April 15-2005:
Coming To America!
This is an attempt to re-capture my formative years as a child growing up in British Guiana, my entrance into the world of work; my spate of service in The Guyana National Service Institution, Trade Union Activism & eventual emigration to The U.S.A.
I was born a raised in Charlestown. Georgetown, Demerara. British Guiana. Son of Ms. Enid Patricia Griffith. As a child I attended The Carmel R.C. School up to fifth standard, then left to enter the job market. This decision was taken after deliberation within myself, based on the harsh realities at home for survival.
We were very poor, my mother struggled without a male (father figure) to support us financially. You see, I was the only male out of five children, Patricia (the eldest), Derryck (that's me), Valerie, Eulyn & Eileen Griffith. We were all conceived 'out-of-wedlock.'
I was told on several occasions by my mother that my father disappeared when I was at the tender age of three. He left one day after visiting my mother to return to take me to see a 'cricket match' at the local stadium, but never came back since!
I left Primary School at 16, and sought employment with The Guiana Lithographic Co. Ltd. It was one of The Booker Group of Industries in the colony of Guiana. This was a printing & box-making business that catered primarily to the Service Oriented Industries. There I worked as an 'In House Office Boy/Messenger' for a weekly wage of $11.25 cents per week. (8 hours per day).
I started in June-1963 to January 1975. I became a victim of Structural Re-organization; which the company claimed to be necessary, as result of rising overheads & declining demand for it's services locally and abroad.
Pollard's Govt. Aided Self-help Housing Group:
"Meadow Brook Gardens."
This was a period in my life that today is still very painful to talk about, much less write about. But it must be written, and it can only be written by me, for I am the only survivor of that experience capable of explaining it, because I was personally involved throughout the entire project!
Sometime in the 1960's my mother who was a member of a group of individuals that wanted to own their own home, was eventually given the opportunity to realize it from the then PNC government headed by Prime Minister L.F.S.Burhnam.
This Housing Project was one of several that was implemented by the government, to aid poor people in attaining homes with State assistance. This concept was called the 'self-help' or co-operative approach for building homes. Several groups were called in, lands were identified for each group to build houses on, accompanied by a government Supervisor/organizer for official guidance & supervision of building materials.
We were called 'Self-helpers' & toiled days & nights for over two years in the building process. The work was dreadfully hard for me as a child. My Mom had to fool the authorities about my age (because minors) were not allowed to help in the building of these homes. I suppose several members of our group knew that I was under-age, but no one 'snitched.'
We were all poor people, and desperate to have a home to call our own! In the rainy days & nights that followed, fighting the mosquitoes & gnats and coping with the flooded lands that we were given to build on, we toiled relentlessly until it's completion.
The going was very rough for the women especially among us. The men often made them feel in-adequate by saying they were not pulling their weight, and the men had the BRUNT of the work to shoulder. The supervisor in his capacity as overseer, then would try to pacify these contentions as he sees fit, by encouraging UNITY and comraderie among us. This helped greatly to alleviate many quarells from getting out of hand or physical.
Our homes were eventually completed in 1978, the keys handed to each resident at a Total Cost then of $3 to 4,000.00 dollars per Unit. Payable in monthly installments of $25.00 dollars to The Ministry Of Housing, (Housing Dept). We moved in, all five of us.
My Mom (Enid, me, Valerie, Eulyn & Eileen),with the exception of my eldest sister Patricia, who was by then already married & living with her husband in Kitty Village, Newtown Georgetown. My mom became ill some time afterwards from a heart condition & subsequently died.
The burden of paying the monthly/rental payments fell upon me now. Before my mother died though, she never really liked being there. She complained that it was too far for her to get to, and it encroached upon her ability to continue puntering-gambling at the local 'horse-race betting shop.
So shortly after moving in, she deliberately stayed away at her friend's home (as she referred), to be able to get personal help with her illness.
Incidentally, this friend of hers "never gave us a dime" to assist me or anyone of us with the burial of my mother, (her so-called friend)!
I worked at several jobs subsequently, for example, The Ministry Of Information & Culture: The General Post Office: J.P.Santos (a private business enterprise): The Guyana National Service, and finally The National Insurance Scheme from 1977 to 1989. During my years of employment I tried to gain as much knowledge as was available to me. I did a one year stint at The University Of Guyana (Soc. 100) Sociology & Political Philosophy.
Attended several training courses sponsored by The Guyana T.U.C. (Trades Union Council); because I was also an ardent representative of workers rights/shop steward, rising to the level of 'Branch Secretary of The Amalgamated Transport & General Worker's Union, (A.T.&.G.W.U.) at the NIS Branch. I left Guyana on April-30-1989 to attend A Leadership Training Course at The George Meany Training Center, in Silver Spring, Maryland. Virginia. This was intended to be for the month of May-1989. But at the conclusion of this exercise, I remained here in America!
My Travel Visa:
The travel visa that I was issued with from the American Embassy in Barbados, in-transit to the U.S.A. allowed me to stay in America for only 'one month.' There was no work permit or extension allowed at completion, but a proviso that I should return to Guyana & serve my country or Trade Union for at least three years, before I can re-apply for a return visa to America to reside (if I so wish). Therefore, after over staying-violating my visa conditions, I automatically became illegal or (un-documented).
After which I sought legal advice & representation since 1994, and is still awaiting The Federal Government's approval for legal residence/Green Card Status! This process may take years to unfold, because America's foreign policies differ from country to country in relation to emigration quotas. Presently, under the National Security/Terrorist Act of 2002 it has become much more difficult to attain this status. With the new regulations of checks & counter-checks; targeted countries as Terrorist Havens, these regulations are being enforced, sometimes with impunity.
Coming To New York:
Growing up in Guyana, we are led to believe by most of our relatives abroad, that they would help us upon arrival in America or anywhere else for that matter. We are led to believe that we could count on them to assist family in times of dire need, because we are family, & family is supposed to help each other out at these times. Well, that's a fallacy for many of us, because reality very often contradicts this view.
I left Guyana after suffering emotionally, psychologically & mentally from the lack of socio-economic opportunities available to most Guyanese. Living in a depressing and mis-managed economy, coupled with political strife, and petty political squabbles indulged by our political leaders is the reality of life back home. One would expect that relatives who escaped this harsh reality would extend themselves to those left behind, whose ability to escape a similar fate is questionable, but obviously this is not the experience of most of us who encounter our relatives upon arrival in the land of opportunity.
I sought help in a form of accommodation from an acquaintance who was living on Long Island at the time. I moved in with my acquaintances shortly thereafter, and stayed for over two years. Eventually my friend complained that the burden of supporting me was becoming too much for her to bear and indicated that I should seek alternative accommodation.
This situation was hinged upon the fact that I was encouraged to go 'shop lifting' with her relatives, and when I voiced objection, I was spurned, rebuked & insulted, and threatened with eviction from their home. It is important to note that I resided under what one might call oppressive conditions.
A few of the house rules included the fact that I was not allowed to return after midnight, as well as the fact that I was not allowed to receive visitors or friends. Albeit, I was un-documented, (illegal) in this country, with no job or prospects, so how could my fate be different given my circumstances? It is really amazing that the human conditions one can live through, void of options!
Realizing that I was totally alone in this situation, desperate & homeless with no place to turn, I mustered all the internal strength and resolve that was necessary, and told myself that it is now 'do or die.'
I had no intention of returning home to Guyana anytime soon. Primarily, I would be given another visa, I would lack the financial means it would require to return. I refused to allow myself to even remotely consider the possibility of wasting this opportunity of landing in America.
I was faced with the harsh reality of survival at any cost, so I took action. I was offered false documents from underground (illegal) sources for a considerable amount of American dollars. With this new identity I was able to temporarily seek employment, but was always fearful of being caught at anytime by the authorities. This cat & mouse game continued for some time.
Being the product of a family that were law abiding people, who were respectful of the law & authorities, I harbored a great deal of guilt, shame and fear about getting caught at anytime. Reality be told, this perception of fear was merely a figment of my imagination, as no one ever approached me about my status!
The Tribulations Of The Un-documented:
Being an un-documented person in America today could be a nightmare for anyone. The present Patriot Act. of 2002 gives The Immigration & Naturalization Department lots of power to arrest, detain and deport any un-documented foreigner without access to an attorney. They can be held indefinitely for long periods of time in 'A Detention Center' without access to an attorney, because under this law they have "no legal rights.'
If you test positive for HIV, the only medical help available to you is The Emergency Medical Unit at a Public Hospital. No prescription drugs are covered, or doctor's fees. Families invariably will not be inclined to keep you in their homes for fear that when you eventually become incapacitated, the bills will have to be paid by them. this is a serious matter as you the unfortunate individual find yourself in a position where you cannot seek employment because you are illegal.
Therefore, you are unable to contribute to or provide for your up-keep. My Caribbean/Central & South American brothers and sisters are being infected with HIV/AIDS disease at a colossal rate, primarily through ignorance, (lack of knowledge), cultural, language barriers, social & religious stigma, as well as fear of accessing preventive services and counseling.
This is the reality of life in America today for any illegal individual. I have sworn to voluntarily contribute my experiences and abilities, in helping to advocate for and on behalf of people living with HIV/AIDS and their families. This I started doing since 1997 in New York City, and the outer borroughs.
This activity involves lobby visits to Legislators, Congressmen/women in the NY State & US Senate. It is my belief that we all have a role to play in the process of making sure that there is equity among the laws, regulations and policies that impacts the lives of all peoples.
It is important to state that there are thousands of Guyanese living in America that are legal residents, but for some reason are not inclined to become citizens. They are missing out on all benefits that citizens and naturalized aliens are entitled to. Their status renders them incapable of assisting all Caribbean People Of Color, from acquiring the political representation at the Polls, because without citizenship you cannot vote.
This situation is chronic among Caribbean & African nationals alike. They come to America, live for years, accumulate property, but seem satisfied with this precarious situation. That is why we do not have the political 'CLOUT' that is necessary to make things happen for our populations.
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Derryck S.Griffith.
Educator-Advocate & Blogger.
http://my.opera.com/BringBaka/
E-mail:derryck.grifith@gmail.com
and derryck@myway.com
PS: Whatever The Human Mind Can Conceive & Believe, Can Be Achieved!
