Khalid's Early Life

My husband does not speak often about his life before arriving in the United States. Although I shouldn't speak for him-- I surmise that life was rough for his family for various reasons. They were Indian immigrants residing in an alien Arabic landscape with different customs, language and religious observations. Even though they were Muslim (except for his mother who was Christian)I'm sure the interpretation of Islam was slightly different in India then in a traditional Arabic nation. Such circumstances can make a person--or family-- feel vulnerable, alone and anxious.

Additionally, Khalid expresses a certain amount of detachment from his Mother and Father--partly as a result of the forced separation and also based on his upbringing. His father was a stern man and believed in bringing his children up with a strict interpretation of Islam. Khalid was forced to don a professional, pious attitude at all times, even wearing a suit to school and attending prayer the required 5 times per day--every day.

His mother was a traditional Indian woman who probably had far too much to do; after taking care of six children and a husband-- then to focus too much attention exclusively on her 2nd oldest child.

Please understand--I am in no way expressing any disdain for Islam as a belief-system. Islam is a peace-loving religion and I have had the privilege of befriending many lovely Muslim people. I have respect for Islam as well as Christianity and Judaism--even though I choose to worship differently.

To get back to the main point...Khalid left India at the age of six and relocated with his family to Kuwait City, Kuwait. His father was a civil engineer who found ample employment in Kuwait as a result of the fledgling oil industry. With his father's new found success the family was able to afford a comfortable home, a large American made car and other small luxuries. Luxuries that would not have been obtainable in India

For an intelligent and academically-minded youngster like Khalid, the household was too chaotic for doing any sustained studying, so he would go next door to one of the empty company sponsored homes, sneak in and complete his homework in refreshing silence.

He showed an early aptitude for electronic tinkering. Khalid often relates the story of one of the first times he showed such an aptitude: an instance that got him into a lot of trouble with his father. Sometime in the early 1980's, when boom boxes were at their peak of popularity, his father proudly purchased an advanced specimen and presented it to his excited family. Khalid was completely mesmerized by the electronic device, so when his father was occupied elsewhere, Khalid took it--and dismantled it in an effort to figure out how it worked. Unfortunately, his electronic expertise was unrefined at this juncture and he was unable to put it back in working order. Obviously, his father was just a tad unhappy when he came home to see his precious music player in disarray.

When Khalid turned 18, he applied to various American universities for electrical engineering. Out of the three that accepted him, his father encouraged him to attend Oklahoma State University because the city had a cohesive and substantial Muslim community. He secured a student VISA and arrived in Oklahoma in 1987. After acclimating to the culture of an American university he obtained good grades and found a supportive community. He was planning on spending four years in the States and then upon securing his degree, return to Kuwait and exercise his new found skills. Unfortunately, due to various circumstances, that were completely out of his control, Khalid's plans went awry. More on this in a subsequent post.

Recent developments

After a period of relative calm, and just when we were feeling somewhat secure; a new development has occurred in my husband's case...and its not a positive one. The rug has been pulled out from underneath us...for the 10th time. There is no way to accurately describe the feeling that washes over you when you are faced with the imminent separation of you and the most important person in your life. The closest association I can come up with is a long, languishing death of a loved one--but even that isn't a close approximation. Both of us are very much alive and it is not death that is separating us, but the imperfect, arbitrary laws of man.

To imagine that both of us will be living, breathing and sleeping under the same stars and yet we will not be able to hold each other, comfort each other or share a joke together is excruciating. Every time I think about it it feels as if my breath is being sucked from my body leaving only a black hole and the insatiable abyss.

We have been told by a reliable source that the Indian government is trying to verify Khalid's identity by tracking down any of his relatives in India. The reason this is necessary is because when Khalid was imprisoned in a detention center in Batavia New York for 8 months in 2003-- the person handling his case sent all three of his passports to the Indian consulate in order to procur travelling papers. Based on protocol he was only supposed to send one and keep any additional ones as backup.

Fast forward to last July, when Homeland Security was trying to obtain his travelling papers to deport him, India refused to issue any because they require a passport for processing. This left Khalid in a state of immigration limbo which he has been in for almost a year. He was unable to adjust his status but also unable to go to India.

If India is able to verify that Khalid is an Indian citizen, however that process unfolds, that will allow the U.S. government to deport him. Apparently, they have contacted an aunt in India that Khalid did not know was still there. If the worst happens, I will have no say and will not be able to say good-bye to him. They will shackle him in handcuffs and chains like a criminal and imprison him once again before they place him on a plane to India. It is possible I may never see him again for various reasons. He is Muslim and is going into a country where violence against Muslims is common. In addition, with his absence, I will not be able to afford the medicine and co-pays needed to manage my medical conditions. I will likely lose my apartment, my education and even my sight.

I fear that if the worst happens, and Khalid is deported, I will not be strong enough to handle it. Financially, mentally and spiritually I will fall apart. We have to report to the Homeland Security office in Albany New York this Wednesday, and with these new developments I fear the worst.

An Imperfect Love Story

One of the first questions I am always asked when I discuss my husband's immigration situation is; "how did you meet?" It goes without saying that this is predominately a gender-based question--meaning that woman are more likely to ask this then men. Generally, most men are not inclined to question me about personal matters-- unless I happen to mention that my husband likes cars or enjoys fishing. When those juicy bits are divulged inevitable questions arise such as; "What kind of car does he drive?", "What are his favorite fishing spots? or "Where does he work?" I will not indulge my feminist bias at this time and comment on these anomalies; which I could certainly do--at length. I will restrain myself by simply saying they fascinate me.

Khalid and I met on a local online singles group. I had been recently getting into the dating scene after a long hiatus and was extremely frustrated by the lack of compatible partners. After dating a dishonest accountant who was a recovering alcoholic, a scanky and obsessive local college professor and a boy-man who couldn't do anything before he consulted his mother, I was obviously skeptical about finding a good partner.

This predicament became jarringly obvious to me when a "friend" set me up on a blind date with a man, who can only be accurately described as my worst nightmare. We met at his parent's house, which should have been the first tip off that this would not end well. He greeted me with a barely audible "hello" and didn't talk to me the rest of the evening until I was preparing to leave. He looked like he had just stepped out of the cover of a 1980's heavy metal magazine, with dark, cork-screw long hair, tight leopard pants and a black t-shirt with a huge decal of a fire breathing, multi-colored dragon.

I don't know if my surprise and horror registered on my face...and at that point I wasn't in the best frame of mind to really care. In addition to his outdated appearance I also found out he was unemployed, didn't own a car and lived with his parents. Even today I wonder what my friend was thinking when she thought we would make a good match. The friendship, a conspicuously superficial one, expired in a slow and barely perceptible manner shortly after this blind date.

So, on a cool afternoon in November in the year 2005 , with trepidation and low hopes, I went to meet a new man at a local Dunkin Donuts. As a result of my horrible dating experiences thus far I told myself sternly that this would be the last time I would meet anyone from the internet or singles groups. If this meeting does not go well, this was it--I was done. I would go back to my cats, my books, my paintings; call it good and pretend I was content. I was so sure that the meeting was going to be a complete failure that I told this man that I had a previous engagement and could only meet with him for two hours.

Imagine my surprise when the meeting went well! We forged an instant bond and became so enrapt in our conversation that it was well over an hour before we ordered our coffee. I was smitten with his easy-going demeanor, humility, and engaging smile. Khalid admitted to me, months after our first meeting, that he had a goofy smile plastered on his face while he got up to order our coffee that day--and it lasted into the evening.

Despite our deep feelings for each other ours has not been a perfect love story. Relationships never are because they are always between two imperfect human beings. I am sensitive, emotional and have a slight tendency to over analyze (cough..cough). Khalid can be brutally direct, non-communicative, and stubborn. I like to worry, think and plan for the future, Khalid likes to take things as they come. These differences have resulted in conflicts in our relationship, but it has also lead to deep illuminations and understanding. Through it all I have learned that it really doesn't matter... love can be imperfect but still be as steadfast as the roots of an old gnarled oak tree and as pure as a hidden waterfall. Love breathes in the smoke, ash and offal of human imperfection. If nothing else, we can have faith in that.

Challenging the stereotype

Just when you think that there is absolutely no one on Earth who can understand what you are going through, the universe sends the unexpected your way. Khalid came to me in this fashion--but that is a story for a subsequent post. I am speaking now of a friend of mine. We have only met face to face once at an immigration conference in Chicago last April. My newly found friend was the bright spot in an atmosphere of chaos and confusion.

After the conference, we all went out to lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon talking. She is one of the rare individuals who can actually empathize with the predicament we are in because she has gone through the worst case scenario. Her husband was deported to Mexico many years ago, and after a few months of separation and anguish she followed: out of love, devotion and necessity--even though she is a bona fide, born and bred American citizen.

To get back to the main point, I was talking to this friend on the phone the other day and she was relating the comments of some of the people who attend her monologue: a performance piece that she presents across the States about the experiences of being a wife of a deportee. In well-meaning innocence some people express surprise that such an articulate, educated and talented young woman would find herself in such a dire predicament.

In translation, the speaker is actually asking "How could you have married a man who got himself deported?" This question simultaneously expresses a multitude of culturally entrenched stereotypes about both the presumed nature of the deportee and his wife. Fundamentally, people are not so much surprised that we are educated, thoughtful and creative but that we are seemingly normal and mundane. This is uncomfortable because this suggests that tragedy can happen to anyone, anywhere and at anytime. This was not the result of a character defect, bad karma or questionable judgement but the result of the intersection of racial and cultural stereotypes, political events and the unfortunate criminalization of immigrants in American society.

My friend and I-- and our husbands-- are not extraordinary. We do not stand out in society as unusual, wretched or scurrilous. We are just regular people just trying to survive in an ever-complicated world. Love called to us and we followed, aware that pitfalls, hardships and strife challenge even the strongest of relationships. Perhaps we were blind to the particular arduous path we choose but that does not deter us from forging ahead in love, in determination and in faith that somehow this will work out for the best. After all--that is really the only thing that any of us can ever do.