Fatou’s wanderings

Author: Mariama Badji

Researcher in History of Social Communication

* Series: Stories about skilled immigration and foreign professional women

Shattered from the loneliness and weariness, Fatou was going back home after working as a cleaner for nine hours.  She had been working in a clinic for nine months. This job arrived as a blessing after several months of job-hunting. A friend who she met in the library was the one who found it for her. Even though it had nothing to do with her education and the degrees she had obtained with great sacrifices, it would help her handle her new life.

Today, all that Fatou could think of while opening the door was the silence that would wait for her inside. That frightened her. As soon as she went in, she noticed the incessant tic-tac of the clock. There was no laughter, no bird singing, nor any noise that one would find in a typical happy home. The windows were closed, the curtains were drawn.

               

Not even thinking of it for a second, she walked towards the windows and drew the curtains open in order to gaze at the garden.

It was a sad Saturday in November. Suddenly, she found herself shivering. She warmed up with her jacket, tightening it, and, absentmindedly, she gazed into the mirror and sighed. There was no way back. Back. Her memories are flowing.

She remembered that tall woman. She was always cheerful, with bright eyes, despite her difficulties and challenges, willing to fight for her people. As an assistant in a communication company, she worked in collaboration with important NGOs, as well as politicians and professors of the university in the capital city. She had participated in almost every struggle on gender issues and she had been extremely active in the fight against the genital mutilation, a plague that persists until now in the country regardless of its legal punishment. She cared about the most painful aspects of poverty and helped those people to achieve a more dignified future.

Fatou enjoyed every single achievement and arrived home tired but happy to meet her family – her children’s smiles, her mother’s tender gaze behind a quiet appearance, almost trivial, that camouflages a passionate woman; and her husband’s grumpy tone, worried about his health, encouraging Fatou to carry on. She felt loved by her family, by her neighbours and almost all her surroundings. Because the vast majority of them knew that she fought for freedom and good causes. The casserole’s noise disrupted her reverie.  

She woke up so she wear her pyjama on “wax patchwork” (this is a colorful fabric made in various countries in Africa) fabric. Her grandmother had given it to her as a present as soon as she knew that she was travelling to Spain.

Fatou arrived in Spain three years ago anxious to study, especially to improve her knowledge in the area of Communications. Thanks to her desire for perfection, she managed to surpass numerous boundaries in this alien country.

She adeptly practiced her limited Spanish in a way that allowed her to gain the respect of her peers at university. She had courageously confronted the ignorance of certain people about Africa. She learnt how to enter a pub, how to answer wisely to any sort of cruelty towards her. Yet she especially made really good friends. That prompted a better understanding of Spanish people and above all, facilitated her integration into a society that, at the end of the day, cared little about Africa and African people. Not only was her task to learn but also to show, through literature, poetry, dance and the joy, what Africa really was.  

Fatou, unlike most of her countrymen and countrywomen, used to go out to discover new places. She participated in several events and she had no fear in intervening and sharing her point of view. Because she was lucky to have grown up in an open-minded family, where both her mother’s and grandmother’s advice had always been –“if you have a dream, you need to protect it, keeping always in mind who you are and where you come from. Keep your eyes open to life and give always before asking for anything”. This is the reason why she would always answer to those who asked her why she travelled to Spain – “I came here to discover another reality, but I keep my roots strongly tied to my land”.

Her memories are flowing again. As previously, she was overwhelmed by happiness instead of sadness. Streets full of red sand from her grandfather’s hometown, with all those strong, modest women, and mothers and heads of family with very few rights. Greetings, laughter despite poverty, convinced that “in life, every single good thing comes out of a very little thing that grows afterwards; only misfortunes are born in a big scale”.

On this occasion, a song by “El Barrio” interrupted everything. She loves flamenco. Fatou carried the rhythm in her blood and she loved dancing. She had really liked Spanish music since first encountering it. It was an authentic performance to see her moving with the Andalusian rhythm, which made her younger neighbours laugh. She lied on the bed face up and enjoyed the moment… What else could she do?

Oh! By the way, the day after tomorrow is Monday and Fatou is having an interview in a very important company. She had prepared really well to face this new opportunity.

Determined to fight in order to smile, to defend her choice and to show that she could make it, she was certain that her horizons were newly broadening. Therefore, she decided to hold on to her memories preciously and carry on, since she had already struggled against her traumas, anger and phobias.

A smile floated on her lips, and when she overheard the clock striking midnight, she simply thought that somewhere in the world there was an angel that had approved of her decision.  

Brief career summary

Mariama Badji is researcher in History of Social Communication at the Universidad Complutense in Madrid, where she is doing her PhD. She has already finished her university specialization in Communication and Political Management, Communication and Armed Conflicts. Additionally, she has an active participation in various associations; she is the representative in Madrid. She is member of the International Observatory of Afro Women and she has participated in different conferences about gender, migration and politics.

 

The bird and the sheep

Autora: Isabel Barreto

Nationality: Colombian

Degree in Business Administration

Graduate Certificate in Financial Analysis

Trainer in Occupational Training

* Series: Stories about skilled immigration and foreign professional women

Parallel to this crisis, new crisis began to emerge. In reality, Latin American countries have always been in crisis, say rather, that the crisis increased: unemployment was on the rise and paid employment decreases. I began to panic thinking about my children's bleak future and how I would gladly pay for their university’s tuitions so that they could become doctors, engineers, and architectures while driving taxis or performing low-skilled jobs not matching their career abilities or their qualifications.

I began to seek ways to travel to Canada but it was not possible. If I would travel to Australia or the U.S., I would have to learn English. I was given the opportunity to travel to Spain, a decision that I made in less than a month.  To pay for our trip, I used the money that I had saved for my daughter to go on a cruise on her fifth teen birthday. Here we are, nine years later and we have not been able to go on that cruise.

My daughter is now 24 years old, she is a sophomore at the university and wants to become a Chemical Engineer. In the past four years, she had dreamed of finishing her degree but has not been able to enroll full time at the university because she has to work.
Three months after arriving in Spain, I felt for the first time as if I was a bird coming out its nest, weal and disoriented.

I began to work as a housekeeper and was given a blue and white plaid uniform with white canvas shoes. I compared this uniform to what I used to wear when I lived in my country: gray executive suits with a tie and being the head of personnel.
I worked from 6:30 a.m. till 25:30 a.m. Indeed, it is how I write it. I worked 25 hours and 30 minutes of the next day.

I worked in a villa with four floors and five people lived in it. I had just been working for eight days, when my boss called me a native. 

He said to me, “if you cannot clean a house, go back to your country or become a whore, and by the way, with your looks you would be a good one."

I felt as if I was dying. I wanted to leave but had nowhere to go. All I could do was lower my head. I put up with the situation for seven more months till I found another job. I was fortunate enough to have found a decent family. I had to take care of three children but I was very happy. My daughter lived with me and she was able to reassume her classes at the university.

I legalized my status five years ago.  I validated my degree to Business Studies and began to work as an administrative assistant and as a telephone operator. I justified it because I had not worked for six years and had no experience in the field.

I evoked the feelings of being a bird again, but this time the bird was living in a cage and as it was set free the bird began to crash into walls, against the glass and was still weak and clumsy. That is exactly how I felt, except, instead of crashing against the glass I was crashing against the world reliving painful memories from the past. For instance, my supervisor approached me one day carrying a white envelope in his hand, and with an arrogant 

attitude commanded me to follow him to his office and said to me,

- "Isabel, we are so sorry but you did not passed the test period."

-My eyes widen and I was so surprised because I could have sworn I was doing everything that was asked off me. I left with my salary settlement and with few tears rolling down my cheeks.

I went to the apartment that I had rented to reunite with my husband and I told my daughter what had happened. She looked at me wondering, - "what are we going to do now? Rent costs 700 and we have in the bank 120 plus 350 of settlement?"

I began to work on craft projects making necklaces, bracelets by using the art of recycling.  I also made cushions made out of pieces of fabric and was able to make enough money to pay for the rent, the utilities and buy food until my daughter could find a job to help me out.

I am 49 years old and I am still taking courses in computing, telecommunications, Contaplus, Nominaplus, FacturaPlus, and Basic English.
 

In Spain, no company allows you to sign a contract for over a year. Well, I have acquired experience as an administrative assistant and in telemarketing. I have visited all employment and placement offices.  I filed the applications stating that I was documented or was undocumented; whether I had experience or had none; whether I was black, white or mestizo. I was told that I had to fill the blank spaces or I would not receive a phone call. After waiting for, 6, 7, 8, 9 years, I never received a call but neither did anyone else.
I have presented my craft projects and I was told," How beautiful ". " You are indeed a true artist." There is no budget for crafts it is only a volunteer job.

When I visit CEPI, or ONG, it is not because I am asking for assistance. I am not asking for freebies, I am only asking to be given the opportunity to show my craft. A technique I learned many years ago. I am not expecting to get rich I am doing it so that I can survive. But instead of feeling as if I was a bird I now feel as if I am a sheep: - I enter shorn wool and salt.
Whether I visit INEM, or whether I go to an employment agency or search the Internet for a job, I want to cry. After studying for years and with all my qualifications, the ad reads:
- An Administrative assistant is needed and I say, "Finally, the job is mine!"

Then I read, - "No more than 35 years old."
- "I am 49 years old."
The ad says, "preferably with a car.' - and I - I barely have enough money to pay the rent how can I buy a car".
As I continue to read,
-"Essential requirement, Fluent in English"
- And I barely know spanglish. I continue reading;
- "Disability greater than or equal to 33%." 

I exclaimed-aahhhhh!? And I say to that, -OK, OK, I beg for forgiveness of those who have disabilities. I have an emotional disability caused by a weary soul and a broken heart. My heart has been broken in two continents for I mourn having to leave my sons behind in my country for nine years .The shattered hopes and having reached certain age, the feeling of being undervalued, and just to know how hard I have studied to better myself all of those efforts are worth nothing. I feel impotent, incapable, or  "emotionally disabled."

The sum of all of my feelings adds up to more than 33%.

- "Who can certify that I am emotionally disable?"

I did field work, or rather, volunteer work for several organizations. I did it as a personal challenge and thus to define and visualize the weakness and the strengths of my project.
Today, thank God, I found a job in an association where I signed a contract for nine months. Although, I am optimistic not pessimistic, I keep asking myself: what will happen afterwards? Being fifty years old, will I be able to get a job?

Could I demonstrate one day, that I have studied and that I am a qualified?
Have my training been worth acquiring it? 
Was it  worth it to leave my family, my country, and my friends, in search of a more promising future?"

- As the lawyers say: "No more questions  your honor."

Brief career summary

Ana Isabel Barreto Mendoza

Graduate in Business Administration.

Training: Social Networks, Social Leadership, Introduction to Teaching Methodology, Technical and Administrative Management. I have experience as Administrative Assistant, Human Resources Administrative Assistant and Commercial customer. I have also worked as Call Center Operator, Instructor in artistic creation workshops, crafts and occupational therapy.

Rose's story

Author: Rosario González Salguero

Nationality: Bolivian

Specialist in Preparation and Evaluation of Projects

* Series: Stories about skilled immigration and foreign professional women

When we leave our origin country we think that there are many lucky opportunities waiting for us, which will help us to develop as persons, besides of making economic resources.

This is a real story, almost a novel with some lines of irony, humor and charm; very subtle tricks that we immigrant women use to invent so we can overtake the sadness of being away, far away of our land, our family and our children.

This is Rose's story: When she arrived to Madrid on a hot July, when the sun seems to never rest and day are so long and bright, as the illusions of arrive to a new country looking for challenges and goals. what she did not know was that there was a big difference between arrive as a tourist and living as a worker, but She was determined to pass any barrier, achieve their goals and integrated in old Europe, being an active person in this new country and society.

When Rose went through the door of the employment office she had to hide the title under the arm and instead of showing up her studies and profession, she had to show up her kindness, patience, a little of psychology and a lot of cooking and cleaning skills. This will open the doors to generate her economy, besides of give her a decent life and give support to her distant family.

Rose didn’t hesitate, any place of Spain, any job for women (cleaning, cooking, children care, elderly care), after many years of college, after so many classes and seminaries, she had to choose the iron and dishwasher, besides of accepting the new reality, she didn't have a name on the working house, she was nothing but the maid.

Anyways, she was optimistic and happy, people on the streets were kind, for example: if she ask any direction of places she doesn’t know, a bunch of kind people shows her the way with many details, people were always asking her, where is she from, and she always answered that question explaining that she was only a maid.

Rose lives in Spain five years ago, three of those five years she worked with a family in which there was a disabled five years old boy, with an unknown disease and without diagnostic, he was charming, he didn't speak, he didn't walk, only jump around as a frog, he was extremely restless and naughty, he wasn’t paying attention to the dangers close, so Rose had to be very careful with him, very patience at lunch time, bath time but she really understood him, they were good friends. The disabled boy knew who loves him.

Two years went so fast, and Rosa requested to the family to help her with "the papers", they accepted. Few months later when Rose was finally legal in Spain, the boy's family came up with a radical change, they were asking for nonsense favors, for example: They asked her to take the bad humor at midnight, after Rose took care of their kids all day, gave them the breakfast, lunch and dinner, helped them with school chores, went to the pool with them, eat with them, going to the park with them and being all day very dedicated to their kids. Is it normal to ask for taking care of two extra little girls that live in the neighbor? Rose is a very responsible person; she knows that with three little girls in a pool is a risk for everyone, for them, for Rose and for irresponsible mothers that went on shopping.

Anyway, the conditions changed since the day that the family helped Rosa with the glorious "papers". Rosa disappointed left to Madrid looking for a better destiny. Madrid City is a place with a lot of cultural diversity, an unstoppable activity in every way. There is a place for everyone, genius and no genius. Madrid City is a place that catches the attention of everyone, it generates illusions, imagination, generates art, but at the same time is the capital city with all the problems of a cosmopolitan city and there is the problem of immigration.

How many people like Rose had to pass through the CIES (Internal center for foreigners), how many others got an expulsion letter and they walk with fear on the streets, there are policemen everywhere, uniformed and dress as civilians it doesn't matter if it's day or night, they love making raids late at night, with the time difference between the cities the best time to communicate it's from 10 at night on forward. And the people that are in a very irregular state debate about satisfaction of having some good news from their families, but at the same time with fear of being trapped by the police, for a very common activity like missing family.

For immigrants life in Madrid is hard, the heads of the employee offices think that the working girls are like robots, restless, without feelings and no emotional needs. Give a job contract or pay social security it's their obligation, but they don’t do it, so immigrants have to pay that for themselves.

In the past year, Rosa had experience with elderly of Spain; it's dramatic in every way. Elderly is abandoned in this country, family is bored of them, and so they have two options, the residence for elderly or the immigrant attention.

At this time, Rose arrived to a lost neighbor of Vallecas, for her surprise, most of the people were elder. Rose, besides of accepting her economic conditions and very unfavorable job, past trough very maddening experiences specially with the old woman, in her crazy mind, turns aggressive, refuses to eat, sleep or taking the medicines, and Rose as many other women in her conditions, must search in the psychology bag any persuasive tool to apply on the old woman who's bored of life, because if the old woman is conscious about something, it's about the love absence that her family has on her.

Working with people, children or elders it's decent, but are the conditions decent? Intern jobs with endless schedules, insufficient payment, and if you don’t like it they kick you out, 'cause there are many other immigrants dying for that job.

The illusions are like an alleyway, some of the gained experiences here in Spain are marks of the best laundry products and a mastering title washing dishes; an experience with unpaid jobs.

Go back? That's the main issue that many others ask themselves as Rose, to go back with a broken illusion, no money, no future, no life plan, Rose is not a young girl, and she’s fifty. But this last year immigrants decided to go back.

On February, she filed her application for residence by "rooting", which would allow him permission to live and work in Spain, after six months without response the result is “negative", she doesn’t know why, but the letter didn't arrive yet, in the mean time there's nothing she can do, but she has to survive, make some money.

In Bolivia, Rose's children need money every month for school. She's been almost a year pending the processing of immigration, to try to get a work permit that ultimately fails.

Right now, Rose is a worker women, immigrant, she looks for domestic jobs, she could be decided to work on the bad conditions with no sufficient payment, no security, but with kindness, patience, good at cooking and cleaning skills and washing dishes even to midnight if it's necessary.

Searcher for work

Author: Erica Aladino

Nationality: Colombian

Degrees in Psychology and Social Education

Experience in: Health Education, teaching of Social and Personal Skills and social projects

* Series: Stories about skilled immigration and foreign professional women

She was very nervous in her office, breathing shortly, looking at the computer clock and glancing rapidly to the corridor.

It was obvious that Marina was expecting someone.

"Hello, I have an appointment" said a woman, supporting herself on the door frame.

Marina greeted her in a cold and formal way. "Sit down please Madam."

The lady began to talk: "Look, I have a big problem. I am an unemployed woman of more than 45 years old, and know very well that companies do not want to know anyone of my age. I have a lot of experience as a secretary and administrative worker. Do you think you will be able to help me? Is there any work in this?"

Marina replied: "Because of your personal situation, you belong to one of the so called groups in risk of social exclusion; this is a citizen involved centre of integration and our objective is to assist you with the resources that we have or direct you to other suitable assistance."

Whilst Marina was telling her this, she was looking at the woman's arms and elbows on the desk, looking at her dress and jacket, her nails, earrings, and her hair. All the while, below the desk, she was continuously tapping her left foot.

A few minutes past, and the woman, sitting upright, was holding on to both sides of the chair, and when she wasn't doing this, she was strumming her fingers on her skirt.

"Well, as I have said to you, the employment project that we run here looks for work for disabled people, women victims of violence and to immigrants, but because of your situation, I can include you."

At that precise moment, an email arrived to Marina's mailbox, which she read out of the corner of her eye. Marina, it's me, Ana. Is everything alright? If you need anything, just let me know. I'm very close by!

The direct look from the woman made her resume her attention to the meeting.

"Yes, yes, Miss, I understand all that you say to me, that one must help those that need it. Aye those poor ones! “Said the woman, shrugging her shoulders and clapping her hands abruptly on the table.”If you didn't help them, just see how this country would be, a barbarous one. How could you not!"

 When Marina heard the last comment, she breathed deeply, swallowed saliva and lightly snapped the fingers of her right hand. She began then to look at the job offers she had in hand.

It was clear that the girl was going through a bad spell, since at various moments that she could, she would steal a glance to the corridor, as if she wanted to run from the place.

Whilst she was reviewing the job offers, the visitor would not stop nervously from talking. With a high and screechy voice: "of all the companies that I've worked in, which are for numerous years as secretary to management of various firms and now with the crisis, they have been giving me the boot, like an old useless dog."

Marina, at the same time, remembered a telephone conversation she had received three days ago. It was when her work colleague, Rodrigo said to her:

- Marinita, you have to take this call. There is some lady, I think she is Spanish and is full of complaints in order that they close down this little place.

"And? What do I have to do with all of this?" She replied.

The lady says we are obliged to look for work for her, and as you are the one who is responsible in that area…

Marina took the phone and Rodrigo put the call on speaker, keeping his eye on his work colleague the whole time.

"I'm the person responsible for employment. Tell me how I can help you?"

"Listen, you are obliged to help me look for work. I have just spoken with a place that tells me that you help immigrants. What else do they need? They get vouchers to eat, buy books, other social assistance, and now this! No wonder they don't want to return to their own country."

Marina breathed deeply and answered: There are many various employment projects, each and every one of them directed to specific groups, including those that help locals find work. This includes the European Community and not just Spain.

"I don't care what you say. I’m fed up with the polite words and niceties. One must help me out in my desperate situation and at my poor age. I'm sick of having to go from one place to the next, like a yoyo" said the woman on the other side of the phone.

"Before you come to the office I just want to make it clear that this place is especially directed at women victims of violent crime, disabled people and immigrants, ok? I have made an appointment for you for this Thursday at 12pm. When you arrive, please ask for Marina Castaneda."

Marina continued reviewing all her paperwork, with the misfortune that she wasn't finding anything suitable, in reference to the professional profile of the woman in front of her. She was unable to concentrate in her search due to the continuous complaints she was hearing. In a high voice, she went on and on about the government, the crisis, the bad weather, and above all, the cold temperature of the office. " And why don't you put on the heating?" she exclaimed.

Touching her brow, and feeling the sweat that was pouring from her, she said: " Please give me your documentation that you have brought with you"  The woman, hesitating, glancing towards the floor, acting very nervously, looked in her bag, but before doing so asked: " so will you help me?"

Marina turned pale and answered: “it’s my job."

The woman then timidly passed over her documents, the first being her curriculum. This time, with her head hung low, and with a low voice she says: "as you will be able to see in my CV, I have work references also."

“I will help you in building and activating a search plan, looking at all avenues, knocking on many doors, so that all the companies within Madrid and its surrounding areas know of you."

Both got up, and Marina extended her hand to close the meeting and say goodbye, though the woman responded by giving her a huge hug.

"I’m Maria Teresa Beltran, I spoke with you three days ago."

"I know", answered Marina.

" And why didn't you tell me you were an immigrant?" replied the woman.

*Special collaboration and translation: Elaine Connor

Brief career summary

Erica Aladino

My education, a degree in Social Education, has allowed me to work in diverse fields such as Health Education, giving workshops on prevention and community health to both the immigrant and Spanish population. I have also been able to work as a teacher of Social and Personal Skills with groups of social exclusion, such as those with a disability.

This training brings together my other studies related to health, with the psychology degree, the occupational training and being a leisure and free time instructor has allowed me to face projects of occupational resources, active work search, orientation and work intermediation, support in leisure.