New York's taxi drivers are a wealth of information on the immigrant life in America. A handsome young Pakistani driver asked me if I liked cricket, and we talked about the 20-20 World Cup all the way to the West Village. Another was Senegalese and naturally we broke into Wolof, which made us both happy. It was lovely to hear and say those words out loud.

Yesterday I had one from Liberia. He was young too, and had four children, the youngest being three years old.

"I have sent them to school in Africa so they can learn to be African," he said. "I want them to grow up with a sense of African identity, to speak my language, to know how to interact with people and be a part of a community. I want them to know about discipline."

His mother in law brings them up in Conakry, and they go to a Canadian school there. The American school was going to cost $4000 a year for each child, but the Canadian one is cheaper. When they have finished with school, then they can come to America and do what they like.

"Americans spend their time teaching their dogs to sit, but they can not get their children to listen to them."