The lure of American green card

How much is an American green card worth to elderly Bengali parents who now are living in Bangladesh? A lot! How many more do you think would be willing to give up their independence and the comfort of their own cocoon to immigrate to America? You would be dumbfounded if I tell you that many parents would happily give up living their retired lives in Bangladesh in exchange for a supposed 'luxury life' in the good old USA. How do I know? Well, do 35 years of experience living in America count?

I know elderly parents in families who have traded their individuality and freedom to become unpaid babysitters/nannies/cooks/gardeners and housekeepers in the homes of their adult married children. The reason for enduring such humiliation is to hold onto their green cards, and its terms and conditions that ultimately lead to a much desired US citizenship. The perk is once those parents become US citizens, they become eligible for decent healthcare and government's financial assistance every month for just being seniors.

Some of you might ponder why would elderly parents sacrifice their dignity and self-worth and live with their adult married children in America just to enjoy some extra bonuses? Well, before getting sponsored for immigration, they usually are not aware of the rude realities of life in America. The images of America that they gather from the video stories sent by their children living in the US about their day-to-day life do seem awesome! They pose in front of their humongous houses that have a well-paved driveway, which leads to two garages that remain half-open only to show the gold Lexus logo above the personalised license plate. Next to it, another Acura minivan keeps it company.

The immaculately manicured forest-green lawns with exotic flowers and the vacation pictures they email home to the elderly parents from the Disneyland, the Bahamas or the Caribbean cruises paint a picture-perfect image of life in the distant magical land, which is called America. Ah, what an oasis it would be to live in that enchanted land!

However, those stories and pictures do hide the simple fact that life in America is not as hunky-dory as the pictures suggest. The pictures do not reveal the simple fact that life here in the US is not always infallible. Life can be very harsh if you were not born and raised here and even harder if someone arrives here at a mature age. In their unaccustomed ears, the American accent sounds so peculiar that it takes years to make out the simple exchanges without cringing. The antipodean isolation and overwhelming sense of displacement that some of the newly arrived parents undergo when the reality of being in a foreign land hits is simply astounding.

Sometimes the freshly arrived sets of parents are shoved in the dark underground windowless basement rooms in the houses of their children who sponsor their green cards. I am not kidding here, not at all. I have seen a couple of cases like this and have heard numerous stories from friends and families who live in other parts of the country. Aside from that, there are many diaspora writers who are hinting on such happenings in immigrant households in the US.

I knew one family in Rhode Island, where they had kept the elderly parents in the basement. I once stumbled into that basement, and to my horror, I saw two shadowy ageing figures sitting there like twin ghosts. Terrified, I ran upstairs and charged the lady of the house why she keeps her in-laws in the basement where she has a nicely decorated guestroom upstairs. She gave me a mocking smile and said, "Once you are faced with in-laws who are nothing but embarrassment, you would have done the same. Before they had arrived in my house, they were a bag of bones and now look at them - all fattened up from the rich food they are eating everyday". After hearing such crazy and unkind comments, I never went to that house again.

I have also seen how adult children's family-based immigration ploys play out all too well. It has gotten so out of hand these days that it enrages me to a point to call someone in charge to report the sponsors when I hear about parental neglect. I have witnessed with shudder and sadness how the unsuspecting and naive parents financially supported by their grown children fall into a trap that their overly clever children set for them.

After going through the permanent residency application, those parents who come to live with their married probashi (immigrant) children do not realise that once they arrive in America, their dream of living a work-free, retired life might turn nightmarish.

Arming themselves with gullibility - on the expected day, after two days of air travel in economy class, the weary parents step out of the immigration by clutching the hand bags where they have jars of amer tok misthi achar, buter barfi, gurer sondesh, vapa pitha and other delicacies that they meticulously had prepared so that their "deprived" married children can munch on such homemade goodies. They had often complained that they do not get such items in deshi grocery stores in the US. Even if they do find some in the frozen food section, they simply don't taste like the homemade ones.

To get such special treats to pass through immigration takes a lot of negotiations and it is very hard to convince the officials who don't know the difference between mango chutney to Aladdin's sweets. In cases where the parents are not fluent in English, it becomes a daunting task to explain in broken English as to why they must not toss the items that were made with a lot of love. Sometimes an immigration officer takes pity on a teary-eyed mother, and just lets her have it instead of throwing it away.

The latest fad in expatriate communities across Washington metropolitan area among the young working couples with small children is something that was unheard-of twenty years ago. The new trend is: since it is costly to keep young children in daycare centres, the parents of those children show ingenuity by offering immigration to their own parents back home in Bangladesh. I call it parents-for-hire-without-pay. Well, as payments they only are provided room and board.

Mind you these elderly parents are usually in their mid-sixties and seventies. Some have just retired from long years of services and are trying to figure out how to best spend their retired years. Then comes along the lucrative once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of immigrating to the USA. At the time it seems like divine intervention, a dream come true.

By putting the blinders over their eyes, the elderly parents after clearing customs and immigration step into this dreamlike land called America. In the beginning upon arrival in this country, they are dazed and dazzled by all the tales, accessibilities and conveniences. The first few weeks go by very quickly in getting acquainted with the new surroundings. They admire and adore their angel-like grandchildren until the initial shock wears off and reality sets in.

In about three weeks' time, come Monday morning the cruel truth of being a permanent resident (green card holder) hits a newly-arrived parent like a thunderbolt when she sees in the morning her daughter or daughter in-law leaving the 3-year-old granddaughter behind instead of dropping her off at the daycare centre on way to work. She had heard numerous stories before about how convenient it is for the kid to go to the daycare for it is right next to her daughter-in-law's workplace, and how important it is for young children to be with others in the same age group to develop social and other interactive skills.

Then the elderly parent thinks, "Oh, to put it plainly, I am here to be my natni's aya? I thought I came here so that I can have some unperturbed time at my age and enjoy life a little".

After feeling the shockwave, the confused grandmother ventures into the kitchen and sees on the marble countertop a list of things to do scribbled in half Bengali and half English. Bewildered, she takes it to her equally baffled husband to make sense of all this gibberish who is staring at the digital large screen TV, and clearly not enjoying the morning talk-show, because the incomprehensible American accent sounds severe and high-pitched in his foreign ears.

Together, the senior couple figure out that their daughter-in-law has left instructions for them to do housework - from watering her plants, to vacuuming the carpets and other chores to do in the kitchen, in addition to taking care of the small child. Now the couple is in tears and start impugning one another as to whose bright idea was it to immigrate to America. They realise that they are expected to be the cook, baby-sitter and gardener at their son's house. Wasn't it better back home where they had others doing all these menial jobs for them? Now it's too late to do anything but to bite the bullets and be a help in their son's home.

The adult sons and daughters frequently rob their elderly parents from making decisions for themselves. They map out their days - from where they can go, what they can eat, who they can to talk to on the phone while they are out, what they should say or should not say in front of company on Saturday evenings. With each day, they slowly and very methodically strip their parents of their dignity. Over time these parents become solely dependent on these grown children. The parent/child role becomes reversed where the parents become the children.

Some grown-up children make the American experience a living hell for the elderly parents. Others make their senior parents take part-time work in a pizza place, MacDonald's or at the convenient store where they have to stay on their feet. Their simple rationalisation is - staying home will make their parents depressed and wistful, so it's the lesser of two evils. These elderly folks sometimes are subjected to pure neglect and often become demented and garrulous.

In this day and age we cannot expect one to be like Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar as he was to his mother. In grade school, I remember reading the story about how Vidyasagar was very fond of his mother, and he was also a very obedient son. Remember this anecdote called mayer dak? OnceVidyasagar's mother asked him to come home and because of weather impediment, all the boatmen refused to take him across the river where she lived. Though he was disheartened, he felt he couldn't ignore his mother's call. When he couldn't persuade anyone, he started to swim against the current to reach to the other side.

Such a well-known story signifies Vidyasagar's bravery and his blind obedience to his mother. In today's world, such devotion is not to be seen anywhere. Growing up, I have heard this story being repeated many times. It has been used indiscriminately and in some cases to guilt trip a child where she/he refused to fulfill even a mundane daily task.

Vidyasagar set the bar very high with this example of a child's duty towards a parent. Sadly, most children do not follow on his footsteps. Nor do we hear fabled stories where a father asked his son to stand on the balcony until he returned from making his errands. While he was gone, the building caught on fire and the son remained standing there while the building was in flames. He did that because his father asked him not to go anywhere else. How about that story where an ailing mother asked her son to fetch her a glass of water? When the dutiful son returned to his mother's bedside he found her to be asleep. He remained standing there with the water glass in his hand until it was dawn when she woke up and opened her eyes. These are folktales and don't really happen in the tangible world but are inspirational tales nonetheless.  

A suggestion to the parents of expatriate children in Bangladesh: if you do not want to live like non-elite Americans do stay put if you have the economic freedom. If you want to foster a healthy and meaningful relationship with your adult children, do stay in your own homes where you can be joyful and won't be subjected to neglect in the household of your adult daughter or son in the US. Please remember while contemplating a permanent move to America - life on this side of the Atlantic isn't that gorgeous that you seem to think it is.

The writer is a freelancer.

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