The Story of Ericka Portela

A Refugee from Guatemala

Prepared by the national Immigration Forum, August 2000 

        Ericka Portela’s family had escaped for their lives from Guatemala.  In the late 1980’s, when Guatemala was in the midst of civil conflict, her father was abducted and “disappeared” by unknown attackers.  The family assumes that he is dead. The rest of the family fled to the United States for safety.  Ericka’s mother came here in 1989 and applied for political asylum.  Ericka came to join her mother in 1993 with her sister and brother.

    At the time, Ericka was seventeen years old, and she was eligible for asylum under her mother’s application because she was under the age of twenty-one.  In 1997, Congress passed the Nicaraguan Adjustment and Central American Relief Act (NACARA), which provided certain Cuban and Nicaraguan refugees an opportunity to receive green cards if they arrived in the U.S. prior to December 1, 1995.  Guatenmalans, however, were treated differently and had  to be in the country prior to October 1, 1990.  Erica’s mother, having arrived in 1989, applied and was approved. Ericka would have been granted residency under her mother’s application, but by the time the government decided how to process the applications, Ericka had turned twenty-one.  This meant that she could not adjust her immigration status through her mother’s application.  Ericka was out of luck.

        Living with the fear of being sent back, Ericka applied for asylum on her own.  She must now prove that – years after she fled – she would be singled out for persecution if she is sent back to Guatemala.

        Since Ericka came here seven years ago, she attended and graduated from high school and wanted and expected to go to college.  But the legal limbo she is in is an obstacle to going further with the education.  If she were a permanent resident, Ericka would qualify for scholarships and grants.  Because of her uncertain immigration status, she is considered a “foreign student” – even after living here for seven years.  This makes her ineligible for financial aid and requires her to pay a higher tuition.  Ericka wants to go to college to become a social worker to help others and to give back to the community.  She is currently living in Washington, DC and works for a local immigrant service organization.  Her dreams are on hold indefinitely until she becomes a legal permanent resident.

      The Latino and Immigrant Fairness Act would give Ericka and other Central Americans in her situation – the same opportunity to adjust her status as has already been given to Cubans and Nicaraguans. During this time of economic prosperity, giving Ericka this chance is not only the right thing to do, it  ’s the smart thing to do.

A Refugee From Bosnia – Mina Kobacebic

Compiled by: IRSA

        My name is Mina Kovacevic, and I am a Muslim from Sarajevo, Bosnia.  In May, 1992, two months after the war began, I left my home and homeland.  My family’s home was directly across the street from a military barracks commandeered by Serbian soldiers.  From my window, I could see tanks striking other parts of the city.  I could see soldiers coming and going and snipers firing from windows.  I could see and hear the shelling.  Manu of my neighbors were killed.  My mother, father, two sisters, nephew, and I spent 24-hours a day in a bomb shelter.  We were among 40 people – mostly women and children – hiding in a small, dark room, listening to the shooting and shelling.  My sister had been undergoing chemotherapy.  But we knew that even if we got her to the hospital, there would be no treatment for her, as the hospital was already overburdened with so many wounded and dying.  So we decided to try to leave.

        Our car and others were stopped by Serb soldiers.  They ordered us to pull off to the side of the road and told us we were being held as hostages.  The soldiers began making lists of the children in our convoy, threatening to kill them first.  We spent three nights in our car without food.

        Along with a few other older men, my father was lined up by our they were going to take the men away.  The soldiers then began forcing the elderly men into a sort of refrigerated truck—one used for hauling meat.  I feared that if my father left us, we would never see him again.  I started running towards my father.  Soldiers shouted at me that they would kill me if I didn’t stop.  But I ran to the commander and begged him to let my dad go.  I finally convinced him to do so.

        We spent two or three more nights there in the car.  We saw and heard the men in the truck being tortured by the soldiers.  At night the soldiers would shine flashlights into our car while bragging of all the children they had already killed.  We were all in terror for my 4-year-old nephew.

        Finally, we were allowed to go. When we reached Croatia, the Croats put us into a refugee camp where we lived 40 people to a tent.  The Croats were not prepared to receive so many people, and after ten days, they told us we had to move onto another camp in eastern Slovonia.

        We were the first refugees to arrive in this camp.  There were a few huts, and we were lucky enough to be put into one, though we shared it with 12 or 14 strangers.  We felt much safer because there was no shooting n the area.  But as summer turned into autumn, more refugees arrived.  The huts were full, so new arrivals were housed in tents – in rain, snow, and extreme cold – without any heat.  Sanitation was deplorable; 20 to 30 toilets and only 20 shower for 3,000 people.

        I was the only person in the camp who could speak English, so I was soon working as a volunteer translator for the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC).  I was glad to help, though I was depressed by the conditions in the camp and frightened for my father, who was taken by the Croat soldiers for two or three days at a time for questioning.  I dream about continuing my education.  I would not be able to attend a Croatian university, since I was not a Croat, and I had no money to pay for schooling.

        Then one day, some of the people for whom I had worked in the ICRC found out that a few scholarships were available in the United Sates for Bosnian students.  The greatest thing I could imagine happened to me.  I was awarded a scholarship at La Roche College in Pittsburgh, where after three years, I received my B.A. in psychology in 1996.

        I have since moved on to graduate studies at the Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C.  No longer at the mercy of destiny, I can now plan my future.  That means that if the situation in the former Yugoslavia remains stable, I will return to my homeland at the conclusion of my studies and be reunited with my family who are now in Denmark.  

Community and Leadership (Part 2)

by: Quan Cao

The role of the MAA’s leader is so important in sharing this good will.  Specifically, there are five things that you can do to allow this spirit to take birth and flourish:

1.  Communicate with other community grass-root agencies, talk to your local service providers, assist them in formulating culturally sensitive programs for your groups.

            2.  Legitimize feelings of frustration, anxiety, and sadness.  After all, we are all in a period of mourning.  We are bereaving for the genocide, war, invasion, and for the continuing human displacement throughout the world.  Psychological standards of abnormality have become a fact of life.  We should not have to accept them as status quo, we need not label each other for the way we feel.  Some call me depressed.  My friends know I am sad.

3.  Encourage learning and risk-taking.  We can allow for our children and youngsters to take risks, make mistakes, and still accept them back within the niche of our community.  The MAA plays an invaluable role in the support it can give to newly arrived refugees.

4.  Set examples by our very own role modeling.  Our children learn by watching what we do, not what we say.  So do members of our community and the American community.

            5.  Work to develop and communicate with new leaders.  Notice I say new leaders, not young, not old.  Some may be young and others may be old.  We must learn not to deny each other’s capability because of what we feel about each other’s age.

            Let me share with you a story my father used to tell use sitting around the campfire at night.  The story is entitled “The Old Man of the Mountain and the Spirit Bird”.

There once was a village by the side of a mountain.  The emblem of the village and the spirit of the community is a Phoenix kept on the mountaintop.  The individual who can capture the Phoenix has the power of life and death over the whole community.  There was this young man named Vu, who was the leader of a youth gang.  Vu succeeded one day in capturing the Spirit Bird.  Accompanied by his followers, Vu defiantly went to the hut of the Old Man to claim his leadership.  He found the Old Man behind the hut, crouching over, grinding rice in a deep bowl.  “Old Man, said Vu, I am the new leader.  I have the Spirit Bird in my hand.  Tell me, should i kill it or should i let it go?” Vu had to repeat the question several times before the Old Man heard him.  He finally looked him straight in the eyes and siad:  “You are the leader now.  You tell me.  Should you kill him or should you let him go?”

There is a place.  There is a time.  There once was a leader.  When young Luke Skywalker wanted to become a Jedi Knight, Yoda, his master, asked him to close his eyes and forget the techniques.  “Listen to the Force.  Let it guide you.”  You may no longer be in Vietnam, in Bosnia, in Africa, in Russia but Vietnam, Bosnia, Africa, and Russia have never left you, and now America is within you.  May the Force be with you.

The Story of Jose Elejandra Slazar

            Searching for a better life, Jose Alejandro Salazar, at the age of 16, came to the United States from Mexico in 1981 with his parents and siblings.  For 19 years, he has built a life here and because of a bureaucratic mistake, he is under threat of being torn away from his US citizen children and legal resident wife.

            In 1987, Jose sought to legalize his status under the Immigration Reform and Control Act (IRCA) passed by Congress in 1986.  This law provided an opportunity to legalize since he arrived in the United States prior to January 1, 1982.  He was excited about his opportunity because it would allow him to take the first step of living the American dream and becoming a United States citizen.

            Jose went to the INS with his completed application and documents proving that he had been in the US since 1981.  The agent that examined his application saw that Jose had traveled outside the US in 1987.  He explained to Jose that people that left the country without INS permission during the application period were not eligible for the legalization program.  His dreams of becoming a legal resident vanished.

            Jose later discovered that the INS official was wrong and that he, and many others in the same situation, were actually eligible for legalization regardless whether or not they left the country.  He qualified for a work permit under one of several class action lawsuits against the INS and was granted travel documents.  But the INS refused to resolve his and thousands of others’ cases.

            In February 1998, his life was turned upside down again.  As a direct consequence of the 1996 Illegal Immigration Reform and Immigrant Responsibility Act (IIRAIRA), which severely limited an immigrants’ right to a hearing, a federal judge recommended that the lawsuit be dismissed and all benefits were revoked.  The INS complied by dismissing all work authorizations be dismissed and all late legalization applicants be deported.  Jose has been lingering in legal limbo ever since.

           Jose has worked very hard since he entered the US as a pipe fitter. Because he lost his work permit, he gives up a secure position and a two-year contract working for the Exxon Corporation. Jose is shocked that this has happened. He has paid his taxes, has never been in trouble with the police, has created a new life in the United States, is a homeowner and has been a great asset to the US economy. Going back to Mexico is unthinkable. He could never leave his wife and their three US citizen children. They are his life and his family depends on him. The government deporting individuals like Jose not only hurts our economy, it destroys the dreams of families.  Jose has worked very hard since he entered the US as a pipe fitter.  Because he lost his work permit, he gives up a secure position and a two-year contract working for the Exxon Corporation.  Jose is shocked that this has happened.  He has paid his taxes, has never been in trouble with the police, has created a new life in the United States, is a homeowner and has been a great asset to the US economy.  Going back to Mexico is unthinkable.  He could never leave his wife and their three US citizen children.  They are his life and his family depends on him.  The government deporting individuals like Jose not only hurts our economy, it destroys the dreams of families.  Top