The Immigrant

It’s the beginning of October, I’m sitting in a stuffy apartment in the Arabian Desert with the air conditioning blasting, trying to keep the 38 degree temperature at bay. A tear trickles down my face, homesick again after watching the 1983 episode of the RTE classic ‘Reeling In the Years’. To the amusement of my family at home in Ireland, I unwind by watching an episode of the programme, while giving them a running commentary on the family WhatsApp group as to what happened in a particular year. To me what I find horrific every time I watch an episode is that the Government have learned nothing from our History books. Every year it’s the same thing as what’s happening today; which leaves me with the depressing question, will they ever get it right? Will I ever be able to come home?

I qualified as a secondary school teacher in 2013, and I had a sporadic working experience my first year as a newly qualified teacher. I was lucky to secure 8 hours per week in a lovely school in Borrisoleigh. Outside of those eight hours I tried to get as much subbing as possible, every week having to fill in the demeaning x’s and o’s for Job Seekers Benefit to subsidise my minimal income as a teacher. I had notions of entitlement to a full-time job after completing university. How wrong I was. I struggled that year to put petrol in my car to get to work, to put food on the table, to pay rent, the list of bills was endless.

In my many interviews that year, I was told the same thing ‘you would be perfect for the job if you had more experience’. I cried countless times wondering how on earth would I get any experience if no one would give me the chance to earn it. I decided to start looking outside of Ireland. A difficult decision for a home bird, in a relationship with my childhood sweetheart since the age of sixteen. I sat down with Wayne to discuss this decision, he understood that I needed to gain experience and that I simply wasn’t going to get it at home. I would do 2 years in the Middle East, get the experience and come home.

So here I am in An Ain in the United Arab Emirates 3 years later, in a long distance marriage to Wayne and still no closer to getting a job in Ireland that will keep the tax man from biting at my heels. I have much to be thankful for. I am doing a job that I adore in a lovely British international school. I have lovely work colleagues and I get to teach an amazing bunch of students every day. I was even promoted to a head of year position after a year’s work, which would have never happened back home.

My first year here was difficult. Getting used to working Sunday to Thursday was shocking, I remember thinking on my first day of school here that I should be going to mass with the youth choir at home. I remember coming home to my lonely apartment those first few months longing for a cuddle on the couch with Wayne, or to hop into the car and call up to Mammy and Daddy’s house for a chat. Loneliness can creep up on you at all times when you are away from home. Skype makes it bearable.

My salary is quite satisfactory here, due to the fact that it’s tax-free. My accommodation, electricity, water and Wi-Fi bills are also covered by the school that I work for, so essentially I only need to put food on the table for myself. I fly home at every opportunity which is usually 3 weeks at Christmas and 2 weeks for Easter. My first year home for Easter, I was sitting in Wayne’s grannies kitchen. Granny Tess told us of a house that was not yet on the market but could be bought quickly by a private sale. Wayne and I hadn’t a penny between us, but it got me thinking about applying for a loan with my bank in the UAE to purchase the house.

I flew back to the UAE and made an appointment with the bank manager on a Monday Evening. I explained that I was looking to buy property at home. The bank looked for a letter from my employer showing my monthly salary and a few other necessary documents. The money was approved and in my account the following Thursday. I couldn’t believe it, Wayne and I were going to buy a house, it wasn’t a sprawling ‘Celtic Tiger’ home (I once had notions of owning one of those), but a humble two bedroom semi-detached house, our home. I have a 4-year mortgage that I can comfortably afford with the bank in the UAE. I would never have been able to get approved for this at home. I remember going into the AIB before I left Ireland, looking to apply for a credit card with a 1,000 Euro limit to be used only for booking flights home in emergencies. The bank wouldn’t approve it, and would only allow a limit of 500 Euro which was of no use to me for booking the long distance flights. Yet another road block from Ireland.

Wayne asked me to marry him before I left to go working abroad, I gladly accepted his proposal and we decided to keep our engagement a secret. We didn’t have the money for a big extravagant wedding and we didn’t want to stress people out with the costs of attending a wedding. So in our little bubble we planned a secret surprise wedding to be held on the 18^th of July in Ireland during my summer holidays from school. It was the best decision I ever made; we invited all our family and friends to an engagement party to a pub in Upperchurch, when the guests arrived Wayne told them that they all had to head to the church next door as I would be arriving at 6pm and we were getting married. The excitement and mischief was immense and I have some of the best memories of my life from that day.

I sit here in my apartment alone at the weekend thinking of home. I follow all the news and current events going on in Ireland. Teachers are still struggling, renowned as one of the most underpaid professions worldwide. I read bitter accounts of people at home saying that I shouldn’t be entitled to work when I come back which is very depressing to say the least. People say that because I am abroad I am not contributing to the Irish economy. I send money home every month to contribute the various bills at home, I pay my property tax. I contribute to the Irish economy. Would it have been better for me to stay and drain the economy dry while claiming job seekers benefit? My decision to leave was to get the experience I needed that Ireland wouldn’t give me. I don’t want to be away from my family, however a sacrifice had to be made in order for me to make progress. I count down the days to Wayne finishing his degree at home so he can move out here and we can finish paying off for the house together. We have notions of moving home for good once the house is paid for. I live in hope that we will have jobs to come home to.