The Ties that Bind

Over the last couple of years, I have had the distinct honor of encountering a number of extraordinary individuals who were trustworthy enough to admit to me that they are in some form of immigration wrangle which makes it difficult for them to leave their country of residence to visit their loved ones back home. Everyone knows someone who has gone through or is perhaps still going through issues such as this because of some story or the other. Some of these stories are heartbreaking and emotional and these are the ones that involve people in these circumstances who have left behind their young children and even though they have not seen them in years and are missing essential parts of their growing up, they continue to be the source of their offsprings' mainstay by financing their education and upkeep.

This month's story is inspired by and dedicated to these people and their families

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It was another cold November day and as she walked past the shops, she caught glimpses of signs that Christmas was lurking round the corner. It happened each year at this time sometimes more intensely – emptiness, sadness and loneliness.

In January, it will be ten years since she had lost him. His death had been the catalyst for so many life-changing events. She remembered the day just like yesterday – nothing had prepared. His older brother had arrived in their house looking gloomy and morose. There was a mutual dislike between them – he thought she was a leech who sucked his brother dry with every single breath she had, she thought he was a self-centered bigot who wanted to be in control of his brother’s hard-earned fortunes to the point where he would dictate who would get what and when. Time would prove her right.
His announcement that evening changed the direction of her life as she listened to the carefully chosen words and tried to make sense of them the only words that lingered in her subconscious were the words which he uttered disdainfully – Take heart o!.

A sudden and unexpected end! She had heard it happen to many women but when in the twinkle of an eye you went from being a wife to a widow…everything changes. And everything did change. Within weeks, everything progressed from good to bad to ugly. By the time, it became ugly, she had been chased out of the house she and her children had called home for eleven years as her brother-in-law and his two wives and their children - a combined total of seventeen individuals - took over while she and her family were given the option of occupying two of the five rooms in the servants’ quarters. Once loyal servants performed disappearing acts not a few of them loaded with pilfered items from the house. Life had taught these ones that with the expected changing of guard there was nothing left to expect from this family following the demise of the head of the household. They knew it would only be a question of time before they were replaced.

Rather than endure the humiliation she would experience at the hands of her in-laws, she and her four children boarded a bus to the center of excellence to the open arms of her parents. They opened their home and their hearts to their daughter and her children. It was a happy existence – within months she got a job and she felt and innate sense of satisfaction as she was able to provide for her children and her aging parents. They lived a comfortable life – different from what they had been used to, but the love and warmth that they were given made it easy for them to adapt to this new life. Their happiness was short-lived as a year after their arrival their lives were once more shattered as she endured the bittersweet loss of her father. He had lived to the ripe old age of 82 and died in his sleep during an evening nap, the end of a glorious and accomplished life.

Within the twinkle of an eye she and her mother both became widows – a sad irony

Less than a year after she lost her father, the winds of ill-luck blew again, leaving a tasteless residue. She lost her job, her sole means of earning income. Friends and family offered a number of solutions in the form of advice – from the realistic to the bizarre, from legal to daylight robbery. The rigmarole of looking for another job did not appeal to her and this was what she was ruminating one night in her bedroom when she caught a glimpse of her international passport sticking out of an envelope stuck in one of the many bags that littered her room. Less than a month before she had applied for and received her visas, she remembered how amused she had been as she prepared the necessary substantiation to submit to the diplomatic missions.

One of the requests was to provide proof of binding ties to the country of her residence. She had provided letters from her children’s schools, land deeds furnished from her recently widowed mother as well as bank statements which provided the necessary proof of income. Back then, she had felt a strong urge to apply more out of curiosity, as to whether she would be successful since the last few times, she had pursued such a request she had been firmly attached as a Mrs Somebody and had gone under the umbrella of her husband’s businesses. She was pleasantly surprised when her requests had been granted and that day as she leafed through the pages of her passport and made a mental note of the expiration dates of her visas, she had made up her mind

That was seven years ago. Seven years since she had transitioned from a widow and a mother of four to a statistic – one of many who were classified as illegal and who were waiting for some uncertain redemption. She had not seen her children in seven years. She had missed a number of milestones. Two sets of 21st birthdays, first days at universities, new friendships, lifestyle changes, an endless list. Following the loss of their father and the explained disappearance their mother, she imagined that her children had grown wiser beyond their years and they had resigned themselves to being raised by their old grandmother although she knew the reality which she could tell from the long and emotional phone conversations was that they were looking after the old lady and not the other way around. Her oldest son had completed his university degree and had found a job working in a telecommunications company, he juggled this with a number of business ventures - some brilliantly successfully, others dimly mediocre. He displayed an intense maturity and a deep sense of loyalty and when she teased him about getting married and settling down he dismissed her queries politely telling her that there was still time. He was the one who held down the fort and provided guidance and direction for the three younger siblings.

She thought about the days when she had cried herself to sleep as she resolved that the following day she would go to the airport and catch the next flight home. That had happened so often in the last seven years and as days became weeks and weeks became months and months became years, she knew that it was better for her to be where she was.

Few people understood the choice she had made. She had even had people insult her directly to her face and call her a number of unpronounceable names for having the effrontery to abandon four children and an aging parent.

Every time she showed up at a Western Union® counter to send her regular dispatches of money home, she felt an overwhelming sense of pride and joy mixed with guilt and remorse as she remembered the ties that bound her to this land and said a silent but powerful prayer for an inevitable reunion, when the days of drudgery would be a thing of the past and she would be able to heave a sigh of relief confirming that for some untold reason, it had all been worth it.