Meet Oscar, who is coming to America
Why one Colombian ride-share driver must leave his family to save them
As soon as Oscar heard me speak, he got very excited. “You’re from the United States?,” he asked in heavilyaccented English. “Sí,” I replied. We were in Colombia, and my husband and I had just gotten into Oscar’s car after hailing him on a ride-sharing app.
“I go to the United States in three months,” he said. “I need to practice English.”
Oscar (his last name has been omitted to preserve his privacy) is one of tens of thousands of people right now deciding whether or not to leave his country for North America —
— a trip that will take him away from his wife and children, along with most of their savings.
“I go where there is opportunity,” he said. “And in Colombia, there is no opportunity.”
Displaced
I asked him what he meant. Colombia had always struck me as a place full of possibilities. The official data is that the average Colombian makes over $1,000 a month, which is more than livable.
But on the ground, people tell a different story: Most people in the city make only a few hundred dollars a month. And Oscar, in a small town, had been making the equivalent of only $50, barely enough to cover his family’s basic needs. And this was before 1.7 million Venezuelans arrived.
“I have to close my barbershop, because Venezuelans do it cheaper,” he said. “Competition, you know? In everything. Food. Restaurant. Hair. Nails. Building. Fixing. All [the] things my family do.”
With limited education, Oscar considered his options and moved to the coast, sending his paychecks back to his family of six and sharing a room with three other men from his town. “I move here to drive tourists, but it’s not good [enough] to make my family okay.” He rented the car from the ridesharing company, which ate into his profits.
When I asked him how much money he was taking home, he shrugged before answering. “A little good.” About $75 to $100, he said. “But my costs go up too.”
As his kids grew older, they required more things. A computer, for example. And it’s not like computers in Colombia are much cheaper than they are here. With importation fees, they can cost a lot more.
Oscar’s youngest son had different challenges. “He’s special,” Oscar said. And I let that hang in the air without asking for clarification. I have witnessed how financially taxing having a special needs child in a developing nation can be. A lack of specialists, increased travel needs, imported treatments and equipment were only the beginning.
“I need money. My family needs money.” I nodded. His desperation, much like his sense of humor, shined through clearly.
Desperate
Upward mobility is not impossible in a country like Colombia. But it requires help. Without being exceptional — as an athlete, a scholar or an artist — the possibilities dry up quickly. Higher education for the poor is available in Colombia, but nothing can convince many impoverished young people to stop working long enough to complete a degree. Families depend on them.