The Immigration Story of Alfonzo

The Immigration Story of Alfonzo
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The Immigration Story of Alfonzo
When my mum told my sister and me about the move to America, it was the best news I ever received. From the stories I had heard, my notion of the United States then was a great, amazing, somewhat fantastic place. The Golden Country, a sort of Paradise, the Land of Promise in more ways than one could imagine, huge beyond conception, thousands of miles across the ocean, exciting, explosive, quite incomparable to the tiny, quiet, lovely Italy town. From my perception, in America, one could make lots of money in a short time, acquire immense holdings, wear a white collar, and have polish on one’s boots like a master or one of the gentry. People there would eat white bread, soup, and meat on weekdays and Sundays, even if one were an ordinary workman. This was during the severe economic crisis in Europe. The country was still in the process of recovering from the effects of World War. There was tension across the country as the movement was restricted from state to state. Patrol officers guarded borders like never before. The French Revolution had spread its effects across nations (Cameron, 2014).
The journey across the Atlantic is one of the worst experiences in my life. It was worse than the previous experience we had of moving barefooted to reach the Atlantic. It was impossible to tell what day it was, and we lost count of months; in any case, all this was not of any help. We started fifty of us from the ocean’s shores in that given boat, but only thirty made it to the other end. Mom was among those who did not make it. On that morning, I could tell that the weather meant something was not right. The bright sun we had been used to was not there, and the general mood was gloomy. My mom was growing weak, she had not eaten for three days in a row, and we were also running short of food. I was unsure if she was sacrificing the little food for us or her body was not willing to accept food. We tried all we could, but all the drugs on board proved ineffective; she lay in the hands of my sister all morning. The winds were at their strongest, and I had grown tired of scooping the water off the boat every time it blew. Along with the rest of the men in the boat, we did our best to ensure that the boat was safe and did not capsize as we struggled with extreme weather conditions. The winds on this particular day were stronger than any other day, and I could not hear my sister’s cries to announce the death of mom. We all started losing hope, and I could see it clearly in people’s faces. It was indeed one of the girls on board that stopped my sister from jumping to the waters. The American Dream was growing bleak with every day on the Atlantic Ocean.
The influenza pandemic of 1918–1919 coincided with a major wave of immigration to the United States. They say more than 23.5 million immigrants arrived during that period, and we from Europe represented the highest numbers. We, foreigners, were ofte...