The Great Relocation… Part 2
A quick recap
So, at the end of May 2017, the new role in the USA had officially been given to Bagel and we were in the process of moving our lives from Joburg to a town called Schenectady, which is about three hours’ drive outside of New York City.
Our last month together in Joburg
Because the deadline for Bagel to get to the USA and start his new job was so tight, the immigration attorneys his company employed to help us with the US visa application process advised that we apply for our visas separately, and also advised that I join Bagel in the US later on, once he’d arrived and settled. We weren’t crazy about the idea of spending a month or two apart because we’d been living together for almost a year, and we were so used to doing everything together as a team. However, neither of us had ever relocated overseas before, so we thought it best to trust the immigration attorneys’ advice and follow their guidelines and instructions.
I had handed in my resignation, and I was set to finish working full-time at the end of June. My boss was kind enough to keep me on as a freelancer for a while after that, which I’ll always be very grateful for. But more on that later.
Bagel had completed his US visa application and attended his interview at the consulate, and his L1 Intracompany Transfer Visa was granted – hurray!
We’d put our first home on the market and sold or donated most of our belongings because it just wasn’t financially viable to rent a home in the US and still pay off a bond for a house we weren’t living in anymore. We did consider renting our home out, but decided against it. We moved into the cottage on Bagel’s dad’s property around mid-June, and that was our home for our last few weeks together.
Because we were pretty sad to have to spend a month or so apart, Bagel did the absolute sweetest and most thoughtful thing and made us ‘distance bracelets’. He made himself a grey one with one blue bead in it, and he made me a blue one with one grey bead in it to symbolize that we carry a piece of each other with us always no matter the physical distance between us. It was one of the loveliest things he’s ever done.
The 'distance bracelets' Bagel made for us.
Our last night in our first home - 15 June 2017.
The plan was for Bagel to fly over to the US on 04 July and set up a place for us to stay, along with some other essential admin stuff. I would take about a month off to finish packing our belongings (both those I’d be flying with, and those we’d be shipping over at a later stage), and spend some quality time with friends and family before flying over to join him in early August.
That was the plan but, as the old saying goes:
‘Life’s what happens when you’re busy making other plans.’
A bump in the road…
Following the guidance and instructions of the immigration attorneys I mentioned earlier, I completed my US visa application. The attorneys advised that I apply for a B-2 Tourism visa as a ‘cohabitating partner’ under immigration law 9 FAM 41.31 N14.4. Essentially, in theory, this would allow me to join Bagel, who already had a valid non-immigrant visa, for the duration of his stay in the USA. However, I would not be able to work in the USA while under this visa class.
The attorneys also advised that I gather as much ‘evidence’ to support the validity of my two-year long relationship so I could prove that Bagel and I actually were cohabitating partners and that I was ‘dependent’ on him to some extent. I was also advised to gather evidence such as bank statements, proof of employment, and proof of residence to prove that I had solid ties to South Africa and intended to return home once my visa expired. The attorneys also drafted a formal letter explaining my situation, relationship to Bagel, and reasons for applying for this specific visa.
So, on 03 July (the day before Bagel was set to jet off), we headed over to the US consulate in Sandton for my visa interview. The attorneys seemed to think it would all go smoothly and I’d be in and out of there in no time, visa approved and happy as Larry. Bagel waited outside for me (because you’re only permitted to enter the building if you have an appointment), and off I toddled to the interview.
With my folder full of documents and ‘evidence’, I walked through the large, heavy door to the interview building. There wasn’t much of a queue, but I had time to suss out the layout. You might think the interviews would take place in a small room with a desk where you can lay all your documents out and chat to someone one-on-one. However, that’s not the case at all; there are small glass windows resembling the ones you’d see at the bank tellers section of your local bank all along one side of the room, and you’re expected to stand at one of these windows and answer personal questions (often related to your salary, living situation, and other private topics) in front of all the other applicants (who stand by listening to everything you’re sharing with the consular officer). Not ideal.
Nevertheless, I approached the first window where I handed in my passport, DS-160 visa application confirmation sheet, and photo. The lady at the window wasn’t overly friendly and didn’t say much to me aside from asking me to place my hand on the biometric fingerprint scanner once or twice, and directing me to the next window.
At the second window, I met the consular officer who was going to conduct my interview. From the onset, she was exceptionally unfriendly and seemed to snap her questions at me through the window, but I tried to remain calm and friendly. When she asked me what kind of visa I was applying for (with her strong American accent) and I said it was a B-2 ‘cohabitating partner’ visa, she immediately shut me down, saying no such visa class exists. Starting to panic a bit, I asked her if she’d like to take a look at the letter from the attorneys for a brief explanation behind this visa class, to which she replied, ‘Your documents aren’t going to help you here.’
She snapped some more questions at me; these ranged from what I did for a living, to what my salary was, to where I lived, to where I worked. She repeated a few of these questions, and I must’ve offered at least three times to show her some of the documentation I’d brought with me, but she refused each time. She disappeared for a minute or two before returning, stamping a piece of paper, handing it to me along with my passport, and telling me my visa application had been denied.
I think I went into shock. As I walked out of the building and exited the consulate, I felt as though everything was moving in slow motion around me, and all I could hear was a feint ringing in my ears. Once I was standing out on the pavement, I saw Bagel standing across the street. Our eyes met and I slowly shook my head and then watched as a frown appeared on his face while he ran across the street to meet me.
‘What happened?’, he asked.
‘I didn’t get it,’ I replied flatly. ‘They gave me this paper…’
He grabbed it out of my hand and hurriedly read through it before marching over to the security guard outside the consulate and trying to get them to let him in so he could find out what had happened. Obviously, they didn’t let him in.
We walked back to my car which was parked across the street at Sandton City, and that’s when I broke down. I started sweating, crying, and just generally freaking out. Bagel, ever the voice of reason and logic, emailed the immigration attorneys immediately to explain the situation while trying to calm me down. He still had a fair bit of packing to do before his flight the next day, and since we weren’t going to have any luck at the consulate until further notice, he drove us home.
What next?
Stay tuned for Part 3 of this series to find out how we handled this bump (read: small mountain) in the road.
Take care,
C
xo
Thumbnail image courtesy of Slava Bowman on Unsplash
