Catch-22

(continued)

by Kristen Lombardi

Those Colombians who are now safe in the US have embraced their new home in the most American of ways -- by becoming political activists. On a brisk September morning, just six months into the Colombian amnesty campaign, a crowd gathered in the dimly lit basement of Parroqua Nuestra Señora Del Carmen Catholic Church in Lowell. They had come for information about HR 2741, otherwise known as "la amnestia." Close to 75 men and women, roughly between 20 and 60 years old, milled about speaking in Spanish, their faces flushed with anticipation.

Raquel Matthews, a community organizer at Voices in Action, a Malden-based immigrant-advocacy group, stood before the throng, clutching the tools of the campaign -- HR 2741 petitions, AMNESTIA PARA COLOMBIANOS pamphlets, letters addressed to the state's congressmen. "This is your chance for a better life," she told the group as they filed inside. "Only you can keep this federal bill alive."

UNLIKELY ACTIVIST: Raquel Matthews doesn't need asylum -- she married an American. But she's horrified at what her native country has become and scared for her friends and relatives who've been sent back.

Matthews, a 54-year-old Colombian immigrant (her maiden name is Rocha), never imagined that one day she would be leading her compatriots in a fight to call America "home." Born the ninth of 10 children in Bogotá, she led a quiet, insular life that revolved around her father's tailor shop -- until her older sister Mercedes, who had migrated to the US, was killed in a car accident in 1970. Concerned for the well-being of her sister's five young children, Matthews, then 25, left Bogotá for the hectic streets of New York City. She later followed a brother to Boston and, eventually, worked as a nurse's aide in and around the city for nearly two decades. Family obligation, not political repression, brought Matthews here.

For the longest time, she paid little attention to her homeland, particularly to the civil war that had paralyzed the country for decades. Instead, Matthews, who is married to an American, focused on life here. But in 1996, her sense of obligation was stirred again when Congress introduced changes in US immigration law -- notoriously harsh changes that prohibit millions of immigrants, including Colombians, from obtaining permanent legal status. The landmark overhaul of immigration procedures included many onerous provisions, such as stricter border checks and new income requirements for US sponsors. The act's broad, draconian measures limited health care for illegal immigrants and sped up the deportation process for millions of refugees.

Matthews discovered firsthand the harmful consequences of this new legislation when several friends and a nephew were deported because of restrictions outlined in the 1996 act. She couldn't stand by and watch people shipped back to war-torn Colombia, banished forever. Nor could she watch idly as families were left behind to crumble. "The injustices of that law," she says, "are very hard to take."

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So Matthews called Voices in Action. She trained as a volunteer, learning the complexities of US immigration law, as well as the legal steps for achieving asylum and naturalization.

She also learned the value of political action. As soon as she found out about HR 2741, Matthews began stirring up support for the federal legislation. Not only has she contacted all 10 Massachusetts congressmen, but she has also traveled from East Boston to Brighton to Chelsea to enlist help from fellow immigrants. Her efforts have yielded results: in the past six months, she's collected tens of thousands of petition signatures, each representing another Colombian pulled into the fight.

The campaign has transformed the frail yet feisty Matthews into a prominent leader in the community. Her dark eyes moisten whenever she talks about the plight of Colombians in the US -- how so many live without any legal protection, in constant dread of being forced to return to the violent, repressive conditions that pushed them from their home. This passion for her fellows, and her desire to see them at peace, is what keeps Matthews going -- even in the face of discouraging odds.

"There are big challenges with this bill," she admits. HR 2741 has only 33 co-sponsors; it needs 218 votes to pass. "As long as I'm alive and can help," Matthews vows, "this bill isn't going to die."

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The one thing that American politicians could give Colombian US residents is peace of mind. Which is why Capuano and other Massachusetts representatives have supported HR 2741. They have contacted the Clinton administration and met with countless Capitol Hill colleagues -- all in hope of pushing HR 2741 forward before the legislative session ends. If Congress fails to debate HR 2741 by the end of this month, the bill effectively dies. Supporters would be forced to refile it when the new session begins in January.

The lobbying effort has been anything but easy. For one thing, Congress tends to become preoccupied with what's been called "the country's business" -- the 11 pending appropriations bills -- as November nears. US Representative John Tierney (D-Peabody), who is a co-sponsor, explains that HR 2741 falls into the non-spending category. "That automatically puts this down a notch," he says. In addition, Colombian advocates have only just begun drawing immigrants into the cause, so the bill still lacks strong grassroots political backing.

And then there are the challenges that come with the Colombian aid package. Unlike the Massachusetts delegation, which led the country in opposing the Clinton plan, the majority on Capitol Hill embraced it. Those who backed what was billed as a crackdown on drugs might be reluctant to recognize the human consequences of their votes -- and the legitimate need to protect immigrants in the US from the ravages of war in their homeland.

"The aid only added to our previously bad policies [concerning Colombian immigrants]," Capuano says. "But most people in the House and Senate don't agree. They think they're doing the right thing."

Lucas Cardona, though, has a different idea about what is right: Congress should help the Colombians in this country. Colombian immigrants haven't just taken refuge here, he says; they have labored hard, raised families, paid taxes, and contributed to society. Only by coming to the US have his compatriots truly been able to live. "In Colombia," he says, "the people have no freedom, no opportunity, no chance to thrive."

Cardona knows that Americans may not understand all that's happening in Colombia -- even his own people cannot quite grasp what's been described as a "sickness," a "Biblical holocaust." But Americans do understand the values of fairness, peace, and freedom, he notes, and Colombian immigrants are learning the values of activism and civic duty. "Colombians can be good citizens in this country -- if we are given the chance," he says.

Like many of his fellow Colombians, Cardona prefers not to dwell much on the obstacles facing HR 2741. "I try to be hopeful," he says -- but perhaps he's overly so. HR 2741 probably won't pass this legislative session, or the next one, or the one after that. After all, it took Salvadoran and Guatemalan immigrants in the US about 10 years of hard lobbying -- and a lawsuit -- before they finally received something close to amnesty: temporary protection against deportation.

That doesn't mean the Colombian amnesty campaign is an exercise in futility. Through their struggle to become legal residents, these immigrants are becoming American. Here, they know that they have rights, that they can influence government, and that they can make a difference. Even if they were forced to return to Columbia, they could never go back home again.

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Kristen Lombardi can be reached at klombardi[a]phx.com.