The New Texans Photographs and Biographies

Hayford Awuku 1 (HAY-ferd a-WOO-koo) Koforidua, Ghana Naturalization Date: September 25, 1997

I had a host mother (at Baylor), and she was very special to me. . . . She was more than a mom to me. . . . She would do her best to help you out with your needs, and they also take you around places to visit and take you for dining, and whatever your problems may be at any time, she can help you to cope with the new life you have entered upon.

I wanted to study more, because everything is here—I mean in terms of technology, and I’m very much interested in technology—and everything is here, so, whatever you want to know, this is the place you have to be. . . . All you need to do is work with all your strength, and you can get it done.

Dr. Awuku is 40 years old and is married with two children. He is a professor of physics at St. Philips College in San Antonio, a long way from Koforidua in Ghana, where he was born. As a boy Hayford went to elementary school in Koforidua, an urban community of about 100,000 people in eastern Ghana. Having done well in his studies, he was sent to the capital city of Accra to attend a Presbyterian secondary school. He passed two entrance exams, which allowed him to enter the university in Accra at no cost. Later he received a scholarship and a teaching assistantship to attend Baylor University in Waco, Texas, where he earned his doctorate. His father is deceased, but his mother, one brother, and one sister still live in Ghana; three other siblings now live in New York, Canada, and Germany. The family gathers yearly at one place or another to visit. Having gone to a Presbyterian secondary school, Hayford Awuku says he had no trouble adapting to Baylor, a Baptist school, especially with help from his “host mother,” Mrs. Robinson. His only diffi culty was language and communication. For example, he said the “thumbs up” sign, which Americans use to signal that something is good, is an insulting gesture in Ghana. Also, in Accra English is spoken, but some terms have different meanings. For example, when he fi rst arrived in the United States, he and a companion asked for directions to the bathroom. A man pointed to the restroom. To Hayford, “rest room” meant “hotel room.” Not wishing to pay for a hotel room for such a brief use, he said, “No, I do not want to pay.” “It’s free!” the man told him. So they said, “Ah! In America, everything is free!” Dr. Awuku is Presbyterian, like many in Ghana, a predominantly Christian nation and former British colony which attained its independence in 1956. When he talks with his children about his homeland, he expresses pride in the Ashanti chieftains who, “though not very technological,” conquered most of Ghana and created an effi cient hierarchy to govern it. He teaches them a little Twi, the dominant Ashanti dialect, sings Ashanti songs, wears his kente cloth, and tells them stories drawn from Ghana’s rich history and folklore, such as the stories of Anansi the spider, now a favorite story character of all American children.

María Fernanda Barreyro-Falbo 2 ma-REE-a fair-NAHN-da ba-RAY-ro FALL-bo) Posadas, Misiones, Argentina Naturalization Date: December 11, 1997

Wurstfest! We even have that! The fi rst year I was here, they took me to the festival, and they were going,“Have you ever been to Wurstfest?” and I didn’t know what they were talking about, and I was going, “No, I have never been,” and they said, “Oh! You’re going to like it,” . . . And they took me to the Wurstfest. I felt like I was at home! I mean, the sausages, the beers…

In Buenos Aires the majority are Italian. So one of the things I always tell him [her husband] is, if someday we go to Argentina, you will—he will—blend in perfectly fi ne . . . . He comes from an Italian family. And I’m going, “No wonder I got attracted by him!”

I feel good about it [being naturalized], and it’s like a fi nal step, too, before a newnew beginning, in a way, for me, because . . . now, more than ever, I know I’ll be staying here, and I don’t have a problem to be proud of who I am or what I am, and I hope I can be part of this huge country.

María Fernanda Barreyro-Falbo’s father worked for an international organization, and the family moved to Bryan when Fernanda was two years old so that he could get his Ph.D. at Texas A&M. She learned English fi rst, then acquired Spanish when they moved to other places: Guayana, Barbados, Mexico, then back to Argentina, where she attended Belgrano University in Buenos Aires. Fernanda has a younger sister who is already a citizen because she was born in the United States while the family was in Bryan. When Fernanda fi nished college six years ago, her sister was living in San Antonio, so it seemed like a logical place to come. That sister now lives in Miami, a brother lives in Argentina and will likely remain there, and her parents live in Panama. Two years ago Fernanda married Texan James Falbo, and the couple are making their home in San Antonio. Having moved often and lived in so many different countries, Fernanda adjusts quickly to different tempos and lifestyles. In many ways, she fi nds her present home of San Antonio to be much like Argentina, both in the climate and in the fact that the infl uence of many cultures is everywhere. European infl uence continues to be strong in Argentina, and many young people of Czech, Polish, German, or Spanish ancestry return to Europe at age 18 to apply for citizenship in the lands of their grandfathers. She herself is a third-generation Argentine, a “cocktail,” she calls herself—a blend of French, Spanish, Indian, and German ancestry. One thing Fernanda misses is her yerba mate, an herbal teatea sharshareded among friends, passed around in a gourd for all to drink from. Recently she was able to fi nd some of this special drink in a market, and it is likely that this gregarious and sociable new Texan will soon be passing around a gourd of yerba mate, sharing a custom of her homeland with friends in her new hometown.

Kailesh Bavaria 3 (KAY-lesh bah-vah-REE-ah) Jamnagar, India Naturalization Date: July 10, 1997

I am married since,since, liklike,e, thrthreeee and a half yyears.ears. My wife is in India right nonow;w; she cannot come over here because I have my Green Card. And that’s one reason why I am becoming a citizen as soon as possible.

One of my friends—I mean, I know he is making this joke—he says, “Oh, you guys carry a chicken on the plane?” I say, “Yeah, I do carry a chicken on the plane!”

Kailesh Bavaria grew up in Jamnagar, India, near the national border with Pakistan. He is Hindu, but as a child he attended a Roman Catholic School, the Cornwall School. Lessons were taught in English, but daily communication was in Gujavati, a dialect of Hindi spoken in western India. (Since India was once colonized by England, he notes, English is a fairly common language.) Kailesh also speaks Hindi, the offi cial language of India. After earning his undergraduate degree in engineering from Bharnagar University, Kailesh entered Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in Troy, New York, to earn his master’s degree in 1992. In October 1993 he returned to India to marry. When he graduated in 1994, IBM offered him a job in Austin, where he now lives and works. Austin is similar to Jamnagar in size and climate—except during June, July, and August, India’s rainy season! Kailesh is a legal resident with a Green Card. He would like to bring his wife to the United States, and that desire is one of his reasons for acquiring his citizenship at this, his earliest opportunity. He has a sister in North Carolina, who is already a citizen; she and her husband have two sons. One brother has been to the United States twice as a legal resident, but he now plans to remain in India. Kailesh participates in the Hindu community in Austin, which includes many different branches of Hinduism. He likes the social life in India, where friends drop in unannounced and spend late nights together. He misses his wife as well as his parents, two sisters, and a younger brother. He has returned to see them every fall during the season of Divali, the Festival of Lights. He looks forward to this year’s visit more than ever, for now that he is a citizen, he will be able to bring his wife back with him.

Madjid Benchouia 4 (ma-JEED ben-CHOO-ya) Biskra, Algeria Naturalization Date: August 28, 1997

I think therethere is a lolott of negatinegativeve sstereotypingtereotyping of MuslimsMuslims.. TherTheree is the association with terrorism. There may be a few people that commit, you know, some crimes, just like anywhere else; here, you’ve got the criminal element whether they’re atheists, Christians, Jewish, whatever. . . . But, with Muslims, there is a tendency in the media, for whatever motivation, . . . to paint the whole Muslim community with a very negative image, and I do resent that. . . . But all we can do is maybe try to correct that by being more informative and fi ght that with just the right information.

Starting in middle school in Algeria’s 13-year public school system, Madjid Benchouia was directed into a strong math and science program which helped him get a full scholarship to graduate school at The University of Texas at Austin. Moving to Texas seemed to 19-year-old Madjid like an adventure! He adapted quickly and had the desire to explore. Here he made the transition to adulthood, and here he married Carol. After graduate school they moved to Algeria for three years, 1981 through 1984. Those were good years to live in Algeria, they agree, economically, culturally, and with regard to one’s freedom and safety. Both remember fondly the closeness of the extended family life in the Benchouia home in Biskra, 300 miles southeast of Algiers. But since 1984 Madjid and Carol have made their home in Texas, returning to Algeria to visit his mother, sister, and two brothers every few years. (One brother has recently moved to the United States.) On return visits they enjoy fresh dates and tawa, a special bread. On their next visit they plan to get a kisra, a pan similar to a pizza pan, so that they can bake their own tawa. Carol often prepares couscous, the national dish of Algeria, in her kitchen. Madjid wants his children to learn French, his fi rst language, and Arabic, currently the primary language of Algeria, so that they may communicate with his family. Although Carol has not converted to Islam, Madjid remains Muslim, and their two children are being raised Muslim. In the family home and in Austin’s Muslim community, Madjid continues the four practices of prayer, reciting the creed, fasting during the month of Ramadan, and giving alms. He has not yet made a pilgrimage to Mecca, the fi fth pillar of Islam and a duty which every Muslim man is expected to undertake in his life. Madjid often faces misinformation and stereotypes about Algerians and Muslims. He encounters many who do not know that his homeland, north of the Sahara, is the largest country on the African continent, with a population whose heritage is Berber, Roman, Arabic, Phoenician, and Turkish, as well as African. The most diffi cult stereotype to overcome in his daily contacts is the image of Arabs as terrorists. When he feels unwelcome or disbelieved, he often wonders if it is not due to the fact that he looks and sounds a bit “foreign.” In some cases, he can tell that those passing judgment on him are not well educated, but sometimes it seems that the stereotype has affected even those who should know better.

Susan Brown 5 (SOO-zun BROWN) London, England Naturalization Date: April 24, 1997

I think a wandering spirit had a lot to do with it. I kind of wandered and then gotgot the job; I didn’t have the job before I wandered. . . . I was so young that everything was new!

She—my mother—thought everyone would live in huge houses and walk around dressed like cowboys.

Susan Brown says her native language was “Cockney.” She was born in London in 1952 and spent her early years there. When her parents divorced, she moved with her mother to the smaller town of High Wycombe, about 30 miles away. At the age of 11, she underwent academic testing to determine her future course of studies, a standard practice in England’s socialist system of education—all free, paid for by the government. As a result of her high scores, she was placed in a program with classes in languages and writing as well as a full complement of secretarial courses such as shorthand and typing. Although she was not particularly fond of her course of study—especially when she saw the creative projects in art and cooking which her sister brought home!—she completed her basic education two years early. When her mother remarried, Susan was quite unhappy and moved back in with her father for a while. She also worked for an American engineering company, where she learned to use a computer. At the age of 16, she fell in love with an American serviceman stationed at the air force base in High Wycombe, and, when he returned to Sacramento, California, in 1969, she followed. Her romance was short-lived, but her secretarial and computer training proved to be an asset. On the basis of her work skills, she was granted legal residency in 1973. Since then she has lived in California, Florida, New York (too cold!), Arizona, and Texas, moving to new locations simply for the joy of discovery. On a vacation in San Antonio, she fell in love with the Riverwalk and stayed. Married now and working as a graphic artist, she still calls the city her home. Susan has returned to England on vacation once. She does not miss the cold weather, but she does miss the food, “the most wonderful sausages and bacon that you can ever imagine!” As much as she has traveled, she does not particularly like driving; in fact, using personal transportation instead of public transportation was a diffi cult adjustment for her. Susan’s sister presently lives in the United States and is considering citizenship. Their mother visits every couple of years and has now overcome the Texas stereotypes she had acquired, Susan laughs, by watching the television program Dallas.

Kin Chan 6 (KEN CHAN) Hong Kong, China Naturalization Date: July 7, 1997

[My wife and I] applied together, apply for citizenship together, but only me gotan interview! and she hasn’t got a letter yet, and we don’t know why. Last time, in July—no, in June—when I interviewed, during the interview time I asked, and they checked the record and found out that somehow the FBI sent their letter back to the Immigration’s offi ces a little bit late. But now they get the letter, and the FBI [was] ready, and they prepare the document, and probably soon they will interview her by September, October. Probably you will see her next time!

Having completed Form 7, the equivalent of a college preparatory high school plan, 20-year-old Kin Chan left Hong Kong in 1982 to get a good education. At City College of New York, he met his wife, with whom he had much in common. Both were born in Hong Kong, both were engineering majors, both participated in the Christian Fellowship at the college, and, as it happened, both got jobs with IBM and were sent to Austin. Kin has fond memories of his friends in Hong Kong. Each year of “high school,” his primary school friends would get together and go picnicking or camping in the New Territories or on one of the islands around Hong Kong. They would stay up all night talking—and eating barbecue! He had learned some English in school, and, though his reading was adequate, his hearing of English took some hard work! Spoken at a normal rate, the words seemed to go by too fast, and some had subtle meanings that were hard for him to catch. Once a professor told him that he had “lousy” hair. Kin looked up “lousy” in the dictionary and thought the professor had accused him of having head lice! Kin’s parents, sisters, and brother now live in New York and have become Christian, but, when he was a child, they were Buddhist, as are about 70 percent of Hong Kong’s population. Kin had heard of Jesus Christ and believed in one God, but it was not until college that his faith was nurtured, and it has continued to be a very important part of his life. Mrs. Chan’s citizenship ceremony will probably be set for the fall, and in December they expect their fi rst baby, an all-American child whom they will teach to speak Cantonese. Kin says that he will tell the child to never take anything for granted; you have to work hard to get the things that are important. Kin Chan has worked hard himself to acquire an education, a citizenship, a happy marriage, and a comfortable life, and he does not take those things for granted! He smiles broadly and laughs generously, enjoying the blessings that have come to him.

Cyndy Elder 7 (SIN-dee ELL-der) Toronto, Ontario, Canada Naturalization Date: January 22, 1998

The Commonwealth countries believe that where you’re born is your birthright, and you should never have to give that up. And, luckily, I’m from the Commonwealth. . . . My mother-in-law has never become a Canadian citizen—and she’s lived there for forty years—because she would have to give up her U.S. citizenship, and she doesn’t... She was born here! That’s her birthright! She shouldn’t have to!

There’s a lot of Texan—I can just say, Texan men—that say “Little Lady!” And, you know,know, really! And I’m not saying that in a bad way; I think it’s nice sometimes, but I also think there’s a limit. I’m more than capable of looking after myself, and that scares people, I think—that independence—sometimes.

Because I’ve been here ten years, I’ve worked here ten years, I want to be able to vote. I’m one of these people…I listen to people bitch—complain, sorry!—and I can’t say anything because I can’t vote.

Cyndy Elder fi nished the 13-year course of school in Canada, married an American living in Canada, and had two children there. In 1987, when their youngest was one year old, they moved to Texas “on a prayer,” she says, with no job or security in sight, just pure wanderlust. “We were young,” she explains, and Texas appealed to the Elders because it was clean and new compared to the U.S. states nearest Ontario. Because their father is an American, her sons have U.S. citizenship. Through their mother, they also have Canadian citizenship, and after her naturalization ceremony, she too will have dual citizenship, for Canada never revokes birthright citizenship. One practical reason Cyndy sees for becoming naturalized is that, if her father in Canada were to lose his health and she had to return home to care for him, she could stay for as long as he needed her. As a resident, she could remain outside of the U.S. for only six months before losing her residency status. Cyndy has acquired two undergraduate degrees at The University of Texas at Austin and is pursuing a master’s degree in sociology/criminal justice at Southwest Texas State University in San Marcos. She lives in Pfl ugerville and works as a team manager for the American Cancer Society, where she tries to educate people about Canada. At team meetings she has a “Canada Trivia Time,” so her staff can learn the provinces of Canada and other fun facts. Not everyone there is French, she says, and it’s not always cold; parts of her home province of Toronto are on the same latitude as Northern California. Now a single mom, Cyndy wants her sons, Kyle, 11, and Matthew, 14, to know about both of the countries of which they are citizens, especially the history and geography of each. The boys spend part of each summer in Canada with her father, grandfather, aunts, and uncles, so that they will always have a sense of their Canadian heritage as well as their Texan and American heritage.

José Alexander García 8 (ho-SAY ah-lec-SAN-dair gar-SEE-ah) La Unión, El Salvador Naturalization Date: December 11, 1997

[December] eleventh. Yes, ma’am! Ninety-seven. I’m always going to remember this day, because it’s the day of my citizenship.

I went to middle school, then high school, and—I don’t know what was wrong. I didn’t fi nish high school; I don’t know why. But hopefully...I still feel young, so I can get my GED. It’s never too late. And hopefully I’ll get my GED and get whatever career I like.

All I can remember from my country is that there were people fi ghting each other. I don’t want to tell my son about it, you know? that there were people fi ghting each other. And I’m going to.…whatever he asks me—I’m going to tell him the good things. I won’t tell the bad things, because why? Why I would tell the bad things?

In the late 1970s El Salvador was a dangerous place to be—for anyone! José Alexander García’s parents were divorced, and his mother went to the capital, San Salvador, to work, while he and his brother stayed with their grandmother in the rural community of La Unión. There was fi ghting all around them, but, at the age of 10, he did not understand what was going on. Eventually Mrs. García earned enough to get herself to Houston, Texas, where, in 1980, she was able to send for 10-year-old José, then in fourth grade, and his older brother, Virgilio. José spoke no English, and, for a year or so, he did not attend school in Houston. He reentered school in sixth grade and learned English in ESL (English as a Second Language) classes. Later they sent for their grandmother, but she did not like living in Houston and returned home to her little farm. She is 85, but her homeland is safer these days, so the family worry less about her than they used to, though they still miss her. José enjoyed some of his classes, especially world history class with his favorite teacher, Mr. Roberts, but he did not fi nish high school. He is now married, living and working in Austin, and he has a 2½-year-old son, Miguel Angel. José hopes to obtain his GED so that he can broaden his career opportunities. Another family goal is for his wife, who is from Mexico, to become a citizen. Someday Miguel Angel will ask about El Salvador. José does not wish to tell him about the war but rather about the good days of growing up on his grandma’s little farm, playing with the ducks and chickens and eating his grandma’s delicious fresh scrambled eggs!

Hazel Grohman 9 (HAY-zul GROW -mun) Hull, England Naturalization Date: October 23, 1997

The longer I waited [to take the GED], the more intimidated I got, and I kept thinking I’ll never be able to pass all this math and stuff. And I studied for two months real hard.

I’ve done several different things that I’ve set my mind on. I didn’t ever drive, and threethree years ago I got my driving license. Still don’t drive! but I could if I had to! And this [citizenship] is on my list. . . .This is something I really need to do. It’s closure, it’s good, it’s a good feeling. And I won’t be an alien any more!” And then probably I’ll learn to swim!

Hazel Mary East was born in Hull, an English fi shing village on the North Sea. She grew up in London, then immigrated to Florida with her family in 1958, for it was her father’s dream that his children would have a better future. Although everyone was very kind, helping her with counting out the nickels and dimes in her lunch money (so different from shillings and pence), Hazel was unhappy in the noisy high school classrooms. She dropped out, but Mrs. East insisted that she either go to work or return to school. To her mother’s dismay, young Hazel was able to get a job at a jewelry store, and she worked there for 3½ years. While the family was on a visit to England, her grandfather died. Their stay was extended, and the jewelry store could not hold her job open, but, when she got back, “they had another jewelry store on the other corner!” She worked there for 2½ years until she fell in love with Joe Grohman. They married and spent their honeymoon en route to Temple, Texas. In 1989 Hazel earned her GED, though waiting so long had made her anxious about being able to pass the math. Three years ago she got her driver’s license, and now she has accomplished a third goal—becoming a citizen. One English custom which she and Joe perpetuated for several years was a New Years’ tradition. At midnight a person with dark hair—for good luck—goes out the front door, taking out the old year, then comes in the back door, bringing in the new. He brings a bit of coal so that the family will never be cold, a morsel of food so that they will never be hungry, and a few coins so that they will never be broke. Hazel has not worked outside the home since her marriage, but she cared for other people’s children along with her own for several years, a role which gave her much pleasure. She has told her own son and daughter stories about her childhood during the war, the home being bombed out twice, hiding in the cupboards, wearing gas masks. She still drinks English tea and occasionally bakes steak-and-kidney pie, though her family never acquired a taste for it! Her children, now grown, both live in Temple. Hazel and Joe enjoy traveling and camping in their trailer; sometimes they just sleep in the back of the truck, looking up at the sky. Perhaps Hazel is thanking her lucky stars; the joy she gives to those around her twinkles back just as brightly as any of them!

Fouad and Samiha Hanna 10 (foo-ODD and sa-MEE-ha HAH-nah) Cairo, Egypt Naturalization Date: September 26, 1996

[Fouad] We were in Chicago, but Chicago is very cold. [Samiha] Yes! [Fouad] Also, Austin is the same, well, a lot like Cairo!

[Fouad] You can’t imagine! We are waiting a long time, I tell you. You can’t imagine how delighted we are!

Married in 1960, Egyptians Fouad and Samiha Hanna lived in the capital city of Cairo, where Fouad was an architectural engineer and Samiha was a mother and homemaker. In September of 1991, after his retirement, they immigrated to the United States, to Chicago, where two of their sons and Fouad’s cousin, all doctors, already lived. They disliked the cold weather and soon moved again to join another brother who had immigrated to a more comfortable climate—Austin, located just north of 30°, on the same parallel as Cairo. The Hannas remarked that Austin seemed like a safe city, safer than Chicago, as safe as Cairo! Since the Hanna family had been Christian in Egypt (where much of the population is Muslim), many important family traditions, such as holiday gatherings for Easter and Christmas, changed very little after their move. They still have relatives in Egypt: an adult daughter and son, Mrs. Hanna’s parents, and a few other relatives, but they also have a large family in the United States, including four grandchildren. Although they have returned for visits, none of the family who reside in Egypt have visited them in Austin. The Hannas enjoy American foods, and Samiha also fi xes some Egyptian foods in her home. They have found a store in Austin which carries certain vegetables and ingredients not normally available in supermarkets so that Samiha can make special dishes such as mouluquiyya, a soup of spinach-like greens. The Hannas had long dreamed of coming to the United States. September 26, 1996, was the naturalization date for both Mr. and Mrs. Hanna, and, speaking for both of them, Fouad said, “You can’t imagine! We are waiting a long time, I tell you. You can’t imagine how delighted we are!”

Ana Cecilia Hernandez 11 (AH-nah se-SEEL-ya air-NAHN-dess) El Oranteño, Chihuahua, Mexico Naturalization Date: March 22, 1996

You know, in Mexico I went to a funeral—you go to church, and then you go toto the cemetery, right? After that, you go back home. Over here, I go to the funeral and then went to church. After, I went to the cemetery . . . . You come back, and then you have this big old party. I couldn’t understand that! I was like “Huh?” And I said, “No! Why are you going to have a party after this?” [In Mexico] we walk to the church and from the church to the cemetery, and after the cemetery, that’s it. Then you place the black bow on the door to your house for a month . . . and you’re not supposed to go to parties or anything like that for a month, right? And up here it’s like—same day! You got a party!

Ana Cecilia Hernandez was born in El Oranteño, Chihuahua, Mexico, a town so small, she says, that it would not be on a map! It is a rural village with fi elds on one side of its main street and the Conchas River on the other side. About 300 people, many of them kin to her, call El Oranteño home. In fact, the name of the village came from some relatives of her grandmother, the Orantia family, who were the fi rst to settle there. Ana’s grandmother used to tell her stories and legends about the town and neighborhoods in the town. In one neighborhood, called “Las Moras,” the ghosts of three women could be seen every Friday night at midnight, it was said. If anyone went into that neighborhood after midnight, they would never return. When Ana’s parents divorced in 1987, she and her older brother moved to Lubbock with their father. There she attended high school, and, for the fi rst time in her life, she did not wear a uniform to class. The school was heated and air- conditioned, unlike her village school, which was cooled in summer only by breezes through the large, open windows; it had no heat at all, and sometimes in the winter her hands would be so cold that she could not write. After high school she went to Southlands College in Levelland, then enlisted in the army. While the naturalization ceremony offi cially makes Ana a citizen of the United States, she offers as proof of her Texas citizenship the fact that her fi rst choice in cuisine is Mexican food!

Julio Alberto Hinkson 12 (HOOL-yo al-BEAR-to HEENKS-un) Colón City, Republic of Panama Naturalization Date: December 12, 1996

After you become a resident, then you can join the service. Even as a part-time resident, you can join it. But, as a resident, you can join it for four years or eight years. . . . So if I want to continue my career in the military, then I must become a citizen.

Well, the cold; but I got adjusted to it. And, you know, the language—but I’m speaking a lot better than before, because, fi rst when I came here, nobody could understand me, but now, you know, since I’ve been with my wife and she can only speak English, I have no choice!

Sergeant Julio Hinkson was born in 1962 in Colón City, Panama, one of eight children. His father was a mechanic for the Panama Canal Commission, and his mother was a homemaker. Growing up, Julio Hinkson spoke Spanish at home and learned English in school. In 1987 he moved to Oklahoma, where a sister was living as a resident. The most diffi cult adjustments were language—he had a strong Spanish accent which some Oklahomans could not understand—and the cold! He acquired resident status, joined the army, and married Stella, a U.S. citizen. After a stint in Germany, he was transferred to Fort Hood. As a resident a person can serve in the U.S. military for no more than eight years. Sergeant Hinkson wishes to make the military his career, so he decided to become an American citizen. The Hinksons have three children, Julio, Celia, and Jeffrey. In their home they speak English, but their musical tastes lean toward the Spanish, such as the Latin dance music popular in Panama, el punto and la cumbia. Sergeant Hinkson enjoys cooking arroz con pollo, and he prepares tamales the Panamanian way, in banana leaves. He also bakes fruitcakes for Christmas! The family is Baptist, the same Christian denomination in which he grew up. United States citizenship is a birthright of any child born of a U.S. citizen, no matter where the birth takes place, and of any child born on U.S. soil, no matter the citizenship of the child’s parents. In order to acquire Panamanian citizenship, a child must be born in Panama to Panamanian parents. Thus, although Julio was a Panamanian citizen when they were born, his children are not, since they were born in the United States and Germany. Since his wife was an American citizen, all his children, even those born in Germany, are birthright U.S. citizens.

Dung Tran Hoang 13 (DUN TREN WHONG) Saigon, South Vietnam Naturalization Date: December 12, 1996

Yeah! For fourteen years, I don’t have a Vietnam New Year, like that.

If the children want to learn something of Vietnam, I can learn them some. Some of the children living around here don’t want to know about Vietnam.

[We have a Vietnamese restaurant here.] Um-hmm. But not good!

Dung Tran Hoang began his journey to the United States from his home on the outskirts of Saigon, South Vietnam, in April of 1981. He had grown up on a vegetable farm which was fairly safe during the war—only one bomb was dropped on their property. The war ended when he was 14, and he was able to complete his schooling. His mother wanted him to be able to make a better living than was possible in Saigon, so, when he was 21 years old, he went to Thailand, where he learned to speak English and began fi nding out about what would be involved in immigrating to the United States. From there he went to the Philippines, then, in January 1982, a Moline, Illinois, congregation sponsored him to come to their city and begin his residency requirements for U.S. citizenship. It was through the church that he was able to fi nd work at a furniture factory in Brenham, Texas. A year and a half before his naturalization ceremony, Dung Tran Hoang married a Vietnamese woman, Tram, who had immigrated with her family while she was a teenager. They have been living in Brenham for about a year. They are Buddhist, but there is no Buddhist temple in town, and it is seldom that they are able to visit a temple in Houston or Austin to celebrate festivals such as Tet, the Lunar New Year. They have, however, found a few Vietnamese restaurants in those cities where they like to eat. Dung Tran Hoang is planning a visit to Vietnam, for his mother, sister, and brother still live there; his father is deceased. He says that people who leave Vietnam always want to go back, though there are some memories he will not wish to share with any children he and his wife may someday have.

Josefi na Husson 14 (ho-seh-FEE-na HUSS-un) Caracas, Venezuela Naturalization Date: August 28, 1997

Well, there are stereotypes all over the countries in the world. I have traveled a lot, and each country has its own stereotypes. Some of them, sometimes it’s true; sometimes it’s not. For example, there is a stereotype that the Latin Americans are always late. But that doesn’t apply to me; I’m always early!

When people ask me, “What are you more proud of?” I think immediately, “To have learned English,” because English has allowed me to open so many doors—to learn so many things . . . to get so many jobs—here and in my country, too. And when I came here, the fact that I knew English—life was very easy! No problem! I can change from one job to another. I can go to the library and study, and I learn new things every day. So I think learning a second language is something that everybody should do because that opens your world!

Josefi na Husson declares that she is a “city girl.” Her hometown of Caracas, Venezuela, has close to 5 million people, not to mention skyscrapers and traffi c. When her second husband, a Paris-born American citizen who had retired in Venezuela, became uncomfortable with the country’s economic and political situation in 1992, she moved with him to Houston. Since she had lived in Pittsburgh for three years while going to graduate school and spoke English fl uently—had even taught high school English—the “city girl” felt right at home. Except for the humidity! After a couple of years, she and her husband moved to higher and drier Austin. In both cities Josefi na taught Spanish part-time in community colleges, but she has recently made a career change. She is a fl ight attendant for American Airlines and a trader on the commodities market. She shares newspapers and other news from home with a small group of Venezuelan friends in Austin. In the summer the friends celebrate Independence Day all weekend: July 4th, then Venezuelan Independence Day on July 5! In Houston, where there is a Venezuelan consulate, the party would include musicians and folkloric dancers doing the joropo. Josefi na is proud of her country and its rich history; she especially admires Simon Bolívar, born in Venezuela and liberator of fi ve Latin American countries. “The man is a model that kids should learn about!” she says. Josefi na returns once a year to visit her parents, a brother, two sisters, and her two sons. She is hoping to become a grandmother soon. Although she no longer teaches, she is still an educator at heart; she encourages everyone to learn a second language. “That opens so many doors!” she says.

Shang Lee 15 (SHANG LEE) Taipei, Taiwan Naturalization Date: February 27, 1997

When I fi rst came to this country, my sister invited me . . . to Galveston to swim. And when I swim, I see a fi sh right next to me! I was amazed! I wrote a letter to my friend back in Taipei. I said, “This is a country unbelievable! I love this country! I know I’m going to do good in this country because I like outdoors. This is just wonderful how they preserve the water!

When Shang Lee fl ew out of Taipei, Taiwan, on August 16, 1987, he took a photograph from the plane window, for he did not know when or whether he would return. He was 26 years old; he had gone to college and served in the military and now was headed for the home of a sister in Texas to attend graduate school. He saw the United States as a place with more opportunities and more potential, a view which had been proven by his fi ve older brothers and sisters who had sought higher education here. He began a masters’ degree program in biomedical science at the University of North Texas. After a lonely year he invited his girlfriend from Taiwan to come over and join him. He completed his Ph.D. in physiology and worked a year in post-op and another year for a pharmaceutical company. In 1992 he and his girlfriend married, and he is presently (1997) a fourth-year medical student at the University of Texas Health Science Center at San Antonio. Shang Lee loves the clean land, waters, and atmosphere of the U.S., and he does not take it all for granted, having known too well the crowded, polluted environment of Taiwan. He misses the food of his native land but has found a satisfactory restaurant. He also misses the spontaneity of entertainment. Here, he says, you need to plan and buy tickets a week or a month ahead for a play or a musical or sports event. One part of adjusting to life in a new country which was hard for Shang Lee was all the “stuff” you need to know to fi t in: background information, such as the names and reputations of celebrities and sports teams. He feels rude interrupting and asking about every little thing, so after a while he just doesn’t ask. Over the decade he has been in the United States, however, he has learned a lot of popular culture the same way many long-time Americans do—by watching television! Lee has visited several Christian churches with friends, but, when people ask his religion, he still says he is Buddhist, although he is not deeply involved in any religion or denomination. He loves the tradition of celebrating the Lunar New Year, but it is one which is hard to keep in Texas. Usually he and his wife simply go out to eat and call friends and family. Although they have no children yet, Lee is quick to say that something he wants his children to know from his culture is “respect.” To him, it is important to listen to and follow the advice of people who have more experience without asking the reason. In holding to this principle, he acknowledges that it is an ancient one, and he observes that Taiwanese are more traditional than mainland Chinese, more dutiful in following all the rules of Confucius!

Peilin Marzolf 16 (pay-LIN MAR-solf) Guangzhou, China Naturalization Date: June 26, 1997

. . . Twenty-one years old, I leave there. Well, I wanted a change, you know! I waswas going to go out of China and see what the world is doing and what the difference is. So I got a job in China, and I worked about two years, and then I got a chance to go. I got a visa and go to Argentina, fi rst. . . .

[Here] you can go fi shing or play the golf! . . . [There] I lived in a big city—so many,many, many people! We don’t have room. You cannot fi x your garden; you cannot have a pet. If you want to have a pet, you got to pay too much, you know? It’s too much trouble. They got to charge you, you know, here, here, here! You’ve got to have a license to have a dog. So you got no fun like that.

And the weather, it feels so good, you know, better. I am more healthy when I livelive here. I don’t need to see a doctor.

Peilin Marzolf was born in Guangzhou, Guangdong province, China, in 1968. She went to school all the way through college in her home city, then decided she was ready to see the world! She spoke Mandarin, the offi cial language of China, and Cantonese, the regional language of Southern China. She was equipped with a university degree in Chinese culture, and she had studied English and Spanish in high school—though she didn’t care much for English. She spent two years working as a secretary in a government offi ce, and, when she saw a chance to go to Argentina in 1991, she took it. She got a student visa and fl ew to Buenos Aires, where she took classes in Spanish and got a job. Her brother and his wife immigrated to Argentina at about the same time that Peilin fell in love with an American working in that country. Then Peilin got married and moved with her husband to the Texas Hill Country north of San Antonio. Peilin thinks often of her friends and her parents, who still live in Guangzhou, and she misses the culture, especially poetry in her native language! To her, Chinese poets express great depth of feeling in a few simple words. Born and reared Buddhist, she retains her religion and strives to live right and do good things in the Buddhist way. Peilin’s husband still travels the world in his work, but she has had enough of traveling! Each day when she fi nishes her work as a cashier in a restaurant, she goes home to take care of her garden, her dog, and her three cats. Coming from a large and crowded city, she loves outdoor sports like fi shing and golf, and she appreciates the natural beauty, the weather, and the healthiness of her rural Texas Hill Country home. The day she took her citizenship vows, she knew that she was here to stay!

Era Nangia 17 (EER-ah nahn-GEE-ah [hard “G”] Durgapur, India Naturalization Date: July 7, 1997

Divali...There is a festival called Divali. It’s the Festival of Lights, which is sometime in October or November. In India there are a lot of fi recrackers and a lot of desserts and such. It’s a very big celebration. I didn’t really think about it too much until I had kids. And I wanted them to experience, you know, the festival. And now I make a conscious effort to go and do something on that day.

Era Nangia was born in Durgapur, India, near Delhi but was raised in Jamshedpur farther east. She acquired her baccalaureate degree at the Birla Institute of Technology in nearby Ranchi, then in 1986 she went to Troy, New York, to attend Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute. After graduation she worked for Digital Equipment Corporation in Massachusetts, then decided to change jobs, interviewed around, and wound up in Austin at IBM, where she is now employed. English was the primary language at her childhood school in Jamshedpur, but Era also speaks the national language, Hindi, as well as a bit of two other dialects, Punjabi and Bengali. Era’s father has lived alone since her mother’s death four years ago. She knows he likes living in his own home, but, if he were to become unable to do so, he would have to move to the United States to live with her family or with her brother in New Jersey. Era’s brother has been in the United States longer than she has; he is married to a citizen, but he is not a citizen himself. Era thinks he has a harder time letting go. One adjustment to living in the United States was in the area of social life. In India one didn’t have to call; friends just walk over and come into each other’s houses. Era believes that it was easier to make friends there than here. “There will be days that go by without meeting any friends; that would be very unusual in India.”

Era married an Indian American in 1989, and, since their two daughters were born, she has made a conscious effort to get together with other Indians to celebrate Indian festivals, especially the late fall festival of Divali, the Festival of Lights. She tries to give the girls “a little fl avor of India” whenever she can. She wants them to experience the festival, and she takes them to see her father and their other grandparents each year.

Diego Olmos 18 (dee-AY-go OHL-mose) Rosario, Argentina Naturalization Date: January 22, 1998

Like, for example, everyday things that we have, they would—to them it would be kind of like a privilege to have. Like maybe a car or a telephone or something like that. And for us, to go down there, we’d say, “What? There’s no phone?”

I came home, and I had bruises on my arm, and my parents asked me what it was about, and I didn’t want to say it, but I fi nally told them. And it was about…it was this teacher who was really mean to me. And I remember she was from Britain. So she was real frustrated with me, and I remember her grabbing me by the shoulders. And I don’t remember what she said. I remember she rubbed some ice on my shoulders. But then she lost her job.

Diego Olmos spent the fi rst seven years of his life in Rosario, the second-largest city in Argentina, and had attended a private Catholic school for a couple of years when his father’s company transferred its offi ce to Los Angeles. That was in 1983, and Diego soon enrolled in a Los Angeles public elementary school. He spoke no English, and he felt like he caused his teachers a lot of frustration. There seemed to be no classes or support systems for students such as he at that time. Some Hispanic students who spoke both languages showed him around, and he “toughed it out.” By his middle school years, he was feeling more comfortable with his English. Ten years later Diego returned to live in Argentina for a year and got to know his grandmother, uncles, aunts, and cousins who still live there. By then, leaving his home on the California beach and returning to his old hometown of Rosario was a culture shock—no cars, telephones, and other amenities which he and other Americans take for granted. Back in Los Angeles, he fi nished high school, then joined the army and took basic training at Fort Knox. He hoped to be stationed in Europe but was sent to Fort Hood near Killeen, Texas, instead. There he met Chelsea, a native Texan from El Paso, whom he married. Diego’s family still lives in California, and his sister Maria is presently a freshman in college. A younger sister, born in Los Angeles, is an American by birth, and though other family members are in the process of acquiring their citizenship, Diego is the fi rst to achieve the goal. It went more smoothly for him in Texas than for his family in Los Angeles, where there is a large backlog of residents wishing to become naturalized citizens. In order to become an offi cer, he must be a citizen, and Diego is considering making a career out of the army. Chelsea wishes to fi nish college, and eventually they would like to live in California.

Poksung Pak 19 (POCK-SOONG POCK) Taegu, South Korea Naturalization Date: August 22, 1996

[The interview with Poksung Pak was conducted through her daughter, Sunny Elliott, who translated the questions and answers or responded to them from her own knowledge of Mrs. Pak’s experience.] Poksung Pak (born in 1911) spent her adult life as a mother and homemaker in the city of Taegu, South Korea. In 1968 her daughter, Sunny, married an American serviceman stationed in Korea and moved to the United States with him in 1971. A military assignment placed them in Korea again in 1974, and, when they returned to Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio in 1977, Mrs. Pak moved with them. Her husband and son remained in Korea, where Mr. Pak died in 1985. Since Taegu was the third-largest city in South Korea, Mrs. Pak is comfortable living in a large city such as San Antonio. The greatest diffi culty for her is language; she is unsure of her English in public, but she uses some English at home, especially when talking with her grandchildren about everyday things. Although she had been a Buddhist most of her life, Mrs. Pak began attending the First Korean Presbyterian Church of San Antonio with her daughter and has converted to Christianity. Her newfound faith plays a very important role in her life; she wishes she had discovered it earlier. Mrs. Pak and her daughter retain their love of Korean cooking, and her three grandchildren especially enjoy eating her bulgogi, a stir-friedstir-fried beef dish, and mandu, a type of eggroll. She says that it is not diffi cult to fi nd the ingredients for Korean foods, though some are expensive. Mrs. Pak believes that people in Korea are more family-oriented than are Americans, and she hopes that her grandchildren will retain from their Korean heritage a sense of respect for the family and for their elders and that they will practice good manners.

Francine Riley 20 (fran-SEEN RY-lee) St. John’s, Antigua, British West Indies Naturalization Date: February 27, 1997

When I fi rst came, I had a hard time...because the people would say “Go back to Jamaica! Go back to Jamaica!” and I wasn’t from Jamaica. . . . I was fresh in the United States; I didn’t know that people would be so emotionally cruel. . . . I didn’t know so much how to deal with it, but I just kind of ignored it.

Born in St. John’s, Antigua, in 1968, Francine Riley moved to the Virgin Islands with her parents when she was 12 years old. They were looking for better opportunities for themselves and a better future for their children. As a child Francine learned the traditional duties of children and women—cleaning the house; cooking with rice, greens, curry, and plantains; and doing laundry by hand. Francine fi rst visited the United States when she was 17 years old, moving in with a family friend to fi nish high school in Philadelphia. It was there that she encountered the stereotypes American students had about her culture. Schoolmates would say things like “Go back to Jamaica!” without bothering to fi nd out that she wasn’t even from Jamaica. When the subject fi nally came up in a classroom setting, people asked humiliating questions such as whether she lived in a hut or wore banana leaves. She learned that many people did not know that there are houses and supermarkets and other elements of modern life throughout the West Indies. She got her biggest shock when a white boy in her neighborhood threw stones at her. In 1989 Francine had returned to the Virgin Islands and was living with her mother and sister and her sister’s small children when Hurricane Hugo struck. The walls of their house began to crack, and they went out to spend the night in their van. For a month they had no other shelter, and it was another year before they had a telephone. Francine believes that having lived on the island of St. John’s, where life is simpler, their family had better survival skills than some of their neighbors. It happened that soldiers from Fort Hood in Texas were sent to help rescue victims, and Francine became friends with one of them. After he returned to Texas, they corresponded for a while, then she moved to Copperas Cove, Texas, where they were married. Although she is no longer married to that soldier, she and her son fi nd themselves, once again, in Copperas Cove, and Francine herself is in the army. She still cooks funji and pepperpotpepperpot sstew;tew; she dances araroundound ththee hhouseouse dduringuring ththee llateate summer when Antigua is celebrating Carnival; she tries to teach her son to speak “dialect”; and, when she visits the Virgin Islands, she loves to pick mangos straight from the tree. Today she is happy to be taking her oath of citizenship. Francine Riley is very philosophical about her life experiences. She knows not to take the material things of life for granted, and she knows that people can hurt each other. A person has to make the difference for themselves, she says. There are stumbling blocks everywhere and bad people everywhere, but she believes that as long as she knows where she is going, she can keep on that road and overcome!

Ignacia (“Nacha”) Saavedra 21 (ig-NAH-sya sah-VED-rra) Mexico, D.F., Mexico Naturalization Date: May 22, 1997

[The interview with Ignacia Saavedra was conducted through a friend, Mary Martha McNeel, one of the daughters in the family mentioned, who translated some of the questions and answers and responded to others from her own knowledge of Ms. Saavedra’s experience.] During a drought in Mexico—even the cactus had all been eaten!—a pregnant mother made the two-week walk from San Felipe, Guanajuato, to Mexico City to seek work. There, in 1906, she gave birth to a child, and when the drought ended four years later, she returned to San Felipe. Seven years later the woman and her husband both died from typhoid contracted when their drinking water was poisoned by revolutionaries. The 11-year-old child, Ignacia Saavedra, was fi rst taken in by an aunt in Saltillo, and she worked taking care of children at a convent. Later she and her sister moved to Monterrey, where they both worked for a family who taught “Nacha” how to cook Mexican-style. Her sister moved to San Antonio and married, and in 1923 Nacha followed her and began a half-century of domestic service. She worked in one household for 24 years, and she learned to cook American-style. In the 1940s she was hired by a second family, where her primary duty was to the children. Nacha took the two daughters of the family to mass with her and to Spanish- language movies starring Cantínfl as and Pito Pérez. When they went to English movies, the girls sat in the balcony with her, for, at that time, Mexican Texans and Mexicans living in Texas were subject to the same Jim Crow laws as black citizens. Nacha always eschewed vanity and pretension, and she managed to instill her values into the two daughters of the affl uent and socially prominent family. Witnessing her sister’s marriage, Nacha saw only unhappiness, and she chose to remain single. In her middle years she again followed her sister, this time to Denver, where she lived and worked in a church. A devout Catholic all her life, Nacha Saavedra was always proud of her Mexican- Indian heritage. She never sought to become a citizen until her nineties, at which time her public housing situation fell into jeopardy. Her naturalization will ease her later years in a community to which she has contributed a lifetime of responsible service.

Marcos Salgado Sr. 22 (MARR-cos sal-GAHD-o) Piedras Negras, Mexico Naturalization Date: May 23, 1996

Me siento muy orgulloso ¿verdad? de que voy a ser un ciudadano americano. ¡Así puedo votar! [I am very proud, right? that I am going to be an American citizen. Thus, I can vote!]

Marcos Salgado had wanted to come to the United States for as long as he could remember. Growing up in Piedras Negras on the border, he was somewhat knowledgeable about life in the United States. He had only fi ve years of formal education in Mexico, but he found that he had a talent for auto repair and body work, and he persisted in developing his skills in that fi eld. In 1968, when he was about 30 years old, a friend introduced him to an auto dealer in Devine, who was impressed by the quality of his craftsmanship. The man hired Salgado, helped him acquire resident status, and assisted him in fi nding English-language classes. A year later he again helped Salgado bring his wife and fi ve children to Texas. It is through his youngest son, George, who was only two weeks old when he joined his father, that Salgado tells his story, though his energetic, jubilant Spanish hardly waits for translation! Salgado has a sister and brother in Mexico and “plenty” of nieces and nephews, but his own fi ve children and eight grandchildren all live in San Antonio. He is especially proud of his oldest granddaughter, who just graduated from high school. As a graduation gift, Salgado gave her a 1983 Mustang convertible with a fi nely tuned engine—and perfect body work, of course! He wants all of his grandchildren to be able to speak both English and Spanish. Working amidst noisy machinery for many years damaged his hearing and probably impeded his learning of English, but dealing with customers and their car problems has made him quite facile on that particular topic. In conversation, he is more comfortable speaking Spanish. Salgado’s sons work with him in the auto body shop he owns in San Antonio. His business card bears the slogan “We take the DENTs out of ACCIDENTS,” and it is certain that Marcos Salgado has gotten his own life straight! He continues to declare, “¡Estoy muy contento!”

Bärbel Shepherd 23 (BEAR-bul SHEP-erd) Hamburg, Germany Naturalization Date: October 23, 1997

I had just school English, and we always read Shakespeare. And I could quote a lot of Shakespearean quotes, but I could not ask for the nearest post offi ce or restroom or anything like that.

As long as my parents were alive, I never felt like I wanted to [become a naturalizednaturalized citizen] because it probably would hurt them a little bit. But I also knew I would never go back. . . . I am doing it now because I am a resident alien, and with the laws changing. . . . I mean, I have to be practical; I live here.

After teaching home economics in Germany for three years, Bärbel accompanied a Swiss physicist and his family to New York in 1966 as au pair for their children.children. While the father was working at Brookhaven Laboratories on Long Island, she taught and cared for the children and mingled with a small community of families brought from around the world to work in the laboratory. At that time Germany was still a sore subject with many people because of the war and the holocaust. She often received verbal attacks about being German, and, because her English was poor, she could not defend herself. The attackers may not have known that her life was quite diffi cult, too. Her father, a director in an insurance company, was imprisoned in Russia, and her mother moved the family out of Hamburg into the country, where she worked as a seamstress and was able to provide food for her children. After six years the father was released. It was at a Valentine’s dance sponsored by Brookhaven that Bärbel met a young Canadian physicist who had just received his Ph.D. from the University of Washington. They fell in love, but, after a six-month courtship, her visa ran out. Bärbel returned to Hamburg and got her immigration papers in order. They were married in Hamburg and returned to New York on December 31, 1966. In 30 years of marriage, the Shepherds have lived in New York, California— where their two sons were born—Rochester, Minnesota, and several Texas cities. One German tradition which the family maintained was in their way of celebrating Christmas. The tree was not put up until a few days before Christmas, and gifts were exchanged on Christmas Eve, not Christmas morning. One “tradition” which she does not miss at all is driving on the autobahn. She is glad to have speed limits! Bärbel was the youngest of fi ve girls, and her sisters all still live in Germany. She has returned to visit every few years, though she sometimes had diffi culty trying to visit family in East Germany before the Berlin Wall fell. Once she was interrogated for six hours because of a question about her passport. Bärbel’s husband passed away in 1996, and she sold their home in Austin and moved to a smaller house in Cedar Park. She had begun her citizenship application a month before he died.

Christine Siegel 24 (kris-TEEN SEE-gul) Yechniz, Germany (now the Czech Republic) Naturalization Date: October 24, 1996

I just remember coming to Germany, like being refugees, coming to Germany, like being put on trains and being in camps until we got distributed on trucks to little towns, and then German people would make room for some of those people and take them in.

I had to have a sponsor, but my sister, she was married to a United States citizen, and so he sponsored me to come over. Since we were not married, he [husband-to-be Bernard] could not sponsor me.

The children, they go to school with other children, right? They see the American way,way, and they question me, “Mom, why do you do it that way?” And then it seems to me like they’d rather do it the American way—especially when they’re young. They don’t want to do it different. And a lot of things I adjusted to.

Christine was a child during World War II. She was born into a German family in Yechniz in the southeastern part of what is now the Czech Republic. When she was four Russia took over Czechoslovakia, and all Germans had to leave. Her father was a prisoner of war, but, with her grandmother, mother, and three sisters, she escaped to a camp in Erlangen. Her mother died after only a month, so her grandmother raised the four girls. When Christine was seven years old, the war ended, her father returned to them, and the family moved to Eschenau. She was working in a coffee shop in Munich in 1963, when she began seeing an American serviceman named Bernard Siegel. They were planning to marry, when he was transferred to Kentucky. Since they were not yet married, he could not sponsor her, but one of Christine’s sisters was married to an American, who sponsored her to come over on a visa; once in the United States, she married Bernard. Toward the end of his military career, Bernard was transferred to San Antonio, where they continue to live. They have three sons and fi ve grandchildren. Christine does not really miss Germany, but she would have liked to have family close by. She wishes her sons could have known their grandfather and other relatives better. The Siegel family carried on some German customs in their home. They always opened little gifts on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas morning. She taught her children to hold their knife and fork the European way at fi rst, with the fork in the left hand, but gradually she and they adapted to the American way; it is important to children, Christine says, to not be different. Although her sons did not always like her German cooking when they were young, now they request it. Because her husband and children were U.S. citizens, her own lack of citizenship never prevented her from accomplishing any of her goals except to vote. Now that her naturalization ceremony is at hand, she wonders why it took her so long to decide to become a citizen!

Estrella Isabel Tabor 25 (ess-TREY-ya ee-sah-BEL TAY-ber) Santa Rosa de Copán, Honduras Naturalization Date: March 27, 1997

Yes, Honduras to Guatemala, because the situation is very—they have a lot of—they do not have a lot of jobs, and, it’s a poor country, Honduras. It is.

I wish I had somebody of my family who came here and lived together close toto me.me. And I miss the food and the people, the music of my country..salsa, meringue...

Estrella Isabel Tabor was born in Honduras, a land of salsa and meringue—and of great economic and political strife. Estrella’s mother died when she was 13, and one sister was adopted by a Chicago family. Living with her father and three siblings, Estrella fi nished school—11 grades—then, as a young woman, she crossed the border into Guatemala, where the economy is more stable, to fi nd a job. It was there that she met Woody Tabor, who was retired from military service and working with an oil-well-servicing company in the jungles of Guatemala. When he was transferred to Mexico City, she soon followed, and they married. Their son was born in Mexico City, and in 1989, after eight years there, the family moved to Marble Falls, Texas. Estrella’s sister still lives in Chicago with her husband, and she has a brother and sister-in-law and four nephews in Tampa, Florida. Her father is in Honduras, and her other brother and sister live in Guatemala. Estrella retains a deep love for the culture of her country. The Tabors have taken their son to the beautiful, temperate land, to the beaches and to Santa Rosa de Copán, where her father still lives and where Mayan ruins bear witness to the people’s rich heritage. In Marble Falls she always says “yes” when asked to come to a school and tell about her culture. She remembers the traditional Christmas parties, celebrated in Honduras on December 24 instead of on Christmas Day; she misses the traditional dances and the beautiful customary dress, the manta. She describes fondly some traditional dishes such as jaiba, a kind of crab, and tapado, a salty meat dish, served with rice or plantains. Honduras is a Catholic country, and Mrs. Tabor was born Catholic, but her parents became Jehovah’s Witnesses when she was a little girl. Later, as an adult, Estrella joined the Church of Christ, which is the faith the family now practices. Mrs. Tabor is very modest, but her husband’s pride gives voice to her many accomplishments. She is a substitute teacher in the bilingual program, and she teaches English as a Second Language four afternoons a week to a small circle of girls who want to improve their language skills. Having eaten delicious food from all over the world during his years in the military, he proclaims that the food in their home, prepared by Estrella Tabor, is the best cuisine there is! He also says that she has a beautiful voice, and when, for the last time as a Honduran citizen, she sang the national anthem of her homeland, it was clear that his pride was justifi ed, that “Estrella” is truly a “star” new citizen for Texas.

Mymy Tran 26 (MEE-MEE TRAN) Da Lat, South Vietnam Naturalization Date: May 23, 1996

[Escaping from Vietnam] took for me only one time, but it took for my dad, my two brothers, at least fi ve times. They went, and my dad had to go to the jail for two years. When he got caught, he went in jail. He waited for another chance to go. So, they don’t want me to go, because my mom said I’m a girl, too little girl, and they love me, and my mom said to let me go later on, when my dad had come over here. So, later on, they said no, let me go with my dad . . . let me be happy. So, fi nally they let me go. And I’m so lucky! First time! I’m so lucky!

Mymy married Danny Tran in North Carolina in August 1994. Now living in Austin, they met when Mymy was an engineering student at North Carolina State University. Danny, a recent engineering graduate from the University of Washington, had been transferred there by IBM. Danny and Mymy had a traditional Vietnamese wedding in the home of the bride’s parents. The groom’s family arrived, and everyone in the two families met and exchanged gifts. The bride wore the traditional Vietnamese gold and red dress, and, following the outdoor ceremony, they all went together to their Catholic church to consecrate their marriage. Mymy and Danny both left Vietnam as teenagers under similar circumstances. Danny’s father, a teacher who saw no hope for his children’s education after the Communist takeover, succeeded in getting his wife and eight children out in 1980. He had previously made several attempts over a period of years, efforts which landed him in jail each time he got caught. Mymy’s father and two brothers had tried to escape at least fi ve times, and her dad had spent two years in jail. Against her mother’s wishes, 15-year-old Mymy joined them in a 1986 effort, and they were successful at last in escaping to the Philippines. Mymy knows how lucky she was! After 14 months they were able to fl y to Japan, then through San Francisco to a sponsor in North Carolina. There Mymy’s father and her 19-year-old brother worked so that she and her younger brother could go to high school, then to college. In high school Mymy had a very special English teacher who became like a “second mom” to her during the years before her own mother and younger sister were able to immigrate in 1992. Both of Mymy’s “moms” attended her traditional home wedding. Mymy and her mother plan to return to Vietnam for a visit. Although she remembers school friends and teachers fondly, she laughs and says that, if she tried to visit them without her mother, they would not recognize her now! Danny and Mymy have no children yet, but when they do they plan to tell them that, no matter where they go in the world, they will always be Vietnamese and they can be proud of their heritage.

Azim Wakil 27 (ah-ZEEM wa-KEEL) Maidan, Afghanistan Naturalization Date: January 27, 1997

I passed my driver’s license. I could drive, but I couldn’t speak. I would go to the store,store, you know, by myself, and the things I could fi nd, I would go and get them, and, if I couldn’t—the thing I wanted to get—if I couldn’t see it on a shelf, I couldn’t get it. And when I was paying at the cash register, most of the time I would pull a 20-dollars bill, even if it was a two-dollars thing I was buying, because I didn’t want them to say back, “You owe some more,” because I couldn’t understand how much. I knew that if I gave them 20 dollars, then, at least, that would be enough.

Azim Wakil was born in eastern Afghanistan in 1964. His father owned fruit orchards; he hired people to pick the apples, plums, pears, and grapes and sold the produce fresh. The family was Muslim; they spoke Farsi, the offi cial language of Afghanistan, and Pashtu, a vernacular language of eastern Afghanistan and northwest Pakistan. Azim took lessons in reading, writing, and calculation in a classroom held in a nearby mosque. In 1979, when Azim was 15, the Soviet Union invaded his country. The Wakil family—mother, father, six sons, and one daughter—fl ed to Pakistan. After a year they were able to contact some friends, Americans who had worked in Afghanistan and who then lived in Central Texas. Their friends helped the family immigrate. One older brother of Azim’s, Karim, was already in this country attending college in Nebraska. When Azim arrived, he spoke no English at all. The fi rst English words he learned to say were “Good morning!” and “Good night!” Azim is single, self-employed as a tree trimmer, and he speaks English most of the time. He lives in Burnet, Texas, and his brother, Karim, now lives just 13 miles away. Every month or so, when the brothers get together, they speak Farsi so that they won’t forget it. He continues to practice Islam, but his rituals are modifi ed by his work habits and by the pace of life in America. He is not always able to pray fi ve times a day, as required by Muslim law, but, to the extent that he is able, he keeps the religious traditions. All of Azim’s brothers and his sister continue to live in the United States, and some have married and have families of their own. His parents now live in Pakistan, and they have many friends and relatives in Afghanistan. Although the Soviets left in the late 1980s, Azim’s homeland is still not a peaceful country.

Edeltraud Sieglinde Whitworth 28 (AY-dil-TROUD si-GLEN-deh WHIT-wurth) Büsingen, Switzerland Naturalization Date: February 26, 1998

I always wanted to come to the United States, ever since I was a little girl. And everybody always thought that was kind of like...high-fl ying dreams and stuff like that. But it didn’t take me long; I came over here when I was twenty!

I’m a hairdresser, and, the receptionist over at the fi rst job that I had, I asked her what her son had for breakfast, because I was still confused about all the food, like the Mexican food and all that different stuff that I was just not used to at all. And she said, “Strawberries and cereal and cream.” And I said, “What!” because, to me, strawberries were a seasonal fruit and . . . maybe served for dessert on a Sunday afternoon after lunch. And I said, “This is my kind of tea—cup of tea! I’m going to stick around!”

Edeltraud was one of those Texans for whom was written the bumper sticker“I wasn’t born in Texas, but I got here as fast as I could.” She followed her childhood romantic notions about America with diligent, practical arrangements to make her dream come true. Edeltraud Sieglinde completed her required nine years of schooling in Switzerland, and, since she was under 16 and too young to become an apprentice hairdresser in Switzerland, she completed her training across the border in Germany. After she had been working a short while, her boss put her in touch with a friend in Houston who knew a salon owner there. It was that gentleman who sponsored her—that is, assured the INS that she had a job when she got here, and she was able to come over. She was 20 years old and spoke no English! She soon married and had a son, but the marriage did not last. For 18 years she was a single mother. She did not seek citizenship during that time because she knew that, if she had to return to Switzerland for some reason, it would be harder for her as a “foreigner” to fi nd work, and she needed to be able to support herself and her son. Edeltraud is remarried now and living in Austin. Although she likes Texas’s wide- open spaces, she and her husband also enjoy trips to the Rocky Mountain states, where the scenery is more like her native Alps. Her father is deceased, but her mother and all her other relatives still live in Switzerland. Her son and daughter-in- law and two grandchildren live in Illinois.

Toyoko Williams 29 (to-YO-ko WILL-yums) Tokyo, Japan Naturalization Date: October 26, 1995

I cook American style now; everything instant!

We’d been married along about eighteen years when [my husband] fi nally . . . wanted me to go home. I said “No! I’ll go live with my son here; I’ll stay here; I’ll go fi nd a job!” When we got divorced [my son] was seventeen. He has been a real good son to me. I don’t want him to go through what I had to go through, you know? I had to start everything over again. It’s scary!

Toyoko Williams was working as a sales clerk in a Tokyo department store, when she met her fi rst husband, an army medic. He spoke no Japanese, she spoke only a little English, but they were able to converse with the help of an English-Japanese/ Japanese-English dictionary. In 1951 he returned to the United States, and she soon followed, crossing the Pacifi c on a warship fi lled with Japanese brides. When they docked in Seattle, Washington, all their husbands were there to meet them. Toyoko’s husband and his father drove her home to San Antonio, Texas. After 18 years the marriage ended in divorce. Her husband wanted her to go back to Japan, but she wanted to stay in San Antonio with her son, so she started looking for a job. Every day for three months, she inquired at a garment factory, and at last they hired her. She worked there for 18 years. With her son working as well, they were able to make it. Although born a Buddhist, she is now a Baptist and happy in her newfound faith. Her son still works for a San Antonio manufacturing plant, and she now has a grandson and a granddaughter, all grown up and living in California and Virginia. Toyoko has remarried and is full of confi dence because of all the things that she has done, and continues to do, for herself! For example, she taught herself to read and write English. After living in the United States for 43 years, she decided to take the citizenship test, so her husband made her a tape of the questions and answers. Toyoko listened to it over and over until she had learned all the information. Why did she wait so long to become a naturalized citizen? “I don’t know; I’m too lazy!” she replies. Then this energetic and industrious woman laughs a hearty laugh.

Hussein Ibrahim Yusuf 30 (ho-SAYN I-BRA-HEEM YOO-suff) Biadao, Somalia Naturalization Date: March 27, 1997

Well, the Civil War was growing, and it did become bitter in 1990. When the fi ghting came to the capital of Somalia, everybody started leaving the country. My father was somewhat involved in keeping the peace, and he was going back and forth between the rebels and the government asking that they please stop fi ghting and negotiate. At that time a lot of people were getting killed, and a lot of people were dying. Later nobody knew where my father was, and nobody has seen him. Also my sister and her husband are missing. I would very much like to see the people of Somalia get together and build a government so the people can live free instead of living in fear every day.

Hussein Yusuf was born in Biadao, Somalia, in 1955 and grew up in the capital city of Mogadishu, where his parents had moved seeking better schooling for their children. He went to military school and served as an offi cer in his country’s army. In 1986 he was sent to Lackland Air Force Base for training, and while in Texas he met Geraldine Minor, who would later become his wife. When he returned to Somalia, his homeland was unstable and in turmoil. Fourteen warlords, guided solely by their own self-interests, were vying for territorial control at the expense of peaceful villagers. The central government attempted to use its army to put down rebellions, placing soldiers in the position of having to destroy their own cities and wage war against their countrymen. In December of 1990 Hussein helped foreigners get to the airport to escape the civil war. He faced a dilemma; his military duty was in confl ict with his religious and moral beliefs. He decided to leave Somalia. Early in 1991 he and three companions, all military, planned a daring escape. They knew that, if their plans were unsuccessful, they would be prosecuted—or executed—as deserters. They mapped a route that stayed away from the main roads, for travel by public road would be too dangerous. Traveling by night, they reached the border of Kenya in four days. There they applied for political asylum, and Hussein was sent to Nairobi, where he remained for two years. He had been corresponding with Geraldine since 1986, and they planned to marry. In 1992 Hussein was able to return to the United States and carry out that plan. His family is still in danger. Hussein’s older brother escaped to Saudi Arabia; his father, his sister, and her husband are all missing—their fate is unknown. He is still in contact with his mother and younger brother and his niece and nephew, the children of his missing sister and brother-in-law, all of whom now live together in Biadao. Hussein Yusuf has adopted his wife’s family as his own, and on March 27, 1997— still hopeful that safety will return to his relatives and to his native land—he adopted her country as his own.