Program Proclaimed Success : Exuberance, Fear Mix as Amnesty Year Ends

Officials decked out the San Diego amnesty office with bunting--red, white and blue--and colorful balloons.

A huge “scorecard” kept track of the latest number of applicants. Platters of cold cuts sat in the back room, awaiting hungry staffers after the stroke of midnight. Authorities gushed about the program on this, its final day, one year after it started.

“I just feel great about it,” said James Turnage, district director for the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service in San Diego, noting that more than 70,000 applications had been submitted at the three general amnesty offices in San Diego and Imperial counties in the past year, far surpassing early projections of 52,500.

Although his exuberance was shared by many, applicants and workers alike, there was still hesitancy--and fear--among many of the undocumented people who made the trip here, clutching their scattered paper work, still wary. And still very confused.

Some worried openly for relatives who did not qualify. Others feared that their applications may ultimately be rejected. Many seemed to find it hard to accept that they may ever qualify. Many simply have difficulties trusting U.S. immigration authorities. Such old habits die hard.

“When I first heard about this program, I thought it was a pura mentira (pure lie),” confessed Estela Rios, a feisty San Diego janitor and mother.

She is still suspicious. But more troubling, she said, is the fact that two of her children, ages 13 and 15, did not enter the United States from Mexico until 1985, and therefore do not qualify. (The program requires applicants to have lived in the United States since Jan. 1, 1982.) Another child, 9-year-old David, does qualify.

“What’s going to happen to my children?” she asked. “No one would tell me.”

Her sister, Gloria Hernandez, faced a similar dilemma: None of her three children qualified. “It scares me,” said Hernandez, a soft-spoken woman.

Why did they wait until the last day to qualify?

“Because of fear,” Rios said adamantly. “Many people are scared. People said they would arrest us and send us back to Mexico.”

Money was also a factor: Five related applicants said they paid more than $1,000 for application fees, medical examinations and other amnesty-related expenses.

So it went on this final day of amnesty in San Diego: The gamut of emotions was wide. Exhilaration and unease flourished side by side.

‘Kind of Bittersweet’

“You’ve got to feel a great deal of satisfaction for the individuals who qualify,” said Carol Rogoff Hallstrom, a lawyer who chairs a coalition of immigration activists and who has been helping out as a volunteer in recent days. “But, at the same time, it’s kind of bittersweet.”

Immigration officials applauded the last-minute crowds. In the past three days, an office that had handled 150-200 applications a day for much of the year was suddenly receiving 1,000 or more applicants daily. “Amnesty programs are always like that: People wait until the last minute,” said Turnage, enjoying the election-night-like atmosphere.

That may be. But for Hallstrom and others, the last-minute crowds were a testament to something else: There are more out there who could qualify, but, for a variety of reasons, have never come forward. Now, with a proposed extension rejected, they will likely never have the opportunity.

“I know amnesty’s going to help a lot of people; it has brought a lot of people out of the shadows,” said Roberto Martinez, an activist with the American Friends Service Committee, social action arm of the Quaker Church. “But it’s also going to leave a lot of people out in the cold.”

Juan Esquivel doesn’t want to be one of those in the cold. A 29-year-old farm worker, Esquivel said he had a lot of trouble finding pay stubs and other proof of his time in the United States. He finally got them together and traveled to the legalization office today, only to learn that immigrants filing under the more liberal farm-worker guidelines have until Nov. 30 to apply.

His goal? “I’d just like to work for something more than the minimum wage.”

His paper work in hand, he and a cousin stepped into a nearby storefront to purchase photographs and fingerprints for his application. He hopes it’s the first step to a better life.