Hello everyone on this platform. Without wasting your time, let me tell you my story. The reason I want to tell you my story for free is because I think it can help someone who's planning to leave their country for greener pastures abroad.
I know many African youngsters are ready to risk everything, including their lives, for a chance to get into any European country or North America. I don't blame them because twenty years ago, I was just like them. And I understand; it's not easy to live in corrupt and nondemocratic countries. Anyway, let's leave the discussion of democratic and nondemocratic to the scholars.
I am here to tell my story. First, let me introduce myself briefly. I was born in western Tanzania, in Kagera Regional, Ngara District. My parents had twelve children. I am the eleventh child. My dad was an elementary teacher, and my mother was a nurse by profession. I say "by profession" because after she married my dad, she had to quit her job to take care of us and work on the farm to ensure we had enough to eat. To make a long story short, my dad retired from teaching in 1984.
By that time, my ten older siblings had finished schooling. My younger sister and I were the only ones still in school. My younger sister was in preschool, and I was in first grade. I completed standard seven in 1992. Because my dad was a retired teacher, his pension was Tsh 500 a month. Since I wasn't selected to continue with secondary school, my dad didn't bother to send me to a private secondary school like he did with my other siblings.
So, after I graduated from primary school, I stayed home to help take care of cattle and work on our farms. In 1993, one of my older brothers came to the village to visit. My dad was in the process of building a rental house in town. When my older brother was leaving to go back to his business in Kahama town, my dad asked him to take me to buy aluminum sheets for the roof of his rental house that he was constructing in the town.
When my brother and I got to Kahama, he tried to sell the goods he was selling first. Unfortunately, two weeks went by without finding any customers, and he was running out of money to pay for guesthouses and food while we were looking for customers for his goods.
In the third week, he started spending the money that our dad had given him to buy aluminum sheets.
In the fourth week, we finally got a customer who bought all the goods but did not pay the full price my brother was asking for. Because my brother was desperate to get rid of his goods, he sold them anyway at a lower price. Half of the money that my father gave him for buying aluminum sheets was gone.
So, my brother decided to do quick business to recover all the money we spent for the whole month that we were looking for customers. My brother and I decided to do a grain business. We went to Shinyanga Regional rural area to buy maize grains and took them to sell in the big cities, mainly Shinyanga and Tabora cities. We did that business for about a year. We did not make any significant profit.
Finally, we realized the grain business wasn't taking us anywhere. We went back to the village with neither aluminum nor money. My dad was very disappointed. So, I went back to my duty of working on the farm and looking after cattle. I didn't like working on the farm that much. In my native village, working on the farm and looking after cows were the only available jobs. I did it for another year. In 1995, my older sister, who was working as an accountant at Dar Harbor, came to the village to visit us.
When she was about to go back to Dar, my mother asked her to take me to find any school for me in the city of Dar. I was so excited to come to the big city. My sister returned to Dar with me, and soon enough, I was in Dar to stay for a while. My sister registered me for adult secondary school. I attended my classes in the evening. In the morning, before I went to school, I had to do some hustling. Life in Dar wasn't easy. Sometimes I was sent home for failing to pay school fees. Every time I thought about going back to the village, I said to myself, "You better do all you have to do to stay in school; otherwise, you're going to be a cowboy again for life." So, I stayed in school. Once my sister got her salary, I would never let her sleep until she paid my school fees.
Uniforms and books were within my means. The money I made through my vegetable shop was enough to take care of miscellaneous expenses. In 1999, I completed secondary school. I decided to go back to my village while I was waiting for form four final exam results. When the results came out, my sister in Dar informed us about the results. I got division three; I don't remember how many points. She told my dad that I should come back to Dar to prepare for any post. Luckily, I was selected to join a teaching college somewhere in Kigoma Regional. In early 2000, my sister, who was in the US, graduated, and she invited three people to attend her graduation ceremony in Boston, Massachusetts. I was one of those three people who got invited. I was supposed to report to the teachers' college a few weeks before my USA visa interview. So, I said to myself that I am not going to report there until I have done the interview. Instead of going to teaching college, I stayed in Dar, waiting for the date of the interview. The date came, and I went to do the interview. Luckily enough, I was granted a visiting visa for one year. And that was the beginning of a new life. I arrived in the United States of America in winter; it was very cold. For the first time, I saw snow. America did not match the image that I had in my mind before I came here. Before, I thought America was second to heaven.
I did not know that there are homeless people in the U.S. I saw a lot of homeless people on my way to my sister's house, I saw homeless people on Main Street downtown Lynn. I asked my sister how anyone could be homeless in the richest country in the world. My sister said, "This is a land of milk and honey for the people who work hard and pray hard." Then she quoted verses from the Bible. I don't remember the verses, but I remember very well that whatever she said did not convince me to believe that what she said was the reason that caused people to be homeless in America. We got to my sister's house; it was around 5 pm, but outside looked like 9 pm. It was very freezing and dark outside. Once we entered the house, it was very warm. Everyone took off their jackets. I kept my suit on until I started sweating. The house was crowded because she invited a few of her friends to come see her brother. I felt like I was a superstar on that day. All of her friends were eager to ask me various questions about Tanzania. And I did not mind telling them anything they wanted to know. Within three months of my arrival, I met a beautiful girl from Zimbabwe; she
became my wife the following month. The process of changing the status of my visiting visa to resident started immediately after we married at City Hall. Soon, I got a work permit. Once I got a work permit, my wife helped me get a job at a shelter facility, where I worked as an outreach coordinator. My job was driving around the city of Boston at night looking for homeless people under the bridges and streets. My coworker and I would pass by grocery stores to buy some potato chips.
When we saw homeless people sleeping under the bridge or at bus stations, we would walk to them and ask them if they wanted anything to eat. If they said yes, we would give them some bags of chips. Then we would sit down and talk with them. At the end of our conversation, we would tell them about the shelter and how we could help them get off the street for good. We met so many homeless people from all walks of life. I did this job for a long time because I fell in love with it. Man, I tell you, there is nothing that makes me happier than being in a position to help others. Time went by so quickly, and my wife and I welcomed our fourth child while I was still working at the same place but in a different position. I was promoted from outreach coordinator to intake supervisor. My pay got better as well, but definitely not enough for a family of four. My wife was a stay-at-home mom ever since I started working.
There is one coworker who told me that if you want to know how much your wife loves you, quit your job and let her take care of you for a couple of months. And if she stays the same, make sure you do everything you can to keep her forever. My entire life has been full of struggles. With all the hardship I have faced in my life, my hope is still as good as it was in my twenties. One thing I have learned through my life experience is that nothing lasts forever. My kids have grown up; some have their own families now. My regret to come to the US has nothing to do with my financial issues. My regret to come to the USA is because now, in my late sixties, I have nobody to talk to. My kids are busy with their families. If I did not come to the USA, maybe I wouldn't be lonely like this.
Thank you to all my readers and haters. This is a fictional story except for the places... Next will be a true story about an old man who returned back to his motherland five years ago after living in the US for 28 years.
I know many African youngsters are ready to risk everything, including their lives, for a chance to get into any European country or North America. I don't blame them because twenty years ago, I was just like them. And I understand; it's not easy to live in corrupt and nondemocratic countries. Anyway, let's leave the discussion of democratic and nondemocratic to the scholars.
I am here to tell my story. First, let me introduce myself briefly. I was born in western Tanzania, in Kagera Regional, Ngara District. My parents had twelve children. I am the eleventh child. My dad was an elementary teacher, and my mother was a nurse by profession. I say "by profession" because after she married my dad, she had to quit her job to take care of us and work on the farm to ensure we had enough to eat. To make a long story short, my dad retired from teaching in 1984.
By that time, my ten older siblings had finished schooling. My younger sister and I were the only ones still in school. My younger sister was in preschool, and I was in first grade. I completed standard seven in 1992. Because my dad was a retired teacher, his pension was Tsh 500 a month. Since I wasn't selected to continue with secondary school, my dad didn't bother to send me to a private secondary school like he did with my other siblings.
So, after I graduated from primary school, I stayed home to help take care of cattle and work on our farms. In 1993, one of my older brothers came to the village to visit. My dad was in the process of building a rental house in town. When my older brother was leaving to go back to his business in Kahama town, my dad asked him to take me to buy aluminum sheets for the roof of his rental house that he was constructing in the town.
When my brother and I got to Kahama, he tried to sell the goods he was selling first. Unfortunately, two weeks went by without finding any customers, and he was running out of money to pay for guesthouses and food while we were looking for customers for his goods.
In the third week, he started spending the money that our dad had given him to buy aluminum sheets.
In the fourth week, we finally got a customer who bought all the goods but did not pay the full price my brother was asking for. Because my brother was desperate to get rid of his goods, he sold them anyway at a lower price. Half of the money that my father gave him for buying aluminum sheets was gone.
So, my brother decided to do quick business to recover all the money we spent for the whole month that we were looking for customers. My brother and I decided to do a grain business. We went to Shinyanga Regional rural area to buy maize grains and took them to sell in the big cities, mainly Shinyanga and Tabora cities. We did that business for about a year. We did not make any significant profit.
Finally, we realized the grain business wasn't taking us anywhere. We went back to the village with neither aluminum nor money. My dad was very disappointed. So, I went back to my duty of working on the farm and looking after cattle. I didn't like working on the farm that much. In my native village, working on the farm and looking after cows were the only available jobs. I did it for another year. In 1995, my older sister, who was working as an accountant at Dar Harbor, came to the village to visit us.
When she was about to go back to Dar, my mother asked her to take me to find any school for me in the city of Dar. I was so excited to come to the big city. My sister returned to Dar with me, and soon enough, I was in Dar to stay for a while. My sister registered me for adult secondary school. I attended my classes in the evening. In the morning, before I went to school, I had to do some hustling. Life in Dar wasn't easy. Sometimes I was sent home for failing to pay school fees. Every time I thought about going back to the village, I said to myself, "You better do all you have to do to stay in school; otherwise, you're going to be a cowboy again for life." So, I stayed in school. Once my sister got her salary, I would never let her sleep until she paid my school fees.
Uniforms and books were within my means. The money I made through my vegetable shop was enough to take care of miscellaneous expenses. In 1999, I completed secondary school. I decided to go back to my village while I was waiting for form four final exam results. When the results came out, my sister in Dar informed us about the results. I got division three; I don't remember how many points. She told my dad that I should come back to Dar to prepare for any post. Luckily, I was selected to join a teaching college somewhere in Kigoma Regional. In early 2000, my sister, who was in the US, graduated, and she invited three people to attend her graduation ceremony in Boston, Massachusetts. I was one of those three people who got invited. I was supposed to report to the teachers' college a few weeks before my USA visa interview. So, I said to myself that I am not going to report there until I have done the interview. Instead of going to teaching college, I stayed in Dar, waiting for the date of the interview. The date came, and I went to do the interview. Luckily enough, I was granted a visiting visa for one year. And that was the beginning of a new life. I arrived in the United States of America in winter; it was very cold. For the first time, I saw snow. America did not match the image that I had in my mind before I came here. Before, I thought America was second to heaven.
I did not know that there are homeless people in the U.S. I saw a lot of homeless people on my way to my sister's house, I saw homeless people on Main Street downtown Lynn. I asked my sister how anyone could be homeless in the richest country in the world. My sister said, "This is a land of milk and honey for the people who work hard and pray hard." Then she quoted verses from the Bible. I don't remember the verses, but I remember very well that whatever she said did not convince me to believe that what she said was the reason that caused people to be homeless in America. We got to my sister's house; it was around 5 pm, but outside looked like 9 pm. It was very freezing and dark outside. Once we entered the house, it was very warm. Everyone took off their jackets. I kept my suit on until I started sweating. The house was crowded because she invited a few of her friends to come see her brother. I felt like I was a superstar on that day. All of her friends were eager to ask me various questions about Tanzania. And I did not mind telling them anything they wanted to know. Within three months of my arrival, I met a beautiful girl from Zimbabwe; she
became my wife the following month. The process of changing the status of my visiting visa to resident started immediately after we married at City Hall. Soon, I got a work permit. Once I got a work permit, my wife helped me get a job at a shelter facility, where I worked as an outreach coordinator. My job was driving around the city of Boston at night looking for homeless people under the bridges and streets. My coworker and I would pass by grocery stores to buy some potato chips.
When we saw homeless people sleeping under the bridge or at bus stations, we would walk to them and ask them if they wanted anything to eat. If they said yes, we would give them some bags of chips. Then we would sit down and talk with them. At the end of our conversation, we would tell them about the shelter and how we could help them get off the street for good. We met so many homeless people from all walks of life. I did this job for a long time because I fell in love with it. Man, I tell you, there is nothing that makes me happier than being in a position to help others. Time went by so quickly, and my wife and I welcomed our fourth child while I was still working at the same place but in a different position. I was promoted from outreach coordinator to intake supervisor. My pay got better as well, but definitely not enough for a family of four. My wife was a stay-at-home mom ever since I started working.
There is one coworker who told me that if you want to know how much your wife loves you, quit your job and let her take care of you for a couple of months. And if she stays the same, make sure you do everything you can to keep her forever. My entire life has been full of struggles. With all the hardship I have faced in my life, my hope is still as good as it was in my twenties. One thing I have learned through my life experience is that nothing lasts forever. My kids have grown up; some have their own families now. My regret to come to the US has nothing to do with my financial issues. My regret to come to the USA is because now, in my late sixties, I have nobody to talk to. My kids are busy with their families. If I did not come to the USA, maybe I wouldn't be lonely like this.
Thank you to all my readers and haters. This is a fictional story except for the places... Next will be a true story about an old man who returned back to his motherland five years ago after living in the US for 28 years.
