Immigrant - inmigrado

I am the great-grandson, on my father’s side, of a Northern Irish immigrant from Country Tyrone, who arrived in the US in 1851.

Great grandfather James Donaghy on the left.

Now, according to the Office of Migration of Honduras, I have “residencia en la calidad de inmigrado.” That means that I am registered as “under the qualification of an immigrant”. 

What this means in practical terms is that I will no longer be required to renew residency every five years! I’ll have to get a new ID card but I won’t have to go through bureaucratic hassles in Tegucigalpa or San Pedro Sula.

It doesn’t mean that I’m a Honduran citizen; I’d have to give up US citizenship to get that – and, despite my severe critiques of US policies at home and abroad, I’m not yet ready to do that.

Of course, this is another reflection of the privilege and wealth I have as a US citizen, especially in comparison with my neighbors. It also feels strange since I know many people who have tried to go to the US and have been deported, others who have made it across the border and are either undetected or waiting judgment. I also recall the time our parish here, with our sister parish in Iowa, tried to get a visitors’ visa for three parishioners here to visit Iowa but were denied – almost assuredly because they were poor!

But not being listed as an immigrant makes it clearer to me that I am setting down my roots here.

When I left the US many asked me how long I would be in Honduras. I answered, “Until God calls me somewhere else.” I left it very open, with an implication that this might be where God calls me home.

Here people also ask me how long I’ll be here. They are used to people coming for periods of time. So when I say “hasta que Dios quiera” – until God wants it, I think they are surprised – and many are pleased.

Now I can say that I am an immigrant here.

May God make me worthy to be with my Hondurans brothers and sisters.