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CHICAGO MATTERS: Inside Housing
Immigrant Stories
about Home
The following is
a selection of personal stories from A Place to Call Home—Immigrant
Communities Confront Affordable Housing in Chicago, published by the
Coalition of African,
Asian, European and Latino Immigrants of Illinois. The stories, told
in the immigrants' own words, highlight the experiences of immigrants
trying to find affordable housing in Chicago.
Lau
On Wong
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Lau
On Wong
in her kitchen
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My husband and I
immigrated to the United States in 1983. My daughter petitioned for us
to come here. We are both over 80 years old and have now been here for
18 years.
When we arrived in
the United States, my husband and I rented a basement apartment. The basement
was wet and dark. It was very inconvenient to go up and down. Insects
and cockroaches appeared very often. We lived in a very bad environment.
It was cheap and all we could afford.
We lived in the basement
for several years until a friend found us another house to rent, which
is where we currently live. The environment is better but transportation
is not convenient and the supermarket is far. One more problem is the
language. We do not talk to the neighbors very often.
Recently, my husband
had a second stroke. He has been hospitalized ever since. I stay home,
lonely. My son and daughter take me to see my husband when they are off
from work. In this situation, I really want to live in a senior apartment.
At least the neighbors would speak the same language. If something were
to happen, I could call a neighbor to help. I really want the American
government to build more senior apartments. By providing lower rent, they
could help seniors have a good old age.
Maria
Estrada
In Mexico, I lived
in my parent's house. My home was a single room that served as the kitchen,
living room, and bedroom. I shared that room with my husband and our two
children. I came to this country in hopes of a higher income. Both of
our salaries in Mexico were not enough to meet our expenses. Even though
we did not pay rent, our income barely paid for the food we ate and the
clothes we wore.
My husband and I
had a dream of coming to the United States in order to improve our way
of life with better work and wages and to achieve something better for
our children. In 1992, we arrived in the United States and began living
with my sister-in-law while my husband found work and another place to
live. My sister-in-law's apartment had two bedrooms, a kitchen, living
room, and two bathrooms. For two months, 12 people shared that apartment.
There I realized that it would be very difficult to find work and adjust
to our new way of life. Any money we had saved, we quickly had to use
to cover our expenses. It was never enough. Finally, with the grace of
God we were able to get our own apartment, sharing it with my brother-in-law,
husband, and my children. We shared a one-bedroom apartment, splitting
the rent and utilities because my husband could not afford to pay for
everything.
Our first apartment
became a nightmare because the landlord would always come to check on
the condition of the apartment when I was alone with my children. In our
second apartment, the landlord stole from us. Our third apartment was
full of rodents and cockroaches, and our landlord did not do anything
about it. I felt I was discriminated against in each apartment because
I had children.
I have been in my
current apartment for the past four years with my husband, our four children,
and my brother. We pay $545 a month for rent. We were satisfied with the
previous landlord, but a year and half ago our landlord changed. Unfortunately,
this new landlord does not want to fix problems in our apartment, such
as appliances, like our stove and refrigerator, or the bathroom. As a
result of our problem with the refrigerator, a lot of our food goes to
waste, and I fear that it will cause a short circuit and start a fire.
The drywall in the bathroom has fallen letting both cold air and bad odors
enter from outside. Our landlord has twice shut off the water without
notice.
I don't feel safe
in my apartment because I live on the first floor next to the street and
an alley. Cars drive by throughout the night, and I am afraid one might
hit our apartment. At night, strangers linger in the building's parking
lot doing questionable things. I am also afraid that an accident will
occur inside my apartment due to the lack of maintenance.
Suleman
Nathani
My name is Suleman Nathani. I was born in Kandesh, India in 1942.
When I lived in Karachi, Pakistan, I had a condo with two bedrooms, a
bathroom, a kitchen, and a nice size back yard. I paid a maintenance fee
of 45 rupees for the premises. It was purchased through a Pakistani system
called Pagadi, in which you pay the owner a fixed amount to reside in
the apartment, and when you sell the apartment to someone else, you pay
the owner 10% of the net.
When I first arrived
in the United States, I had a first floor apartment located in the Jewish
neighborhood of North Miami Beach. It was clean and spacious, a nice place
to live. The year was 1971, and rent was $180 a month—very cheap.
Three people shared the one-bedroom apartment.
I currently live
in Chicago and have two jobs, one as an English teacher at the Indo-American
Center volunteering with the seniors program, and the other as a clerk
at a convenience store in Uptown. I do not enjoy that job, but it helps
to pay the bills. I have a lot of experience in social work, but it has
been extremely difficult to find a good paying job.
I live with my son,
his wife, and my other son. I pay $200 a month as my part of the rent.
The total rent is $650 for a one-bedroom apartment. It is located on a
major street so fumes from the street enter the apartment all the time.
I do not feel good about living here. It is very cramped, and there is
no privacy.
My ideal home would
be a nice two-bedroom condo for myself, so I can invite friends and family
to stay with me. It would have a nice, all-purpose carpet, a TV/VCR, air
conditioning, and good ventilation, and it would be located in a neighborhood
with educated people.
Maria
Pina
Maria Pina
arrived with her mother and four brothers and sisters from Mexico City
in 1992:
We came to Chicago
to be united with our father who was working here. In Mexico, we didn't
have enough money to pay for our school. Our dream was to attend college.
The family first
moved into a two-bedroom apartment in the back side of a storefront building
on Ashland Avenue in West Town. The location was good because it was close
to the high school Maria's brother attended.
We lived there
for three years. The three girls slept in one room, the two boys in
the other. My mother and father slept in the living room. In 1995, we
were forced to move because the owner wanted to remodel the building
and charge higher rent.
Paying higher rent
would have been very difficult for Maria's family. Her father was a baker
and her mother worked in day labor offices when the family was short of
money. In 1994, she had a baby and had to stay home to care for him.
The Pinas then decided
to move to the adjacent neighborhood of Humboldt Park.
We lived at
Campbell and Potomac. After dark we couldn't go outside because the
street was full of gangs. My father was beaten up while walking home
one night. Transportation was also a problem because now we had to take
buses to get to school and it was expensive.
Two years later
we moved back to West Town into a 2-bedroom apartment on Huron Street,
just west of Ashland. The apartment was small, closer to school and
on a street that wasn't as dangerous. We lived there until quite recently
when we were forced to move again.
. . . One day the owner showed up with a paper from the City of Chicago
saying that everyone had to leave in order to do building improvements.
This forced 12 families-more than 100 men, women, and children-to look
for another place. Luckily, our family was able to purchase a house
in Little Village on 25th Street. Other families weren't so lucky. One
family came home from shopping and found their apartment padlocked.
There was a sign prohibiting entry into their apartment. All of their
furniture and belongings were locked inside. They could not contact
the owner because he was out of town on vacation and no one from the
city would help. Worse still, the family had just paid the month's rent
and didn't have any money. Now on the front of the place where we once
lived, there is a big sign in red letters that says:
WARNING!
THESE PREMISES ARE PROTECTED BY TRAINED ATTACK DOGS
SURVIVORS WILL BE PROSECUTED
24 HR. SERVICE
ACTION K SECURITY.
I think the
City should work to improve the conditions of housing for its people.
They need to understand that we live in crowded, uncomfortable conditions.
To pay higher rent we need higher paying jobs and better educational
opportunities.
Instead, the
city looks at us immigrants as people who don't have much to offer.
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