My friend, Kanny, came to the US 14 years ago.  The oldest of 11 children in a well-connected family in West Africa, she came after a political coup took her family from prosperity to obscurity in the blink of an eye.

Our friendship began as she braided my African daughter's hair at her little shop

Spending 6 hours watching the finger-numbing task gave me a chance to learn a little about the life of this woman in a flowing gold dress and brightly colored hijab.  Her 10 year old daughter sat in another chair at the salon, braiding her doll's hair and listening while her mom and I talked about the journey from Africa and her experiences in the United States as a business owner, wife, mother, and daughter and immigrant.

She came to the U.S. to visit family in Colorado.  At the airport in NY, an African taxi driver approached her and said, "Sister, where are you from?  Where are you going?".  She explained her situation, and they realized they actually were distantly related, SO SHE WENT TO HIS APARTMENT AND STAYED WITH HIS FAMILY FOR 2 WEEKS!    The contrast of this kind of hospitality to the neighbors she's had in the US is dramatic...here, where no one speaks and no one helps....

I asked the question I tend to ask most immigrants or international students I know.
"Is there anything you need help with?"  "Anything that's confusing to you?"

Out came the documents and pieces of mail....confusing IRS letters, information the Immigration Attorney needed to proceed with her case, overdue bills and disconnection notices....we made a list of priorities and problems and as I offered to help her make a few phone calls and help her understand the issues, she teared up with gratitude.  Such simple steps...asking about a balance on an account....driving to the courthouse to get a document...but to Kanny, they were enormous obstacles we were helping to remove from her path.

• Her husband had left them with no support.
• The money she earned at the Hair Braiding shop is split every month between her bills and her mother and 8 siblings in Africa.  Often, that means she doesn't pay her electric bill, or buy food.
• On a day trip to visit the attorney in Champaign, we stopped for a late lunch at Subway.  As the 10 year old devoured her sandwich, Kanny smiled and said, "this is enough for breakfast, lunch, and dinner today, right?".  It was 4pm and they hadn't eaten anything yet that day.
• When her mom stepped out of the car, I asked the daughter how long they hadn't had electricity.  
• "I think, since April or May".  
• "That must be really hard", I said.  
• "Yeah, I'm really tired of bad food.  I need something healthy."

• Beginning to understand what "no electricity" looks like......cold showers, no refrigerator, no microwave or stove, no fans for the apartment when it's 97 degrees, no light or ability to charge a cell phone, fast food, convenience food, no food....
• When her husband left, she got behind on her rent and the landlord penalized her by raising the rent.  She now pays $600/month for a cockroach-ridden apartment, despite being immaculately clean, one where her daughter doesn't feel safe playing outside, and in order to come and go, they have to walk through a group of men who sit on the front stoop drinking and smoking various legal and illegal substances.
• She wants to move, but her credit and past-due balances have her stuck.
• She has no valid photo id.  She cannot get a state id, Social Security Card...her passport expired and the process of getting a new one is very difficult because of the political situation in her country.
• Getting a Green Card requires a physical exam by an immigration physician.  When she called for an appointment she was told it would be $400 just for the office visit.  After she got her immunizations up to date, it would be close to $2,000.
• Did I mention she can't pay for ELECTRICITY?
• Her daughter rides the bus to school every day, but they will not drop her off in the afternoon at the Hair Braiding shop.  So Kanny must leave her business and walk home to get her off the bus, or take a taxi to pick her up from school.

Sometimes when my friend starts letting all of the frustration and emotion come out as she tells me her struggles, she says things like, "It's too much...it's all too much...Americans........" and her voice trails off as she realizes she's talking to an American.   I'm not offended.  I'm embarrassed.  Americans. Bureacracy. 

What if we all looked out for our neighbors?  What if we asked people who speak other languages or are from other countries if they need help? What if we actually talked to the people who do our hair or wash our cars or make our food?