“Keep Learning, Always”
The Story of Natalia de las Cuevas of Catholic Charities Houston
PART I:
"Lost and Found"
Havana, Cuba, 1984
Natalia’s eyes anxiously scanned the unfamiliar streets and road signs, her heartbeat quickening. Her little son, two years old, clutched her hand. It was growing dark, and she was lost in this new city.
Just 20 minutes ago she had stepped out for what she’d meant to be a short walk around the block. She was allured by the night air — so strangely warm to her for October — and the enchanting smells of palm trees and tropical flowers which were her favorite thing about this new city. She and her husband had arrived in Havana just weeks ago from frigid Russia, where it was already snowing, and this tropical, colonial-looking city, though strange, was finding a place in her heart.
But as she walked she grew distracted, lost in her own thoughts and memories. All of a sudden, she was on an unfamiliar street. She did not know which direction was home. People passed her on the sidewalk, but she could not stop them for directions, as she still only spoke a few words of Spanish.
Natalia scooped up her son and quickly walked a few more blocks in what she hoped was the right direction. Her panic heightened, especially as the light faded.
There! Her heart skipped a beat. On the corner ahead was a man she knew was a kind neighbor of her in-laws, with whom she was living. She gestured to him from down the street, and he saw her and smiled. As she drew near he said something to her in Spanish, which she of course did not understand. The relief which had flooded her at the sight of his face instantly turned to anxiety — what if she could not communicate to him that she needed him to take them home? But the panic in her eyes seemed to communicate for itself; he motioned to follow him, and, shifting her son on her hip, walked with him the few blocks back to their apartment building.
As she entered the building and waved goodbye to the neighbor, she brushed away tears that had spilled onto her cheeks. She had been so helpless — what if she had not seen him? Havana could be a dangerous place at night, and she had been alone with her precious son, an immigrant on the street with no ability to communicate with anyone. Anything could have happened.
Since they had arrived just weeks ago, she had naively thought that she would pick up Spanish eventually but was in no rush to learn the language of her new country. Her husband, Juan,* a Cuban whom she had met and fallen in love with while they were both university students in her home city in Russia, was a good translator for her among his family and friends. She could focus on adjusting and taking care of her son — language could come later.
But now, as she considered her experience tonight, she felt resolve gather within her. She would learn Spanish quickly. She had always been bright, a rapid learner.
“Education,” her Russian mother had always told her, “is the key to resilience. Keep learning, always.” She was an immigrant, but she could learn, adapt, integrate — she had to, and she would.
As she entered the building and waved goodbye to the neighbor, she brushed away tears that had spilled onto her cheeks. She had been so helpless — what if she had not seen him? Havana could be a dangerous place at night, and she had been alone with her precious son, an immigrant on the street with no ability to communicate with anyone. Anything could have happened.
Since they had arrived just weeks ago, she had naively thought that she would pick up Spanish eventually but was in no rush to learn the language of her new country. Her husband, Juan, a Cuban whom she had met and fallen in love with while they were both university students in her home city in Russia, was a good translator for her among his family and friends. She could focus on adjusting and taking care of her son — language could come later.
But now, as she considered her experience tonight, she felt resolve gather within her. She would learn Spanish quickly. She had always been bright, a rapid learner.
“Education,” her Russian mother had always told her, “is the key to resilience. Keep learning, always.” She was an immigrant, but she could learn, adapt, integrate — she had to, and she would.
"Education is the key to resilience. Keep learning, always."
PART II:
Leaving Cuba: “An Immigrant Again.”
Houston, Texas, 2006
As their plane touched down in Houston, Natalia released the breath she’d been holding onto. They were here, finally, and out of the window as they’d descended, she had spotted a few palm trees. Though not many, they made her feel at home.
It had been a heavy last week since Natalia, Juan, and their two sons had left Cuba for the United States. Natalia was full of mixed emotions: grief for the home they had left behind, relief to be passed the hardship of life in Cuba, hope for the future, trepidation at undertaking the experience of being immigrants in a new country — again.
It was almost 20 years to the day of that evening when she’d gotten lost in Havana. In that time, her son and his brother, born several years later, had grown into men. In those two decades, she’d learned Spanish, gotten a university education, raised a family, and become part of a community.
But in those 20 years there had been many hardships, mostly related to the worsening economic situation in Cuba. Sometime in the 1990’s, anxiety had grown in their family about stretching the food they were allotted by the government to feed them throughout the week. The adults in the household would regularly skip meals to ensure the boys were fed. Medicine and other necessities, too, were hard to come by.
All of this was true even though her husband had a solid job and both of them had received a good education. But there was no way to advance economically, no way to ease the weekly anxiety of making ends meet.
As her boys grew older and bigger, with greater appetites and facing their own questions of job prospects, the problem grew. In the late 1990’s, Natalia and Juan decided they had to seek a chance for a better life for their sons, one where their boys would not fear hunger or want for themselves or their families. In 1998, Juan applied for a diversity visa to the United States. Six years later, in 2004, they were elated to receive notice that the visa was approved. But it took another year and a half to get all the paperwork ready so that they could actually emigrate.
On the day of their departure, the family bid a tearful goodbye to Juan’s parents at the airport, with whom they had lived for 20 years, and boarded a plane bound for Miami. There, they were processed by U.S. authorities, and received by representatives from various agencies who helped orient them. It was a bewildering first 6 days. Then, they boarded another plane bound for Houston, where her brother-in-law lived and could help them.
It was almost 20 years to the day of that evening when she’d gotten lost in Havana. In that time, her son and his brother, born several years later, had grown into men. In those two decades, she’d learned Spanish, gotten a university education, raised a family, and become part of a community.
But in those 20 years there had been many hardships, mostly related to the worsening economic situation in Cuba. Sometime in the 1990’s, anxiety had grown in their family about stretching the food they were allotted by the government to feed them throughout the week. The adults in the household would regularly skip meals to ensure the boys were fed. Medicine and other necessities, too, were hard to come by.
All of this was true even though her husband had a solid job and both of them had received a good education. But there was no way to advance economically, no way to ease the weekly anxiety of making ends meet.
As her boys grew older and bigger, with greater appetites and facing their own questions of job prospects, the problem grew. In the late 1990’s, Natalia and Juan decided they had to seek a chance for a better life for their sons, one where their boys would not fear hunger or want for themselves or their families. In 1998, Juan applied for a diversity visa to the United States. Six years later, in 2004, they were elated to receive notice that the visa was approved. But it took another year and a half to get all the paperwork ready so that they could actually emigrate.
On the day of their departure, the family bid a tearful goodbye to Juan’s parents at the airport, with whom they had lived for 20 years, and boarded a plane bound for Miami. There, they were processed by U.S. authorities, and received by representatives from various agencies who helped orient them. It was a bewildering first 6 days. Then, they boarded another plane bound for Houston, where her brother-in-law lived and could help them.
“Juan! Natalia!” Her brother-in-law, Ignacio,* waved to them as they emerged from the terminal. They piled into his car, and Natalia’s eyes were wide as they drove on highway after highway, with views of enormous buildings and a sprawling city. “Everything is big in Texas,” Ignacio told them.
They stopped for lunch at a Chinese buffet restaurant. As they sat in the booth, Natalia watched her boys, who were now grown men, fill their plates with more food than they’d seen in many months. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched them shovel it in. Here, finally, they might have enough.
They were driven to an apartment complex. There were people, seemingly from all over the world, standing and talking in various languages on balconies in the apartments all around them. As they walked in the door of their unit, Natalia was astonished to find furniture, clothes in the closets, and food in the refrigerator. She and Juan looked at each other, and she saw that his eyes were teary, too. Ignacio explained that the local Catholic Charities had done all this for them.
The next morning, a representative from Catholic Charities arrived at their apartment. The social worker gently explained how to enroll in English and cultural orientation classes, how to open a bank account, and how to apply for work permits. She told them that she, their social worker, would walk them through everything, and the Catholic Charities legal department would help them get their legal status in order.
Natalia was overwhelmed with gratitude. She felt only a small portion of the helplessness that she’d felt as an immigrant all those years ago in Cuba.
She felt the power of the resources at her fingertips, the support she would find here, and the same feeling of resolve she’d felt years ago when beginning to learn Spanish. She would learn, and they would thrive here, in this place of abundance.
“Juan! Natalia!” Her brother-in-law, Ignacio, waved to them as they emerged from the terminal. They piled into his car, and Natalia’s eyes were wide as they drove on highway after highway, with views of enormous buildings and a sprawling city. “Everything is big in Texas,” Ignacio told them.
They stopped for lunch at a Chinese buffet restaurant. As they sat in the booth, Natalia watched her boys, who were now grown men, fill their plates with more food than they’d seen in many months. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched them shovel it in. Here, finally, they might have enough.
They were driven to an apartment complex. There were people, seemingly from all over the world, standing and talking in various languages on balconies in the apartments all around them. As they walked in the door of their unit, Natalia was astonished to find furniture, clothes in the closets, and food in the refrigerator. She and Juan looked at each other, and she saw that his eyes were teary, too. Ignacio explained that the local Catholic Charities had done all this for them.
The next morning, a representative from Catholic Charities arrived at their apartment. The social worker gently explained how to enroll in English and cultural orientation classes, how to open a bank account, and how to apply for work permits. She told them that she, their social worker, would walk them through everything, and the Catholic Charities legal department would help them get their legal status in order.
Natalia was overwhelmed with gratitude. She felt only a small portion of the helplessness that she’d felt as an immigrant all those years ago in Cuba. She felt the power of the resources at her fingertips, the support she would find here, and the same feeling of resolve she’d felt years ago when beginning to learn Spanish. She would learn, and they would thrive here, in this place of abundance.
PART III:
"Adjusting to a New Life"
About 10 Years Later
Natalia walked down the stone steps of a sprawling apartment complex that was similar to the one she and Juan had lived in upon their arrival in the United States years ago. She passed by people coming in and out of the doors of the complex who, like her former neighbors, were from all over the world — Africans, Asians, Latin Americans — and all living side by side in these small apartments, relying on one another for support as they tried to make it in this new country.
She had just visited the home of an English as a Second Language (ESL) student, Marta. She had come to see how Marta was doing, as she had missed many classes in a row, and to urge her to come back to class.
“Ms. Natalia, I wish I could come back, but I can’t,” Marta had told her. “I want to learn English, but I need the time to work. My immigration process is stalled — if I can’t get legal status, what is the point? I will not be able to get a better job anyway. I need to just keep working to support my family. I’m sorry.”
Natalia had sighed. This was the story for so many of the students at the bilingual education institute where she worked who dropped out of class — they simply couldn’t make learning English a priority due to the other stressors of life, often primarily related to their lack of permanent legal immigration options. She could empathize so deeply with the feelings they expressed of helplessness, of frustration and stress, feeling one’s life circumstances being out of your control.
To her, learning and studying was the key to a better life, but for her students, learning English felt like an insurmountable obstacle. She often visited the homes of her students — whom she cared deeply about, almost like they were her children — to urge them to come learn English, but she understood the challenges they faced.
Natalia and Juan had arrived in the United States and taken every course that was offered to them — English classes, cultural and social orientation, etc. It wasn’t long before they were both conversant in English, and after receiving work permits, they both obtained jobs. Natalia’s first job was working with refugee children through Catholic Charities, and then afterward she had gotten the job as a case manager at a bilingual institute in Houston. Her caseload was full of new immigrants who were seeking to learn English. She became like a mother figure at the institute, going out of her way to know the students personally and taking interest in helping them thrive.
But recently, she’d grown more and more attuned to the fact that it was immigration issues that stood in the students’ way, as much as language barriers were also the problem. So much so that, with Juan’s support, she decided to go back to school, to get yet another degree as a paralegal at Houston Community College. She dreamed of being able to help people like the ESL students with their immigration concerns, as she herself had been helped at Catholic Charities.
So, in the evenings, she attended class and she studied. She worked hard. It helped to ease the ache she felt when she saw her students’ struggles and suffering.
PART IV:
"A Pathway to Helping Others."
Houston, Texas
Natalia walked into her supervisor’s office at Catholic Charities with a huge smile on her face.
“Remember that client we had from a few years ago, Luis? He just called me to share that the green card we helped him with allowed him to get a good job in sales, and now he and his wife just bought a home. I am so happy for them.”
Amy,* Natalia’s supervisor, grinned back. “Amazing news, Natalia. You have done such good work lately.”
Natalia had been working as a paralegal in the immigration legal services department at Catholic Charities of Houston-Galveston for the past few years, since she’d graduated from Houston Community College with a paralegal certificate. This job had been her dream — so she could help other immigrants in the very ways that she and her family had needed help when they’d first arrived in the United States.
In this role, under the supervision of Amy and others, she gathered and maintained paperwork for her clients, came to know them, and accompanied them to various appointments at agencies around the city that were relevant for their immigration cases — U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services interviews, doctors’ offices, other government offices. She loved this work. She knew her clients trusted her, looked up to her, because she was an immigrant herself.
“Natalia — I’d like you to consider something. I think it is time for you to apply for Department of Justice accreditation so you can take on your own clients. I know it’s a big process to get accredited, and you may be tired of studying. Are you up for it?”
Natalia hesitated for just a moment. It was a big responsibility to take on her own cases. But then she replied, “I am not tired of studying. Of course I will do it.”
Taking on her own clients would mean more capacity for the organization, so more clients could be helped. How could she say no?
So, Natalia began the process. She took course after course, mostly through CLINIC, on immigration law and policy. She attended CLINIC’s three-day training in El Paso, Texas. She even took additional courses, more than the required number, because she found them all so interesting.
The knowledge she was gaining only gave her more energy and passion — she felt it like a stream running through her as she took in new information and passed each additional course. Her learning this would bear fruit in other people’s lives. The faces of beloved clients and students she had had over the years passed through her mind as she studied — Marta, Luis, and so many others who needed guidance through the labyrinthine U.S. immigration system which she, Natalia, would now be able to provide.
As she mailed in the application for accreditation, she thought back to who she was when she’d arrived in Havana, and then in Houston. She felt not a trace of that former helplessness — she had built on the help she received so that she could now give of her time and gifts freely. And it gave her such joy.
Natalia de las Cuevas works as the Senior OLAP Accredited Representative at Catholic Charities of the Archdiocese of Galveston-Houston. Her two sons work in immigration legal services as well, one at Catholic Charities as a senior attorney.
*Name changed for privacy.
This story was written by Kathleen Kollman Birch through interviews with Natalia de las Cuevas. Illustrations were created by Ryan Saunders, CLINIC's Multimedia Designer.
CLINIC wants to express its sincere gratitude to Natalia for her willingness to share her story.
If you are interested in learning more about how to become a DOJ accredited representative, you can find more information on our website here.
To make a donation to support CLINIC's work expanding legal representation for immigrants, please click here.
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