Journey to the US: A Difficult Time for My Whole Family

Surviving the War

My family's journey to the United States started in January 2008 in Somalia when the civil war broke out. My family then consisted of five children and my two parents. I was an eight-year-old. One day my father did not come home from work, and my mother started to worry. Staying in Somalia any longer was very dangerous as random houses were being bombed. Some of our neighbors had already fled to nearby refugee camps. We had no choice but to leave my father.

Heavily pregnant, and along with all the children, my mother gave birth to my brother, who was born with a birth defect called spina bifida. She gave birth on a bus ride to a refugee camp in Ethiopia. Exhausted and starved, we reached the refugee camp exactly 10 days after my brother's birth. The refugee camp was located on the east side of Ethiopia called Lefe Isa. They told us they were full and were not accepting any new refugees. Considering the condition we were in, they decided to register us, but in a different refugee camp called Sheder. My little brother needed to be hospitalized right away so the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees told my mother she had to leave us behind and take my brother to the capital city of Ethiopia, Addis Ababa, for the surgery. My mother could not do this, so she had to pay people to look for my father. We came to find out that he had been captured and tortured by gangsters at the border between Ethiopia and Somalia. He found his way back to us and my mother was now able to leave with my brother while the rest of us stayed at the camp.

The refugee camp was a very dangerous place where women and little girls were abducted and raped, and men were killed and their remains placed in toilets. Despite all of that, my father had to leave during the day to make income for the five remaining children. While as the oldest daughter and a nine-year-old, I tried filling the position of a mother for my little siblings. Soon my mother returned and took us all back with her to Addis Ababa. We lived comfortably there, but life was expensive.

Immigrating to America

We lived in Addis Ababa for four years before starting the journey to America. We landed in Arizona, where my brother underwent more surgeries. While in Arizona, we heard that Minnesota is the second Mogadishu, so we packed up and headed north. In Minnesota we found a place in society and met people that resembled us, so we felt at home. Now that the journey had ended, we did not realize another would await us.

My brother is doing better than ever but still needs our help. He has a shunt in his head and is unable to walk so he uses a wheelchair to get around. Both my parents work, and they need me now than ever to help my now nine younger siblings. They have sacrificed so much so we can live as comfortably as possible. My siblings and I hope to achieve the American dream to repay all that our parents have done for us.

My Family

My family means everything to me. As the oldest daughter of my parents and the oldest sibling for my little siblings, I feel like I have a lot to be responsible for. I worry about not being strong enough like my parents are. Without knowing English, they have learned how to work with the system of the United States. They know a lot more than I do even though I can speak English better than they do. At the same time, we as a family have survived much worse situations. I am hoping that I spend every day being happy with my family and pray for those that are less fortunate than us.

I was a lot younger than I am now when my family's journey started in Somalia. My memories are blurry. Talking to my parents about our journey here has brought memories back. We talked about the past and how far along we have come. Being in America is so busy that we as a family rarely have time to talk about things. My parents were happy when I told them I would be telling our story.