Reflections From A Third World Country
The United States is supposed to be a country that believes in freedom and democracy. But, are these ideals really alive in America? As a third-world immigrant I could not agree more with President Obama's campaign slogan of "change we can believe in". Optimism has largely been replaced by pessimism here in America. The U.S. must recognize the country it once was, because it will never serve as the beacon of hope for others if it has fallen so far.
The way the U.S. once was : the capitalist system worked hand in hand with democratic ideals and a sense of opportunity for all. This is something that many Americans still can not seem to grasp. The bias toward capitalism has reached new heights, yet it continues to be built on a foundation of self-interest by which it continues to be adapted by those who are well off. Regardless of what you may think about politics, you cannot deny that capitalism is one system that works effectively for some groups and not others. The United States once had policies in place that allowed everyone a chance at success and equal opportunity through education, regulation and other factors affecting society's citizens from birth until death.
But, due to the transformation of a country based on an ideology of capitalism, now many people are beginning to have a better understanding of what this all means. The country that once was no longer exists, but it is still very much alive within us all.
How I Came To America [ARTICLE CONTINUED]
My name is Javed Ahmed and I am a third-world immigrant currently living in America. I am here to speak about my experience as a third-world person, as well as to highlight some of the problems that plague our society today. In doing so, I will first begin this article in the past by reflecting upon how I came to America and what led me here after years of struggle.
The year is 1992, and I was born in a village of 50 families located in the northern region of Pakistan. The village was not much different than others of its kind with the exception that it had dirt roads and was located amidst a vast farm land. We worked on farms owned by local landlords who possessed vast land holdings and lived lives of luxury off the backs of others. Our lives centered on working hard in hopes that one day we would have our own farmland to own, as well as live a life free from worry. This was the theme of village life and it was accepted by all.
Not long after I was born my family went from being landless peasants to landowners after my father purchased a farm of his own, which was quite big by local standards. This is where I spent most of my childhood, living with my parents and siblings. I have four sisters, two younger and two older, as well as one younger brother who only lived for nine months before passing away.
My childhood was not much different than that of any other Pakistani boy growing up in the 1980's and early 1990's; spent working in fields, playing with friends and going to school. I had an ordinary life until the events of 9/11 unfolded and changed the world, along with my life as I knew it.
This was a time when America became more involved in world affairs than it ever had. It was a time when the term "terrorism" became part of my vocabulary and I could no longer sit by and watch as others decided my fate for me. This is how I came to America; on an American navy boat based out of Bahrain. I felt like a prisoner on that boat, unsure if this was really happening or if perhaps I was going to wake up from what turned out to be a very long nightmare.
I arrived in Baltimore and had to wait six long months until I would be able to enter the United States. After traveling by bus, train, and plane and in various other modes of transportation, I was finally able to arrive in New York City where I spent another six weeks waiting for a visa to be processed before entering my home country.
America seemed so far away from what I knew of it. It was a land of dreams and hope. A land where people could request citizenship based on their hard work or family wealth alone. A land where anyone with the right amount of money could obtain anything they desired if they worked hard enough at it. The only problem was that it seemed too good to be true. Perhaps living in an area known as "Little Pakistan" outside of Washington D.C. would put my mind at ease and prove to me that America was a place where dreams could come true.
And so, I found myself living in the suburbs of D.C., surrounded by people from Pakistan and other countries as well; people who also had hard lives before coming to America. These were people who were running away from something or just looking for something better, just like me. I found myself spending my days working at Burger King and nights sleeping on the floor of a rented room in another man's apartment while paying off debts accrued during my journey to America. There were times when I would stay awake worrying about the future and what would happen to me because of my lack of documentation.
I had arrived in America with no job, no education or money to my name. What made it worse was that I lived in a city where there was so much crime, and almost nowhere to go after dark without fear of being mugged or attacked by drug addled individuals. American police did not care about us as long as we did not get too close or feel threatened by them, which left little room for self-defense. We were living in a time when the Muslim community was being discriminated against and vilified as terrorists by a nation who had no problems with our presence in times of war. This was also a period where we were considered to be "the other" and it did not matter so long as we went along quietly, not rocking the boat and remaining productive within the United States economy. I spent much of this time focused on learning English, something that would ultimately help me become more productive in life.
I took the Americanization path by first working many low paying jobs and pursuing my education at night school while living among others in similar situations as myself; immigrants working hard to make ends meet. I remember the days when renting cheap rooms would cost $200 per month in the 1980's and how expensive it was now. Times had changed and the rise in prices were especially brutal to those of us with limited income.
Fortunately, I had a roof over my head which was due to the generosity of a landlord who had grown very fond of me. His name is Dr. Achmad Mubeen, an American citizen and native Washingtonian who assisted me with everything from finding a place to live as well as work and learning English. Upon arriving in America, I never once knew that Americans could be so nice to those from other countries, especially if they helped them out.
As for Dr.
Conclusion
I now live in the suburbs of Washington D.C., with a wife and two kids, in an area called Silver Spring Maryland. This area is known as "Little Pakistan" and it is the home to numerous people from Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran and other countries. Most of the people from these countries I have met through Dr. Mubeen and his wife Khadija. They both spent their time helping us acquire residency status within America so that we could pursue our education which would prepare us for a comfortable life once we had it all sorted out for ourselves.
I am now employed at a bank as a teller and have been working there for several years now with my husband who also works there as an accountant.