Thursday, August 21, 2014

REFLECTION

The Invisible Poverty of Immigrants

Many of us have been devoted to pastoral work with Hispanic immigrants in the state of Wisconsin, some for over 20 years, and we have come to know a great number of stories and memories which would take too many pages to tell. These are amazing stories of strength, determination and effort in order to build a better future.

The pastoral care of immigrants through Catholic parishes has allowed us to get to know many Hispanic families and their struggles, joys, achievements and, many times, their frustrations. Numerous studies have been published about their social, cultural and economic dynamics, as well as their difficult process of integration to the US society.

But until I had the opportunity to live and work among them, I did not realize something that almost all of these families have in common. I am not referring to their fragile legal situation, or their faith beliefs and traditions, or their cultural identity. It is something common to both those few who have thrived in the US, and the many who struggle every day to feed their families, keep their humble homes and pay their bills, those who sacrifice themselves so that their sons and daughters, one day, may accomplish their dreams in the “country of opportunities.”

When these people crossed the southern border of the US hoping for a better life, both for themselves and especially for their children, they left something paramount behind, on “the other side.”  Something you cannot replicate, as you can do with your favorite dishes, music, clothing or religious devotions. This “something” are people. They left behind their parents and grandparents, their elders.

At any given Sunday, if you walk into a Spanish Mass in the US, you will notice the lack of elderly people in the pews. The Church is filled with young people, children and hardworking adults who toil themselves tirelessly to better the lives of their families. But we hardly find any elders. Where are they? They were left behind, in the towns and villages where our immigrants came from, refusing to risk a journey that made no sense to them, or which they simply couldn’t make. Over and over again we have witnessed the split that divides families as a result of emigration: we see families living in the US that have not seen their elders for five, ten or even twenty years, in spite of the fact that they live a mere 3 hours flight time away from one another.

On the other hand, if you go into Mexico or other countries further south, you will find plenty of elderly people who have not seen their children for decades, with the exception of the opportunities offered nowadays by social networks. Working in towns and communities in these places, we have been able to meet some of these people, and they tell us about the journeys their loved ones once decided to risk in their route to the North. Their parents have not been able to witness their children’s weddings, nor have they ever met their sons and daughters in law, or been able to embrace their grandchildren. We meet mothers who will never be able to stand next to their daughters when they give birth to the children who will make up the next generation, in the same way, on “the other side,” we talk to young adults who know that they will never make it to their parent’s funeral, and children who will grow up without ever meeting their grandparents.

Walking with the Hispanic community of Southeastern Wisconsin, I have met those who risked themselves for a new life in this country, but I have learned to see the emptiness felt by those who are missing. In addition to material poverty due to poor employment, lack of health security or legal status, I have come to know an invisible but real poverty: the absence of the elders.

In any society, elders contribute a great deal to family life. Whether they are our parents, grandparents, uncles and aunties or simply neighbors, they share their life experience and wisdom through their presence among us. They give advice, listen to us, give us a hand or sometimes are simply there in all instances of life, at celebrations, or when we cry or tire because of our daily struggles.

Their absence becomes an additional burden that impoverishes this generation of people who, not that long ago, crossed a border dreaming of a better life. Fighting to make family reunions possible is not just a matter of justice. It is a necessity in order to give stability to millions of families in which the men and women of the future are being born and raised.


Pablo Cirujeda

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