I was fortunate to talk with Natella in depth about the tragic social unrest she and her family experienced, in their native Uzbekistan during the collapse of the Soviet Union. She now lives in East Hampton, New York and she’ll be at the March For America. Here is her story:
It was my dream to come the United States. I still get emotional about it.
During the collapse of the Soviet Union there were two ethnic groups — Uzbeks and Meschetian-Turks (deported from Georgia in the 1943 to Uzbekistan) — in my little town of Kuvasay in Uzbekistan. In 1989 the town was lit on fire and many houses burned down.
I am Georgian by nationality. Most Russian and small ethnic groups had to leave the town because of the uncertainty and the war. My mother died and I was alone. My Uzbek neighbors said we needed to put the country’s green flag up to be safe. I remember the day well, we saw young people running around with stones, screaming in Uzbek, “Fight!” My sister called and said, “Something is going on.” I already knew because my house was in the center of the village and I saw it all with my own eyes. My house looked across at the cinema. They wanted to kill Turks. My sister said, “Let’s go and see what’s going on.” But the militia said we had to go back to our houses. There was a terrible noise because the young people were running to the Turkish settlement.
The Russian troops came to our town to protect us. A lot of houses were lit on fire. We were afraid to stay in our town, and afraid to stay in the Fergana region of Uzbekistan. Uzbeks were telling us we had to leave. People went in buses to the airport in Fergana, a military airport where we could be protected. Most of my neighbors left the town.
There were rumors that we had to go to the embassy in Tashkent, the capital city, to ask for Russian citizenship. I stood the whole night in queue. And I got citizenship — in the left corner of my passport was stamped “Russian Citizen.”
My niece, her daughter, and I went to Moscow. I borrowed some money and came to the United States to try to make a better life. I didn’t know what to do when I got here. I became a housekeeper for some people who then took my passport, and I worked for 2 years for them. I then told them I wanted to go to school; I shouldn’t be hiding like an idiot.
My younger brother died a couple years ago and I couldn’t even go back to him to say goodbye because I didn’t have a green card. I was completely destroyed after he died.
I feel like my life is completely ruined. In order to survive, I am working for a family that took my passport saying they wanted to keep it safe. There are bad people here in America. I work really as a slave, for $100 per week.
There are some Turks in Arizona from my town back in Uzbekistan who became political refugees and came here through an organization, and they have green cards. I came here legally, and eleven years later I’m in America without freedom. I couldn’t find a decent person to help me.
I don’t know what to do. Maybe reform will come. I had such hope for President Obama. When he became President I hoped he’d fulfill his promise. Apparently nothing is happening so I’m marching in Washington.
I live with so much humiliation. Sometimes I pretend the green glass washing onto the beach shore is my green card — this is absolutely awful.
At 5 am on March 21st I’ll take a bus to Washington, DC for the March For America. I asked the lady I work for to let me go. I know the organizers are taking security very seriously and that there will be legal observers there. But still many of my friends are afraid to go even though they have the day off.
You can still sign up to be at the March For America! Bring your friends, family, colleagues, and neighbors. Please share this story with your friends.
Categories: March For America, New York, comprehensive immigration reform, immigrant rights, immigrant stories
