‘I want mommy home’
A Clearwater family struggles with immigration process
By ALEXANDRA CALDWELL
| Article published on Tuesday, July 8, 2008 |
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| Photo by ALEXANDRA CALDWELL |
| Cynthia Nguyen and her father, Loc, talk every day with mother and wife, Uyen, via the telephone and Webcam. Uyen has been stuck in Vietnam for two years, and due to a mistake in the immigration process, she is not allowed back to the United States for eight more years. |
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CLEARWATER – Cynthia bounces around the tidy house in 5-year-old fashion. She jumps rope, dons a fancy white hat, totes around a bucket of crayons and treasures.
Her father calls to her. “Cynthia, come and give your mommy a hug.” The little girl bounds over to the couch, leans over and hugs a laptop computer screen.
For the last two years, Uyen Nguyen, 32, has been stuck in Vietnam while her daughter and husband, Loc, 38, remain in Clearwater.
Due to errors in her immigration process, she won’t be allowed back into the United States for another eight years.
Now, the family talks each day via Webcam, the telephone, and Skype – an Internet telephone service.
“The whole time I try to do the right thing, taking care of my daughter, and (Cynthia) keeps saying, ‘I want mommy home. I want mommy home,’ and I have a really hard time trying to explain to her how it’s happened,” Loc said.
A complicated start
Uyen came to the United States from Vietnam around 2002 on a fiancé visa to marry a man in Ohio. They met through relatives and friends in Vietnam and decided to get married after a short courtship. But when Uyen arrived in Ohio and got married, she realized her new husband hadn’t been honest with her. He had an ex-wife and kids she hadn’t known about. Uyen said the ex-wife made her life miserable, constantly coming over and harassing her. Soon Uyen wanted a divorce.
Loc went to Ohio for his grandfather’s funeral and met Uyen through her godmother’s son. After Loc returned to Clearwater, they spoke on the phone and she told him how she wanted a divorce and to return to Vietnam. Having come from Vietnam with his brothers and sister when he was 14, Loc knew how homesick she must be, but he didn’t want her to give up the American dream. He became a citizen about 18 years ago, and he appreciates the opportunities the country offers. So he invited her to Florida for 10 days and taught her how to work as a nail technician.
They’ve been together ever since.
They applied for work and travel visas for Uyen, and when they came through, they thought she could legally work and live in the United States.
The American dream
The couple received a letter from Uyen’s ex-husband that said he had annulled the marriage, so they moved forward in their lives. Uyen gave birth to Cynthia, they operated their own nail salon together, they saved for and bought their first house. Loc taught his wife and daughter to swim in their own swimming pool. They got married.
Loc made Uyen take English classes.
“I say, ‘You live in America, you have to learn English,’ ” Loc said.
He taught his family the lessons he learned when he came to America.
“I learned that in the world, nothing is for free,” Loc said. “When I live in my country, I kept thinking, America is so rich and I want to come, but I didn’t think I had to work so hard for what you want. But America gave us the opportunity to get a better life and freedom.”
Loc went to work early each day at CT Nails, 6254 66th St., Pinellas Park. Uyen took Cynthia to school, tidied the house, then joined her husband at the shop. She left work early to pick up Cynthia and make dinner. When Loc came home they ate and swam together, had family time; then they put her to bed. On Sundays they went to church then visited the beach or Busch Gardens.
For the past 17 years, Loc said he’s worked six days a week, at least 10 hours a day. He’s used to hard work. It’s part of the American dream. His dream is simple: He wants to only work five days a week so he can spend more time with his family. He wants a better life for his children than he’s had.
A few years ago, they started the immigration process for Uyen.
When things went wrong
To become a naturalized U.S. citizen, generally people must be at least 18; a legal, permanent resident for five years or three years if married to an American citizen; be of good moral character; have a period of continuous residence and physical presence in the United States; be able to read, write and speak basic English; and pass a test on U.S. history and government.
When Uyen came to Florida, Loc took on the responsibility of her legal paperwork. Loc filled out his wife’s paperwork for the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. He said he asked whether he needed a lawyer but somewhere along the way he was told no, he was doing everything right and a lawyer would only be expensive. A spokesperson for the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services in Washington, D.C., Chris Rhatigan, said that this advice probably did not come from her agency.
“We do advise people who are doing this to work with a reputable attorney so they’re not given wrong advice,” Rhatigan said. “. . . This is a life-changing situation for someone and we would never advise someone to not use a lawyer.”
Loc said the Citizenship and Immigration Services in Tampa told them Uyen needed to return to Vietnam for a new visa, but that it shouldn’t be difficult because they were married and had a child, business and house together.
Wanting to do the right thing, Loc brought Uyen back to Vietnam.
While in Florida, Uyen had a work permit and travel visa. They didn’t realize that because her first marriage was terminated, she had to go back to Vietnam at that time and apply for a new visa.
They also didn’t know that Uyen’s ex-husband lied about the reason he wanted an annulment. He’d said that Uyen was currently married to someone else in Vietnam, even though she’d already proven her single status and received a Certification of Marital Status before she came to the United States. Polygamy is an automatic disqualification for citizenship. Her ex-husband later sent a letter of apology to Uyen along with the Certification of Marital Status.
Back in Vietnam, Uyen was denied a new visa because she had – unknowingly – lived in the United States illegally for more than a year. She would not be allowed back to the United States for 10 years. Their case was revoked.
The appeal process
Then Loc got a lawyer.
“Then the lawyer says it was the wrong thing to send her back there,” Loc said. “But I believed in them and trust them and they telling me the right thing to do and so I send her back there. I just want to do it the right way.”
They appealed their case. Loc wrote to Gov. Charlie Crist, U.S. Sens. Bill Nelson and Mel Martinez, and U.S. Rep. Bill Young for help.
Sharon Ghezzi, a case worker from Young’s office, has followed the Nguyens’ case since October 2006, tracking it every 30 to 90 days, but it’s still stuck in the appeal process, she said.
“They don’t pull one and put it in front of the other,” Ghezzi said. “It has to be worked on in its turn.”
It usually takes about 18 months for the appeal to go through the service center, she said, but there are many steps and it could take years. The agency is on top of it, she said, but there’s no available time frame for completion.
“I’ve worked this case from the get-go with (Loc,)” Ghezzi said, “and he’s doing everything by the book.”
Home without mommy
Loc has the mortgage, lawyers and household bills to pay, a business to run and a daughter to raise all by himself. Without his wife, Loc lost some customers because certain clients are more comfortable working with a woman.
Loc plans every moment of the day. They wake up early and talk to Uyen on the computer, he takes Cynthia to school then works until 7 p.m. He feeds Cynthia dinner at the salon then they go home and swim, do schoolwork, practice piano, talk to Uyen, tuck Cynthia into bed, then Loc makes tomorrow’s dinner.
Loc and Uyen are grateful for the Internet so they can have regular, affordable contact with each other. One night, Cynthia taught her mother her favorite song through Skype and the Webcam.
“The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout,” Cynthia sang. “Down came the rain and washed the spider out. Out came the sun and dried up all the rain, and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again.”
Cynthia and her mom send talking, moving instant message icons back and forth to her mom. One talking icon said “I miss you so much” in Vietnamese. Cynthia laughed then typed, “I am kissing you.” Uyen responded: “I want to hug you baby. I want to kiss you too.” Cynthia hugged and kissed the computer screen.
For the last two years, Uyen has missed her family each day. Sometimes she helps her brother at his job in Saigon, but usually she stays home, waiting for something to happen. She can’t get a job because she’d need to buy a car. That’s not in the family budget.
“I feeling so sad and I worry a lot, and I just want to go home with my daughter and my husband,” Uyen said. “Because my daughter, she’s a little girl and she misses mommy every day, and when I wake up, I just want to go home. I want to go home every minute.”
It cost Loc $15,000 last year to bring Cynthia to Vietnam and back so she could visit her mother all summer. This year he couldn’t afford that. On June 16, Cynthia and another relative made the two-day trip to Vietnam. Loc will meet them there at the end of the summer for two weeks before he takes Cynthia home to start school.
Cynthia wants her mommy.
“I have a real hard time without her,” Loc said. “I want her to come back. I don’t know how to do it and bring her back. It’s not my decision. So all I can do is to pray to God to bring her back home to us.”
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Article published on Tuesday, July 8, 2008
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