Sumaiya Sadmin

Prof. Dr. Smith

BE 112

February 8th, 2019

A Migrant’s Story

16 years ago, Shabuj, a family-man, desperately seeking for a better life had made a plan

to escape the hardships of third world and find his way to achieve his own American dream.

Shabuj didn’t have the luxuries many of us have such as going to a university, instead after high

school he had been married by his family’s choice. My immigration story particularly is boring,

but a relative of mine had a journey. Many of us have either made this journey or know of

someone that has, along with the many obstacles that have been faced, which is emigrating to a

new nation. From the naked eye, it may seem like a script from a movie or a tall-tale.

Nonetheless, it is very true as I can assure you, he has no reason to lie to me. His journey as an

immigrant to America did not involve an airplane, but his sheer will to seek a new life in hopes

that it will one day benefit his family, especially his daughter who he has not seen in 16 years.

Bangladesh is a nation that is size of the state of New York, perhaps smaller, with a

population close to half of America, at about 160,000,000 people. When you live in a nation like

Bangladesh, no matter what type of education you may have, trying to land a job is not easy.

And even if you do secure a job it generally does not pay well. Shabuj is married with one child,

but his source of income was what he made selling rice. His family owned a large amount of

land, which was converted into rice fields. He told me how he came across a “broker” who

charges money to send groups of people from one country to another. Now, in modern terms, he
was referring to a human-trafficker. He never told me the amount, but I did my own research and

according to a few sources who have encountered similar situations, it cost Shabuj approximately

$20,000. He had secured the money by selling a few of his ancestral land. After giving the

“broker” money he truly had no idea what was to happen next, realizing perhaps he had been

naïve.

After a month had passed, the broker had returned to his village and let Shabuj know that

he had gathered enough people for this migration. Shabuj originally had no idea, thinking his

journey would take place via an airplane. On the day of the journey he had found out that he

would be joining others in a large container that we usually see on the roads hauled on a truck.

The container was to be sealed with his fate for the journey lying in the hands of the unknown.

For the migrants to clear customs, they could not exit the container until once the ship had made

itself onto the sea. Their journey lasted almost a month, until they reached the shores of South

America. Once in South America, the group of migrants along with their broker stayed in various

cheap motels. About fifteen sixteen people shared a room and food; the feeling of being with

strangers would often leave him feeling frustrated and vulnerable at the same time, but hope was

what he was living with. None of them spoke the local language and they all knew their stay

would be short-lived. Shabuj had told me that the only few countries he knew that he was in

were Colombia, Venezuela, Guatemala, El Salvador and Mexico. These were the countries that

all these migrants had journeyed together along with their broker.

It was after reaching Mexico and America’s border did the situation take a turn for the

worst. Once the migrants had to cross the border, it almost was sure they would all separate. The

situation was getting worse day by day because some of them did not have the courage to

continue. As time was passing by, they started doubting themselves that they might not be able to

make it in the end. Some people realized that they did not have enough money to continue. First
a few, then all of them decided not to continue the journey. Many of them felt that from

emotionally to physically, the journey was beginning to take a toll on them. The group had

eventually broken apart and people began to get separated gradually. The journey for what many

began as a new hope, slowly turned into a nightmare. Hope was something everyone began to

lose but many people did not know how to turn around. As each day passed, the ones that

separated began to find ways to settle where they no longer decided to go along with journey.

Shabuj, however, did not give up and began to continue the journey. Shabuj, with a compass that

his group had, used that to continue his journey through the forest. After crossing the border,

Shabuj had entered America but was on his own. He told me that he traveled from a desert with

very little money to making a journey through the swamps till he ended up in what appeared to

be a forest.The situations made him weak sometimes but his strong willingness never let him

give up and he realized that it cannot get any worse in his life now and it can only get better. He

was somewhat certain this was true because finally he reached Atlanta. The year was 2002, now

my uncle, Shabuj, is living in New York and as recently as 2019, he received his permanent

residency. Through those years he had been working as a chef at various restaurants across the

eastern coast of the United States. He told me, it was his daughter’s love that kept him going.

We all strive for a better life like Shabuj. Many people want a piece of the American

dream. Now what the American dream entails to one individual is all a matter of perspective. For

Shabuj, it was about money. Money that he desperately wanted to make and could make only in

America to secure a better future for his daughter. Through his long journey, he has not seen his

family in almost 16 or more years. It was the sacrifice he made to be a part of an immigrant

story. Just like many before him and many after him, immigrants will do whatever they can to

find opportunity in a nation that can offer them hope. For Shabuj, hope was only to be found

once he finally made it to America.