Today, I want to share an unforgettable story with you - my experience entering the U.S. customs. Under the arrangement of our snakehead (human smuggling agent), we left my hometown, and flew through Hong Kong and New Zealand. After two weeks, we arrived at the Los Angeles International Airport, stepping foot on to this unknown land of America.
On the flight from New Zealand to Los Angeles, I recalled a question the snakehead had previously emphasized: “Your final destination would be New York. After arriving at LA, prepare an answer for the border control officer on how you are getting to New York.” I decided to ask the two male companions who were traveling with me. They couldn’t remember exactly, so they suggested taking either a taxi or bus.
Growing up in Fuzhou, I had never really traveled far from home. Apart from going to school everyday, one would find me working at my family's grocery store in the afternoons. The farthest I had ever been out was to hike at Mount Wuyi, which was only three to four hours by car.
Because my parents invested a substantial amount of money and effort for me to come to the United States, I believed that I was going through legal procedures. I was completely ignorant of the concept of citizenship, green cards, or illegal immigration. I held onto that naive belief, firmly convinced that I had entered the United States through legal channels.
After arriving at the border control checkpoint, the three of us went in order together. My two companions passed quickly by answering easy questions such as their purpose for visiting the United States. But when it was my turn, the officer posed the question we had discussed earlier, “You mentioned you're going to New York, so how do you plan to get there?”
I decisively replied, “I plan to take a taxi.” The officer looked at me and emphasized that taking a taxi wasn't a plausible choice because the distance was too far. I persisted in confidentiality, thinking this was what others had advised me to say. The customs officer grew suspicious of my answer, leading to a prolonged interrogation and even a luggage inspection.
Where have you been before? Where will you stay in New York? The officer kept on asking more questions about New York, as if trying to exhaust my knowledge of the city. Perhaps he guessed my background wasn’t simple and doubted my identity. As time passed, those who had entered the customs with me had already left. Amidst the moving crowd, I found myself becoming increasingly confused and impatient, not understanding why the officer is still keeping me here and asking me questions in such detail when my parents had already taken care of all the necessary procedures.
After being detained at the border control for an hour, I became somewhat irritated and asked the officer why there was a need for so many questions. “Those that came with me all went through the Q&A swiftly, so why do I have to wait so long? My group is still waiting for me,” I pressed.
To my surprise, the customs officer, seeking higher guidance, conveyed my frustration to a superior who was engaged in a conversation with someone else. The superior cast a glance at me, then nodded with a smile. Perhaps in that fleeting moment, they only saw a naive little 17-year-old girl with no hidden motives to engage in any unlawful activities.
Despite the long waiting time, I didn’t find the officer to be completely arrogant. "If you have money with you in the future, don't keep it in your luggage. It might get stolen. Instead, keeping your money in your backpack would be safer," the officer advised. This piece of advice warmed my heart. It was the first hint of kindness I felt in this unfamiliar land, and this eerie feeling gave me a sense of confidence that I will survive on this new land.
Finally, after the prolonged wait, I was allowed to pass through border control and was reunited with the rest of my group. We were welcomed by a host arranged by our snakehead. The host, arranged by the snakehead, was very pleased when we arrived. The first thing he did was that he took our passport, and he assured us that he would be keeping them in a safe place.
Perhaps at that time, I couldn't understand why the officer surveyed me so extensively.
After working for about a month, a co-worker asked me how I entered the United States: legally or illegally. I didn't know, all I knew was that I came to America by plane. He asked me what type of passport I used to get through security. I said although the passport had my photo, it was with a different name, and perhaps the snakehead changed it.
He remained silent for a while, perhaps contemplating how to be honest with me. Eventually, he made up his mind and told me that I came through illegal immigration, and was an undocumented immigrant. He encouraged me to work hard and strive to attain a legal status in the near future.
Suddenly crashed down to face reality, I felt somewhat lost. All my past memories and experiences living in America up until that point flashes before my eyes like a surreal dream -- I shouldn’t belong here after all. Gradually, I was reminded again why I had come abroad – my family was in huge debt of over 700,000 RMB. Along with Fang’s immigration fee of 450,000RMB, everything totaled 1.15 million RMB. My father's monthly salary was only 400 yuan, which could barely pay back even just the interest. Driven by desperation, my parents sent me abroad, hoping I could earn dollars to repay the debt. I can’t afford this so-called “belonging,” I have to fight for a place in America to belong. I don’t have the choice to begin with anyways -- to decide where I want to be or where I want to go. I surely can’t go home, for my “home” would no longer exist if I decide to turn myself against this new adventure. My family needs me. They depend on me. Because I am my family’s financial support and the “hope” they find themselves looking up to in the darkest nights of suffering. Each of my next choices will define my home back in China. My heart gradually settled with a sense of nostalgia and an unknown power of strength.
I was so lucky. It was indeed my innocence and naivety that gave me confidence and got me through the border control. The faint smile of the custom manager flashes in front of me, that moment of trust and light was indeed me and my family a second chance at life. And it was this second chance that allowed me to stay.
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