COMING FOR AMERICA
THE DILEMMA
Andayi Mushenye
CHAPTER 43
Navigating the Lightless Shadows of America
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On my way back home that night and in deep thought, it seemed that whenever I took a step forward toward my assimilation or advancement in American society, I found myself in unavoidable circumstances that took me back four or more steps.
Even though I thought by having a car, I would be independent and free to work or go anywhere, the celebration was short-lived. The fact remained I still had no money for the next term’s tuition, no idea where I was going to live next, and above all, I was scared the USA immigration department would catch up with me after violating my student visa requirements, deport me back to my home country and barred from coming back.
Throughout the week, my worries eventually condemned me to insomnia when I learned that immigration has a toll-free number where anyone can report any immigration law violator that was about to be me. It was hard to get good sleep that would allow me to rest enough to face my long days at school and my backbreaking work as a worried dishwasher. Things didn’t get better when it dawned on me that I was about to start living a life similar to a jailbreaker in the USA, jumpy and always looking above my shoulder.
At about the same time, I had vaguely overheard a commercial for some medicine that could put me to restful sleep. The next day, I went to the store and bought a packet of the same name I had heard phonated on television. I took one but couldn’t sleep; I added two, but still no luck. The following day, I complained to my next-door neighbor that the sleeping tablets weren’t working.
“Let me see them,” he asked.
I grabbed the packet and gave it to him. He glanced at it, then looked back at me as if I were crazy. “You took this?”
“Yes.”
“Are you on your period?”
“Why are you asking me such a dumb question?”
With my hard-to-miss aggravated tone, he didn’t answer. Instead, he busted out laughing until he could not handle it anymore. When he had finally calmed down, he asked, “Dude, did you read the packet?”
I shook my head no. In my country, we hardly had a variety of choices regarding over-the-counter brands of anything. I was so accustomed to sounding off a few brands in my head that I’d bought the tablets without the inclination to read the packet first.
“Dude, this is Midol—it’s for women on their period.”
He busted out again. He had no clue the sleep tabs Nytol and PMS tabs Midol had sounded the same to my ears. Annoyed at how his laughter came at my expense, I left his side of the suite, crossed through the shared bathroom area, and slammed the door behind me, wanting to forget what had just happened.
Sensing my angry reaction, he followed me and found me seated on my bed.
“Mush, don’t be mad. If someone laughs at you about Midol, tell them you used Midol as a hangover cure.”
What I perceived as another shaggy dog story started to incense me, “What? I hope this is not another follow-up joke because right now, this isn’t the time.”
He revealed, “Midol is not just a cure for PMS. It is also used to treat a hangover.”
“Please don’t; I’m not your laughing stock today; go try someone else!”
Like someone whose conscience had caught up with him, he implored, “Just hear me out. I’m not bullshitting you. A woman with PMS may feel achy, bloated, and tired just as a person with a hangover may also feel achy, bloated, and tired.”
My voice reeked of utter pessimism, “I hope this does not end into another joke.”
He sought to reassure me, “No Mush. Midol has an antihistamine to treat feeling nauseated, acetaminophen for aches, a diuretic that provides relief from bloating and caffeine to fight fatigue and energize.”
I was halfway into believing him when he advised, “To save yourself any embarrassment, next time anyone finds out and laughs at you, just tell them you were using Midol as a remedy to kill a hangover.”
When he departed and with little time to dwell on minor stuff, my mind quickly catapulted to my current situation.
As the events unfolded in my head, I realized that although I worked my fingers to the bone, earned overtime hours, and turned all my paycheck to the university each pay period, my payments only met the minimum required to prevent my classes from being canceled. And if I paid late, the late fee penalty was promptly added.
As the final days of the semester arrived, I struggled to pay tuition that was almost double compared to what the university charged American students. By and by. I owed so much that the university directed that I would only be allowed to register for new classes once I paid my balance in full. From what I was earning, there was no way I would meet the two conditions simultaneously. Besides, my grades had tumbled due to long hours hard at work, and my GPA (Grade Point Average) was a hair breath away from academic probation.
On that evening, it was now beyond question that my foolhardy ambition to come to America and pursue my dreams had run into a ditch. I don’t know whether my freaked mind was playing tricks, but the remaining light around me started to succumb to deep darkness quicker than usual.
As nightfall settled in on the outside, a sense of devastating dejection sank deep into the sanctums of my troubled heart. I was so distressed that I couldn’t go to sleep right away. So, I chose to sit on the windowsill to think about the gravity of my new situation. Occasionally, I peeked into the night sky to distract myself from this doom spell, but it did not work.
This new twist of fate I had been too busy blending in to contemplate twisted a knot in my stomach. The air started to feel heavier than any other day, and an oppressive dreariness crossed the threshold of my stricken heart. Without any immediate solution, I began to feel the vibrant optimism I had when I arrived in America slowly bleeding out of me. At long last, I had reached the edge of the other side of America, where I was about to fall off into the unknown. In no time, I had the look of a long-traveled thirsty animal that was about to die from dehydration just a few steps from a waterhole.
Feeling utterly helpless, just me against a foreign world, I glanced up at the darkened sky again for any sign of divine intervention or a psychic tip-off. Instead, the opaque stratosphere was hovering with unstoppable devastation. In that brief, quiet interlude, I could hear various voices and sounds in the vicinity, but I felt as if I was alone in the middle of a frosty universe.
Sooner than I could suffer another round of distress, I realized we would never see the full beauty of the shining stars without the pitch darkness I was quietly feeling and witnessing. Based on this premise, I could not afford to feel like I was at the end of my rope because the challenges I faced in my homeland were more complex and darker than those ahead of me in America. In fact, this kind of dream-killing darkness is what triggered me to think outside the box and conceive the idea of coming to America.
When this thought crossed my mind, I slowly started to view my newest darkness in a new light that made me mumble to myself, ‘Keep your head up. Your best days are still ahead.’
By the time I settled in for the night, I was slowly accepting that my life in America was not a dilemma to be solved but a new reality to be experienced. That is why those who found themselves at the top of the mountain did not just fall there; they prevailed against challenging conditions. With that last optimistic thought, I knuckled softly on the headboard for good luck on my most formidable challenge in America. Little did I know, I was stepping straight into America’s darkest depths—blind to the firestorm that was about to scorch me in the Motor City and beyond.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
SYNOPSIS
FIRST TWO CHAPTERS
MIDMOST CHAPTER