Abu Mousa goes to America

The other day, I returned to the house and Abu Mousa practically came running. Wasalt al-visa! I received the visa! He proudly showed me the document glued to the first page of his new passport. He’s already planning his trip to America.

He would update me on the application process over foul or fattoush. He never asked for help. I offered to accompany him to the embassy to help translate. His son, Ghassan, who speaks flawless English, joined him. He submitted the application.

Then, the interview. He counted down the days with me. I e-mailed a contact in the embassy to ask if there was anything I could do, as an American citizen, to support his application. The answer, swiftly: no.

Abu Mousa said the interviewer, a woman, was very nice. He carried across his message in his village Arabic, peppered with his broken English: I wish to visit my two sons and their families in California. I do not wish to stay in America. My home is in Syria.

A week later, the embassy issued a two-year visa. He is planning to fly to California at the end of November and stay until early January.