By Nina Zeballos

I walk into the kitchen and am immediately greeted with the mouth-watering smell of my grandmother’s arroz con pollo, one of her specialties. My whole family is scattered around the house, waiting for the green light to indulge. I stand next to my grandmother, whom I call abuelita, at the kitchen counter and prepare some of the ingredients: rice, chicken, corn, and onions. We combine the ingredients into a pot and monitor the temperature. After long enough, we set the table and call everyone into the dining room. I start by separating the chicken from the drumsticks and mixing it in with the rice. After achieving a near-perfect ratio of rice to chicken, I take my first bite. The heavenly blend of sweet corn and savory chicken hits my palette, and I immediately know that I am going to regret the amount of delicious food I consume. I can’t help it, though, because I know this might be my only chance to devour my favorite dish this year, with the distance between us making visiting difficult. It is wild to think that at one point, my grandmother didn’t know how to execute a simple, straight-forward meal such as pasta.

My grandparents with me and my siblings in Washington, DC.

I have seven cousins on my paternal side. My oldest cousin, Alexander, is in college. Sophia, Marie, and Elena are all close in age with me. Renzo and Patrick are close in age with my brother Nico (’25), and Rafaela is the youngest. When I interviewed my grandparents about their journey, my aunt, Gunilla Zeballos, was there to help work out any miscommunication and misinterpretation that might occur over our Zoom interview. I have a sizable family, and it all started in Arequipa, Peru. 

A photo of my grandparents when they were younger.

In 1975, my grandmother and grandfather, Lucia and Jorge Zeballos, immigrated to the United States with my father, Alvaro Zeballos (four years old at the time), and his three brothers, Jorge (seven), Pablo (five), and Claudio (two). They made the decision to move to the United States because of my grandfather’s work in the medical field.

My grandfather, whom I call abuelito, attended the University of San Marcos in Lima, Peru, and after he completed his residency, he underwent postdoctoral training in high altitude training and physiology at the Peruvian University of Cayetano Heredia in 1974. He completed his second postdoctoral training in new medical equipment and technology for research at the University of San Marcos. After going to school for his PhD, my grandfather worked at the National University of Saint Augustine in Arequipa, Peru, teaching at the medical school and doing clinical research.

My grandparents on their wedding day.

He decided to apply for a fellowship, in hopes to expand his understanding and further his research: “Once that I got the PhD, I realize that I need to improve and continue doing my research. I didn’t have the facilities in Arequipa. In my university, we didn’t have the facilities that I need. That’s why I decided to apply for a fellowship, to keep doing my research and improve my knowledge.” He applied for a postdoctoral fellowship in the U.S., specifically in Denver, Colorado, in 1974. A year later, his fellowship was granted. 

He started his work at the University of Colorado Medical Center and the National Jewish Hospital in 1975. My grandfather initially came to the United States by himself, where he began his search for an apartment: “I came with two suitcases, one in each hand. The house was empty, and I needed to provide everything for my wife and the children.” He furnished the apartment to make it feel like a home. To my grandfather, providing a place where his kids feel safe and comfortable was highly important. After four months, my abuelita came with her four boys. 

I asked my grandmother about the process of coming to the United States by herself with young children. She explained, “It was really hard for me, because I was accustomed to have people around the kids. My children had nannies to take care of them, and the family was around too, but really coming to the United States, it was all myself, you know, and it was very, very hard. But anyway, we did, and I don’t regret anything, and I learned how to be self-sufficient without all the help we used to have in Peru.” 

My grandfather was practically fluent in English because he had taken private language lessons when he was younger. So his journey was decidedly more straightforward compared to my grandmother’s. He was working in the U.S., so he didn’t come back to fly with my grandmother and their children. She was forced to navigate America by herself. She travelled from Arequipa, Peru to Lima, Peru, to Miami, Florida, and then to Denver, Colorado.

At one point along the course of her travels, my grandmother was robbed. After arriving in Lima, all of her luggage was stolen. This was devastating, because she had immensely valuable papers, including my grandfather’s research documents, the judge’s permit to take the kids out of the country, the vaccination papers for the kids to travel, their passports, and more. She had to recollect all of the documentation necessary to travel to a different country. 

As overwhelming as it was, my grandmother chose to keep this information from my grandfather. She remarked, “I didn’t wanted to tell abuelito anything because he was here, and he couldn’t do anything, so I shut my mouth and say ‘Okay, I am going, I am going.’ And he thought that I didn’t wanted to come because I was so scared, you know, to be myself, and I couldn’t tell him that happened, because I say my poor husband is starting a job in there doing things. I don’t want to give him something to worry.”

My grandparents when they were younger.

I was amazed at her ability to keep such a disastrous event to herself. My grandmother’s bravery and selflessness, characteristics I’ve always attributed to her, were consistently prominent. She is one of the strongest females I know; never giving in or admitting defeat, she continuously defies all logic. And despite the robbery, she carried on with her trip. 

Curious as to why she didn’t just bring her family or any help from Peru, my grandmother explained to me, “My mother and my mother-in-law, they wanted to send me with one or two of the nannies or a maid, but abuelito says, ‘No, you need to come to this country and learn how the American ladies do everything by theirselves.’” My grandfather wanted her to acclimate to American society and become independent. 

In Peru, my uncles and father each had their own nanny. As a result, my abuelita was never obligated to learn how to cook, do laundry, or perform other basic tasks, which made her stay in America that much more challenging. Contrary to my grandfather’s experience, she came to a place without structure, and while he had his colleagues at work, she was essentially on her own. Despite these setbacks, she managed to learn and grow. She explains, “It was hard, but I am telling you again, I am happy I did it.”

My abuelita had to leave behind her two siblings and extended family during a time before computers and cellphones. My abuelito didn’t have any siblings, but he still said goodbye to other family members. They were compelled to write letters, because making an international phone call cost four or more dollars a minute.

My abuelita gives credit to her neighbors and friends for her development: “We are very grateful.” Some of the wives of the doctors at the National Jewish Hospital aided her. When her children went to school, she built friendships with the parents of kids from school. 

One of the mothers used to go to their house and take their laundry to wash, dry, and fold. My grandmother experienced the pressures of taking care of a family, so these small actions relieved some of the weight on her shoulders. “I think that I was very blessed, Nina. People is good, people in the whole world is good.”

Going from not knowing how to carry out basic tasks in a close-knit community, to being one hundred percent independent, my grandmother reflected, “I really appreciate and I feel very happy that I know how to do everything.” She would’ve never gotten the chance to thrive and become self-reliant, had she not moved to the U.S.  

With his sarcastic, witty commentary, my grandfather never fails to make me laugh. He described one moment when my grandmother crashed her car: “Abuelita was driving in an environment that was not familiar to her, and by bad luck, she crashed a Corvette. The only thing that remained from the Corvette was the lady sitting there and holding the steering wheel.” 

I asked my abuelitos about the most valuable or impactful thing that they learned from their experience. “Yeah, my life changed completely. The thing is this, Nina, precious, out of the United States, people always say that Americans are so cold. They don’t help, they don’t do anything, they live for themselves, each one, and I came, and we came with that idea, you know. Nobody is going to help you, nobody is there for you; but it’s not true, it is not true. They’ll help you if you are lucky to find good people, and that happened with me. I feel grateful because before, I was dependent of all the help, everything. Now I feel like I am a strong person, that I can do anything that I want, and I can do it, you know, and it made me feel good, really good.” 

My grandparents holding my sister.

She continued and explained to me how it was a blessing to live in two different cultures. In Peru, my grandfather was the chairman of the department of physiology at his workplace. They had an excellent life in Arequipa: “We had everything in Peru.” When they came to America, it was a different culture, society, and structure, but they adapted and got used to it. My abuelito explained how he liked the honesty and work of the United States. 

After three years, they went back to Peru, in 1978. Because of his work there, he was offered a position working at William Beaumont Army Medical Center with the U.S. military in El Paso, Texas. He accepted and was able to receive a permanent visa, not just a working visa, expedited by the United States Secretary of State at the time, Cyrus Vance, Sr. 

A temporary visa, also known as a nonimmigrant visa, is intended for tourism, medical care, business, work, or study, and is designed for those who desire to stay temporarily in the U.S. A permanent visa, or an immigrant visa, is for those who seek to live in the United States permanently, which typically demands a family member or employer as a sponsor. After receiving a permanent visa, one becomes eligible to apply for citizenship in the United States.

In El Paso, my grandfather worked with the U.S. Army to study the sickle cell trait in basic Army recruits. In 1981, my grandparents agreed to stay for one year in the U.S., but they ended up staying for the rest of their lives. Without the job offer and his ability to get a permanent working visa, my grandparents would have had to go back to Peru. I asked them if they would ever change anything, to which my grandmother responded, “Nothing mattered. If I needed to do it, I will do the same again for these results: My wonderful family, my eleven grandchildren. We are happy, very happy.”

I am immensely grateful to have my abuelitos, who have taught me to value multiple things: perseverance, education, love, ambition, and kindness. I find inspiration from their story and seek to integrate these values into my everyday life. It is amazing that my grandparents choose their children’s happiness over their own. Despite having everything they could need in Peru, they recognized the advantage of raising their children in America and decided to stay. It was most important to give their children the opportunity and have a better future living in the U.S., and instead of choosing the easy path, they decided to work at their desire to make America their home. I told them that I didn’t know if I would ever be able to do what my abuelitos did, to which my grandmother responded, “I assure that if you need to do it, you will.” 

With my grandparents and father.

*All photos courtesy of the Zeballos family.