Released from ICE purgatory

Hasan (a pseudonym), a Hazara refugee from Afghanistan, and one of my interlocutors, was subjected to a ritualized bureaucracy. He was required to report to ICE for a routine check-in. Five months ago, as usual, when he showed up for a check-in, thinking it was a normal one, but instead, he was told he was on the "expedited removal" list. "You must come with us," recounted Hasan, his shock upon hearing those words, while he was standing in front of a few ICE officers ready to force him into a van.

Four ICE officers forced him into a white van and drove him away. "I didn't know where they were taking me," he told me, throwing up his hands, to explain his state of confusion and shock after the fact. He ends up at a detention center in the southernmost point, near the Mexican border. There, a large prison with different units and sections holds thousands of detainees awaiting deportation.

Hasan spent about five months in a legal and social purgatory in a total institution, which is designed to strip individuals of their humanity. 

Fortunately, he had a lawyer and was moving forward with his asylum case. His asylum application was finally approved while he was in detention, and he was released.

Hassan is a Hazara refugee from Afghanistan who worked for the US government and NGOs but failed to evacuate him during the fall of Kabul, leaving him exposed. He trekked his way through 11 countries to reach the US border. Like many others, he had crossed the border to claim his rights to protection, which were exposed by the US withdrawal.

Last night, I went to see him. He was on cloud nine. He was overjoyed and busy with overdue phone calls and text messages from his friends and family. Du-baarah zinda shudam, Nasim berar [I came back to life, brother Nasim], he told me while holding my hands on his as if we had not shaken hands for ages. 

An Encounter with a Protester

This afternoon, I was on my way back from the Folklife Festival at the Mall in downtown Washington DC, as I was about to cross the 12th street and Pennsylvania Ave I was flagged down by an old lady named Mary. I got off my bike and went close to her to hear what she was trying to say. She asked me where the National Portrait Gallery is. I gave her the address but our short exchange struck up an interesting conversation in which lasted a couple of minitues.

I asked her where did she come from and has she ever been to DC before. She told me that she was in DC to join the protest against Trump's policy on children's separation from their parents at the borders tomorrow on June 30. I asked her a few more questions on what exactly she thought of immigration and especially child separation and eventually what would she think of illegal immigration and as a protester what she would ask Trump to do. She did not have much to say but her final words were "I am here to protest against Trump," "He is not my president and I don't like him." I asked her whether she reads the newspapers, she said, she doesn't trust the newspaper any longer.

Mary has travelled from Denver Colorado at the behest of her daughter who is an attorney in Washington DC.  She told me that her daughter called her to come to DC and join her for a protest tomorrow.

As we separated, I started thinking about the expenses of her flight that could be spent on children's shelters and children's education, perhaps, to those children who are now separated from their families at the border. And of course I thought of Mary's lack of recognition and understanding why she was going to protest besides frustration and anger which is now becoming inherent in liberals. It is this anger, frustration, and ignorance that now play a big role in creating a big rift between right and left. The result of this gap is the rise of populism on both sides, which eventually could be a backlash to democracy and liberal values.