Banking Karma

If I found myself as an illegal alien in the United States in February of 2017 I would start sending money home.

I would send some to my madre y padre.  I would send some to Tio Pablo who has a mechanic shop.  I would send some to my hermanos who work in cement or grow coffee on the family farm.

Gifts are not gifts if they are given with conditions.  But it is OK to suggest that madre buy a futon for people who might need to lodge in the family home or to fix a leaky roof.  It is OK to suggest that Tio Pablo buy a spare set of basic tools.  It is OK to express an interest in trowels, mixers, fertilizers, oil palms and new coffee cultivars.

Image from Novica

I might also start importing cigars and coffee and artwork to the US.

I might export cash and textbooks and old computers, cell phones from the lost-and-found and soccer balls. That would refresh my network and I would be known as the man who injected money back into my hometown.

Image from TheBookshopBlog

If I were an illegal alien in the United States I might fear being sent home in a tidal wave of repatriated countrymen.  Some of those countrymen have been sending money home on a regular basis.  For them it will be a joyful homecoming.

Others have not sent money back.  They will be seen as a burden by those who stayed home and will cause resentment.

I would prefer to be among those who are welcomed back.

What is the worst that can happen?  That I never get deported?  That some other family member sleeps on the futon?  That Tio Pablo hires one of my cousins rather than me?  That my brothers become more productive and I am not there to share in the wealth?