Earlier this year, after a trip to Arizona, I posed the question “where’s the wild life” in an expression of disappointment after seeing no javelinas, no coyotes, no rattlesnakes and no mountain lions. The answer to the question seems to be: the Philippines.
Now, the animals I’ve seen so far are not of the exotic sort (except for the carabao, a water buffalo), but they are everywhere. Chickens, cows, pigs, wild dogs, goats and geese. Gecko lizards and giant grogs gain easy entrance to people’s homes. The former laze around on the walls and ceilings. Every morning we are solicited to wake by the “tuktogaok.” call of the roosters in the valley below. This is the Filipino version of “cockle-doodle-do.”
As many of you know (okay, there aren’t too many of you reading this, but let’s pretend there are), Aya and I have been engaged in a two-and-a-half year battle with the USCIS (formerly the INS, though I think there are quite a few people who never got the memo about the name change). This past Monday, we had a crucial interview at the Garden City office on Long Island, which we believed would decide the fate of her Green Card application. During the previous year, we had encountered a series of unfortunate obstacles to her quest to gain permanent residence status, which would enable her to leave and enter the United States at will. Mostly, her application was delayed by mistakes made on the part of the government, some of which we believe were made purposely.
So going into Monday’s interview, we had hope that things would work out, but certainly not high hopes. We arose at 5:30 in the morning so we could get to the 7:30 appointment on time. We arrived a half hour early and we’re finally called in at about 8:30. That place gave me the creeps, and we didn’t have our lawyer with us this time as we did last year when things did not go well in the interview. I felt that I knew the facts of our case well enough and was sufficiently coached by our attorney. When the officer came out to call us in, Aya was in the bathroom. I told him she’d be right back. A few minutes later I saw the officer come out again and I approached and said she was back. Unfortunately, it was not the same officer, though they looked very much alike. What can I say, I made a mistake. I’ve got bad eyes and I’m not so good at remembering faces when I only see them for a few seconds. Well, the second officer did not appreciate my mistake. The prick officer, a Filipino, berated me. “Did you see my face call you? No, I didn’t call you,” he said in a totally unjustified tone. Then the other guy came out, and Aya, who has 20/20 vision and an outstanding memory of faces, said that they indeed did look similar. So I didn’t feel so bad, and at least we got the nicer of the two officers.
We followed DAO Santos to his office where he preceded to swear us in. He then asked us some questions about our marriage and asked us to show him some legal documents. The notice did not tell us to bring anything, but fortunately we brought everything. We got past the questions and felt pretty good. We were ready to get her passport stamped so that we could leave the next day for the Philippines to visit Aya’s family before it’s too late in her pregnancy for her to travel. We hadn’t paid for the tickets yet nor had we packed in anticipation of possible disappointment, but we were guardedly optimistic.
We thought that the only possible complication could be that her fingerprints had not yet been cleared by the FBI. But another unexpected wrinkle came up instead. Officer Santos said Aya needed a new medical examination. She had one last spring before our first interview, but according to the officer it wasn’t valid. The officer who previously sabotaged, er I mean handled our case apparently should have known at the time that her medical was not acceptable according to Santos. So now she would need another one within 30 days. She could do it right away and submit it, but it would still probably take weeks to process and issue the Green Card. We were desperate since we really wanted to leave on Tuesday and didn’t want to deal with any more bullshit technicality. First it was the fingerprints-at our first interview we were told that her fingerprints had expired three days previously-now it was the medical. And the reason her medical did not count made little sense: she was required to have the exam within one year of her application date. She was late by two or three months because she was not aware of this rule. Therefore, she would need a new test.
I immediately got testy. Going in, I was prepared to fight. Our lawyer had advised us to argue with anything they threw at us other than the FBI fingerprint clearance. Aya too kept asking me if I was ready to do combat with them if justified. Apparently I was. This notion of fighting was etched into my cranium so when it was triggered I couldn’t stop the vitriol from flowing. For a non-confrontational person like me, things have to be pretty dire for me to get angry. This was dire. I asked him to explain the logic of the rule. If her first exam was too late, then this one would be even later. How could it be valid if the other wasn’t? I could understand if the rule was that you had to have an exam within a certain amount of time of the interview, but that wasn’t it. He couldn’t explain the logic because he probably realized there wasn’t any. He just repeated that it was the rule. I kept arguing. I told him it was another bullshit technicality, another mistake in a long series of mistakes by then, that the previous officer probably messed up our case on purpose and I hope he had been fired. I’d been holding these things in for months and it felt great to let it out with a member of CIS at the receiving end. At one point, he briefly left the room to get the medical form. I felt doomed so I yelled “Fuck” loud enough for several people in other offices to hear me. I should have kept that to myself but couldn’t help it. We jawed for a few more minutes. I said to Aya some things that were meant to be heard by the officer such as “this country isn’t good enough for you” and I guess you have to sign up for flight school to get a Green Card.” He didn’t like my comments and said I was being hostile. Actually he was right. But I had good reason to be hostile. I wasn’t going to accept this decision and walked away. I wanted to see his supervisor. He said to go out to the window and tell the clerk this.
We were waiting in line. We told our lawyer what happened. He was astonished, but didn’t think it such a big deal. He said to do what were told; it would just take a little longer. Seeing the supervisor wouldn’t help, he said. So I got out of line. Aya was crying at this point, but still had the composure to call her doctor and schedule an appointment for that afternoon. Maybe we could rush things and still go to the Philippines in a few weeks. I decided I wouldn’t go to work. I walked to the bathroom while I thought about how I would console her. While I was standing at the urinal, a thought struck me. I wanted to talk to DAO Santos again, not to argue the issue further, but to ask if upon review of the medical, could he stamp her passport immediately allowing her to travel immediately rather than waiting for the permanent Green Card to come in the mail which could take a month.
I got back in line and asked the clerk if we could see him again. She had me fill out a form. Santos came out. We followed him to his office. “Sit down” he said. “Please hand me the medical form I gave you.” With perfect precision, he tore the form in half and discarded it. “I made a mistake.” I suppressed a smile and the instinct to look at Aya and see if she was thinking what I was thinking. Suddenly there was hope. I didn’t want to say anything, ask what was going on. I’d done enough talking. I’d let him lead. With a stoic expression, he preceded to take out his three-hole puncher and make holes in various documents he then placed in a binder. This was done with the slowest possible speed.
When he was finished, he looked up and calmly said he would be stamping her passport today and her Green Card would come in the mail within four weeks. She could travel out of the country right away. Aya thanked DAO Santos and shook his hand. She asked if he was Filipino and he said yes. We could tell that he was. I shook his hand and apologized for taking out my discontent on him.
This was an amazing turn of events, a roller coaster that ended with a high instead of a crash. We were buoyant. We called friends and families who had been waiting for the news and thankfully could tell them good news. I never really believed in miracles before, but I think this definitely was one. I’m not saying it was divine intervention. Okay, I’m saying it was divine intervention.
Before the swing of the pendulum in our direction, Aya was worried that my bad behavior might hurt her application, possibly causing them to delay it further. But when I told my dad about how I fought and didn’t accept the decision lying down, he was very proud; he thought my bad behavior was the reason they changed their mind. That most people just accept it and leave. If you stand up to them and have the facts on your side, you can sometimes affect change. We’ll never know why they changed the decision, but I’d like to think that I somehow made it happen. I took on the meanest part of the federal bureaucracy and won.
In a similar episode last year, Aya and I accidentally snuck into the movie Born into Brothels. We had every intention to pay, but could not find the box office. It was a weird little theater on Second Avenue. There was no usher. There were about five other people in theater, and it was a Saturday night. Great movie, by the way. Afterward, I decided we should make a donation to Kids With Cameras, the charity begun by the filmmaker, to make up for the free movie.
As far as fake documentaries go, this one sounds pretty interesting…
