This story is part of the Niles West News 2025 Immigration Series which documents community members’ experiences immigrating to the United States. Most of these stories are written by Niles West News writers, but some will feature guest writers who will tell their family’s story. (Most quotes in this story are translated from Spanish)

Everyone in Santa Fe de Antioquia, Colombia, has a nickname. Mine is “La nieta de la Mona” or “The granddaughter of Mona.” Elizabeth (Mona) Valencia was born in Santa Fe on August 28th, 1948, to Celso Salazar and Isabel Salazar. Her entire life has been filled with struggles. Still, she has never let any roadblock or person control her, so when she decided to immigrate to America at 24 years old with barely any education or money, there was no stopping her.

My grandma is one of the youngest children of ten; three older brothers, three older sisters and three younger sisters. Life in Colombia was enjoyable for my grandma overall, and her family was well-known and respected, as her father was the city Mayor. However, at only four years old, she caught a horrible fever that led to a rare ailment called Sydenham’s Chorea disease. For four years, she was unable to walk, speak in complete sentences or control her body movements. My grandma said that her life was so dull, and she was so helpless, that her mother even prayed for her death to end her suffering. One day, after years of constant struggle, she began to slowly regain control of her brain and life. To catch up for years of being bedridden, my grandma continued her life always playing and dancing with her siblings and friends.

Always hating school, my grandma ended her high school education early, completing only four of six years of bachillerato. At 17, she knew she needed to get a job, so she learned to perfect her typing skills and landed a job as an administrative assistant at the town municipal in Medellin, Colombia. She worked happily for five years until one day, her life changed.

Many people from Colombia began immigrating to America in search of safer lives, as violence related to Pablo Escobar and political turmoil increased. Many of her cousins and friends had begun their journeys to America. One of her friends, Omaira Mendoza, had just returned from a trip to America and planned to move there. She ran to tell my grandma all about what she saw, and my grandma was hooked.

“I wanted to come to see America, I just got the desire to come here because I had my friend telling me how nice it was. I just felt like knowing what it was like, that’s all really…I wasn’t going to come here just for a little, I wanted to stay for a while, just keep moving forward here,” my grandmother Valencia said.

Mendoza figured out a way for them to come to the States, which was a long and illegal voyage. They first took a plane from Medellin to Mexico City, Mexico. They stayed there for two weeks and my grandma recalls these few days in Mexico to be “one of the most enjoyable times of her life”. She was so excited to begin her new life and enjoyed her time in Mexico with the rest of the travelers. She remembers that, though, she had lots of fun, they also walked a lot in Mexico, going from city to city to get closer to California.

“All eight of us would stay in one hotel room in Mexico City, and then with a random family by the time we arrived to Tijuana…we took a total of about three to four buses to get into Tijuana where we then had to walk over eight hours through tunnels and dessert dressed in black, but I remember they had the best food I’d ever ate. We also saw a lot of horses and cows there, I remember having to run from the cows because they were really angry, but eventually we crossed into California,” Valencia said.

Only staying eight hours in California and taking a five a.m. flight into Chicago, my grandma was stunned at Chicago’s skyline and fell in love with the city instantly. She lived with a cousin that was already living in Chicago, and got a job babysitting for a “rich old Cuban family”. She went out dancing every chance she got as her cousins were in a band and played in many nightclubs here.

“Chicago was just like my friend described it, so pretty…we would sleep in the rich people’s homes taking care of their kids; washing their clothes, making their lunches, and bathing them…on my days off, I would go with my cousins to nightclubs and they would sing while I danced,” Valencia said.

My grandma’s nephew, Martin Jimenez, was young when my grandma immigrated to America, but they had lived in the same house throughout his childhood. He remembers when my grandma left, but mainly remembers everyone in Santa Fe stopping by their house on the days my grandma would call home.

“When Mona would call, we’d be like ‘Mona’s calling! Mona’s calling!’ and there would be a line of about 30 people waiting to talk to her and everyone would only get a couple seconds with her because the phone bill would get so expensive,” Jimenez said.

My grandma claims that everyone she met in Chicago adored her, but one person in particular really did fall in love with her – my grandpa. My grandpa Hernando Valencia was born in Pereira, Colombia, and immigrated to the United States at 18 years old, and he was previously married with two kids. When my grandma first met him, she remembered hating him immediately because “he was so fat, and she was too skinny for him”.  This did not stop him from trying to get her attention, so he constantly gave her gifts and took her out, causing her to slowly gain interest.

“He always took me out to eat the fancy American food and brought me flowers, and just really spent his money on me…I saw that he was well-to-do, and really liked me, so I began to like him,” Valencia said.

They ended up getting married after six months of knowing each other, and she quickly got pregnant with her first child. Three months into her pregnancy, my grandpa sent her to Colombia to be with her family. After my grandma had her baby, Gina Valencia, she decided to head back to America and reunite with her husband. However, on her trip to Miami, Florida, the boat’s engine caught fire, and everyone began to jump off. As she followed, holding on to her baby to swim for safety, she and her eight-month-old daughter began to drown, and only my grandmother survived.

“The doctors didn’t speak Spanish, and I could feel she was dead, but I didn’t know for sure, no one could tell me that my baby was gone. It wasn’t until the next day when a lady interpreted for me, telling me at the hospital,” Valencia said.

My grandma recalls the police and hospital staff in Miami being very understanding and kind to her, and claims the police even bought her a few new outfits to take with her back to Chicago. Returning to Chicago, my grandma was under the impression that she would be able to restart her family with my grandpa, but that couldn’t have been further from reality.

During the time my grandma was in Colombia, my grandpa had gotten back together with his ex-wife and had their third child. Due to the tragic incident, upon their return from Miami, my grandpa bought a studio apartment in Andersonville, Chicago, for my grandma to live in. My grandma cleaned houses for a living and spent lots of time with her cousins. Though she had fun with her family, she still felt lonely and wanted her baby back.

After three years of living like this and trying to have another baby, she finally had my mom Claudia Valencia. Once my mom was born, my grandpa began living with my grandma, and they moved to Rogers Park, Chicago. My aunt, Carla Valencia was born three years later, and shortly after they all moved to Skokie, Illinois. My grandma later switched careers at 48, working at a bread factory, making all different sorts of baked goods.

In 2005 my grandma finally got the courage to get her citizenship. My mom helped her study for a full year, practicing English with my grandma so she could understand every question. My mom vividly remembers the day my grandma picked up her citizenship certificate.

“I was extremely proud of my mom because it was the first time that I had ever seen her study for something that she actually cared about and wanted…I do remember us all getting dressed up and stuff, because we were just so happy and proud of her, and when we arrived at the place for her to get her citizenship certificate, everyone was dressed in jeans and sweaters and we had our nicest suits and fancy hairdos, taking pictures, but we didn’t care because we were so proud,” Claudia said.

At 62, my grandma retired so she could help my mom take care of me. My grandma has devoted her life to her family and will do anything to protect us. She has taught me to be resilient, and I will always value the courage that my grandma endured to follow her dreams.