by Ana Molestina
There were three of them. There were two of us, and there existed a line divided between them and us. They were considered the perfect family who achieved the famous American dream, without the help from anyone. Yet, we were considered the losers of the family, who needed to immigrate to the United States to improve our lives. They were five people, my aunt Natty, her husband Pancho, her daughter Brenda, and her two grandsons Michael and Daniel. But I mentioned three of them because the two boys were too small to mimic their family behaviors. We were three–my mom, my brother, and myself. I mentioned two of us because my brother decided to move to Florida.
The union between them and us began when my mother decided to immigrate to the United States. We lived in Ecuador, and my mother worked too much since she separated from my dad. He refused to send us money. One day my mother decided to come to United States because she wanted my brother and me to study in a University. She told us that the only way to progress in life was by studying. Our economic status was a big problem for studying in higher education. My mother called her sister, who lived in California to help us with a place to live while we find a job and eventually find our own place to live. Her sister Natty accepted in receiving us. When we came to California; and they received us, hungry. They then told us that:
“The family does not exist here in the United States, and we are doing a huge favor in providing our house as shelter while you find a job. But never forget, that nothing is free, and when you have a job, your first checks will be used to pay our bills.” My cousin also added:
“Why you come here if you do not know how speak English nor drive? You need to go to Adult School. The college and university are for people like me.”
In Adult School, I met very friendly people, but some of them did not know how to read or write our native language, Spanish. I was 18 years old, and I was the only younger in the classroom. They could not learn English in the same way that I did. They advised me to eat tuna sandwich every day; for it was cheap, and I could save money towards paying for driving classes. Also, they gave directions for places where I could apply for jobs. Although these people were not my family, in them I discovered the true meaning of helping. The teacher was also very nice, and she told me:
“This place is not for you. You need to go to college, and apply for financial aid.”
After asking some of my classmates, I took three buses to Cerritos College. I applied for financial aid, and they tested my English, reading, and math level. The day I received the letter from Cerritos College, and financial aid award was a big celebration for us, my mom and I, but for them, was the day for me to start paying their bills. They were really hungry. My aunt Natty told me:
“The money from your financial aid award is the money taken off of every check of mine. My money will pay your studies and expenses. You better be grateful.”
I am grateful for the opportunity this country has given me to have an education. I will take advantage and make sure I go very far in life, I chimed back. My aunt’s face got red while staying silent.
And so, every day I prepared my tuna sandwich. While I was preparing my sandwich, they laughed because they told me that I smelled like poverty. They called me tuna sandwich, instead of calling me by my name. I ignored them, and I preferred to remember the people who were nice to me by giving me good advice in how to improve myself. Finally, I raised enough money, and the first thing I bought was a used car. I was really excited. They like always, were mad saying how it was with their money that I was able to buy a used car. They then decided to increase the amount we paid them every month. From that day, my mom and I started to find an apartment. After a month, we were able to move to our own apartment. My new classmates recommended applying for the work-study program. I followed their advice, and I was eligible for this program. I could work in an elementary school as a teacher’s aide. I could study and work at the same time. One day at work, one teacher asked me:
“Where did you buy this sandwich? I don’t want to eat the same food from here.”
I made it myself.
“Oh, really? Well, that looks delicious!”
Would you like half of my sandwich?
“Yes! If you don’t mind,” she said as I handed her one half of the sandwich.
“Oh this is delicious! I cannot believe you made this.”
On that day, she gave me the idea of making more tuna sandwiches to sell during lunch time. Tuesday and Thursday were the days I sold my tuna sandwiches. On these days, I was the tuna sandwich girl, but not in the way my family was calling me. This tuna sandwich girl was admired and loved by people that were not family. I continued eating and selling tuna sandwiches until I graduated in getting my Master’s degree, and later went on to find a full-time job as a Special Education teacher. While my aunt and cousins have not changed at all since, I am a very different person now. And although my tuna sandwich days have since ended, I feel proud of being a tuna sandwich girl.