“She’s not with the children she must still be at the house”
We approach the house, which was surrounded by Police cars, I saw my sister get thrown into one of the cars, with tears flowing from her beautiful blue eyes, and I’d never seen her cry. Rage filled my heart and I stood to get her back till being dragged down by my uncle whose words still replay through my thoughts every day. “She’s doing this for us don’t you worry. Someday we will find her”
Leaving my sister that day kills me every time I think about it. She was the only one in my family who supported my decision to go to school instead of working on the farm. I owed her so much and there was so much I had to tell her. As we boarded the boat to leave corrupt El Salvador I prayed for her and for that one day we would be reunited.
I am outside the doors of immigration, awaiting the presence of the officer who will inevitably decide the future of me and my family.
Four pairs of aunties and uncles and my cousins sat huddled in a corner, watery eyed, nervous and praying to God the Almighty to intervene on the decision that is separating our family from a new beginning in Australia, five years isolation in a refugee camp or even worse, deportation back to El Salvador. We didn’t fit in there at the moment we didn’t fit in anywhere.
We all sat there in the waiting room watching the clock, the sound of each tick reverberated through my spine. As it ticked over every second in that waiting room seemed like a minute, every minute like an hour. The fifteen minutes we spent in there seemed like a never ending eternity.
Finally a short, stubby man arose from the ‘interrogation’ room and asked for my attendance. I was the designated speaker of the family as I was the only one who had completed tertiary education, even secondary. The rest all...