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Letter From The Immigrant By Jebose Azuka

January 31, 2018

Dear America: I am your past, present and future. I am not going anywhere. I am your story and history. This is my home: America, the land of dreams and for dreamers. America, the beautiful: where dreams can be real and hopes, shattered. America is my new frontier. I embraced you since my feet touched your soil. My immigrant blood is also for this soil. You are my America, my old glory, marinated in the star spangled banner, diversified by my profound patriotism, inclusiveness and love for this country. This, dear America, is my home. So stop trying to send me back. I will not leave. Just like The Eagle, I have landed. Plenty are still coming to make this a strong union. Many came since your discovery. America, you are just like me, an immigrant. We took different paths to our destination: This God's own country, home of the brave and land of the free. I will defend the constitution and bear arms in defense of the Union. I will respect the rule of law just as I have always done.

My dear America, I am an immigrant, strong, intelligent and determined to serve my country. I am the dedicated farm produce worker you depend on for your fresh groceries. I am the dependable potatoes farm picker you pay minimum wage to work long hours, harvesting potatoes at your Idaho Potatoes field. I am your strawberry grower in any Southern State hometown. I am your homebuilder that rocks the Real Estate Estate business. I am your used motors parts finder at the junkyard. Your odd jobs are my startup life.

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I am an immigrant tobacco farm and soybeans hand helper down the delta and midwest. I am the janitor in your office building, in the United States Congress too, cleaning after members of Congress. I am also the janitor in the White House kitchen, laundry rooms and other hospitality places.  I am the few and the proud, serving and defending this great country and the constitution in the Armed Service. I am the immigrant that cleans your homes, bath, wipe and care for your aged parents in the nursing homes. I watch your mother and father live out the remainder of their aged lives. I am there when they need me. I am your neighborhood grocery cashier, your gas station attendant, the backline food prep at your favorite fast food, your dishwasher at your mom's best restaurant. I am your reliable taxicab; the  Uber driver that would pick you at odd times and lonely holidays. I am everywhere in my new homeland.

I am in your hospitals as caregivers, janitors, best surgeons, researchers and specialists: I am in colleges and high schools as teachers, students that continue to make America great.  I am at the hospices giving comfort to your dying mother and father: I am the last person that watches his or her last days: in those final hours, your mother or father neither care nor know if I am immigrant or American by birth, didn’t care if I am indigenous. I am everywhere.

No city or border walls can stop migration on planet earth. If you build the walls, I will fly. I shall swim across the Pacific and Atlantic oceans to land these shores. I shall globe trot to get here. You cannot stop a determined spirit. I am like birds in the sky. I seek to live decently and dignified: I am human. I am an immigrant: this structured free enterprise economy needs me to survive and sustain its great superpower. We need each other. So stop your rage and hate against the immigrant. It would not work. It has never worked. Immigrant’s disciplines were founded by the principles of loyalty, dedication, hard work, faith and family. These guide and guard us every day.

Which American son or daughter would give you the best while picking potatoes and strawberry or dismantling a car engine at yard junkyard?. Dear America, which American would have the compassion to bath, wipe, feed and care for your aged mother or father in an assisted living home, the way I do these?.  Immigrants are the heart foundations of America’s economy.

My dear America, you, too, are an immigrant, we both deserve a piece of this great American pie, baked with hard work and labor of love. I will write you, soonest. God Bless you, America and the restrained immigrant.