a reminder of the power of the human spirit. She talks a great deal of how God will provide, and how it is so important to pray every day. I hope she and her daughter will be okay, and I hope to be able to get back to their “work area” soon to check on them, see what they need, and see how they are meeting their goals.
Although I give them some information like a map of Chicago in Spanish and info on what to do if question by immigration officers, I feel I need to give them so much more—especially good contacts at more agencies.
They will make it, and they will be safe, God willing.