CHAPTER NINETEEN

Elario Comes to America to stay (Not) 

 

In the evening of December 10, 2015, when I answered my phone there was no “Hallo-o” first. Arketa’s usual opening to any call was missing. She dove head first into her exclamation.

 

“Eeeeiii!”she cried. “Elario’s file is on dah table! We almost missed it!”

 

 

Lately, no one had paid close attention to Elario’s immigration status since, if we followed the visa bulletins rightly, we knew to expect a wait of another year or two. We did know that even as she and I spoke, along with masses of Yambio people, Elario was hiding in the bush while President Kiir’s Dinka soldiers fought Vice president Machar’s Nuer tribal forces. Throw some violent local Zande Arrow Boys into the mix and it becomes clear why the local people fled and why all Yambio roads were closed.

 

“Situation disintegrating,” wrote Arketa’s nephew, Angelo, from Uganda. 

 

Somehow, Arketa any notification that Elario’s immigration file was now “open” and as his sponsor, her neglect would lead to his file being permanently closed. The very next morning Arketa called the National Visa Center in New Hampshire. And for six weeks, we waited.

 

° °  ° 

On January 29, 2016the National Visa Center (NVC) sent Arketa a letter:

“Dear Arketa Bazia Zambakari,

            Blah, blah . . . we received the immigrant visa petition you filed for Bazia Boro Elario Zambakari from U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. We will work with you to complete your relative’s immigrant visa case and schedule their visa interview.”

 

Enclosed she found the official NVC Case Number and the Invoice ID number and these instructions:

            Step 1. Choose an Agent—Form DS-261, Barbara Roberts Pine, 3rdPerson Agent was representing Elario. 

(Frighteningly formal, these instructions, but easily satisfied.)

            Step 2. Pay initial fees – allow five days for fees to be processed.

(To be sure, many fees followed but fortunately, the many friends following this story had a bank account ready for this very thing.)

            Step 3. After acknowledging Step Two, submit visa application form. 

(Things started getting a bit more complicated here. Was this Form DS-260? DS-230-part 1 or 2, or was it I-130?

Or . . . there were so many forms by now. We worried. Forms and Conversations with or from NVC were seriously intimidating. Were we complying with “Section 222(e)? Oh dear.)

 

            Step 4. Collect financial documents.

Let it be said here—I am convinced that a genuinely poor person hardly has a chance to retrieve someone they love through an immigration process without help. Period. Fortunately, Arketa had help.

 

Because Arketa had insufficient personal funds, Step 4 required an unusual amount of explanatory paperwork. This called for several trips to the downtown IRS office, to Social Security offices, and for this white woman (me) to grow acquainted with the busy crowded waiting rooms of a few Arabic-speaking Tax Accountants. It also required a scattering of W-2 forms, letters of explanation, Tax Transcripts, proofs of relationship, and re-submitting form after form on requiredbar-coded pages that revealed nearly everything about Arketa Zambakari but her shoe size. This is all true.

 

As the “Third Person Agent” representing the petitioner Elario, I was frequently on the phone or the internet with NVC, and as nice as their agents were (and they were), I was terrified every time. 

            Don't get anything wrong . . . don’t fail to use the Case Number or bar-coded pagesrequired for every communication or . . . you can mess up the whole thing and a mess up could cancel the process.

 

°  °  °

I wasn’t happy in February when I received this notification from the NVC:

            “We reviewed your I-864, I-864W or I-864A Affidavit of Support . . .either your Affidavit of Support was incomplete, some of your supporting documents were missing, or both. This could affect the Consular Officer’s ability to make a decision on your case.” 

 

I was to send theproperdocuments along with the bar-coded cover page.

“This could affect the Consular Officer’s ability to make a decision on your case.” That bold type belonged to them. 

 

This felt not good.

 

Somewhere along the way through twelve pages of declaring Arketa’s “Affidavit of Support Under Section 213A of the Immigration and Nationality Act (INA)” I had done something wrong. I hadn’t meant to but apparently I had, and by this time working with the NVC, I expected the thirty, sixty, ninety days they allowed themselves to review my correction. Delay. Delay. Delay.

 

Fast forward to June 14, 2016 (We started in January, remember)

I made a call this morning to the NVC, asking why, after an additional 32 days, we still had no word on Elario’s immigration status.

 

This process was like blowing up a huge balloon. Each breath it took for me to make it round and taut represented a single step in our document submission, re-submission, additional submission, wrong submission, corrected submission process. A single step in the attempt to bring Bazia Boro Elario Zambakari from blood-soaked, warring South Sudan to his family in Arizona.

 

When, finally, an agent of NVC took my call and heard my question of “why the delay?” I was told that they “have reviewed his file and are waiting for the Police Report of Kenya.”

 

That statement was a pin poke in the skin of my balloon. In less than a second, remnants of my patience flew away on escaping air. 

 

I took what Arketa calls “a deep breeth.” I bent over the kitchen counter before answering Joy the very kind NVC representative talking to me.

 

“Joy,” I said. “I have explained to NVC that Elario has never lived in Kenya. He is not required to obtain a Police Report from Kenya because he has never lived there. He has a Mailing Address in Kenya because his mail does not get delivered to Yambio, South Sudan. Missionary Aviation picks up his mail in Kenya and delivers it to him in Yambio, West Equitoria State, South Sudan . . .Where—He—Lives.” 

 

“This is most unusual,” said Joy quite authoritatively, “to have someone not living at their mailing address.”

 

“We have explained this already,” said I, the Third Party Agent working on Elario’s behalf. Unusual? I wanted to say. Tell me about it. How acquainted are you with South Sudan?

 

“Send it when you can,” said Joy. “There’s no hurry really, there is no visa available yet.”

 

I started looking for a very new balloon. What was I to do?

 

Arketa and I did what we could. We had Elario’s Bishop in Yambio write an authoritative letter on official stationary explaining (once again) that a Police Report from Kenya was unnecessary—Elario had never lived in Kenya. Only his mailing address was in Kenya. 

 

And, what’s this, “There’s no visa available yet.”?

 

July 2016—Advisory #35

As the summer went on, for the thirty-fifth time I wrote to those who have been following the Zambakari saga.  

“Elario is trapped in Juba,” I wrote. “Militia, soldiers, rebels, all seemingly deranged and mad with violence and purposelessness duke it out while the President and First Vice President of South Sudan sit in the Palace arguing about power. Yes, Elario and Bishop Edward Hiboro are still hiding under beds in a hotel room, unable to get to the business of the Church that brought them to Juba. Likely no hotel staff remains; likely no food either. But luckily, they are off the streets and not in the bush.”

 

Angelo had traveled from Kampala at this time and was doing medical work in a private Juba hospital, earning extra money to pay for a clinic he was building in Kampala. He described the situation for me.

            “Heavy gunfire now in our area. Elario, under bed in a no-service hotel. I left Juba with 5,350 USD and roughly 160,000 south Sudanese pounds. But when I check my balance now I have only 1000 Sudanese pounds ($164.74) left on me. I had to buy safety along Juba Nimule road until I reached the Uganda border. It has cost me five thousands three hundred fifty dollars plus 150,000ssp. Imagine how and under what circumstances I paid all that cash to soldiers at different roadblocks including those who only want to loot.

 

“ . . . Even men are sodomized if you have no money or anything to give. This is the one behavior I have dashed my hard savings to avoid. I hope you now see why I fear Adiki (his sister) leaving the hideout.

       

"I cannot explain my feeling or what to think . . . Our vehicle was shot at 17km from the border Nimule, all tyres were blown off and the driver got a bullet on the stomach, fortunately he remained alert and sped off on the reams (rims) for 8kms then we stopped and the bleeding and got an abundant pickup van which we used up to the border.

 

"Yes, we pay visa on crossing border until transit registration table is setup when visa will be exempted allowing people to be qualified for the camps."

 

(Not that we in the states were in a hurry to get Elario out of South Sudan or anything.)

 

°  °  °

 

On July 22, 2016,I wrote Advisory #37 saying, in part:

“This is how things are concerning Elario: 

My conversation with the National Visa Center yesterday and the day before, concerned the confusion that resulted from their second notification saying I had incorrectly submitted something (sure enough—instead of the initials NRB, I had typed NBR. But, while that small mistake may cost another 30-90 days of delay, we moved on to the important issue.

 

“The Visa Center is now reviewing the Bishop’s letter written to explain that Elario never lived in Kenya. NVC received that letter on June 29. They have thirty days to review that page. And, what’s the hurry? They just informed me that it really doesn’t matter.  

 

“No visa is available for Elario at this time,” the representative said.

 

‘Huh?’ I said. This time, I heard them.

 

Well, they didn’t say that exactly, like, “No visa is avai . . .” Oh. Wait. Yes they did. 

 

“Then they recognized a need to educate me. Even if ALLElario’s documents were in, and had been reviewed, and were in order and accurate, he can’t get an appointment at the U.S. Embassy, Nairobi, because—the word be-cau-se was drawn out so I would understand—there was no visa number available to him. We must wait for a visa number to be available.

His processing datewas 17July’09. 

Presently, NVC was issuing visas for 22March’09.

 

‘How long do we wait?’ I asked. 

 

“They couldn’t say. It could be months. There was no guarantee that ‘issuance moves forward. It could retrograde.’ Or, it could move quickly forward. I could ‘check the bulletin on line,’ they said.” 

 

°  °  °

 Friday August 5th

I was alerted that Elario mightqualify for an Embassy appointment in Nairobi in September. I should hear more within two weeks. Sure enough, within the two weeks I received an email from NVC:

 

“We are missing this document: The Police Report from Uganda.”

 

“No, he could not mail his fingerprints toUganda from a Sudanese police station. No.” 

 

Elario had to appear in Kampala in person to retrieve a “Good Conduct” certificate. It took $800, a flight through three countries, and a week’s worth of days but we got him there. Elario spent less than one full day in Kampala, left his fingerprints, and went away with the necessary proof that he hadn’t caused mischief in Uganda. He then returned to Yambio via stops and delays and dollars spent through three African countries. 

Elario emailed a copy of the required certificate, I printed it, and Arketa over-night-ed (a frequently used verb by this point) a copy of the police report to the NVC.. Now, maybeElario would qualify for an appointment with the U.S. Embassy in Nairobi. Actually, that was a question, not a statement. Then, this.

 

No. “Not yet.”

 

° °  °

 

October 5, 2016—Advisory #42 (We started in January)

 

“Yesterday the NVC requested something entirely new and what they (honestly) described as entirely unnecessary—something having to do with Arketa’s financial situation.”

 

This was true. NVC wanted a document that wasn’t required, wasn’t necessary, but “it was necessary that I provide it.”

 

I called Arketa. “One more delay. There is a necessity for an unnecessary document.”

 

“Instead of crying, let me lauf.” Arketa said. And she did.

 

° °  °

 

DOCUMENT COVER SHEET

“When you send your documents to us, place them in the order shown below, and put this cover sheet on top. Mark the checkbox [X] under Enclosedif you are sending the document. Mark the checkbox [X] under Unavailableif you cannot obtain the document. Mark the checkbox [X] under Not Applicableif the document is not applicable or not needed for your case.” 

 

There followed four major categories with eighteen specified and possibly required documents, forms, certificates, statements, or letters that required one of three [X]’s. We did it—we compiled our 90-some pages of materials plus the 35-page Immigration/Alien Form-260 that described every imaginable detail about Elario since his birth. I copied everything. Arketa signed everything she was required to sign. I placed it all in its proper order along with Elario’s Case Number, ID Number, and bar-coded cover pages. Itopped it with the Document Cover Sheet and with fear and trembling sent it off to New Hampshire. 

 

Then everyone waited—again. Just how easy is it to immigrate to our wonderful country?

 

October 7, 2016

“Dear Sir/Madam,

The National Visa Center (NVC) received all the requested documentationfor this immigrant visa case. The applicant is now in the queueawaiting an interview appointment overseas, where a consular officer will adjudicate the applicant’s visa application. . .Most appointments are set within three months, however . . .” 

 

Well, the “applicant” wasn’t in a queue but his application was.

 

We feared the “However” but nothing more appeared to dash our hopes. Before long, we were notified that Elario had an Embassy appointment date: December 7, 2016.

 

If we get Elario out of South Sudan where flights are not flying but bullets are; if he passes his medical exam and Embassy Interview, is it possible that my part in this task that I so blithely committed to in 2009, is finished?”

 

I asked that question in Advisory #43 but in the spring of 2017, I wrote Advisory #63 to explain that while “finished” didn’t describe things well. Elario didmake it to America at last. But he didn’t stay. 

 

° °  °

 

The rest of the story—

On November 10, 2016.Elario attempted to leave South Sudan. He was set to board a flight from Yambio to Juba and from Juba he would fly to Nairobi. But apparently, no pilot was so foolish as to fly into Yambio under intense gunfire from the ground. 

 

Yambio roads were rutted to the point of uselessness. Worse, gunmen, looters and rebels ruled the town. If anyone did dare the roads, they carried teams of men to push or pull vehicles out of trouble, and money to buy off the thieves. Otherwise, they expected to be relieved of phones, car batteries, passports, physical safety, or anything that might have a purpose. Gunfire from the roadside bush had that very morning taken the life of a teacher riding his motor scooter (like the one Elario had) to the church school. 

 

Elario waited. “Maybe next Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday,” he said to his mom by phone. But, commercial flights avoided Yambio. Then, on November 16, a missionary flight was sent to carry Elario’s Bishop to Nairobi and Elario was invited to ride along. Arketa was beside herself and folded in an attitude of pray

 

 November 23, ’16 – Elario’s note

“Dear auntie and uncle Dave, 

I am very grateful first to you and all the friends who are very concerned and follow my process from day one. I thank God and pray for all of you for your love. I am very safe here in Nairobi. I am waiting for the Medical test on 29thNov and 30thNov. The visa interview will be on the 7thof Dec. I will get back to you if there is anything. So far so good. God bless you all. 

            Fr. Bazia Boro Elario Zambakari“

 

On December 9, he wrote again:“I got my passport and visa this afternoon. Elario.” 

 

My only thought was this: !!!!

 

Flight arrangements were quickly made and but for an unexplained forty-eight hour delay in Nairobi, Elario’s 27-hour flight from Nairobi to Doha to Phoenix ended near midnight on December 14th.

 

Father Elario, with one child-sized roll-on suitcase, had arrived. Once his mother released him from her grip, those of us at the airport with her hugged the man we had come to know and love. As we had when Timothy arrived, we went to Arketa’s house where stories, laughter, and tears were exchanged into the wee hours. 

 

My National Visa Center 3rdParty Agent work was done. My innocently made 2009 commitment to bring her sons to America—accomplished. I was one-happy-woman. I was flying home the afternoon after Elario’s arrival while my husband, David, was staying for few days more to hike in his beloved Valley of the Sun mountains. Happily, he arranged for a short visit with Elario the afternoon of my departure.  

 

December 15—Sky Harbor Airport—Phoenix

I was power-walking through an airport concourse while I waited for my flight to Seattle, and felt as content as a pig wallowing in summer mud on vegan’s farm. Elario was “home,” freed from South Sudan’s mayhem and madness. I was going home—to write a final Advisory, to close the Zambakari bank account, to draw a double line at the bottom of a page in the small expense ledger I had kept through two immigration processes—mission accomplished. In the midst of my satisfaction, my phone rang.

 

“Hey,” I said to my husband, David. “What’s up?”

 

“Barbi, there may be a very real complication coming from South Sudan. Looks like Elario has to go back to Yambio for some time.”

 

“No!” I shouted. “No!”The pig on the vegan’s farm was being shoved and pushed toward slaughter. 

“NO!” I was defiant and a bit loud among loud things in the concourse. 

 

“It has to do with his obligation to the church in Yambio. It’s his Bishop’s decision.”

 

Advisory #58a –December 18

“I have resigned to it but not happily. Elario will return to South Sudan. Not this week, not this month . . . but yes, when he has secured all necessary documents as a legal immigrant, he will return to Yambio. I am not happy about it. Did I say that? I’m not a Roman Catholic so I did not take kindly to the Bishop of Tombura-Yambio requiring Elario to return to fulfill his service to the Yambio diocese. They need him. I know that. They had, after all, raised him, fed him, educated him, ordained him, and depended upon him. 

 

The Church was Elario’s father as surely as Arketa was his mother. Elario loved both, honored both. Still, fair or not, I wasn’t happy when the father demanded custody.”

 

° °  °

 

Seldom did things go exactly as I hoped when it came to arranging things on behalf of Arketa Zambakari. My powers were limited. I was reminded frequently that I wasn’t the only player in the game. 

 

On his trip to Nairobi aboard the Bishop’s plane, Elario learned that while he was being released to fetch all necessary documents that would lead to American citizenship, he had a duty to fulfill in the Yambio diocese. He must return and complete that service. Only then would he be released to serve as a priest in the United States. Elario did his best to calm me, his American auntie. I was so ready to charge the hallowed halls of his church.  

 

Elario reasoned with me, “. . .to follow the procedure of coming permanently to US as a Catholic priest and do my work with free and clear conscience.” He assured me that, “It is better not to file a case for me to stay here because it will not help me at all. Let me go and do the official and canonical way of a transfer so that I am also respected to be law-abiding priest. . . . I understand the concerns you have with the heart of a mother . . . I thank God and pray for all of you . . . I really love my work as a Catholic priest.”

 

So, along the way, I learned that several voices belonged in the impulsive commitment I made in 2009. Timothy’s boisterous, extroverted voice has been added to the on-going Zambakari story. He didn’t follow his American siblings directly into graduate degrees as I expected. He has fathered some beautiful children and he drives a massive semi-trailer truck across this great country that he has come to love. He is a singer of songs, entertaining from a stage as often as one opens up for him. Timothy doesn’t live the script I was ready to write for him but he lives with daily joy. 

 

Elario brought along the Bishop’s voice, one whose authority he fully respects. Elario is at peace with the requirements that have been arranged for his eventual permanent stay in America. Even Arketa was fully on board with the plan once she learned of it, good Catholic woman that she is. Only Elario’s Third-Person-Agent Auntie kicked against the traces—but only until good sense and Elario’s gentleness reminded me that I was a facilitator, not a manager. Elario and his parents—Arketa and the Church got to call the shots and that, they were doing. And they were doing it with total cooperation, respect, and love.

 

Elario and Arketa were at peace. He stayed in the states long enough to secure all necessary documents, to make a trip to our home in Washington where with his mom and Timothy, he took long walks along the waterfront, met with a crowd of people who have followed his story and his family with love, long enough for him to tenderly explain to “Nearly Everyone I Know” his plan to return to Yambio. Elario stayed in Arizona long enough to make a five-hour hike in the Superstition mountains with my husband, his Uncle Dave. Then, on March 23, 2017, he returned to Yambio, South Sudan. 

 

Knowing my concerns, he wrote:

“Yes Auntie, I reached Yambio and life is better than I left it last year. Yambio has a new Governor and the security has improved.”

 

“Dis is important Barbi,” Arketa said, “Dah easy way is not dah Zambakari way. No.”

 

Epilogue to Follow

(please scroll to “comment” if you wish Barb to hear your voice)