Escape from America
Ryan Devereaux, TheIntercept, March 18, 2018, Photo: Michelle Siu.
“My Heart Is
Dancing” — How an Iraqi Family Found Refuge in Canada After Escaping
Persecution and Detention in the U.S.
Dancing” — How an Iraqi Family Found Refuge in Canada After Escaping
Persecution and Detention in the U.S.
 |
| Iraqi refugee Zinah Al Shakarchi, center, with her son Yousif, left, and daughter Sidrah, right, in their basement apartment in Mississauga, Ontario, on Jan. 14, 2018. |
Nothing
about the Laredo Processing Center’s physical appearance immediately suggests
it is run by a multimillion-dollar, for-profit prison corporation. Located just
off the highway, about 5 miles from the Rio Grande, the drab one-story
building, with its chain-link fencing and razor wire, is sandwiched between
Ruben’s Paint and Body Shop and Martinez Wrecker Services.
about the Laredo Processing Center’s physical appearance immediately suggests
it is run by a multimillion-dollar, for-profit prison corporation. Located just
off the highway, about 5 miles from the Rio Grande, the drab one-story
building, with its chain-link fencing and razor wire, is sandwiched between
Ruben’s Paint and Body Shop and Martinez Wrecker Services.
If not
for the sign outside, the immigrant detention center could easily be mistaken
for a well-guarded junkyard. For the people locked inside, who sleep in open
areas crammed with bodies — if they are not being held in isolation — days
consist of head counts, the echoing voices of shouting guards, and a lot of
waiting. If you’re lucky, you have the money to make short calls home and a loved
one to pick up the phone.
for the sign outside, the immigrant detention center could easily be mistaken
for a well-guarded junkyard. For the people locked inside, who sleep in open
areas crammed with bodies — if they are not being held in isolation — days
consist of head counts, the echoing voices of shouting guards, and a lot of
waiting. If you’re lucky, you have the money to make short calls home and a loved
one to pick up the phone.
For Safaa
Al Shakarchi, this was life for more than a year. Along with his wife, Zinah,
and their two small children — 2-year-old Sidrah and 6-year-old Yousif — Safaa
crossed the bridge linking Reynosa, Mexico, to McAllen, Texas, on January 14,
2017. Nearly six months had passed since the family was expelled from their
adopted home in the United Arab Emirates. Zinah and Safaa had been building a
life in the Gulf nation since 2009, when a militia commander in Baghdad shot Zinah
and murdered her colleague, prompting her to flee Iraq.
Al Shakarchi, this was life for more than a year. Along with his wife, Zinah,
and their two small children — 2-year-old Sidrah and 6-year-old Yousif — Safaa
crossed the bridge linking Reynosa, Mexico, to McAllen, Texas, on January 14,
2017. Nearly six months had passed since the family was expelled from their
adopted home in the United Arab Emirates. Zinah and Safaa had been building a
life in the Gulf nation since 2009, when a militia commander in Baghdad shot Zinah
and murdered her colleague, prompting her to flee Iraq.
In the
months that followed the expulsion, the family’s unwelcome odyssey brought them
to six countries, through multiple times zones, and across numerous borders.
They endured detention at the hands of Mexican authorities, including officials
who beat Safaa as his children watched, and navigated some of the most
treacherous cartel-controlled territory in the Western Hemisphere.
months that followed the expulsion, the family’s unwelcome odyssey brought them
to six countries, through multiple times zones, and across numerous borders.
They endured detention at the hands of Mexican authorities, including officials
who beat Safaa as his children watched, and navigated some of the most
treacherous cartel-controlled territory in the Western Hemisphere.
It was
not the life they had planned, but the family was at the mercy of forces beyond
their control. Passports in hand, the Shakarchis presented themselves before
U.S. immigration officials in Texas. Invoking a right enshrined in both U.S.
and international law, they applied for asylum. While his wife and children
were eventually permitted to enter the country to begin the asylum process,
Safaa was not. After a long and difficult experience, he ultimately found
himself locked up in Laredo, accused of no crime, with deportation orders but
no country willing to accept him.
not the life they had planned, but the family was at the mercy of forces beyond
their control. Passports in hand, the Shakarchis presented themselves before
U.S. immigration officials in Texas. Invoking a right enshrined in both U.S.
and international law, they applied for asylum. While his wife and children
were eventually permitted to enter the country to begin the asylum process,
Safaa was not. After a long and difficult experience, he ultimately found
himself locked up in Laredo, accused of no crime, with deportation orders but
no country willing to accept him.
We met in
a harshly lit, depressing waiting room furnished with plastic furniture,
accessed via a darkened hallway. The walls were painted a yellowish beige and
featured Corrections Corporation of America promotional posters
highlighting the “CCA Way” and posters urging detainees to report sexual abuse.
a harshly lit, depressing waiting room furnished with plastic furniture,
accessed via a darkened hallway. The walls were painted a yellowish beige and
featured Corrections Corporation of America promotional posters
highlighting the “CCA Way” and posters urging detainees to report sexual abuse.
There was
nobody else in the room when the lock on the heavy metal door clicked. A short
guard in a shabby, two-tone blue uniform, carrying a set of jingling keys and a
squawking radio, pushed it open and Safaa walked in. Of medium height and
build, dressed in a dark blue prison jumpsuit with salt-and-pepper hair, he
stood tall as he entered the visiting area, moving briskly over the tile floor.
nobody else in the room when the lock on the heavy metal door clicked. A short
guard in a shabby, two-tone blue uniform, carrying a set of jingling keys and a
squawking radio, pushed it open and Safaa walked in. Of medium height and
build, dressed in a dark blue prison jumpsuit with salt-and-pepper hair, he
stood tall as he entered the visiting area, moving briskly over the tile floor.
When we
first spoke by phone, Safaa was in the midst of his second hunger strike, part
of an effort to force the U.S. government to resolve his case. He told me that
he had lost 22 pounds and that his guards had forcibly placed him in isolation
for his protests, in a frigid cell where air conditioning blasted over his bed.
Later that night, his wife told me Safaa had started eating again. Guards had
come into his cell, she said, telling him that if he did not eat, he would be
sent to another facility where he would be force-fed.
first spoke by phone, Safaa was in the midst of his second hunger strike, part
of an effort to force the U.S. government to resolve his case. He told me that
he had lost 22 pounds and that his guards had forcibly placed him in isolation
for his protests, in a frigid cell where air conditioning blasted over his bed.
Later that night, his wife told me Safaa had started eating again. Guards had
come into his cell, she said, telling him that if he did not eat, he would be
sent to another facility where he would be force-fed.
Safaa
took his seat across from me, folded his hands on the plastic table, and smiled
politely. Physically, at least, he seemed to be relatively fine. But then he
began to speak. His voice was so small, so depleted, that I could
barely hear it. “I’m tired of crying,” Safaa said, leaning forward. No sooner
had our conversation begun than the guard who had opened the door walked
over to us. “Excuse me, sir,” he said to me. “Give us a minute.” Safaa looked
at the guard, looked at me, then got up from the table.
took his seat across from me, folded his hands on the plastic table, and smiled
politely. Physically, at least, he seemed to be relatively fine. But then he
began to speak. His voice was so small, so depleted, that I could
barely hear it. “I’m tired of crying,” Safaa said, leaning forward. No sooner
had our conversation begun than the guard who had opened the door walked
over to us. “Excuse me, sir,” he said to me. “Give us a minute.” Safaa looked
at the guard, looked at me, then got up from the table.
The door
closed behind the two men. The only sound was the radios crackling and the
voices carrying down the hall where they had disappeared. Minutes later, Safaa
returned. When I asked why he had been removed, he shrugged. Maybe they wanted
to turn on a recording device, he suggested. Mostly, that was just the nature
of being locked up — guards make decisions, give you little or no explanation,
and you have to comply. “They are bad,” Safaa said. “They are very fucking
bad.”
closed behind the two men. The only sound was the radios crackling and the
voices carrying down the hall where they had disappeared. Minutes later, Safaa
returned. When I asked why he had been removed, he shrugged. Maybe they wanted
to turn on a recording device, he suggested. Mostly, that was just the nature
of being locked up — guards make decisions, give you little or no explanation,
and you have to comply. “They are bad,” Safaa said. “They are very fucking
bad.”
The
interview was scheduled for 45 minutes. Before we began, I told Safaa that I
had spoken with Zinah, that she sent her love, and that she wanted him to be
strong. He winced at the mention of his family. We went over, again, the
chronology of events that landed him Laredo. He showed me the folder where he
kept the documents he had gathered along the way, a sparse collection of
government papers that did little to convey what his family had been through.
interview was scheduled for 45 minutes. Before we began, I told Safaa that I
had spoken with Zinah, that she sent her love, and that she wanted him to be
strong. He winced at the mention of his family. We went over, again, the
chronology of events that landed him Laredo. He showed me the folder where he
kept the documents he had gathered along the way, a sparse collection of
government papers that did little to convey what his family had been through.
As we
spoke, Safaa talked again and again of the dehumanizing nature of his
confinement. “I want them to respect me. I’m a human. I have kids,” he said. In
conversations on the phone, Yousif, who is now 7, would ask his father why he
wouldn’t come home, and if it was because he didn’t love him anymore. “What do
I tell him?” Safaa asked.
spoke, Safaa talked again and again of the dehumanizing nature of his
confinement. “I want them to respect me. I’m a human. I have kids,” he said. In
conversations on the phone, Yousif, who is now 7, would ask his father why he
wouldn’t come home, and if it was because he didn’t love him anymore. “What do
I tell him?” Safaa asked.
More than
anything, Safaa explained, he wanted to go home and do the things dads do. “I
have to take him to the mall,” he said of his little boy. “I have to sit on the
floor and play with him.” Those moments are important, Safaa stressed, and he
was missing out on all of them.
anything, Safaa explained, he wanted to go home and do the things dads do. “I
have to take him to the mall,” he said of his little boy. “I have to sit on the
floor and play with him.” Those moments are important, Safaa stressed, and he
was missing out on all of them.
For
Safaa, the reason behind his continued detention was plain to see. The guards,
the facility itself, all of it was about turning a profit. “They keep us here
for business,” Safaa said. He said it was a scheme unparalleled in its cruel
design, calling it the “first dirty business in the world.”
Safaa, the reason behind his continued detention was plain to see. The guards,
the facility itself, all of it was about turning a profit. “They keep us here
for business,” Safaa said. He said it was a scheme unparalleled in its cruel
design, calling it the “first dirty business in the world.”
The door
to the visiting room opened and the guard informed us that we had just a few
minutes remaining. As we were packing up, I noticed a piece of paper colored
red, white, and blue poking out of Safaa’s breast pocket. It was his prison
identification document. He had colored it like an American flag. “Because
really, I love America,” Safaa said, smiling. At the same time, he added,
“America kill me.”
to the visiting room opened and the guard informed us that we had just a few
minutes remaining. As we were packing up, I noticed a piece of paper colored
red, white, and blue poking out of Safaa’s breast pocket. It was his prison
identification document. He had colored it like an American flag. “Because
really, I love America,” Safaa said, smiling. At the same time, he added,
“America kill me.”
 |
|
A
cellphone photo of Zinah and Safaa Al Shakarchi with their children, Sidrah and Yousif. Photo: Courtesy of Zinah Al Shakarchi |
The
subject line of the email read: “Urgent need help please.”
subject line of the email read: “Urgent need help please.”
Zinah Al
Shakarchi sent it to the Intercept tips address at 5:30 a.m. on January 7. She
described how her husband was in detention, on hunger strike, and how she had
reached out to every legal organization she could find to no avail. She
described how her young son was in a “bad psychic condition,” crying all the
time and trying to hurt himself.
Shakarchi sent it to the Intercept tips address at 5:30 a.m. on January 7. She
described how her husband was in detention, on hunger strike, and how she had
reached out to every legal organization she could find to no avail. She
described how her young son was in a “bad psychic condition,” crying all the
time and trying to hurt himself.
“He think
if he will hurt himself, his father will come to see him,” she wrote.
if he will hurt himself, his father will come to see him,” she wrote.
When we
first spoke two days later, Zinah described how her family had ended up in
their situation. In the weeks that followed, we spoke frequently as Zinah
navigated the complexities of U.S. immigration law. Throughout the process, she
provided every piece of paper she could find to corroborate her family’s
account, including government records from Mexico, the United States, and
Canada, where she and her two young children are currently living.
first spoke two days later, Zinah described how her family had ended up in
their situation. In the weeks that followed, we spoke frequently as Zinah
navigated the complexities of U.S. immigration law. Throughout the process, she
provided every piece of paper she could find to corroborate her family’s
account, including government records from Mexico, the United States, and
Canada, where she and her two young children are currently living.
The
narrative that emerged from those conversations and documents reveals how a man
who has never been accused, charged, or convicted of a crime in the U.S.
nonetheless found himself in indefinite detention on American soil — and the
remarkable lengths his family went to in order to get him back.
narrative that emerged from those conversations and documents reveals how a man
who has never been accused, charged, or convicted of a crime in the U.S.
nonetheless found himself in indefinite detention on American soil — and the
remarkable lengths his family went to in order to get him back.
 |
|
Zinah Al
Shakarchi wears a necklace with an inscription that reads, “May God protect Iraq and its people.” Photo: Michelle Siu for The Intercept |
The story
begins more than seven years ago, in Baghdad.
As part
of a quality-control team with the Ministry of Trade, Zinah inspected food
coming into the country before it was transferred to local retailers. In June
2009, she was inspecting a container of sugar when she detected the smell of
gasoline. She informed her manager that the shipment could not be approved.
of a quality-control team with the Ministry of Trade, Zinah inspected food
coming into the country before it was transferred to local retailers. In June
2009, she was inspecting a container of sugar when she detected the smell of
gasoline. She informed her manager that the shipment could not be approved.
While her
decision might seem straightforward enough, little in Baghdad, by that time,
was that simple. In the years since the U.S. invasion, an array of armed groups
had filled the power vacuum left by Saddam Hussein, grappling for money and
territorial control. Later that day, fighters linked to the Jaysh al-Mahdi
militia showed up at Zinah’s receiving area demanding that she let the sugar
shipment through. The fighters shouted, pointing out to Zinah that she was a
woman. Zinah was unfazed. The receiving area was her domain, and if she said a
shipment wasn’t going through, it wasn’t going through. She yelled back,
telling the fighters to leave.
decision might seem straightforward enough, little in Baghdad, by that time,
was that simple. In the years since the U.S. invasion, an array of armed groups
had filled the power vacuum left by Saddam Hussein, grappling for money and
territorial control. Later that day, fighters linked to the Jaysh al-Mahdi
militia showed up at Zinah’s receiving area demanding that she let the sugar
shipment through. The fighters shouted, pointing out to Zinah that she was a
woman. Zinah was unfazed. The receiving area was her domain, and if she said a
shipment wasn’t going through, it wasn’t going through. She yelled back,
telling the fighters to leave.
The
commander told Zinah that she would suffer the rest of her life for the
decision she made that day. “You will see, crazy woman,” he said.
commander told Zinah that she would suffer the rest of her life for the
decision she made that day. “You will see, crazy woman,” he said.
That
afternoon, as Zinah was leaving work, the militia made good on its threat. At
first, she said, she didn’t feel the gunshot. Then she noticed the blood
pumping from her right arm. The wound was shallow, and Zinah managed to flee
the scene and make it to a hospital. The terror, however, had not subsided.
When she returned to the office two days later to check in with friends and
colleagues, Zinah encountered the distressed father of one her co-workers — his
daughter, a woman named Jenan, had not returned from work the previous day.
afternoon, as Zinah was leaving work, the militia made good on its threat. At
first, she said, she didn’t feel the gunshot. Then she noticed the blood
pumping from her right arm. The wound was shallow, and Zinah managed to flee
the scene and make it to a hospital. The terror, however, had not subsided.
When she returned to the office two days later to check in with friends and
colleagues, Zinah encountered the distressed father of one her co-workers — his
daughter, a woman named Jenan, had not returned from work the previous day.
Jenan had
been kidnapped from the receiving area the day after Zinah’s confrontation with
the militia. Her body, bearing evidence of torture, was found in a garbage bin
the following day. In the aftermath of the murder, Zinah said her manager
encouraged her to take an extended leave of absence, reminding her that she was
an unmarried virgin, and that the men she was up against were capable of
anything.
been kidnapped from the receiving area the day after Zinah’s confrontation with
the militia. Her body, bearing evidence of torture, was found in a garbage bin
the following day. In the aftermath of the murder, Zinah said her manager
encouraged her to take an extended leave of absence, reminding her that she was
an unmarried virgin, and that the men she was up against were capable of
anything.
Hiding
out and nursing her injury, Zinah was visited by her second cousin Safaa. For
six years, Safaa had been living in the UAE, and like Zinah, his life had been
touched by violence. In 2003, after a series of clashes with powerful figures
in the Baath party, Safaa said he had helped prevent the kidnapping of a
Christian neighbor’s daughters by Saddam’s sadistic son Uday. He soon fled the
country.
out and nursing her injury, Zinah was visited by her second cousin Safaa. For
six years, Safaa had been living in the UAE, and like Zinah, his life had been
touched by violence. In 2003, after a series of clashes with powerful figures
in the Baath party, Safaa said he had helped prevent the kidnapping of a
Christian neighbor’s daughters by Saddam’s sadistic son Uday. He soon fled the
country.
In 2006,
while Safaa was in the UAE, Iraqi militants kidnapped his first wife, who was
an employee with the Ministry of Defense and the daughter of an Iraqi general
working with U.S. forces at the time. She escaped her captors by throwing
herself out of a moving vehicle. Safaa said the brush with death left the
mother of his first three children with long-lasting psychological scars. In
2009, she asked for a divorce and subsequently moved to the U.S. with the
children.
while Safaa was in the UAE, Iraqi militants kidnapped his first wife, who was
an employee with the Ministry of Defense and the daughter of an Iraqi general
working with U.S. forces at the time. She escaped her captors by throwing
herself out of a moving vehicle. Safaa said the brush with death left the
mother of his first three children with long-lasting psychological scars. In
2009, she asked for a divorce and subsequently moved to the U.S. with the
children.
During
his visit in Baghdad, Safaa listened as Zinah explained what had happened with
the sugar shipment. When he returned home that night, he found himself unable
to sleep. His mind turned to his ex-wife, what she had endured, and the toll it
had taken. Zinah would not stand down, he reasoned, no matter the threat.
Unfortunately, neither would the militia. When Safaa awoke the next morning, he
made a decision. He called his office in Abu Dhabi and said he needed a few
more days in Baghdad. He then headed back to Zinah’s home and asked her to
marry him.
his visit in Baghdad, Safaa listened as Zinah explained what had happened with
the sugar shipment. When he returned home that night, he found himself unable
to sleep. His mind turned to his ex-wife, what she had endured, and the toll it
had taken. Zinah would not stand down, he reasoned, no matter the threat.
Unfortunately, neither would the militia. When Safaa awoke the next morning, he
made a decision. He called his office in Abu Dhabi and said he needed a few
more days in Baghdad. He then headed back to Zinah’s home and asked her to
marry him.
Zinah was
surprised. She asked Safaa if he was asking because he was afraid for her. No,
he said, it was because she was a brave woman. Zinah liked the answer. A week
later, the pair were married at Zinah’s home, her arm still bandaged, and
soon after, they left to start a life together in the Emirates.
surprised. She asked Safaa if he was asking because he was afraid for her. No,
he said, it was because she was a brave woman. Zinah liked the answer. A week
later, the pair were married at Zinah’s home, her arm still bandaged, and
soon after, they left to start a life together in the Emirates.
“It’s a
love story,” Zinah told me, quietly laughing as she remembered those early days
— nothing like the hell the family was living through now.
love story,” Zinah told me, quietly laughing as she remembered those early days
— nothing like the hell the family was living through now.
The years
that followed were happy and stable, Zinah said. Safaa had a solid job as a
maintenance manager in Abu Dhabi with some 300 employees under his supervision.
Zinah eventually found work as a medical lab technician.
that followed were happy and stable, Zinah said. Safaa had a solid job as a
maintenance manager in Abu Dhabi with some 300 employees under his supervision.
Zinah eventually found work as a medical lab technician.
Once or
twice a year, Zinah would return to Iraq to renew her leave from work. Each
time, it seemed the situation on the ground had only gotten worse. During one
visit, Zinah came home to find her “friends were disappearing and the honest
people were being killed.” When she arranged plans for a visit in 2013, a
friend informed her that the militia commander she confronted had only grown in
power — and he had not forgotten the woman who yelled at him in front of his
men.
twice a year, Zinah would return to Iraq to renew her leave from work. Each
time, it seemed the situation on the ground had only gotten worse. During one
visit, Zinah came home to find her “friends were disappearing and the honest
people were being killed.” When she arranged plans for a visit in 2013, a
friend informed her that the militia commander she confronted had only grown in
power — and he had not forgotten the woman who yelled at him in front of his
men.
Safaa,
too, experienced his share of troubles in visits to Iraq, including a 2012
run-in with al Hakeem militia members that led to a beating and death threats.
When Safaa returned the following year, those threats persisted. He was told
that if he ever returned, he would be killed.
too, experienced his share of troubles in visits to Iraq, including a 2012
run-in with al Hakeem militia members that led to a beating and death threats.
When Safaa returned the following year, those threats persisted. He was told
that if he ever returned, he would be killed.
In
February 2016, the Shakarchis planned a 20-day visit to their home country.
Safaa’s sister was getting married, and skipping her ceremony was out of the
question. Four days after arriving in Iraq, Safaa walked outside to find an
envelope on his car. Inside was a bullet. The message was clear: Leave Iraq
now, or die.
February 2016, the Shakarchis planned a 20-day visit to their home country.
Safaa’s sister was getting married, and skipping her ceremony was out of the
question. Four days after arriving in Iraq, Safaa walked outside to find an
envelope on his car. Inside was a bullet. The message was clear: Leave Iraq
now, or die.
The
family flew out the next day. After so many weeks preparing for the wedding,
they didn’t even have the time to say goodbye to their family and friends. It
was the last time the family set foot in Iraq.
family flew out the next day. After so many weeks preparing for the wedding,
they didn’t even have the time to say goodbye to their family and friends. It
was the last time the family set foot in Iraq.
 |
|
Zinah Al
Shakarchi holds her husband Safaa’s wedding ring. Photo: Michelle Siu for The Intercept |
Leaving
forever was difficult, but life was good in the UAE. Then, in the summer of
2016, everything came crashing down.
forever was difficult, but life was good in the UAE. Then, in the summer of
2016, everything came crashing down.
It was
the holy month of Ramadan and the Shakarchis were five minutes away from
breaking their fast when the phone rang. The voice on the other end of the line
belonged to an official from the Criminal Investigation Department in Abu
Dhabi. They wanted Safaa to come to their office, with his passport.
the holy month of Ramadan and the Shakarchis were five minutes away from
breaking their fast when the phone rang. The voice on the other end of the line
belonged to an official from the Criminal Investigation Department in Abu
Dhabi. They wanted Safaa to come to their office, with his passport.
The call
wasn’t exactly a surprise. The Shakarchis are Shia, and in recent years, the
UAE has systematically expelled thousands of Shia Muslims from numerous
countries — including Pakistan, Syria, Lebanon, and Iraq. During his 13 years
in the UAE, Safaa had done what he could to ward off potential displacement. He
stopped going to the mosque and bought alcohol with his credit card in hopes of
sending a message to the UAE’s formidable surveillance state that he was not
religious. All that mattered to him, he later said, was his family, his job,
and “fishing sometime in the sea in the end of the week.”
wasn’t exactly a surprise. The Shakarchis are Shia, and in recent years, the
UAE has systematically expelled thousands of Shia Muslims from numerous
countries — including Pakistan, Syria, Lebanon, and Iraq. During his 13 years
in the UAE, Safaa had done what he could to ward off potential displacement. He
stopped going to the mosque and bought alcohol with his credit card in hopes of
sending a message to the UAE’s formidable surveillance state that he was not
religious. All that mattered to him, he later said, was his family, his job,
and “fishing sometime in the sea in the end of the week.”
Safaa
knew he was fighting an uphill battle. Three years earlier, his brother had
been expelled from the UAE, so when Safaa visited the CID office, he left his
passport behind. The office canceled Safaa’s visa electronically nonetheless,
invalidating the family’s legal status in the country. They were given 24 hours
to leave. The timing was terrible. Sidrah was in the hospital at the time,
suffering from a severe asthma attack. According to the Shakarchis, the doctor
overseeing Sidrah’s care pushed back on the expulsion. Then the doctor herself
got a phone call from the government: If she didn’t release the girl, she would
be expelled as well.
knew he was fighting an uphill battle. Three years earlier, his brother had
been expelled from the UAE, so when Safaa visited the CID office, he left his
passport behind. The office canceled Safaa’s visa electronically nonetheless,
invalidating the family’s legal status in the country. They were given 24 hours
to leave. The timing was terrible. Sidrah was in the hospital at the time,
suffering from a severe asthma attack. According to the Shakarchis, the doctor
overseeing Sidrah’s care pushed back on the expulsion. Then the doctor herself
got a phone call from the government: If she didn’t release the girl, she would
be expelled as well.
Forced to
pay a fine for their delayed departure, Safaa and Zinah had no idea what to do.
Iraq was obviously a no-go. Not only were there pre-existing threats, but just
days before the family was expelled, the Islamic State launched a massive,
coordinated bomb attack in Safaa’s old neighborhood — hundreds of people were
killed. Ultimately, the family decided to fly to Georgia, in Eastern Europe,
where as Iraqi citizens they could stay for 30 days. After nearly three weeks,
the Shakarchis flew to Malaysia, which was also offering 30-day stays for
Iraqis from the Gulf. From Malaysia, they flew to Japan, and from there, to
Mexico City, where they had valid tourist visas. The Shakarchis landed in
Mexico City on August 28, 2016.
pay a fine for their delayed departure, Safaa and Zinah had no idea what to do.
Iraq was obviously a no-go. Not only were there pre-existing threats, but just
days before the family was expelled, the Islamic State launched a massive,
coordinated bomb attack in Safaa’s old neighborhood — hundreds of people were
killed. Ultimately, the family decided to fly to Georgia, in Eastern Europe,
where as Iraqi citizens they could stay for 30 days. After nearly three weeks,
the Shakarchis flew to Malaysia, which was also offering 30-day stays for
Iraqis from the Gulf. From Malaysia, they flew to Japan, and from there, to
Mexico City, where they had valid tourist visas. The Shakarchis landed in
Mexico City on August 28, 2016.
Immediately
after their plane touched down, Zinah and Safaa said, Mexican immigration
officials confiscated their phones and passports, telling them they could not
enter the country because Safaa had previously applied for a U.S. visa. The
family protested, asking why, if they were not permitted to enter the
country, had the government granted them tourist visas? For six days, they
waited in the airport. All the while, 3-year-old Sidrah, who had been pulled out
of her medical treatment early, became increasingly ill.
after their plane touched down, Zinah and Safaa said, Mexican immigration
officials confiscated their phones and passports, telling them they could not
enter the country because Safaa had previously applied for a U.S. visa. The
family protested, asking why, if they were not permitted to enter the
country, had the government granted them tourist visas? For six days, they
waited in the airport. All the while, 3-year-old Sidrah, who had been pulled out
of her medical treatment early, became increasingly ill.
During
their search of the Shakarchis’ belongings, the Mexican officials had failed to
uncover a cellphone tucked away in a bag that contained Sidrah’s diapers and
baby supplies. Safaa used the phone to snap a series of photos of the room
where they were being held. Connecting to airport Wi-Fi, Zinah sent the photos
to her brother, who in turn got the images to an Iraqi consular official in
Mexico City, who began asking questions of his Mexican counterparts.
their search of the Shakarchis’ belongings, the Mexican officials had failed to
uncover a cellphone tucked away in a bag that contained Sidrah’s diapers and
baby supplies. Safaa used the phone to snap a series of photos of the room
where they were being held. Connecting to airport Wi-Fi, Zinah sent the photos
to her brother, who in turn got the images to an Iraqi consular official in
Mexico City, who began asking questions of his Mexican counterparts.
That
night, Mexican authorities approached Safaa, demanding that he turn over the
phone and explaining that he needed to come with them. It was nearly midnight
and Safaa was afraid — he’d heard about kidnappings in Mexico and people who
disappeared and never came back. He refused to go. The officials punched him
and kicked him as his children looked on. The beating aggravated an old back
injury, leaving Safaa paralyzed with pain on the airport floor.
night, Mexican authorities approached Safaa, demanding that he turn over the
phone and explaining that he needed to come with them. It was nearly midnight
and Safaa was afraid — he’d heard about kidnappings in Mexico and people who
disappeared and never came back. He refused to go. The officials punched him
and kicked him as his children looked on. The beating aggravated an old back
injury, leaving Safaa paralyzed with pain on the airport floor.
A doctor
was called to the scene, Safaa was given an injection, and the family was
relocated to an off-site immigration detention center in Mexico City, where
they remained for nearly two weeks, until the arrival of a group of
English-speaking human rights workers. Throughout the ordeal, Zinah had pleaded
with Mexican officials, telling them her daughter’s asthma was worsening and
that she needed medical care.
was called to the scene, Safaa was given an injection, and the family was
relocated to an off-site immigration detention center in Mexico City, where
they remained for nearly two weeks, until the arrival of a group of
English-speaking human rights workers. Throughout the ordeal, Zinah had pleaded
with Mexican officials, telling them her daughter’s asthma was worsening and
that she needed medical care.
The human
rights workers agreed the Shakarchis’ detention was unlawful, and that Sidrah
urgently needed medical attention. The following day, they returned with a
doctor and a lawyer. The Shakarchis were told that if they signed paperwork
applying for refugee status with Mexico’s Commission for Refugee Assistance,
known as COMAR, they could be released. They did so and were soon moved to a facility
run by a resettlement organization in Mexico City.
rights workers agreed the Shakarchis’ detention was unlawful, and that Sidrah
urgently needed medical attention. The following day, they returned with a
doctor and a lawyer. The Shakarchis were told that if they signed paperwork
applying for refugee status with Mexico’s Commission for Refugee Assistance,
known as COMAR, they could be released. They did so and were soon moved to a facility
run by a resettlement organization in Mexico City.
In the
four months that followed, the family was provided temporary shelter by the
organization as they applied for asylum in Mexico. Without authorization to
work, Safaa and Zinah became desperate. In November, the family received a
letter from Mexican immigration authorities, written in Spanish and laden with
legal jargon, indicating that while COMAR considered them refugees, their
petition to regularize their immigration status on the basis of family bonds
was inadmissible. They had until early January to figure out what to do.
Homelessness in Mexico was not an option, so they decided to fly north, to the
city of Reynosa.
four months that followed, the family was provided temporary shelter by the
organization as they applied for asylum in Mexico. Without authorization to
work, Safaa and Zinah became desperate. In November, the family received a
letter from Mexican immigration authorities, written in Spanish and laden with
legal jargon, indicating that while COMAR considered them refugees, their
petition to regularize their immigration status on the basis of family bonds
was inadmissible. They had until early January to figure out what to do.
Homelessness in Mexico was not an option, so they decided to fly north, to the
city of Reynosa.
Situated
across the border from Texas, in the state of Tamaulipas, Reynosa is among the
most dangerous cities in Mexico, a place where kidnappings for ransom are
common, organized crime reigns, and murders go unsolved. The Shakarchis were
aware of the risks they faced when they landed at the airport on January 14,
2017. They grabbed a taxi and asked the driver to take them straight to the
U.S. port of entry. Two hundred pesos, he said. The family agreed. Pulling up
to the bridge, the driver informed Safaa that the fee would actually be $200 —
about 20 times the initial price.
across the border from Texas, in the state of Tamaulipas, Reynosa is among the
most dangerous cities in Mexico, a place where kidnappings for ransom are
common, organized crime reigns, and murders go unsolved. The Shakarchis were
aware of the risks they faced when they landed at the airport on January 14,
2017. They grabbed a taxi and asked the driver to take them straight to the
U.S. port of entry. Two hundred pesos, he said. The family agreed. Pulling up
to the bridge, the driver informed Safaa that the fee would actually be $200 —
about 20 times the initial price.
It was
either that, the driver said, or “I’ll take you to someone else.” Terrified,
Safaa paid the money and the family began their walk to the border.
either that, the driver said, or “I’ll take you to someone else.” Terrified,
Safaa paid the money and the family began their walk to the border.
 |
|
Zinah Al
Shakarchi with her children, Yousif and Sidrah, in Mississauga, Ontario, on Jan. 14, 2018. Photo: Michelle Siu for The Intercept |
All
through 2016, as the Shakarchi family searched for a place to live, a storm of
anti-immigrant sentiment was swirling around the world. In the U.S., the
movement was embodied by Donald Trump’s successful presidential bid. Trump’s
vows to restore law and order were a hit with the people tasked with
securing the border and maintaining the nation’s sprawling immigration
enforcement apparatus. Ironically, they also appeared to embolden some
potentially unlawful activity. A month after his election, the Washington Post reported
a dramatic rise in asylum-seekers turned away at the southern border without
cause — those claims were later amplified in multiple human rights
reports and are now the subject of a major class-action
lawsuit.
through 2016, as the Shakarchi family searched for a place to live, a storm of
anti-immigrant sentiment was swirling around the world. In the U.S., the
movement was embodied by Donald Trump’s successful presidential bid. Trump’s
vows to restore law and order were a hit with the people tasked with
securing the border and maintaining the nation’s sprawling immigration
enforcement apparatus. Ironically, they also appeared to embolden some
potentially unlawful activity. A month after his election, the Washington Post reported
a dramatic rise in asylum-seekers turned away at the southern border without
cause — those claims were later amplified in multiple human rights
reports and are now the subject of a major class-action
lawsuit.
This was the
political context Safaa, Zinah, and their children were walking into as they
crossed the bridge into McAllen. As it happened, though, they weren’t turned
away at the border. Instead, Safaa ultimately landed at the Laredo Processing
Center. Zinah and the kids, meanwhile, were placed in the South Texas Family
Residential Center, a behemoth facility in Dilley, Texas, set up by the Obama
administration to house mothers and children during a surge of Central
Americans to the U.S. Both facilities are operated by CoreCivic, formerly known
as Corrections Corporation of America, the nation’s second-largest private
prison corporation.
political context Safaa, Zinah, and their children were walking into as they
crossed the bridge into McAllen. As it happened, though, they weren’t turned
away at the border. Instead, Safaa ultimately landed at the Laredo Processing
Center. Zinah and the kids, meanwhile, were placed in the South Texas Family
Residential Center, a behemoth facility in Dilley, Texas, set up by the Obama
administration to house mothers and children during a surge of Central
Americans to the U.S. Both facilities are operated by CoreCivic, formerly known
as Corrections Corporation of America, the nation’s second-largest private
prison corporation.
When a
person comes to the U.S. seeking asylum, the first step in the process
generally involves a conversation with a Customs and Border Protection officer,
who will ask the individual if they fear being returned to their home country.
If the answer is yes, the individual will then receive a credible fear
interview. Typically administered by an asylum officer with U.S. Citizenship and
Immigration Services, the interview is intended to more concretely determine
whether a person has a credible fear of being persecuted or tortured upon
return to their home country. If the individual passes that interview, the case
will then go before a judge, who will determine whether or not to grant asylum.
person comes to the U.S. seeking asylum, the first step in the process
generally involves a conversation with a Customs and Border Protection officer,
who will ask the individual if they fear being returned to their home country.
If the answer is yes, the individual will then receive a credible fear
interview. Typically administered by an asylum officer with U.S. Citizenship and
Immigration Services, the interview is intended to more concretely determine
whether a person has a credible fear of being persecuted or tortured upon
return to their home country. If the individual passes that interview, the case
will then go before a judge, who will determine whether or not to grant asylum.
The
duration of the asylum process can vary, and in the past, asylum-seekers were
often released as their cases moved through the system. Under Trump, however,
the number of asylum-seekers granted parole has fallen dramatically.
duration of the asylum process can vary, and in the past, asylum-seekers were
often released as their cases moved through the system. Under Trump, however,
the number of asylum-seekers granted parole has fallen dramatically.
The
Shakarchis both passed their credible fear interviews. While Zinah had no
complaints about the conditions at the center in Dilley, detention was
difficult. It took time just to figure out where Safaa was being held. When she
finally reached him by telephone, she was in tears. “Just be patient,” Safaa
said, telling his wife they would be reunited soon.
Shakarchis both passed their credible fear interviews. While Zinah had no
complaints about the conditions at the center in Dilley, detention was
difficult. It took time just to figure out where Safaa was being held. When she
finally reached him by telephone, she was in tears. “Just be patient,” Safaa
said, telling his wife they would be reunited soon.
Zinah and
the children were released on parole after 12 days in detention, their case
still open. They traveled to Dallas, where Safaa’s brother lives. He helped
them find a cheap apartment and a car to get around. Based on conversations
with U.S. officials at the border, Zinah expected her husband would be a couple
of weeks behind her in his release.
the children were released on parole after 12 days in detention, their case
still open. They traveled to Dallas, where Safaa’s brother lives. He helped
them find a cheap apartment and a car to get around. Based on conversations
with U.S. officials at the border, Zinah expected her husband would be a couple
of weeks behind her in his release.
Yet those
weeks turned into months. The little news Zinah received about Safaa’s
situation was not good. According to the family, Immigration and Customs
Enforcement denied Safaa parole in April because he could not prove that he was
not a flight risk. An ICE supervisor also denied a $25,000 bond recommendation
from one of his subordinates, the family says, because of Safaa’s nationality
and religion.
weeks turned into months. The little news Zinah received about Safaa’s
situation was not good. According to the family, Immigration and Customs
Enforcement denied Safaa parole in April because he could not prove that he was
not a flight risk. An ICE supervisor also denied a $25,000 bond recommendation
from one of his subordinates, the family says, because of Safaa’s nationality
and religion.
On July
26, 2017, after more than seven months in detention, Safaa had his asylum
hearing before an immigration judge. In years past, Laredo detainees would have
their immigration hearings via teleconference with a judge in San Antonio. That
changed following Trump’s inauguration. Under the new administration, a surge
of judges was sent to the border in one- to two-week stints. Laredo set up
face-to-face immigration hearings, overseen by a security guard, in March.
26, 2017, after more than seven months in detention, Safaa had his asylum
hearing before an immigration judge. In years past, Laredo detainees would have
their immigration hearings via teleconference with a judge in San Antonio. That
changed following Trump’s inauguration. Under the new administration, a surge
of judges was sent to the border in one- to two-week stints. Laredo set up
face-to-face immigration hearings, overseen by a security guard, in March.
The
increased number of judges was designed to churn through the tide of
purportedly dangerous migrants streaming across the border that Trump had
warned about on the campaign trail. But after Trump was elected, Border Patrol
apprehensions, the metric the government uses to gauge the flow of illegal
border crossings, dropped to levels not seen since the 1970s, leaving so-called
detail judges in many courts with little to do.
increased number of judges was designed to churn through the tide of
purportedly dangerous migrants streaming across the border that Trump had
warned about on the campaign trail. But after Trump was elected, Border Patrol
apprehensions, the metric the government uses to gauge the flow of illegal
border crossings, dropped to levels not seen since the 1970s, leaving so-called
detail judges in many courts with little to do.
In
October, while Safaa was still in detention, a pair of reporters from the
Marshall Project and “This American Life” visited the court and found the
disarray there was beyond anything else seen in the wake of Trump’s surge in
judges. The joint report,
published in January, also highlighted the work of Paola Marielle Tostado, a
25-year-old immigration attorney, two years out of law school, who was
described as “a real Texas highway rider lawyer from Brownsville” who
“announced her presence with a scarlet dress and 4-inch spike heels.”
October, while Safaa was still in detention, a pair of reporters from the
Marshall Project and “This American Life” visited the court and found the
disarray there was beyond anything else seen in the wake of Trump’s surge in
judges. The joint report,
published in January, also highlighted the work of Paola Marielle Tostado, a
25-year-old immigration attorney, two years out of law school, who was
described as “a real Texas highway rider lawyer from Brownsville” who
“announced her presence with a scarlet dress and 4-inch spike heels.”
The
Shakarchis hired Tostado to represent Safaa. Their aim was asylum and
preventing Safaa’s deportation to Iraq. It did not go well.
Shakarchis hired Tostado to represent Safaa. Their aim was asylum and
preventing Safaa’s deportation to Iraq. It did not go well.
 |
|
A drawing
by Yousif Al Shakarchi, 7, whose father, Safaa, was held for more than a year at an immigration detention center in Laredo, Texas, after filing for asylum. Photo: Michelle Siu for The Intercept |
The
detail judge in Safaa’s hearing was Glen R. Baker. Appointed by the Obama
administration in 2014, Baker normally presides over the Kansas City
immigration court. According to the Transactional
Records Access Clearinghouse, or TRAC, a research center at
Syracuse University, from 2012 through 2017, Baker had an asylum denial rate of
71.3 percent, placing him above the national average of 52.8 percent.
According
to audio obtained by The Intercept, the hearing was initially attended by
Safaa, Tostado, Baker, and a guard watching over the proceedings. The hearing
was also facilitated by an Arabic translator who teleconferenced in. The
addition of the translator, whose dialect was Egyptian, seemed to complicate the
conversation, rather than improve it. The audio connection was poor, and after
a garbled translation of one of his answers about life under Saddam Hussein,
Safaa volunteered to answer questions in his limited English.
to audio obtained by The Intercept, the hearing was initially attended by
Safaa, Tostado, Baker, and a guard watching over the proceedings. The hearing
was also facilitated by an Arabic translator who teleconferenced in. The
addition of the translator, whose dialect was Egyptian, seemed to complicate the
conversation, rather than improve it. The audio connection was poor, and after
a garbled translation of one of his answers about life under Saddam Hussein,
Safaa volunteered to answer questions in his limited English.
“If I’m
not understand English, they can translate,” Safaa said. Baker agreed.
not understand English, they can translate,” Safaa said. Baker agreed.
Geographically,
Safaa’s story placed him apart from the asylum cases Baker normally handles. In
recent years, TRAC data shows, just 1.2 percent of asylum-seekers appearing
before Baker came from a Middle Eastern country. “Is Abu Dhabi a city or a
country?” Baker asked Safaa. It is the capital, Safaa replied.
Safaa’s story placed him apart from the asylum cases Baker normally handles. In
recent years, TRAC data shows, just 1.2 percent of asylum-seekers appearing
before Baker came from a Middle Eastern country. “Is Abu Dhabi a city or a
country?” Baker asked Safaa. It is the capital, Safaa replied.
Safaa
answered a series of questions from Tostado, explaining the 14-year saga that
brought him from Baghdad to Laredo. In addition to Safaa’s repeated visits
to Iraq, Baker homed in on a line of questioning related to the Shakarchis’
time in Mexico. Tostado had noted that while they were in Mexico, the family
had applied for asylum and been granted refugee status. “In Mexico, when you’re
a refugee, you cannot work,” she explained, pointing to Mexican documents the
Shakarchis had received, “so they applied for work authorization and that was
denied.”
answered a series of questions from Tostado, explaining the 14-year saga that
brought him from Baghdad to Laredo. In addition to Safaa’s repeated visits
to Iraq, Baker homed in on a line of questioning related to the Shakarchis’
time in Mexico. Tostado had noted that while they were in Mexico, the family
had applied for asylum and been granted refugee status. “In Mexico, when you’re
a refugee, you cannot work,” she explained, pointing to Mexican documents the
Shakarchis had received, “so they applied for work authorization and that was
denied.”
By that
point, a lawyer for the government, ICE attorney Emmanuel Garcia, had arrived.
Garcia agreed the materials in question showed that the family had been
approved as refugees, and that “the Mexican government was already telling
them, ‘You have refugee status. If you want to obtain a different legal status
in this country, all you have to do is apply for humanitarian reasons.’” The
problem, he speculated, was “that whatever they were applying was maybe perhaps
not the right application or not the correct type of relief that they should
have sought from the government.”
point, a lawyer for the government, ICE attorney Emmanuel Garcia, had arrived.
Garcia agreed the materials in question showed that the family had been
approved as refugees, and that “the Mexican government was already telling
them, ‘You have refugee status. If you want to obtain a different legal status
in this country, all you have to do is apply for humanitarian reasons.’” The
problem, he speculated, was “that whatever they were applying was maybe perhaps
not the right application or not the correct type of relief that they should
have sought from the government.”
For
Baker, the point was critical. If the Shakarchis were granted status in another
country, then they were barred from asylum in the U.S. Safaa and Tostado argued
that the family did file for an adjustment in their status that would allow
them to work in Mexico. Safaa said the process was supposed to take two weeks,
but he waited two months and heard nothing. Eventually, it got to the point
where the family could no longer stay in the shelter, nor could they work and
feed their children, thus prompting them to make the trip to the U.S.
Baker, the point was critical. If the Shakarchis were granted status in another
country, then they were barred from asylum in the U.S. Safaa and Tostado argued
that the family did file for an adjustment in their status that would allow
them to work in Mexico. Safaa said the process was supposed to take two weeks,
but he waited two months and heard nothing. Eventually, it got to the point
where the family could no longer stay in the shelter, nor could they work and
feed their children, thus prompting them to make the trip to the U.S.
None of
that mattered in the view of the court. Safaa’s opportunity for asylum
collapsed, leaving a withholding of removal to Iraq as his only hope for a
positive outcome.
that mattered in the view of the court. Safaa’s opportunity for asylum
collapsed, leaving a withholding of removal to Iraq as his only hope for a
positive outcome.
After a
brutal cross-examination by the ICE attorney, during which Safaa appeared
unable to follow many of the questions, Baker announced his decision, which was
about as far from the Shakarchis’ hopes as it could get. He dismissed Safaa’s
asylum claim on account of the family’s status in Mexico and his conclusion
that Safaa did not fit into any of the five protected groups that qualify for
asylum under U.S. law. Similarly, he concluded, the United Nations convention
against torture did not apply in Safaa’s case. “Now, your wife may have a
claim, I don’t think she has a claim for asylum because she was granted relief
in Mexico, but she may have a claim for withholding of removal,” he told Safaa.
brutal cross-examination by the ICE attorney, during which Safaa appeared
unable to follow many of the questions, Baker announced his decision, which was
about as far from the Shakarchis’ hopes as it could get. He dismissed Safaa’s
asylum claim on account of the family’s status in Mexico and his conclusion
that Safaa did not fit into any of the five protected groups that qualify for
asylum under U.S. law. Similarly, he concluded, the United Nations convention
against torture did not apply in Safaa’s case. “Now, your wife may have a
claim, I don’t think she has a claim for asylum because she was granted relief
in Mexico, but she may have a claim for withholding of removal,” he told Safaa.
Critically,
Baker added, “withholding of removal applications are singular. She has her
application, you have yours, and if she is granted relief, it doesn’t help your
case.” The judge ordered Safaa to be deported to either Mexico or Iraq. He
informed the family that they had the right to appeal but added that the
process would likely mean at least five more months in detention. “I do not
have authority to let you out in the meantime, while you wait for your appeal
to be decided, because you’re classified as an arriving alien,” he said.
Baker added, “withholding of removal applications are singular. She has her
application, you have yours, and if she is granted relief, it doesn’t help your
case.” The judge ordered Safaa to be deported to either Mexico or Iraq. He
informed the family that they had the right to appeal but added that the
process would likely mean at least five more months in detention. “I do not
have authority to let you out in the meantime, while you wait for your appeal
to be decided, because you’re classified as an arriving alien,” he said.
“The
immigration law of the United States does not encompass all treatment that
society regards as unfair, unjust, or even unlawful or unconstitutional,” Baker
went on to say. “I know this isn’t the outcome that you were hoping for, but
I’ve done my best to apply the law to your case, and I believe it’s the correct
decision”
immigration law of the United States does not encompass all treatment that
society regards as unfair, unjust, or even unlawful or unconstitutional,” Baker
went on to say. “I know this isn’t the outcome that you were hoping for, but
I’ve done my best to apply the law to your case, and I believe it’s the correct
decision”
“Good
luck to you, sir,” the judge told Safaa. “Good luck to you, ma’am,” he said to
Zinah. “That’s all for today.”
luck to you, sir,” the judge told Safaa. “Good luck to you, ma’am,” he said to
Zinah. “That’s all for today.”
Safaa was
returned to detention. On August 13, the Shakarchis say they submitted a
request to ICE for an appeal document and other materials related to his case.
On August 25, the day the appeal needed to be filed, ICE responded, the family
says, asking what documents Safaa required.
returned to detention. On August 13, the Shakarchis say they submitted a
request to ICE for an appeal document and other materials related to his case.
On August 25, the day the appeal needed to be filed, ICE responded, the family
says, asking what documents Safaa required.
In the
end, no appeal was filed.
end, no appeal was filed.
 |
|
Yousif Al
Shakarchi plays in the basement apartment where he lives in Mississauga, Ontario, on Jan. 14, 2018. Photo: Michelle Siu for The Intercept |
It seemed
there was nowhere in the world the Shakarchis could be together, and that the
most powerful government on the planet was bent on keeping it that way.
Day after
day, Safaa was tormented by the idea that he would be sent to a war zone, a
place he hadn’t lived for more than a decade, that he wouldn’t be able to see
his children grow up, and that it was all because he came to the U.S. looking
for help. To him, it felt like an unfathomably cruel punishment for an eminently
understandable act.
day, Safaa was tormented by the idea that he would be sent to a war zone, a
place he hadn’t lived for more than a decade, that he wouldn’t be able to see
his children grow up, and that it was all because he came to the U.S. looking
for help. To him, it felt like an unfathomably cruel punishment for an eminently
understandable act.
Safaa
bonded with the men in his hall, who came from all over the world. He thought a
lot about private prisons, calculating how much money the whole operation must
be making. But mostly, he slept. It was the only way to turn off the world
around him. As time went on, his thoughts grew darker. Sitting across the table
in the Laredo detention center, he told me he had no doubt that he would be
killed if he were sent back to Iraq. But even that, he said, would be
preferable to the unending limbo he had found himself in.
bonded with the men in his hall, who came from all over the world. He thought a
lot about private prisons, calculating how much money the whole operation must
be making. But mostly, he slept. It was the only way to turn off the world
around him. As time went on, his thoughts grew darker. Sitting across the table
in the Laredo detention center, he told me he had no doubt that he would be
killed if he were sent back to Iraq. But even that, he said, would be
preferable to the unending limbo he had found himself in.
The
meetings with ICE were particularly difficult, Safaa said, full of raised
expectations and dashed hopes. “They just lie, lie, lie,” he said.
meetings with ICE were particularly difficult, Safaa said, full of raised
expectations and dashed hopes. “They just lie, lie, lie,” he said.
With
their attorney gone and their savings dwindling, Zinah took it upon herself to
become Safaa’s primary advocate and made understanding his options her
full-time job — this on top of raising two young children on her own in a
country she did not know.
their attorney gone and their savings dwindling, Zinah took it upon herself to
become Safaa’s primary advocate and made understanding his options her
full-time job — this on top of raising two young children on her own in a
country she did not know.
From
outside the detention center walls, she struggled with the faceless
bureaucrats who kept Safaa locked up. She would call his deportation
officer over and over, pressing him to find a resolution in the case. She
contacted every legal organization she could find. It seemed nobody had the
time or the resources to help. In a country where the immigration court backlog
includes more than 650,000 cases, it’s not difficult to understand why.
outside the detention center walls, she struggled with the faceless
bureaucrats who kept Safaa locked up. She would call his deportation
officer over and over, pressing him to find a resolution in the case. She
contacted every legal organization she could find. It seemed nobody had the
time or the resources to help. In a country where the immigration court backlog
includes more than 650,000 cases, it’s not difficult to understand why.
Zinah
read about a lawsuit known as Hamama v. Adducci that seemed promising at first.
The case has its roots in Trump’s ban on travelers coming to the U.S. from
seven Muslim-majority nations, which initially included Iraq. In years past,
the U.S. government struggled to deport people to Iraq, in part because of the
country’s refusal to issue the necessary travel documents. That changed with
the travel ban.
read about a lawsuit known as Hamama v. Adducci that seemed promising at first.
The case has its roots in Trump’s ban on travelers coming to the U.S. from
seven Muslim-majority nations, which initially included Iraq. In years past,
the U.S. government struggled to deport people to Iraq, in part because of the
country’s refusal to issue the necessary travel documents. That changed with
the travel ban.
Following
negotiations with the administration, the Iraqi government agreed in March to
begin accepting deported citizens in exchange for removal from Trump’s list.
Three months later, ICE launched a series of operations targeting Iraqis with
prior removal orders. A total of 234 Iraqis were arrested; more than 1,210
others became official targets for deportation.
negotiations with the administration, the Iraqi government agreed in March to
begin accepting deported citizens in exchange for removal from Trump’s list.
Three months later, ICE launched a series of operations targeting Iraqis with
prior removal orders. A total of 234 Iraqis were arrested; more than 1,210
others became official targets for deportation.
The
Iraqis in ICE’s crosshairs had, for the most part, been living in the U.S. for
years under government supervision and included a significant number of Iraqi
Christians. The sweeps prompted a class-action lawsuit filed by the American
Civil Liberties Union, with the organization arguing its clients be permitted
to have their cases heard before an immigration judge, on the grounds that
their swift deportation would expose them to persecution, torture, and possible
death upon their return to Iraq.
Iraqis in ICE’s crosshairs had, for the most part, been living in the U.S. for
years under government supervision and included a significant number of Iraqi
Christians. The sweeps prompted a class-action lawsuit filed by the American
Civil Liberties Union, with the organization arguing its clients be permitted
to have their cases heard before an immigration judge, on the grounds that
their swift deportation would expose them to persecution, torture, and possible
death upon their return to Iraq.
Hamama v.
Adducci was filed in Michigan because much of ICE’s enforcement efforts were
concentrated there. The case took on national significance in July, when U.S.
District Judge Mark Goldsmith issued a nationwide stay of removal temporarily
protecting Iraqis swept up in ICE’s operations. According to Margo Schlanger, a
former Department of Homeland Security chief of civil rights and civil
liberties who is now a professor at University of Michigan Law School and an
attorney on the Hamama suit, Safaa just barely missed the deadline to be
included in the class-action suit.
Adducci was filed in Michigan because much of ICE’s enforcement efforts were
concentrated there. The case took on national significance in July, when U.S.
District Judge Mark Goldsmith issued a nationwide stay of removal temporarily
protecting Iraqis swept up in ICE’s operations. According to Margo Schlanger, a
former Department of Homeland Security chief of civil rights and civil
liberties who is now a professor at University of Michigan Law School and an
attorney on the Hamama suit, Safaa just barely missed the deadline to be
included in the class-action suit.
Still,
she added, his case could raise important questions in the ongoing litigation.
she added, his case could raise important questions in the ongoing litigation.
Both the
Shakarchis and Tostado said ICE’s efforts to deport Safaa to Iraq were hampered
by Iraq’s refusal to accept him. The reason why is unclear.
Despite receiving a detailed list of questions, the only comment ICE would
make to me about Safaa’s case was to confirm that he was being detained. The
Iraqi embassy did not respond to repeated requests for clarification; whether
ICE made any headway in negotiations with Mexican government is similarly
uncertain. In recent filings in the Hamama case, however, government witnesses
argued that ICE’s “only impediment” to deporting people to Iraq was
Goldsmith’s current injunction. Safaa was not protected by the injunction,
meaning that if the government’s representations to the court were accurate,
ICE should have had no trouble deporting him, but that didn’t happen.
Shakarchis and Tostado said ICE’s efforts to deport Safaa to Iraq were hampered
by Iraq’s refusal to accept him. The reason why is unclear.
Despite receiving a detailed list of questions, the only comment ICE would
make to me about Safaa’s case was to confirm that he was being detained. The
Iraqi embassy did not respond to repeated requests for clarification; whether
ICE made any headway in negotiations with Mexican government is similarly
uncertain. In recent filings in the Hamama case, however, government witnesses
argued that ICE’s “only impediment” to deporting people to Iraq was
Goldsmith’s current injunction. Safaa was not protected by the injunction,
meaning that if the government’s representations to the court were accurate,
ICE should have had no trouble deporting him, but that didn’t happen.
Schlanger
said Safaa’s case speaks to a deeper murkiness around the ICE-Iraq relationship
and the “breakthrough” deal the administration reached to remove Iraq from
Trump’s list. “The agreement that they’re talking about, this breakthrough,
whenever we try to pin it down, the government refuses to disclose any of the
terms,” Schlanger said. “We don’t really know who they can remove, how many
they can remove, under what conditions they can remove them — we just don’t
know.”
said Safaa’s case speaks to a deeper murkiness around the ICE-Iraq relationship
and the “breakthrough” deal the administration reached to remove Iraq from
Trump’s list. “The agreement that they’re talking about, this breakthrough,
whenever we try to pin it down, the government refuses to disclose any of the
terms,” Schlanger said. “We don’t really know who they can remove, how many
they can remove, under what conditions they can remove them — we just don’t
know.”
That
Safaa’s case could prompt changes or new disclosures in the Hamama litigation
was of little use to Zinah. The lawsuit offered no protections for Safaa, and
that was all that mattered to her.
Safaa’s case could prompt changes or new disclosures in the Hamama litigation
was of little use to Zinah. The lawsuit offered no protections for Safaa, and
that was all that mattered to her.
Feeling
she had exhausted all of her options, Zinah decided to take the children to
Canada. She hoped doing so might provide the Americans with a viable location
for Safaa’s deportation, but it also meant abandoning her open asylum case in
the U.S. along the way.
she had exhausted all of her options, Zinah decided to take the children to
Canada. She hoped doing so might provide the Americans with a viable location
for Safaa’s deportation, but it also meant abandoning her open asylum case in
the U.S. along the way.
She booked
a flight to Boston, and from there she and the kids traveled to Plattsburgh,
New York. Following a route that’s become popular among asylum-seekers since
Trump’s inauguration, Zinah and the children crossed the border into Quebec on
August 14 and applied for asylum.
a flight to Boston, and from there she and the kids traveled to Plattsburgh,
New York. Following a route that’s become popular among asylum-seekers since
Trump’s inauguration, Zinah and the children crossed the border into Quebec on
August 14 and applied for asylum.
The
family first stayed in a cluster of tents shared with other asylum-seekers,
many of them Haitians, who had also left the U.S. Shortly after arriving, Zinah
suffered an asthma attack and was hospitalized. The family was eventually moved
into a shelter and later an apartment. They were provided a lawyer and
financial assistance. Yousif was enrolled in school and Sidrah in day care.
family first stayed in a cluster of tents shared with other asylum-seekers,
many of them Haitians, who had also left the U.S. Shortly after arriving, Zinah
suffered an asthma attack and was hospitalized. The family was eventually moved
into a shelter and later an apartment. They were provided a lawyer and
financial assistance. Yousif was enrolled in school and Sidrah in day care.
In
October, a week before her court hearing on her asylum case, Zinah learned that
her file had been transferred to Toronto. Once again, she packed up the kids.
This time, they landed in Mississauga, a Toronto suburb. With the help of an
Arabic Facebook group, made up of many similarly displaced Iraqis, Zinah found
a basement apartment and a car to drive. In general, Zinah said, the Canadians
seemed more accommodating and friendly than their American counterparts. “It is
more kind,” she said.
October, a week before her court hearing on her asylum case, Zinah learned that
her file had been transferred to Toronto. Once again, she packed up the kids.
This time, they landed in Mississauga, a Toronto suburb. With the help of an
Arabic Facebook group, made up of many similarly displaced Iraqis, Zinah found
a basement apartment and a car to drive. In general, Zinah said, the Canadians
seemed more accommodating and friendly than their American counterparts. “It is
more kind,” she said.
 |
|
Zinah Al
Shakarchi with her children, Sidrah and Yousif, in their apartment in Mississauga, Ontario, on Jan. 14, 2018. Photo: Michelle Siu for The Intercept |
A fan of
American movies, Zinah once told me her life felt like one, albeit a more
agonizing and never-ending film than she’d ever care to see. For her, the whole
ordeal simply did not make sense. Safaa had done nothing wrong, she would tell
me, and yet he was being punished so severely. “It’s not human,” she said.
“It’s not American.”
American movies, Zinah once told me her life felt like one, albeit a more
agonizing and never-ending film than she’d ever care to see. For her, the whole
ordeal simply did not make sense. Safaa had done nothing wrong, she would tell
me, and yet he was being punished so severely. “It’s not human,” she said.
“It’s not American.”
On at
least the second point, Zinah seemed somewhat mistaken.
least the second point, Zinah seemed somewhat mistaken.
The
Shakarchis lay much of the blame for what happened on Tostado, their former
attorney, for failing to mount a vigorous defense and disappearing on them once
Safaa’s hearing was through. “She kill me,” Safaa said of her representation.
“She just take the money and give me deportation and gone,” he said. “I call, call,
call her and she not answer.”
Shakarchis lay much of the blame for what happened on Tostado, their former
attorney, for failing to mount a vigorous defense and disappearing on them once
Safaa’s hearing was through. “She kill me,” Safaa said of her representation.
“She just take the money and give me deportation and gone,” he said. “I call, call,
call her and she not answer.”
In a
phone call in January, Tostado told me she met with Safaa “more than 10 times”
before his hearing, though she declined to go into much detail about the case.
Consistent with the Shakarchis’ claims that she was unresponsive, Tostado’s
office did not respond to repeated emails and phone calls for further comment
and clarifications following that initial conversation.
phone call in January, Tostado told me she met with Safaa “more than 10 times”
before his hearing, though she declined to go into much detail about the case.
Consistent with the Shakarchis’ claims that she was unresponsive, Tostado’s
office did not respond to repeated emails and phone calls for further comment
and clarifications following that initial conversation.
It was
true that Tostado appeared outmatched by ICE’s more experienced attorney, at
least in the recordings that I obtained. It was also true that she seemed to
vanish when the family was in desperate need of ongoing representation. But to
pin the entire outcome on her would be to miss the bigger picture of what
families like the Shakarchis are up against, and to see Safaa’s case as
something inconsistent with U.S. practices would be a mistake.
true that Tostado appeared outmatched by ICE’s more experienced attorney, at
least in the recordings that I obtained. It was also true that she seemed to
vanish when the family was in desperate need of ongoing representation. But to
pin the entire outcome on her would be to miss the bigger picture of what
families like the Shakarchis are up against, and to see Safaa’s case as
something inconsistent with U.S. practices would be a mistake.
Roughly
70 percent of ICE’s detention facilities are run by private companies. By law,
the agency is required to meet a quota of 34,000 detention beds filled each day.
Under Trump, ICE has sought to bump that number up to 51,000 — a more than
tenfold increase from the roughly 5,000 immigrants detained daily in 1994.
Unfortunately for families like the Shakarchis, the system that funnels people
into these centers is functional only in the sense that it continues to
persist. It is a system in which people routinely wait months, or even
years, before learning whether they will be able to resume their lives again,
and where legal representation is not a given. As Baker, the judge,
pointed out, it is not a system concerned with the messy and often unfair
realities of human lives. It is a system of laws and, as it turns out, the laws
in the U.S. are quite harsh. Often, the best a family can hope for is a bit of
luck.
70 percent of ICE’s detention facilities are run by private companies. By law,
the agency is required to meet a quota of 34,000 detention beds filled each day.
Under Trump, ICE has sought to bump that number up to 51,000 — a more than
tenfold increase from the roughly 5,000 immigrants detained daily in 1994.
Unfortunately for families like the Shakarchis, the system that funnels people
into these centers is functional only in the sense that it continues to
persist. It is a system in which people routinely wait months, or even
years, before learning whether they will be able to resume their lives again,
and where legal representation is not a given. As Baker, the judge,
pointed out, it is not a system concerned with the messy and often unfair
realities of human lives. It is a system of laws and, as it turns out, the laws
in the U.S. are quite harsh. Often, the best a family can hope for is a bit of
luck.
One day,
after a series of phone calls failed to connect her with a live human being,
Zinah decided she had had enough. She wrote an email to Safaa’s
deportation officer. Zoo animals were given better treatment than her family
had received, she told him. To Zinah’s surprise, when she called the detention
center later that day, ICE told her that it was giving the Iraqi embassy one
more week to make a determination. If the embassy failed to do so, there was a
chance Safaa would be released.
after a series of phone calls failed to connect her with a live human being,
Zinah decided she had had enough. She wrote an email to Safaa’s
deportation officer. Zoo animals were given better treatment than her family
had received, she told him. To Zinah’s surprise, when she called the detention
center later that day, ICE told her that it was giving the Iraqi embassy one
more week to make a determination. If the embassy failed to do so, there was a
chance Safaa would be released.
Zinah’s
hopes were soaring when, two days later, Safaa received an envelope from the
Executive Office of Immigration Review, or EOIR, the branch of the Justice
Department that oversees the nation’s immigration courts. Obtaining a full
record of Safaa’s hearing had become a focus for both of us. The Shakarchis
hoped it would show that their case was mishandled. I wanted to confirm exactly
what was said in the proceeding, though I had my doubts about whether it would
make a difference in Safaa’s situation. We both filed freedom of information
requests with the EOIR.
hopes were soaring when, two days later, Safaa received an envelope from the
Executive Office of Immigration Review, or EOIR, the branch of the Justice
Department that oversees the nation’s immigration courts. Obtaining a full
record of Safaa’s hearing had become a focus for both of us. The Shakarchis
hoped it would show that their case was mishandled. I wanted to confirm exactly
what was said in the proceeding, though I had my doubts about whether it would
make a difference in Safaa’s situation. We both filed freedom of information
requests with the EOIR.
After
weeks of waiting, Safaa opened the envelope only to find a set of papers the
family already had. For Zinah, it was another demoralizing blow. The horror
movie of their lives seemed to be rolling on. Days later, she texted to see if
there was any news on my efforts to obtain the file. There wasn’t, but before I
could reply, another message from Zinah came through.
weeks of waiting, Safaa opened the envelope only to find a set of papers the
family already had. For Zinah, it was another demoralizing blow. The horror
movie of their lives seemed to be rolling on. Days later, she texted to see if
there was any news on my efforts to obtain the file. There wasn’t, but before I
could reply, another message from Zinah came through.
“They let
Safaa go,” it read.
Safaa go,” it read.
 |
|
Safaa Al
Shakarchi on his first visit to New York City on Feb. 23, 2018. Photo: Ryan Devereaux |
It was
gray, overcast, and dribbling rain when Safaa landed in New York City. He wore
a black fleece, a puffy winter coat, and blue jeans. His luggage was minimal,
just a rolling suitcase and a small bag. The same things he carried when he,
Zinah, and the kids crossed the Mexican border into the U.S. more than one year
ago.
gray, overcast, and dribbling rain when Safaa landed in New York City. He wore
a black fleece, a puffy winter coat, and blue jeans. His luggage was minimal,
just a rolling suitcase and a small bag. The same things he carried when he,
Zinah, and the kids crossed the Mexican border into the U.S. more than one year
ago.
Standing
outside LaGuardia Airport waiting for a taxi, Safaa spoke on his cellphone.
Earlier in the day, Zinah had connected with a network of American activists
working along the U.S. border with Canada, who had offered to put Safaa in
touch with a driver he could trust once he got into town. The driver was now on
the other end of the line. Safaa explained that he would be arriving late. It
didn’t matter, the driver said, whatever time you get in, I’ll be there. Just
call.
outside LaGuardia Airport waiting for a taxi, Safaa spoke on his cellphone.
Earlier in the day, Zinah had connected with a network of American activists
working along the U.S. border with Canada, who had offered to put Safaa in
touch with a driver he could trust once he got into town. The driver was now on
the other end of the line. Safaa explained that he would be arriving late. It
didn’t matter, the driver said, whatever time you get in, I’ll be there. Just
call.
The
decision had come suddenly and without explanation, Safaa explained, as we
settled into a cab bound for the bus station.
decision had come suddenly and without explanation, Safaa explained, as we
settled into a cab bound for the bus station.
On the
morning of February 20, he was told that his case manager wanted to speak to
him. He changed clothes and met with the manager, who informed him that ICE had
requested a meeting. “What do they want?” Safaa asked. “I don’t know,” his case
manager replied. The conversation with ICE began with the normal pleasantries —
“How are you?” “How’s your health?” — then, Safaa recalled, the officials told
him, “We have a surprise for you.”
morning of February 20, he was told that his case manager wanted to speak to
him. He changed clothes and met with the manager, who informed him that ICE had
requested a meeting. “What do they want?” Safaa asked. “I don’t know,” his case
manager replied. The conversation with ICE began with the normal pleasantries —
“How are you?” “How’s your health?” — then, Safaa recalled, the officials told
him, “We have a surprise for you.”
Safaa’s
first response to the news that he was being released was denial. He had lost
hope in the days leading up to the meeting. “I will not go from this place,” he
had told himself. “I will die here.” He was trying to learn to forget the
outside world. “Excuse me, sir. I don’t want any more lie,” Safaa told the
officials. “I’m tired.” It was no lie, the officials explained. Safaa broke
down. “I couldn’t catch myself,” he said.
first response to the news that he was being released was denial. He had lost
hope in the days leading up to the meeting. “I will not go from this place,” he
had told himself. “I will die here.” He was trying to learn to forget the
outside world. “Excuse me, sir. I don’t want any more lie,” Safaa told the
officials. “I’m tired.” It was no lie, the officials explained. Safaa broke
down. “I couldn’t catch myself,” he said.
At that
point, things moved quickly. Over the next two hours, Safaa packed his
belongings and said goodbye to the men he had befriended inside. It had been
“one year, one month, one week exactly.” During that time, he and a handful of
others had become the longest-running detainees in Laredo. There was a
perception that they would never be let out.
point, things moved quickly. Over the next two hours, Safaa packed his
belongings and said goodbye to the men he had befriended inside. It had been
“one year, one month, one week exactly.” During that time, he and a handful of
others had become the longest-running detainees in Laredo. There was a
perception that they would never be let out.
Once word
spread among the 76 other detainees that he was leaving, Safaa said, there was
an explosion of cheering, laughter, and hugs. “Inside, we are like family,” he
said. Any time anyone got out, even if it was through deportation, there was a
sense of relief and celebration. The reason, he explained, is because to enter
the detention center is to see one’s life come to a stop. When they go out,
Safaa said, “it starts again.”
spread among the 76 other detainees that he was leaving, Safaa said, there was
an explosion of cheering, laughter, and hugs. “Inside, we are like family,” he
said. Any time anyone got out, even if it was through deportation, there was a
sense of relief and celebration. The reason, he explained, is because to enter
the detention center is to see one’s life come to a stop. When they go out,
Safaa said, “it starts again.”
Safaa was
given a bus ticket to Dallas, where his brother lives. He spent the following
two days in tearful phone conversations with family members across the world,
confirming that, yes, in fact, he was free. The terms of his release were laid
out in a two-page DHS “Order of Supervision” form. The document explained
that, because he had not been deported in the time prescribed by the law, he
was being released under the condition that he attended routine ICE check-ins.
It added that he could not leave the state of Texas for more than 48 hours
without providing notification to ICE.
given a bus ticket to Dallas, where his brother lives. He spent the following
two days in tearful phone conversations with family members across the world,
confirming that, yes, in fact, he was free. The terms of his release were laid
out in a two-page DHS “Order of Supervision” form. The document explained
that, because he had not been deported in the time prescribed by the law, he
was being released under the condition that he attended routine ICE check-ins.
It added that he could not leave the state of Texas for more than 48 hours
without providing notification to ICE.
When Safaa
arrived in Dallas, his older brother, whom he considers a father figure,
implored him to stay longer. It had been years since they had seen each other.
But for Safaa, the road ahead was clear. “I want to be with my wife and my
kids,” he told me as the cab pulled out of the airport. “I want to be with my
kids as a father; this is my last job in the life.”
arrived in Dallas, his older brother, whom he considers a father figure,
implored him to stay longer. It had been years since they had seen each other.
But for Safaa, the road ahead was clear. “I want to be with my wife and my
kids,” he told me as the cab pulled out of the airport. “I want to be with my
kids as a father; this is my last job in the life.”
Safaa was
beaming as the taxi made its way into Manhattan, under the shadow of high-rise
buildings disappearing into the storm clouds above. “Am I dreaming?” he asked.
He seemed an entirely different person from the man I met in Laredo. He
couldn’t stop grinning. His voice had returned. Passing through the Queens
Midtown tunnel, Safaa marveled at his wife’s resiliency and tenacity over the
last year. “She work like a lawyer,” he said, a broad smile spreading across
his face. “She knows everything.”
beaming as the taxi made its way into Manhattan, under the shadow of high-rise
buildings disappearing into the storm clouds above. “Am I dreaming?” he asked.
He seemed an entirely different person from the man I met in Laredo. He
couldn’t stop grinning. His voice had returned. Passing through the Queens
Midtown tunnel, Safaa marveled at his wife’s resiliency and tenacity over the
last year. “She work like a lawyer,” he said, a broad smile spreading across
his face. “She knows everything.”
Back in
the Emirates, Safaa explained, Zinah didn’t pump gas into the car. Now, Safaa
said, she could not only refuel a vehicle, she could drive it in the snow and
navigate the complexities of immigration law in multiple countries. “Now,
really, she knows many things,” Safaa said. “God made me far away from her to
make her stronger in life,” he added with a laugh.
the Emirates, Safaa explained, Zinah didn’t pump gas into the car. Now, Safaa
said, she could not only refuel a vehicle, she could drive it in the snow and
navigate the complexities of immigration law in multiple countries. “Now,
really, she knows many things,” Safaa said. “God made me far away from her to
make her stronger in life,” he added with a laugh.
The plan
Safaa and Zinah concocted was not without risk. There were recent reports of
Border Patrol agents stepping up searches on northbound buses and trains.
Safaa’s intentions could not be shaken though. He approached the bus kiosk in
Manhattan. One way or round trip? the attendant asked.
Safaa and Zinah concocted was not without risk. There were recent reports of
Border Patrol agents stepping up searches on northbound buses and trains.
Safaa’s intentions could not be shaken though. He approached the bus kiosk in
Manhattan. One way or round trip? the attendant asked.
“One
way,” Safaa replied.
way,” Safaa replied.
His
destination was Plattsburgh, the same border city that Zinah and the children
had passed through months earlier. If he was nervous about the voyage ahead, he
wouldn’t admit it, and he certainly wouldn’t show it. Standing outside the bus
terminal, the lights of Midtown coloring his face, Safaa pulled out a cigarette
and placed it between his lips. He tilted his head back with a grin. “One year,
one month, one week,” he said. “No cigarette.”
destination was Plattsburgh, the same border city that Zinah and the children
had passed through months earlier. If he was nervous about the voyage ahead, he
wouldn’t admit it, and he certainly wouldn’t show it. Standing outside the bus
terminal, the lights of Midtown coloring his face, Safaa pulled out a cigarette
and placed it between his lips. He tilted his head back with a grin. “One year,
one month, one week,” he said. “No cigarette.”
 |
|
Safaa Al
Shakarchi reunited with his children
on the morning of Sunday, Feb. 25, 2018.
Photo:
Ryan Devereaux |
Hundreds
of miles away, in Mississauga, Zinah waited anxiously.
of miles away, in Mississauga, Zinah waited anxiously.
“I can’t
believe it!” she had exclaimed over the phone on the day Safaa was released.
“He’s in the bus station,” she said. “My heart right now is pumping too much.”
She called it “the happiest day in all of my life.”
believe it!” she had exclaimed over the phone on the day Safaa was released.
“He’s in the bus station,” she said. “My heart right now is pumping too much.”
She called it “the happiest day in all of my life.”
Safaa
delivered the news of his release by video call from the bus and spoke with his
children, but Zinah had decided not to tell them of the Canada plan. They had
already been through so much, she couldn’t bear disappointing them again. And
so Zinah waited and prayed. She had long planned to renew their wedding vows if
ever they were reunited. Now, it seemed, that day was coming.
delivered the news of his release by video call from the bus and spoke with his
children, but Zinah had decided not to tell them of the Canada plan. They had
already been through so much, she couldn’t bear disappointing them again. And
so Zinah waited and prayed. She had long planned to renew their wedding vows if
ever they were reunited. Now, it seemed, that day was coming.
It was
well after dark when Safaa made it out of the U.S. He was surrounded by other
migrants, many of them Africans, also seeking sanctuary in Canada. As is
customary on the border, Canadian officials had informed Safaa that if he
crossed the line, he would be in violation of Canadian law and arrested. “I not
have another choice,” Safaa said, and crossed. “Welcome,” he was told.
well after dark when Safaa made it out of the U.S. He was surrounded by other
migrants, many of them Africans, also seeking sanctuary in Canada. As is
customary on the border, Canadian officials had informed Safaa that if he
crossed the line, he would be in violation of Canadian law and arrested. “I not
have another choice,” Safaa said, and crossed. “Welcome,” he was told.
“My heart
is dancing,” Zinah wrote in a text message early the next morning.
Safaa had made it to Quebec, she explained, and would get to
Mississauga in the wee hours of the morning. What Zinah didn’t know was that
Safaa was already in a cab, making his way to her as fast as he could. For
Zinah, the hours were dragging like never before. “Time is not moving,” she
said in a text. Then, at 12:43 a.m., she sent a series of photos. The first was
Zinah sliding a wedding band onto Safaa’s finger. The second was Zinah resting
her head on Safaa’s chest. The final photo, a glowing image of Safaa holding
Sidrah and Yousif in his arms, included a caption. “Finally,” it said. “We did
it.
is dancing,” Zinah wrote in a text message early the next morning.
Safaa had made it to Quebec, she explained, and would get to
Mississauga in the wee hours of the morning. What Zinah didn’t know was that
Safaa was already in a cab, making his way to her as fast as he could. For
Zinah, the hours were dragging like never before. “Time is not moving,” she
said in a text. Then, at 12:43 a.m., she sent a series of photos. The first was
Zinah sliding a wedding band onto Safaa’s finger. The second was Zinah resting
her head on Safaa’s chest. The final photo, a glowing image of Safaa holding
Sidrah and Yousif in his arms, included a caption. “Finally,” it said. “We did
it.
