People always told me that money can’t buy happiness, but I never truly experienced what that meant until I met the people of Honduras. The country and the people had an impact on me and on how I see the world. In my interactions with the people and culture of Honduras, among some very challenging living conditions, I was inspired by their love of family, welcoming attitude, and joy of life. For me, Honduras was like a mirror for me to look in and see my own life compared to the Hondurans’. If I brought back one thing with me, it was the desire to be like them in how I face life, love family and friends, and be filled with joy.
Growing up in Honduras was quite an experience. I come from a hard working family where both of my parents went through several obstacles to provide me and my siblings a stable life. Honduras is a country that is consider a third-world country where economy along with delinquency are a big issue, but my parents still manage to provide the sources for me and my other two siblings on what it is necessary. My family and I were affected by organized crime, a day where my life was changed forever. It was a Friday afternoon when my brother and my father were kidnapped, they had left to a soccer game. My mother had made the usual phone call to make sure they had arrived to the place safe, but my mom didn’t get the response she was expecting. With
When Rabbit Howls is a truly powerful account of Trudy Chase’s own life. Facing traumatizing sexual abuse from her own stepfather, Trudy retells her graphic story to psychiatrist Robert A Phillips, Jr., who she calls “Stanley.” Throughout her therapy, Truddi wants Stanley to record their sessions. She asks this as when she had gone to the library to get books about sexual abuse, most of them had been signed out by children. These children were victims of sexual abuse themselves who, according to Truddi, didn’t want to feel like they were alone in their suffering. Truddi realized that she could no longer keep her pain and suffering to herself, so she wanted her sessions documented. By doing this, children and adults would know that they are not
When I lived in Dominican Republic my childhood was the best. I was surrounded of my friends and cousins. I loved to play with them. When a woman got pregnant I always went to her house to help her. When the baby was born I passed the all day in that house with the baby. I remember when I had to take care of a baby by myself. It was a girl and her mother lived next to my house. I remember that I was so existed but at the same time nervous. Take care of a baby it a big responsibility because you don’t want to anything happen to that baby.
I was in an unfamiliar country and yet I’d never felt more at home. For that single week I spent in my country, I met cousins I didn’t know I had, I learned how to cook, and I learned to value the fact that the city always has electricity. I was also able to see where my parents had inherited the strength and resilience they so carefully taught me to have. They exhibited these qualities as I was growing up, when they struggled to pay bills and learn the American way of life. We didn’t know where our next meal was coming from, but, similar to my grandparents, their laughter never ceased and the sounds of merengue never died down.
About four years ago I arrived at Logan airport, Boston Massachusetts. Once the plane landed I felt excited to explore a new country that looked beautiful from the planes window, but I was also confused because everything was different from home and I had no idea where to go. Although I thought that was the hard part, there was way more obstacles coming my way such as language and culture among others which I had to learn fast.
There was not much to do as I grew up in Haiti. I would sit outside for hours until the sun would set, the darkness consuming the little light that once remained. I didn’t know anything besides my house; my mom believed that our safety simply lay inside the house and anything outside was dangerous. Growing up, I didn’t have my father around because he came to the United States in order to provide for his family back home. At the age of seven both my immigration papers and my sister's were finalized, and we were able to finally be with our father. Unfortunately, our mother was not able to come with us. When we got to the airport, I hugged my mother and said goodbye.
I’m able to resonate with a plethora of things, yet the thing I consider my identity is I’m an adopted, Haitian immigrant.
My grandfather asked me “Which one?” I respond “Let’s get this one”. Little did I know that guinea pig was my dinner. Guinea pigs or cuy are not pets but food in Ecuador.When I arrived at the airport it looked like any typical airport, but it felt as if I was in a different world. I remember seeing a whole bunch of random people at the airport. And then this whole group of people is crowding around me and it took me a while to put all the pieces together and I see my brother saying hi to everyone and then I realized holy cow this is my family. On the way to the car I was counting how many people were actually here and I had 6 uncle 's, 6 aunt 's, more than 15 cousins and 4 grandparents. I could not believe my eyes for the first time in eleven years I was with family. The first two weeks living in Ecuador was a challenge.
As years passed, my English got better and my work experience contributed to my mental, personal, emotional and professional growth. Today, I don’t have to repeat what I say and it is ironic that I feel more American than Colombia; especially after I got my U.S citizenship and after I married my U.S Navy Corpsman. It has been almost 12 years on my life in this country and I still feel like I don’t really belong anywhere. Identity is that aspect of your life that is been affected and hard to clarify when you move from one country to another, especially if is during the youth. 4 months I ago, I visited my motherland, I felt home, but my people didn’t see me the same way; family and friends noticed a different accent on me; as we had conversations, I noticed that I needed some of English words to express myself better, I did not feel complicated identified with my Colombian friends’ opinions or some of their views, I did not remember what my favorite mall or restaurant was in Colombia; after that trip, I felt like I lost my original identity while I was in the States. However, there is one thing I realized after so many years, home is where the people we love live.
Many kids do not realize how life is out of the United States. I have experienced a completely new aspect of life outside of an American life into a third world country. Being able to stay there for half of the summer each year as taught me valuable characteristics. The culture experience I had in El Salvador has made me a humble individual, who has become more generous and a thankful person.
[Looking down below as the plane cruise down to land the clouds look like cotton balls with tiny toy buildings peeking out. My stomach was filled with butterflies. I can’t believe it. I am visiting the United States on a work visa with my band. I can’t believe it. As an Antiguan boy I dreamt of visiting the U.S to play my music. Looking out of the plane window I now can see New York skyline. Back home the American vacationers spoke about how tall the skyscraper were but now I can actually see them. They are beyond my imagination. Yell back to Tony.]
I was born and raised in Sierra Leone, Africa. I came to the United States when I was 11 years old. I was happy for the opportunity to come to the United States and go to school. In Sierra Leone, only the rich get to go to school. I worked hard in school, taught myself how to read and write with the help of the Lord. When I started college, the environment became too much for me, I fell into depression. I felt lost, and empty. My grades were suffering. The harder I studied, the more my GPA suffered. I thought about dropping out of school. One day, I got on my knees and started crying, and talking to God. In that moment, I felt at peace with myself. I started fasting, and reading my bible continuously. I fasted for two weeks, at the end of my
With an abrupt rattle and jerk, I was interrupted from my two-and-a-half hour uncomfortable van ride nap. Immediately, my nostrils were flooded with tropical coconuts, bananas, and citruses of nearby vendors and shacks. Drowned out by the rambunctious engines of motorcycle taxis were the passionate greetings of townspeople and the entire community. When I stepped out of the van, the horizon was noticeably stuffed with constant greenery and the humidity was so thick that I could almost chew it. The neighborhood seemed shabby and run-down, yet everyone smiled and treated one another like a big family. Through warm bear hugs and embraces, my four siblings and I had become a part of that Guatemalan family that we had only before had contact through pictures. I immediately recognized my grandma and grandpa from the many stories I was recounted by my parents, and I was introduced to my newly met cousins, who would become my friends for the next two weeks.
In November of 1990, Nancy Yanes’s life changed when she was finally immigrating to America. Nancy, an immigrant from Sayopango, El Salvador, arrived to the US only knowing a few of her family members, with no understanding of the language, and didn’t have any money to support herself on her own. Nancy left behind a life of poverty and crime-ridden neighborhoods to reunite with her parents and younger brother.