Even in lands of milk and honey, life’s no bed of roses

By   P L Opondi

Are you illegal? A little child taunted me with this many times when we met in Berkshire, UK.

I grinned shyly, though deep in my heart I felt provoked. Immigrants have very few rights and admonishing this little fellow could have turned sour, as the child could have been given the benefit of the doubt.

The police are never late, they arrive speedily whenever there is a problem, unlike Kenyan police. When they arrive, they are armed with laptops, and the first thing they do is to run background checks. My case was an outright violation for I had deserted Warwickshire for Berkshire. I wanted to be on the ‘good’ side of the law.

A few others asked me the same question a number of times at work but I managed to skive answering it each time.

Yes, I had arrived in the land of dreams (UK) armed with a student visa to study at a prestigious university in Coventry. By all standards, Warwick is a world-class university, full of diversity. But life and education in a UK university requires good funding.

I am a quick learner and soon discovered that money does not grow on trees and sponsors are hard to come by. So going to school at Warwick was out of the question. Week one was orientation, when we were expected to be fully paid up. Tuition fee reminders had started arriving in my pigeon hole. I had scouted all over Coventry for a job in vain and my pockets were running dry. My worry was no longer about fees but personal upkeep.

The obvious thing was to violate my student visa and find work. Folks, a visa violator is automatically on the immigration radar. You are but another illegal immigrant and so you’re always alert lest you are sent home on the next plane.

I needed a job, to pay bills, support my family and plan ahead just in case I was shipped back home. Jobs in the Diaspora can be degrading; immigrants have very few choices, however educated they are. Whereas people at home think their kin abroad are enjoying a good life, these people must toil for long hours to make ends meet. Many have buried their pride and have become depressed, with unpredictable mood swings.

Because of low pay—you’ll find highly educated immigrants driving taxis, sweeping roads and cleaning toilets—and a high cost of living, many resort to working long hours. I did not find it any different in the US, if I were asked to compare. However, life in the US is exhibitionist, characterised by high spending.

Marriage conflicts are many, partially because of the high premium of life abroad. The demands on partners is overwhelming, with few social bonds to help people contain themselves. Such a stressful life can create social barriers, leading to suicide and divorce.

Why do I share my experience? First, to caution those dreaming of making it big by migrating abroad. You need to be equipped mentally for what you are likely to encounter. It is not a bed of roses. It is also a lesson. Those with relatives abroad shouldn’t put too pressure on them, constantly waiting for Money-gram or Western Union alerts. Your relatives spend sleepless nights just to get to the next day. Money doesn’t grow on trees.