No More Tears Read online

  No More Tears

  By

  Atieno Mtoto Mzuri

  “If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible, who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time, who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.

  …

  We are, and always will be, the United States of America. There are mothers and fathers who will lie awake after the children fall asleep and wonder how they'll make the mortgage or pay their doctors' bills or save enough for their child's college education.

  There's new energy to harness, new jobs to be created, new schools to build, and threats to meet, alliances to repair. The road ahead will be long. Our climb will be steep. We may not get there in one year or even in one term. But, America, I have never been more hopeful than I am tonight that we will get there.

  I promise you, we as a people will get there.

  There will be setbacks and false starts. There are many who won't agree with every decision or policy I make as president. And we know the government can't solve every problem.

  PRESIDENT ELECT BARACK OBAMA ISBN-13: 978-1511619479 ISBN-10: 1511619473

  Copyright © 2015 Atieno Mtoto Mzuri

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. The characters and events in this book are based on fiction. In some cases names and places have been changed to protect the identity and the lives of those involved.

  This book is dedicated to all the undocumented immigrants in the United States of America and other countries worldwide. It is a story that many immigrants will identify with. They have lived through it and breathed in the fear and desperation. Everything turns out well in the end for our heroine. It's the author's hope that whoever has been placed in such desperation by the tough immigration laws will be consoled. And it is of course the author's hope that someday the government will offer a lasting solution to the many undocumented immigrants. Most of them are good people who want to make a difference, if they could be accorded the opportunity.

  Acknowledgments Without the influence and wisdom of my mentor Raymond Greene and my informal editor Kevin Dobinson, this book would have turned out differently. You are truly appreciated.

  I started writing this story in 2014, got through the first five chapters and then lost interest in it. In January 2015 I joined a Facebook group for women, Kilimani Mums Uncensored. I posted one chapter of the book and the overwhelming response and encouragement that I received from the women drove me to complete the last ten chapters of the book in a week. I am forever indebted to them for pushing me forward in their clamor for “mucene and udaku”, terms loosely translated as gossip. I must also acknowledge the women of yet another Facebook group, Vuteni Stul Niwape Udaku, for keeping me sane through their wild stories.

  It would be remiss of me not to mention the undocumented individuals in America who shared their stories with me and allowed me to use them in this book.

  Without the push from other friends such as Ben Oti, Paula Wangome, Bellah Kuchie, Riogi Mose, Mercy Kamau, who always read my articles on Facebook and constantly asked me when I would write the great novel, this book might perhaps not have been written.

  And finally, I would like to thank my family for always believing in me, and especially my father, the great educator, who believes in me without question. And to my brother Geoffrey who passed away last year, I wish you were here to share this victory with me. I know you would have been happy for me. I trust you are watching over us.

  Synopsis In an attempt to obtain legal residency status and earn a decent living in the land of honey and gold, a desperate illegal immigrant, Atieno, gets entangled with two unsavory characters who threaten her very existence.

  By the time she realizes the extent of their deception, she is in too deep in the nightmare. Scared of deportation, she uses her energy and wiles into trapping any man that looks at her into marriage to save her skin.

  However, she forgets that Cupid might have something else in store for her.

  Prologue It was a cold day in November 2014 when I stood before the Judge shaking slightly, thinking of how far I had come. And in that moment, all I could think of was that I hoped I wouldn’t stumble when my name was called up. All the agony that I had undergone to get to this point in time was forgotten. It felt much like an afterbirth moment, that moment that the pain that a woman has undergone for over three days sometimes, in the long period of delivery pains is instantly forgotten as she is handed her baby and with disbelief, notices that the pains are gone, and knows that she would do it over and over again just to experience that indescribable joy.

  It had taken five years of determination and sheer willpower to get to this point. Many were the times I had wanted to die, many were the times I had beseeched God to let me rest for I no longer could take it. This surely wasn’t my portion. I hadn’t been born to suffer or to pay for mistakes that I had made, continuously and without a moment of peace.

  The Judge had entered the chambers and we had all stood up. A bunch of nervous immigrants, a term I had truly come to dislike. Us bunch of immigrants were finally getting our citizenship. I looked around the room and noticed the Hispanics, the Cubans, the Indians, the Africans and a sprinkling of Europeans. If their stories were as interesting as mine and if their journeys to this point had been as tough as mine, I thought they needed the silent salute that I was paying them. A salute to a resilient spirit. Unbroken yet, though the journey had been long and painful. I couldn’t imagine what these people had gone through over the last five years. I didn’t want to. For it was way too painful to contemplate.

  I was shaking slightly, thinking of how far I had come. I still hadn’t visited gorgeous Georgia, or the Mississippi or Florida, but now I knew that someday I would visit them. I was no longer running. From anyone or anything. The full force of the law of this powerful land was firmly behind me and I could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

  The judge called out my name. I stepped forward. Took the oath. And I was declared a citizen of this powerful nation. I now had the same rights as the people that were born here. Whose grandfathers came here 200 years ago on the Mayflower. I was finally a bona fide American.

  It had been a long journey. Five long years it had taken to get to this point. To say that it had its ups and downs is an understatement. There are no adequate words. I had been to hell and back. And kept walking. Sometimes with the help of Johnny Walker.

  I wiped the tears. These were happy tears. Hopefully they were the last tears I would shed. It was time to stop crying and start laughing and smiling and enjoying life. I had fought hard for it. If I say so myself, I deserved it.

  Time was everything. I now had to make up for the five years that I had lost treading on the spot. I had paid the ultimate price by wasting precious time. I would have to work double hard to recover the years. But what I have gained is totally worth it. 200 years from today my great grandchildren will look back on me as the grandparent that arrived on the second wave of the Mayflower and gave them an opportunity to make something of themselves. For after all, this is still the land where Barack Obama, said all things were possible.

  President-Elect Barack Obama’s speech had been an inspiration on the night that he had given it, and many years later it still marked a turning point in my life. I knew there were challenges ahead but I was ready to join in remaking the nation, the only way it had been done in America for 221 years – block by block, brick by brick, calloused hand by calloused hand.

  I recalled his victory speech and knew that what had s
tarted for me, five years ago, well, the fun part was just beginning…

  Chapter One On a warm day in November 2007, I packed my second-hand suitcase, and at the International Departures lounge at the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi, I hugged and kissed my 4 year old daughter Danielle goodbye. I then turned to the five people who had escorted me to the airport and told them I would be back soon.

  “When do you think you will be back?” my father asked.

  I looked at him. He was wearing his best pinstripe suit and had on a bowler hat and leaned heavily on a walking stick. I could see that the journey from our rural home, over 400 miles away had taken a toll on him and he was looking a little haggard and old. My mother stood calmly beside him.

  “Say after one year. I think.” I said to him.

  “Are you sure? Now don’t go getting lost in America. You know that neighbor of ours Odhiambo? His son left for America twenty five years ago. His mother died. His sisters died. If I am not wrong a son that he left is very sick and Omollo hasn’t sent even one dollar.”

  “Really? Why are you telling me this now?” I asked him. “You had all the time to talk about this last night.”

  “We were praying last night.” He said.

  “Leave the child alone.” My mother gently interrupted. “It’s a bad omen to quarrel before a safari. Brings bad luck. Atieno is a good child. She will keep her promises.”

  “Sure, I know she’s a good child.” Dad forcefully said. “But there are a lot of temptations out there in America. People go and don’t come back. Just you wait and see. This child is going to disappear in America. I fear I might never see her again. I might die before I see her.”

  I studied my father once again. Listening to him talk, one would think he had been to America several times and was the expert on all the goings on of that land of far away. I didn’t say anything. I could feel Danielle tugging at me, begging for my attention. She wasn’t crying, the brave little girl.

  “Mummy when will you come back? Can you bring me a scooter?”

  “Of course I will sweetheart.” I told her. “For you my love, I would do anything. You know that right? Now promise me you will be a good girl.”

  “Yes mummy. I will. Will you be back by December? “

  “Yes I will. December it is. Be a good girl now!”

  I continued hugging her and listening to daddy.

  “Now remember, the cow is rather old. Doesn’t produce any more milk. We need to replace her. Also, you know the roof on the house is still leaking.”

  “Dad, I know all the problems you have, okay? I have to go now.”

  “You don’t have any money to give your old man?”

  I smiled. I was thinking of the $20 that I had stashed away in my bra for emergency. It was all the money I had remaining after paying the airfare, for which I had saved for six months.

  I picked up my light tattered suitcase and with a final hug walked through the doors at the international departure lounge, swung the suitcase through the magnetic tables and metal detectors and waved goodbye.

  Two hours later I was on a Qatar Airways flight to America. The hostess showed me how to choose a movie and I sat back to watch.

  At Doha, I changed flights and sixteen hours later I was in Washington DC, where an officer of the government asked me enough questions, including how long I intended to be in the land of plenty, whom I was going to stay with, whom I would fraternize with, where I would be every hour and minute, what I would do for a living, whether I had enough money not to become a burden on the government, et cetera. In short, I was asked enough questions but for the color of my underwear. I left that interview room with my passport stamped with an entry visa, but feeling like a common thief and as I walked around the airport looking for something to eat, I was nervous and imagined that any minute now, some other officer would stop me and tell me that I had come here by mistake and should be on the way back to Africa in the next plane. Let’s just say that the treatment at the visa offices and the airport entry points are designed to scare away people who did not come to America on the Mayflower two hundred years ago.

  Having had my visas stamped and everything in order, it was with anticipation that I approached the desk of United Airlines, the domestic flight operators so that I could catch the next flight to the small town where I planned to stay with some relatives. Upon enquiring from the pretty desk clerk, I was informed that I had missed the flight and would have to catch a connecting flight the next day. What was I going to do now, in this foreign land where I knew nobody and only had $20 in my bra and my stomach was by now rumbling?

  Crestfallen, I was turning away to go get myself a bench in the lobby where I would pass the night, when she smiled and said to me…

  “Now, here is what’s going to happen. The airline booked for you a room at the Hilton for the night. There’s a shuttle that will take you to the hotel and then tomorrow morning, the same shuttle will bring you back and you can catch the connecting flight that you missed.”

  “And how much do I have to pay for this?” I asked her.

  “Nothing. It’s all free, courtesy of the airline.”

  Relieved that I wasn’t going to spend my first day in America sleeping on the street as it were, and it being very cold, I quickly asked for more directions to the shuttle, and was ferried to the Hilton. At the Hilton, I checked in and was led to one of the most magnificent rooms that I have ever had the pleasure of sleeping in. Now unfortunately there was no food included in the courtesy room. If I was to eat anything I had to pay for it. When I studied the menu, I noted that the only thing I would be able to afford was breakfast which would be about $10. There was a coffee maker on the side table so I proceeded to make coffee, turned on the TV, ignored the hunger pangs and finally slept on tenterhooks because I was nervous about missing the shuttle and the scheduled flight.

  In the morning, I was woken up by the hotel front desk as I had asked them to set up a wakeup call for me. Still drowsy and tired after tossing and turning from the hunger pangs and the fear that I would miss the flight, I quickly jumped into the warm shower and was soon ready to depart to the airport. But as I showered, I noticed that there were lots of shampoos and conditioners in little bottles on the bathroom shelves, all set out for me. I quickly scooped them and emptied them into my carry-on bag. Now, I should mention that I had spent a scheduled night stop at Doha where I had also picked up more than twenty bottles from the hotel in Doha. So, I knew shampoo and conditioners were taken care of for at least three months.

  Back at the airport, as I was checking in my carry-on bag, the airport security confiscated all the shampoos and conditioners and lotions. I hadn’t known that there was so only so much liquid that one could carry into the plane. I was more embarrassed than annoyed. But what saved me is that I looked at the stash in the container into which they threw my stuff and I knew there were many hotel thieves worldwide. I wasn’t the only one.

  I caught the flight, and finally I was in Des Moines, Iowa, which had been my destination.

  Chapter Two (Maurice, Gentleman Farmer) My cousin's friends Brenda and Samantha had picked me up from the airport and taken me to their house on the west side of Des Moines.

  Edward as you will remember is the one who had helped me get my visa when he had sent me an invitation letter for his graduation from college.

  "Edward, are you sure there are jobs in the USA? You know I am giving up a very good job here in Africa and I really don't want to have any regrets?"

  "My dear Atieno, there are lots of jobs here! America is lined with jobs, in fact you can't even take two days to get a job! Why are you hesitating so much? Get your butt here on the next plane!"

  I waited for six months to get the fare and then travelled.

  Brenda and Samantha took me to their two bedroomed apartment and I rested. I was amazed to see 20 year old girls driving big beautiful cars and I was finally content, thinking hey here I have landed and I am gonna be in man
na heaven. In a few days I would be driving and have a job where dollars are banking themselves into my account. That first night in Iowa, I slept in their house. Iowa was to be my home for the next four months.

  The next day, my cousin Edward came to pick me up from Des Moines from whence we travelled to the small town of Spencer where he lived. The town was surrounded by corn plantations and I was surprised to see white people who were dressed shabbily and wore big boots and had unkempt hair and didn't smell as good as the people in the movies.

  I settled into Edward's house and made myself comfortable. His wife had just delivered a baby and for two days I was content babysitting but I remembered where I had come from and I started to ask that we get back on track.

  "Edward, I do like babysitting for you but you know I need to get me a job. Little girl is waiting on money, mother and father are you know telling the whole village I am going to be building a house, a bungalow, for them soon. As much as I love your baby, it's time to also do something for myself."

  "Be patient, everything here is done on schedule, okay I need you to trust me, don't be impatient! Things will work out!"

  So I continued to babysit for two more weeks and finally I was getting impatient. I had received a message from Kenya that my little girl's school fee was due and she also needed some drugs to combat the malaria in the highlands where she had gone to stay with my parents. They had said that they didn't have even 100 KShs to buy the drugs and there I was in the land of the wealthy, the land of the free, not making efficient use of Western Union.

  "Edu, please why are we taking so long? Is there any document that I should have come with? What is up?"

  Edward sighed and then he said to me "You know perhaps I may not have been so clear when we were talking about jobs. People come here and then they work out ways of getting the jobs. It doesn't just come automatically. The first thing we need to do is..."

  "Is what? I asked him.

  "We need to get you papers." he replied.