Impactos de la crisis sobre la población inmigrante

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Is it possible to get equal integration in times of crisis?

Author: Henriete Wiese

Nationality: Dominican Republic

Director of documentaries

* Series: Stories about skilled immigration and foreign professional women

I should have stayed at home sitting under a palm tree with my high self.  Like it was before arriving to Catalunya almost 9 years ago. Married to a Catalan, the economic crisis in Latin America made us think that coming back to Spain would give us another chance. We were wrong.

The first thing I understood was that I came to a country with a different culture to the rest of Spain. The integration to this new culture came as a matter of urgency.

"The only way you can tear the emigrant label from your chest is to learn Catalan". This sentence from the mouth of the former President of the Catalonian Generalitat, Jordi Pujol, struck me deeply. And right away, I began to learn it. I reached level C with many efforts. Class schedule was not compatible with the jobs I was getting in catering, waiting tables, and cleaning. Most of the jobs had rotating schedules.

I took subsidized recycling courses. I studied the history of this brave people, learned their habits, read its poets and learned how to beat a death Ali-oli (*2).

My careers as a philologist and cinema producer were not useful.  My extensive CV with dominium of five languages was shortening over time. It became a one page in which I confessed to have not lived long enough to deserve a place in the important and competitive field of cleaning.

My nail and the skin of my hands had never before touched any kind of detergents. I injured a shoulder and elbow by the weight of the trays of dishes that I had never before served. And after standing for so many long hours working on my swollen feet, I finally understood that, this country is not made for an old man.

After suffering labor abuse, scams, discrimination, abusive landlords, unfair dismissals, gossipy neighbors and false friends that criticized that the immigrant is not integrated, but they do not invite you for a coffee in order to know how you are on the inside, I took a decision: “the return.”

I am a non-white-immigrant-professional woman and had provided my qualifications, and capacity for work without success in Catalunya. I am leaving this country without frustrations because learning doesn't take up space and getting to know other cultures enriches. So they say.

And so, after almost 9 years of failed immigration a naked woman with no hat returned to her country of origin. I will start all over again somewhere with my almost 50 years full of strength;  where I can dance under a palm tree and see the sun when I open the windows each morning with a loaf of bread under the arm, and my self-esteem high… very high.

Testimony of Henriette Wiese, Cubelles-Barcelona, August 6, 2010.

*1-Casandra Awards are in DRthe equivalent to the Oscar Awards in USA.

*2-Ali-Oli is a typical hand beaten catalonian sauce made with garlic and olive oil.

*3-Dona jove means young lady in catalan.

*4-Iaia means grandmother in catalan.

Henriete Wiese’s profile:

Director and documentalist of Dominican origin, with studies of Psychology and Philology of the University Autonomous of Santo Domingo, UASD, and a postgraduate degree in Literature at the University of Costa Rica, fluent English, German, French, Spanish and Catalan. In 2001 migrated to Catalunya, after being in her country of origin, creative, producer of spots and audiovisuals for advertising, entertainment, documentaries, theater plays, director of television programs, working in shootings of movies, etc., getting to occupy the position of Production Manager of the State Broadcaster Radio Television Dominicana. Author of several documentaries, was nominated several times for the Dominican Republic Casandra Awards(*1) in the Best Documentary category.

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.

Las hormigas y las abejas

Autora: Erica Aladino Centeno

Nacionalidad: Colombiana

Educadora Social y actualmente orientadora laboral en Madrid (España)

*Serie: Relatos sobre inmigración cualificada y mujeres profesionales extranjeras

Rosa sale todos los días de su casa a eso de las 23h para sacar la basura.  No le gusta que la vean los vecinos por la escalera –uf, a veces quisiera ser invisible- se dice a sí misma.

En realidad no le importa que la vean despeinada,  con sus viejas sudaderas, y con esas machacadas zapatillas de estar por casa, ni que le vean el ajado albornoz que suele llevar puesto, pero lo  que realmente no quiere  es afrontar ciertas preguntas, a las que ella llama: agujetillas.

Las “agujetillas” son todas esas preguntas fastidiosas y molestas, es como  una china o piedrecita en el zapato mientras caminas, o una tiesa y punzante etiqueta en la nuca.

Sí, aquellas preguntas de las que quiere escapar rápidamente y pasar página en un santiamén, evitar que se te quede un mal cuerpo, o el que te manden triste o cabreada a la cama.

Dichas “agujetillas” te pueden poner a pensar y eso, precisamente a las 23h de todos los días es lo que Rosa no quiere preguntas del corte: ¿qué tal? ¿Cómo te va la vida? Cuando ella lo único que quiere es tirar la basura y fantasear con que  también tira  la negatividad de su casa, y deja espacio para que lleguen solamente  las buenas cosas.

Pero en las escaleras no solo encontraba vecinos y vecinas con preguntas “agujetillas” sino también al abrir el correo electrónico de algunas de sus amigas –que la quieren mucho-  preguntándole  cosas como: Rosa ¿ya has encontrado curro? ¿Cuánto tiempo  llevas en el paro? Si, para Rosa era muy difícil mantener su talante positivo

Esta vez, como cada noche, bajaba las escaleras, mirando de lado a lado, se sintió aliviada, ya que toda la corrala, con sus diez mil ventanas parecía dormir;  al llegar a la planta baja encontró un cartel de interés colgada en el  corcho para todos los vecinos.

El cartel rezaba:

SE BUSCA CHICA CON REFERENCIAS

Doña Pepita (la del 4°-9, escalera interior 3 de la corrala) requiere apoyo en labores domesticas. Se busca preferiblemente a alguien de este portal, que trabaje aquí o que viva en este barrio porque no se pagará desplazamiento ni transporte público. El trabajo serían 3 horas diarias de lunes a jueves. Imprescindible saber cocinar. Interesadas llamar al…

 Rosa sintió frío en los pies, ya había dejado las bolsas de la basura en el suelo, se abrazo apresuradamente a su albornoz viejo y lanzó un hondo suspiro.

Llevaba  un año en paro, logró convalidar sus estudios universitarios con muchísimo esfuerzo, llevaba fuera de su país más de 10 años, trabajando los  primeros años como asistenta de hogar en diversas casas. Había logrado trabajar en su profesión y conseguir el anhelado  reconocimiento en  su valía como profesional.

Llego incluso a ser pluriempleada, -eso sí, muchas veces sin poder descansar un domingo- pero gracias a ello logro crear una cuenta de ahorros.

Ya había pasado un año en paro, pero no de paro intelectual, ni de paro de expectativas, se decía a sí misma muchas veces: ni deprimirme quiero.

Cómo mujer, como profesional y como inmigrante pronto comprendió los pilares del reciclaje profesional,  el no parar de hacer cosas, el no parar de aprender, se apuntaba a mil historias, entrando en la dinámica de la formación-laboral del país.

Realizaba dos voluntariados, uno de ellos, de carácter administrativo, que le permitía mantener actualizados sus conocimientos profesionales y otro voluntariado de tipo asistencial.  Aquí Rosa pudo palpar a flor de piel  las  diferentes necesidades humanas  y  tratar  personas  con muchas carencias.

Hubo momentos en los que se sintió muy afortunada:

Dos años de paro (bueno ya había gastado uno), una cuenta de ahorros no muy grande, pero que le permitiría por dos años salir adelante a ella y a su familia.

Si ya lo decía su abuela (y eso que era analfabeta, pero una buena observadora)

Rosa, Rosita, guarda siempre, siempre para las vacas flacas, aprende de los comportamientos de ciertos animales como es el caso de  las hormigas y las abejas, por ejemplo, trabajan muy duro día a día  para asegurar su supervivencia y la de los suyos. No derrochan, se apoyan unas a otras, aprovechan todo –y cuando digo todo es todo- están siempre al acecho de oportunidades para que la comunidad mejore, para que no falte nada en los nidos ni en sus colmenas.

Rosa seguía mirando el cartel fijamente diciendo en voz baja: tal vez, desde nuestro punto de vista humano, se le puede reprochar algunas cosas a estos animales pero nunca, podremos decir que se quedan quietos, cada minutos es importante  para ellos,  y tienen muy claro sus responsabilidades.

Responsabilidad, interesante palabra… -Rosa sigue mascullando para sus adentros- “soy responsable de aprovechar al máximo, el momento presente, las oportunidades que pasan por enfrente de mí, pero también soy responsable de crear las condiciones para que sucedan muchas  cosas buenas.

Sí, en algún lado lo leí:

No existe la suerte… existe la Buena Suerte, y ¡esta es la buena de verdad! ¡Es la que creo yo!, ¡la que origino yo!  Sale de mis actitudes, de mi  trabajo diario, de una gran dosis de perseverancia que tiene origen en el amor propio. En las ganas de hacer bien  las cosas  por mi y por los demás.

Rosa, había estado mirando mucho tiempo el cartel,  termino memorizando el teléfono que allí aparecía; muy posiblemente llamaría a la puerta de su vecina Doña Pepita para presentarse personalmente a la mañana siguiente.

Pensó en la imagen de las hormigas y de las abejas, regresando a sus casas, con las manos vacías –o mejor dicho, con las patas vacías- y otras  veces regresaban con un poco mas pero no las pudo imaginar, sin dejar de salir a buscar –sin dejar de crear sus condiciones-.

En el lenguaje humano, entiéndase, es conocer la propia responsabilidad y no tirar la toalla.

*Erica Aladino Centeno, en calidad de autora de este relato, autoriza a la Asociación de Mujeres Profesionales por la Integración y la Igualdad “AMPI”  a colgarlo en su BLOG para su difusión y para compartirlo con los lectores y lectoras de dicho espacio.