Shame, Honor, and Illegal Immigration

It's pretty here. (photo cred: S. Parker)

I live on a tropical island. There are palm trees, fresh fruit, delicious fish, sandy beaches, and delightful music. But not everyone wants to stay there.

Is it just the dream of every island dweller, some sort of island fever that you're born with? Is it the dream of every person stuck in a country where corruption rules and many go for months without being paid their promised salary? Or is it the need of a person in a health crisis who knows that they'll find no solutions on their island?

So my islander friends and neighbors take boats to another island. The government authorities of the other island try to prevent it, but try enough times and you'll make it.

But the problem is, a person without papers isn't free to move around the island easily. They constantly live in fear of being discovered. Some places the immigration police search houses for illegals. Other places they simply walk the streets checking every person they meet and asking for proof that they belong there. So how do you shop for food, work, and socialize, when you constantly fear being discovered and deported? The short answer is, you can't.

But the unexpected thing is, most islanders who return from their illegal sojourn on the next island over don't admit these issues. They don't talk about it when they call home. Because how can you bear the shame of admitting that you spent crazy amounts of your own and others' money and didn't get the good life from it? Get the honor, ignore the shame whenever possible. That's the way you survive here.