When my dad was 18, he decided to move to America in search of better opportunities. He was young and eager to explore new places. Born in Peru, he had five brothers and two sisters, and he wanted to provide more opportunities and financial support for his family. In Peru, jobs were available, but they didn’t pay well. Education was also expensive, making it difficult for many to pursue their dreams. My dad’s friends invited him to join them in America, and together, they made the decision to go. There were six of them in total, all hoping to work and send money back home.

At first, my dad’s plan was to work for three years, save money, and then return to Peru. The journey to America was long and challenging, but it didn’t feel that way because he was with friends. They each packed only one backpack, with three T-shirts, two pairs of pants, and one pair of shoes. My dad remembers that he only had one pair of shoes for the entire trip, and in the winter, it was especially tough.

The trip was a long and difficult one. My dad first took a flight to a department in Peru, which is similar to a state, closer to the border with Colombia. From there, they took a boat along the Amazon River to the border of Colombia. Once in Colombia, they flew to a city, then took a bus to a town near the border. They were very close to the ocean at this point.

My dad and his friends decided to take a boat from Colombia to Nicaragua, thinking it would be faster. However, before reaching Nicaragua, they stopped at a small island called St. Andres, which my dad loved. He recalls, “It was one of the moments that was so nice, and I actually enjoyed it.” However, they were running out of money, so friends and family sent them what they could.

In Nicaragua, they were very hungry because they didn’t have enough money for food. In desperation, they turned themselves in to immigration authorities, knowing they would be sent to jail but at least fed there. They spent a month in jail before being released, but they had just one day to leave the country or face prison again. Within a few hours, they managed to reach the border of Honduras where they stayed for about a month or two, working and earning enough money to continue their journey. From there, they moved to Guatemala, staying for four months.

The journey was not easy. My dad remembers days when they only had oranges to eat or even went without food. They often had problems with the people who hosted them along the way. Eventually, a friend helped them get through Mexico. By the time they reached the U.S., they were exhausted and had endured many hardships.

Phoenix, Arizona, was the first place my dad arrived in America. He stayed there for a week before someone helped him get to Dallas, Texas. After another week, a friend found them some work, but my dad and his friend were so weak from the journey that they struggled to carry even a door. He lived in several places in Texas before eventually moving to Denver, Colorado, and then to Nashville, Tennessee. My dad had originally wanted to stay in Nashville but ended up in Omaha, Nebraska.

In the beginning, my dad found that the community in America was much less close-knit than in Peru. He longed for home. One of the biggest challenges was learning the language. When people heard his accent, they didn’t take him seriously and would often underpay him, assuming he wouldn’t notice. To overcome this, my dad decided to start his own business. By doing so, he was able to get his own business card and gain more respect.

Although the journey was tough, my dad learned valuable lessons along the way. It wasn’t easy, but he persevered, and it was a journey that shaped his future.