My dad travelled to the United States for the first time today, into Texas.
He travels a lot, but he’s been nervous about this trip because we’ve heard nightmare stories about trying to clear American border security when you’re Iraqi. And he looks Iraqi: stocky build; dark olive skin; signature moustache, Plus, although he has a New Zealand passport (and has held one for 16 years), it still lists his place of birth as Baghdad.
He arrived at the border this morning, and as soon as he cleared it, he called me. He woke me up from sleep at 6am on Saturday morning to tell me what happened to him.
The border security guard examined his passport and asked him when he had moved to New Zealand. Dad said 1996. The guard asked my dad if he had ever gone back to visit since he left. Dad said, no. It’s too dangerous for any of us to go back.
The guard then paused for a long while, and my dad got nervous.
Then, the guard said, “I’m sorry for what we did to your country. We messed it up pretty bad. You’re so very welcome in the United States.”
He took my father’s fingerprints and photo and sent him on his way to the domestic terminal. The whole thing took less than two minutes. My dad was floored, and relieved, and man, the unexpected kindness of people is the biggest blessing in this world.