I used to see airplanes before I came to the USA . In my childhood , when the boys and I saw the plane in the sky, we would start singing loudly ''wow plane ,wow plane'' until the horizon hid it. When I grew up , I was interested  in the news and documentary movies. The plane accidents were the favorite subject for the media . I heard a lot of stories  about  peoples first flight ,but I couldn't wait for mine.

 

              My first experience taking an airplane  was on May 14, 2011. It was an amazing adventure . Every thing was good  despite the long waiting time and complicated transaction in the both airports, Casablanca or JFK .
              While I was waiting for  three hours in Casablanca Airport, I got a lot of information about the new lifestyle in the USA from a  Moroccan lady I met  there. She had a lot of experience of the American culture. She asked me to call her  when I got there  for anything I wanted. The most important advice she gave  me was not to give anybody your  social security number, don't make any relationships with American girls, go to the school and try to work with American people . She was very smart .She explained and made her opinions more clear to me . She wanted me to believe in her.   When she said ''my husband has a company in NY if you can not get a job in CT you can come  to work with him.''  I had hope for her ,because she made me believe in her.

             Another older woman was sitting by my side in the plane. She  came several times to visit her sons in Virginia. She told me where to get my native food (Halal). The amazing thing was that woman was a French teacher. My background with those teachers wasn't good , but in that trip I was an earnest student .She kept  talking and teaching me throughout the trip . I felt like I was in her classroom . She told me about her sons, her daughter, and  Moroccan people who lived in Virginia. It was a nice moment, we kept each other company on the trip.

            Because it my first time flying , I got a strong headache when the plane was landing . I felt  like something was piercing in my brain. For a few minutes I couldn't see or hear anything. I only heard sounds like someone was whispering .

            When I got off the plane. I was extremely shocked . The man who was supposed to meet me at the terminal wasn't there. I tried to call him ,but he did not answer. All the passengers who were in my flight left, and I was the only one there at the terminal. I was getting very mad because I believed that man would help me to get to my destination and helped me get oriented to the new culture. After that crazy time, I saw someone coming in .  I went toward him quickly, and I asked him if he was Zakaria . He said yes. Suddenly I felt relief. I became myself again .

            My first days in Bridgeport , Zakaria and Moroccans friends  tried to get a job for me , but all the jobs needed someone who speaks English . I became  depressed and hopeless.

           After a week my friend on Facebook gave me his friend's phone number in NY. I called him. He asked me to come to Astoria because there are a lot off Arab stores over there  . I went there, then  I  found a job in a Moroccan restaurant. I was washing dishes and making delivered on bike. It was a tough job, but I had to work and  pay my debt to my sisters in Morocco. My debt was like a nightmare  because I knew my sisters needed their money because  they borrowed  from their jobs.

 

             The sandwich shop where I was working   taught me a lot of information about how Arab people lived here in The USA . I met the successful people like the Moroccan doctor who discovered  medicine for Alzheimer's disease. I met a  famous  Moroccan  designer .I met  many Arab engineers and` businessman.

             On the other hand, I met people who were in a bad situation. Some of them were illegal. They did not have a place to live. They couldn't find a job, but they knew they could have a better future by being in the right direction.  Some of them worked very hard to support family back home, but they didn't enjoy their life.

          In Astoria where I  lived and  worked ,I saw many Muslim children who did not have any relationship with their Islamic religion or their Arab language,  even though they had  Arabic names . I can't forget the Moroccan teenager girl who had many tattoos and piercings on her  nude body. She was drunk , so she went outside the club where she was fighting  with her boyfriend . At that moment I decided I wouldn't   have kids here because it is very hard for me to imagine my kids doing bad things like that girl one day.        

 

                    I never used to  celebrate birthdays in my country. But my 29th birthday was indeed a strange one. It was the same day that  I got my green card. I felt like someone who just finished his jail sentence. I was very happy.  My happiness didn't last that long because the family in Missouri that I was planning on going to live with had asked  me to wait 3 months. I wished I could have taken the flight to USA on the same day when I got my visa, instead of waiting that long. I started looking for someone who could help me. For two weeks, I couldn't get any sleep or meal because I was so nervous.

                  One day someone in my family told me that his childhood friend had been  living in the USA . He gave me his phone number. I contacted him, and I asked him to help me. One week later, he told me to come over here to CT because he arranged a place for me to live in.

                  On the other hand, I knew my unplanned trip needed a lot of money. I had already spent like a thousand dollars for getting my green card . I knew everyone who was around me was broke.  My two sisters borrowed the money from their jobs to come over and offered me the expenses for the  trip. Then I flew to USA on May 14th 2011.

                  My parents became more emotional with me because I was going to leave them. My mom started to treat me like a child. I remember one morning when I went  to the kitchen for breakfast, my mom was baking the Moroccan bread and listening to a song on the radio. The song  was asking people who want to move from their home to stay, before they  regretted it .

                     When the song said ''Many people moved before you and I ,but they regret it now''. My mom was singing  this sentence loudly. She wanted me to hear it. I sang with her too with a large smile. Her question then was '' when will you come back my son?'' 

 When the news talked about H1N1 VIRUS on those days, she said ''look how many people were killed there''. When my first company wanted me to come back for the job, my mother wanted me to accept the offer and stay in the country . I knew in her gut that she wanted me to stay. I knew she was very worried about me like all mothers would be .

                     In the beginning, my father's opinion was  that my visa just a fake. Now he  had changed his mind. Maybe it was when I showed him my passport was signed, or when he heard my conversation with the man who lived in USA. 

                       The morning came when I went to take the car from my city Meknes to the Casa Blanca airport . It was  more emotional because my parents, sisters and I started crying .  Personally,  I can't  stand to see people crying especially my parents and lovely persons .  Their hugs were full of warmth and love. I fled into the car. I wanted to move faster before I lost my strength. I hoped that I could close my eyes and open them, and I would be in the USA.  

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                People in  Morocco say "if you are an adult, you have to work and make your own money". But how?  If you can't find a job or make enough money with jobs that have bad conditions.

                My childhood was happy as whole. I lived in a poor area where all the neighbors knew each other, so there were more emotions, more feelings. We were like a big family. But when I grew up everything had changed. Many families moved from the area where I lived  . Many friends  left school early. Now they have their own  jobs and own families. But me, who  spent a long time in school, university and the institute,  I  still couldn't get a better job or own a home .

 

          

            I started hating myself, especially when I was doing nothing, and when my father came back from hard work, very exhausted. I kissed his hand, then I left home so I could be alone. I asked myself  "What  am I going to  do?" .       

            When I kissed his hand I was following a tradition of Arab children, and where I grew up people did it , but that time my kiss was different. It meant a lot . It meant "I am sorry dad. Your hope was disappointed in your son who has lack of gumption, and now he is only able to eat ,sleep and go to toilet." I felt sorry because I knew my father who had a tough childhood had to work hard even when his  hair became white and his back ached all the time. Really just thinking about that time hurts me.

           In  fact, one year before I came to the United States  it was the hardest time ever in my life. I was very depressed. Mostly, when I realized that the Arab revolutions or The Arab Spring couldn't be successful. The  Peaceful revolutions were changed to  blood pools by the Arab dictators who didn't care about their people and their countries. They only cared about themselves and their positions .

 

           After moving among companies where my humanity was stolen, working over time for little pay, with people  who didn't believe in each other, screaming all the time where you have to be like a slave to the boss. My mind was very dispersion among my  job , Arab Spring revolutions and getting the visa  .  Many people told me don't go to The USA because life there is difficult and expensive after the economic  crisis.

          My mind was changed when I met someone who was waiting for the green card like me .His conditions were more difficult than mine , but he was focused on going to the  USA. He told me don't believe what people say.  The USA is the best  country in the world . The USA is the future. I believed in him, then I put all my hopes in getting my visa and moving to the USA as soon as possible .

 

 

                 In the later years, the Moroccan government decided  to take out the public jobs ,  so they started to encourage the professional institutes to prepare the agents to work in the private companies . I was 25 years old when I got the bachelor diploma in the history and civilization  .

               Like a thousands of people who had bachelors , but they couldn't get a job.  Most of them live with their families who feed them , or they sell  cigarette , food or any street jobs. But others chose to establish the protest movements for getting a public job ,even if  they have to sacrifice their life.

              For me I chose to get a new diploma that will qualify me to work in the clothing companies .   

 

                  In 2009 I got my diploma. Then I worked in a big company as a agent of production. That was a good experience for me, but I couldn't continue when I felt my director was rude with me , so I quit my job in a bad mood , then I went to apply for the green card lottery.

 

 

 

           Because of the economic world crisis. Back in the days you couldn't get a job easily . Especially in my career . However, after two months of suffering, moving among the big economic cities,  I got a job as quality agent in the historic city called Fes .

 

 

 

            Then  I went to another company which I thought was much better for me, but it wasn't . It was a bad experience when I was deceived by my  supervisor .

 

 

           I applied for production manager, and I went to the interview which was about production and quality . It was very long. 

          

           Before we finished, they told me the payment would be 3000 DH, plus 1500 bonny after the first 6 months. Also I would have weekends off.

          Those condition for a new agent were very good starters. I started working as a control agent on the machine called VISITOSE .

 

 

 

             For me that time. It didn't matter quality or production if the payment is the same because I was dead broke.

                 I lived  in a bad area that had been very dangerous which I  get assaulted by the thieves at any time. Farther than my family, in a  small room, with a lot of roommates. There was no TV or computer, neither were there any friends , so it was really boring .

 

 

 

          The big problem was, when I took my payment I was shocked because it was a minimum wage payment . It was less than the payment I used to get at my previous job. I went to my supervisor who said don't worry I will fix it .

           In the Second payment I had the same, but the answer was very different . She said I couldn't do anything for you because if I raise your payment I have to do the same with your other Coworkers who been there longer than you have .

          Her answer made me really upset . I confronted her about it , but she wouldn't raise my wage.      

           There were two new agents  that started work with me at the same time I started working, and they were getting paid more than me , that was not fair for me.

          As well as my other problem when the company changed my schedule . I had to work one week morning shift, and evening shift in the other week. Only Sundays off.

 

             In those tough days,  I got an exciting call from my family saying that I got a letter in the mail from THE UNITED STATES. That news gave me hope. It was like gods gift. I took the train that night, I made sure that it was the actual green card .

          The letter said I was chosen by the lottery program , but I had to finish the condition. I did every thing so far then I waited and started dreaming.

 

 

 

 

 

           

 

             That time when I was waiting the answer for getting the visa, my country was in the edge, like all the Arabic countries, because of the corruption , bribery, Injustice , tyranny, Poverty and deprivation .The people there were desperate .There weren't any dignity or freedom with old dictator regimes . Those were the reasons for the Arab revolution known as THE ARABIC SPRING.