Transcript
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Dan Kennedy (1:09)
Welcome to the Moth Podcast. I'm Dan Kennedy. Hey, some interesting news you might have already heard, but in case you haven't, on Tuesday, May 8th, we'll be honoring Mr. Martin Scorsese with the 2012 Moth Award, honoring the art of the Raconteur at the Moth Ball. The ball is one of the highlights of our year, as you probably know, and it'll take place at capital here in New York City. In addition to honoring Mr. Scorsese, the evening is going to include a VIP cocktail party, dinner, dancing, and of course, a great show. For more information and to get your tickets, visit themoth.org the story you're about to hear by Fatiha Absiya was told live at the moth in 2010. And a quick note before we begin in the story, Fatiha says that she originally arrived in the U.S. at D.C. national Airport, but she wants our audience to know that the airport was actually jfk, that she just got mixed up basically on stage that night when she was telling her story. Here's Fatia.
Fatiha Absiya (2:13)
It's good to be here. So I'm 14 years old and I've landed in Ronald Reagan National Airport in Washington, dc. I walk up to the counter where the immigration officer was. In this case, it's a woman. I handed her my passport and she says, welcome to the usa. She opens up my passport and she looks at it. She looks at it, she looks at it and then she Looks up and she says, well, you've made it, but your visa had expired eight hours ago. I just looked at her with this sadness, and she looked down again on my passport, and she said, well, I'm afraid we're going to have to send you back. And I just started crying. Tears just started rolling down my cheeks to kind of take you back of how I arrived at that moment. When I was 13 years old, I decided that I was going to leave Somalia and that I was going to come to the United States of America at 13. In Somalia, you're kind of considered. You are considered an adult because you can get married and have children and all that stuff. So I've kind of put together this grand plan where I got myself. I did some research. I realized, you know, in order to get to the United States, I would have to be an adult, you know, So I got a passport seven years my senior, makes me 20. And then I got in touch with a friend of a friend of a friend who was studying in the United States. And she sends me this. I20 visa, student visa. I saved up some money, and I stole my mother's jewelry. I bought myself a ticket. And a year later, I came to America only to be told that I would have to be sent back. So I started crying. I started just crying and crying. And the lady, the immigration officer, said, well, please stop crying. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. And I just said, you don't understand. This is where I belong. This is my country. I've always felt like this was my country. Please don't send me back. And she kind of took a moment, she looked around, and she closes my passport, hands it back to me, and she says, go. Just go. Go, go, go. I run so fast. I didn't even know how I got outside. You know, I just. I wanted to, you know, kiss the ground, but I thought it was going to be really weird. So I started kissing the walls of Ronald Reagan Airport. And there was a bunch of cab drivers, you know, outside, lined up. One of them comes out of his cab, and he says to me, are you? And I said, yeah, never better. And he said, well, do you need a ride? I would love to, but where was I going to go? Only I knew I was going to be okay, that everything was going to be okay. So he says, he kind of looks Somalian, Ethiopian, you know. And he said, where are you from? I said, from Somalia. He said, so am I. We started, you know, talking, and I told him my story. And he couldn't believe it. So he says, you know, let me make some phone calls. He finds this family who will take me in for the time being. And I was on my way from there on. So, you know, every morning I would wake up and I had these butterflies in my stomach and I, you know, I would later find out. You know, it's the feeling you get when you're in love. And, you know, life was just magical. You know, I was happy. I felt safe and protected. But then a little bit later, things just went really bad in Somalia. You know, civil war breaks out. The government was ousted. Hundreds of thousands of people lost their lives. Millions became refugees in, you know, neighboring countries, my family included. In the meantime, those of us who at the time was in the United States of America were able to receive an asylum, which gives you a green card. So that gave me the opportunity to be able to sponsor my family into the United States of America. Ten of my siblings and both of my parents. It was just incredible. You know, here I am in the country that I love so much and now I have my family and, you know, I just felt whole, you know, but my family was in a different place. They were just, they were just depressed, you know, they had pts and you know, they were in a very, very dark place. They had witnessed so much pain and we lost so many people in the war and they were just falling apart in the meantime. I'm working so hard, I'm working full time, I'm trying to keep them together. I had all these responsibilities. But then, you know, I'm like, you know, if everything's going to be okay, it's here. We're in these states, I mean, how bad could we be? It's gonna be okay. But they just keep falling off. You know, some got sick, got hospitalized, and things were just going really bad. Then my sister, my 19 year old sister dies and then my father dies. And then my youngest sister Mona, she kind of got out of control. She starts, you know, running away and getting into drugs and you know, back and forth between, you know, juvenile detention centers, detox centers, hospitals, psych hospitals, dark alleys, and you know, horrible, horrible stuff. And she just spins and spins and spins out of control. She just disappears. Six months go by, no word from her. And so I've decided, you know what? I'm getting weaker here. I'm really getting tired. There's just so much that one person can take. So I've decided to take what's left of my family and to move out of state. Every day I would Think about Muna. But sometimes I would have this dark feeling, you know, I know it's sad, but I felt kind of if she was dead, at least I would know where she was, you know, and her pain would be finished, you know, she would be out of her misery. But then one day the phone rings, and it's Mona. She's back. She's beautiful, she's, you know, happy. She looks healthy. She wants her life back. And she wanted to do everything possible to get her life back. Only Muna is now a convicted felon. She lost, you know, her green card, and she is on hold to be deported back to Somalia. I mean, she came here when she was six years old. She really didn't know anything about Somalia. She's an American girl. But the only reason she's not deported yet, it's because Somalia is at worst shape. And a country like the United States of America didn't want to take that chance where they would send a living human being into a chaos. And so in the meantime, you know, she would have to be monitored. She would have to every, you know, once every two weeks, she would have to go and see, meet with ICE Immigration and Customs Enforcement officer, you know, to monitor her, to make sure that she is clean. So I took her to her first appointment. She goes into this room to meet with this officer and she comes out and she's crying, but. And I said, what's wrong? She said, well, the officer, who himself happens to be an immigrant, said to me, people like you do not deserve to be in our country, and I will do everything in my power to send you back. I looked at her and I said, well, Mona, I'm afraid he's right. Thousands and thousands of people risk their lives every day to come to this great country. You were giving this incredible, you know, opportunity. You threw it all away. You know, you have no one else to blame but yourself. You know, I said, but don't worry, because you're not going to be deported, you know, anytime soon. Because I know this. I've been reporting it every single day. And things are horrible in Somalia, and you're not going to be sent back anytime soon. So we keep on, you know, keep coming back and forth for her to meet with the ICE immigration officer. And then one day, March 3, 2009, there was a huge snow in the Washington, D.C. virginia area. So I wasn't going to be able to give her a ride. I gave her cab money and I told her to take a taxi and to call me when she's done with the meeting. So I would go and pick her up. But then when I went to work, I had this bad, bad feeling, you know, that something was going wrong, something was going to be wrong. And then I'm like, nothing's gonna happen. She's not gonna be deported. This is the United States of America. You know, they're not gonna do that. But this feeling was just not gonna go away. So I leave work, I came home, and I kept calling her, but no answer. By 6:00, the phone rings, and it's Muna. She's hysterical and frantic. She's like, fatiha. They're sending me back to Somalia right now. I'm at the airport, Dallas National Airport, and they're taking me, sending me to Mogadishu. You have to understand, Mogadishu is considered to be the worst place in the world, the most dangerous place in the world. It's controlled by this vicious, terrible gang cult, like terrorist group called Al Shabaab, who has been committing, you know, horrible, horrible, horrendous crimes against humanity. And I have been reporting and have been very focal about what they were doing. And so they actually issued a death threat against my life and the life of my loved ones. But I was in America. I mean, they weren't. I wouldn't let them terrorize me in America. And then it hits me that Muna was wearing a tight jeans, tight T shirt, and her hair was out. And women in Somalia are subject to wear that Taliban gear I'm sure all of you are familiar with. And that dress code itself is like a death warrant. And I'm like, oh, my God. I felt like I was stabbed in the back that the country that I love so much and respected so much actually just betrayed me. The land of second chances, and sometimes even third chances if needed. And I felt like my sister was never given that second chance. I felt like the love of my life had just broken my heart. So I decided that I was going to do everything in my power to give my sister that second chance. And I spring into an action. I started making phone calls. The first person I called was one of my closest friends, who happens to be an immigration attorney and from Somalia. I told him what happened, and he couldn't believe it. He said, you know, deportations were supposed to be on hold. How is that possible? Are you sure? And I'm like, yeah, it's a true story. She's literally up in the air. And he's like, okay, let me try to get in touch with someone, you know, at the ICE office, it's 6:15 by now, you know, but let me see what I can do in the meantime, you know, try to make phone calls to Somalia. So I hung up and I started calling Mogadishu, the airport, and was able to get in touch with the guy ahead of the airport authority. And he knew who I was. He was like, patiya. He thought I was going to interview him. And I said, well, you know, I'm calling you because this is what's happening. And he's like, no, no, no. No one was supposed to be deported here. No arrangements were made, and the United States cannot just use us as a dumping ground. And, you know, if someone was going to be deported, you know, the proper paperwork has to be, you know, proper action has to be taken, and nothing like that was done. So he said, don't worry. We're not going to let her, you know, off the plane. I will not allow her. I'll do everything in my power to send her back with that plane. In the meantime, you know, he said, the plane is heading here and, you know, all these other cities in Somalia. So I started calling every airport, and I told them the same thing, and they said, we're not going to allow her off the plane. Do not worry. No sleep that night. The morning came, I started calling the State Department, you know, Human Rights Watch. I started, you know, the Office of the President, the Senate Foreign Committee office. I mean, everybody I, you know, that I could think of, and no one would believe this. They were like, this is impossible. My friend calls me back. He said, I, you know, attorney had no idea. So this immigration officer just put this entire plan together on his own. So, you know, then the plane lands in Mogadisha. Mogadisha refuses her. And the plane goes to the next city and next city. Every airport refuses the first, you know, for the first time, second time, third time. And in the meantime, she's literally, you know, flying just up there in the air, and everyone is trying to work together so. So they can bring her back. And 17 days go by, and the 17th day, my friend, the attorney, calls me and he says, you know what, Fatiha? They are bringing her home. She is coming back to America. I couldn't believe it. You know, we all cried and jumped for joy, and my mother and brothers and all of us. And, you know, I said to myself, oh, my God, the country that I love so much restored my faith and gave my sister a second chance. And I realized in no place else in the world would a story like this with an ending like that be possible other than the United States of America, the greatest nation in the world? Well, I'm happy to report that my sister Mona is back at home and she's making the most of her second chance. Thank you so much.
