“From a very young age I was told not to have dreams. I was told that to dream big was foolish. Dreams were not for people like us. I come from a broken family. Mother worked all kinds of jobs while father never really contributed to anything. He was lost in his own world which seemed very distant from ours. So it was just me, my little sister and my mother who were left to suffer. I remember we had no food. I remember mother heat some bad corn and feed it to my hungry sister. We were also thrown out of the house because mother failed to pay rent. Mother did all kinds of jobs from carrying bricks to sweeping canteens. With so much of scarcity at home my dreams did not really matter. I felt my only escape was coming the US, getting a degree and working towards a better future for my family. I told my mother about this and she told me to stop dreaming. But I went ahead anyways. I convinced her to give me money and I applied. I was rejected while a friend who applied with me was granted the visa. I did not know what to do. That felt like the end of everything. Now, I was to disappear in this crowd and suffer just like mother. I would fall into poverty and oppression by men. I would not be able to rescue my family anymore. I shuddered. I cried. I gathered myself and reapplied. Those two months felt like eternity. Mom would come to me and say, ‘Didn’t everyone tell you to stop dreaming. You should have listened.’ My relatives would come to me and say, ‘Why haven’t you learnt? Why don’t you get some work here instead of having these useless dreams and wasting all your mother’s hard-earned money?’ I would lock myself and just cry and pray. The day came. I got the visa. Mom came running with happiness. I have never seen her so happy. Tears would not stop. Dai, how can I tell you, how we felt. Today, only because I kept to my dream, I am here. But it is a lot of struggle here too. But at least, I will go back home with something. At least I will rescue my mom from the life of slavery she has led. I know that. It is all for my mother.” (Zyoti Lama, San Fransisco, California)