Confession of an illegal immigrant

No one would think of me as illegal immigrant, but I was. I didn't walk for days and weeks or risk my life in a crowded unsafe boat. I wasn't escaping famine, poverty, gangs or bombs.

I was looking for a better social contract, decent vacations, health care and a new culture different from what America offered.

In July 1989, I arrived safely in Paris on Air France along with my two Japanese chins and a small bank account. I trained to Toulouse to stay with friends.

I immediately started to look for work and began the arduous task of learning French something that has been a decades long battle. I knew I was making progress when a waiter said in French, "You're speaking French." I nodded. He added, "But you're American."

I would get interviews, come close to an offer but my lack of a work permit stopped any joy. I did teach English in a business school, but my salary was paid to a friend, who passed the money onto me less whatever taxes he would have to pay.

When I overstayed, I went to Spain or Germany and had my passport stamped on re-entrying France. It looked like I only entered France multiple times.

I gave up when my mother wrote she had cancer and returned to Boston.

After her death, I tried again. Those were pre-internet days. At the Out of Town bookstore in Harvard Square, I would get help wanted ads from French newspapers. I used business directories to get the names of PR and marketing directors and wrote cold call letters. 

I sent over 800 CVs before I saw an ad in the IHT. "Sales person wanted. Must know Digital Equipment Corp. Speaks French and German. We will get Swiss work permit."

Along with two others, I had started a credit union for DEC. It is now a billion dollar financial institution. My French was still basic, very, and my German rusty. 

I faxed my CV. An hour later, they called. A week later I flew to Geneva and two months later I was in Switzerland. In 2006 I received Swiss nationality.

Immigrants have bad press. I've known many. Yes, there are the proverbial bad apples.

When I used to wait for the bus to take me into Geneva, immigrants housed in a nearby shelter would ask if I knew how they could find work...any work, while citizens complained how their taxes were supporting them.

I've met people in the U.S. who started out as illegals and fought their way to legality. One owns a beauty parlor and is active in her community. Another works two jobs, has raised three honor roll students and will get her nursing degree this June. In my French village, the woman who cleans the train station and houses, has a son who is a plumber and a granddaughter in medical school. A young Serbian worked for me legally. He had no idea if any of his family were still alive. He was not the brightest employee, but the hardest worker saving money to go home when the war ended to find his family.

I believe the norm is more like me and the examples above. We are not alone in trying to better our lives using whatever skills and talents we have combined with hard work and risk.  

Bergli books has published 50 Amazing Swiss Immigrants immigrants who have enriched the country. 

An immigrant does not have to be a scientist, inventor, artist, businessman to enhance their new society. They can be any ordinary worker who does a good job from picking vegetables to writing code. If allowed to work, they will not be a drain on a country's resources but a contributor. 

The majority of immigrants are not vermin, but people seeking a better life.