After 8 years, I am dumping Qatar
It’s right there in the title. If you came for news or stories, the only one you’ll get today is Sam-Centric.
After nearly 8 years (Aug 2012-June 2020), I am moving home. In a twist I did not expect in 2012, I will be moving home with a wife and child.
Qatar is weird.
There are lots of pieces to the moving home story that involve the intricacies of the US Immigration. If you ever want to know the full thing, you can read it in my memoir about my time in Qatar* that I will get around to writing when I am 56 and pivoting to the next stage of my life. If you can’t wait that long, let’s hang out (hanging out pending) and polish off a bottle of Beaujolais. Then I’ll regale you with the full details.
If you want the short version, you got it. It’s simple. We’re moving home. If you’re a Sam Hasler completist, and you want more… read on below the great photos I’ve provided.
Me: Wearing a v small sweatshirt
Some of my co-workers at a Happy Hour (this is not true, we were celebrating someone getting fired)
Friends in matching blazers of purple and green
Doha’s famed skyline framed in arches
All the cars that I bought while abroad
Leen and Eliot
On March 13th, my school said: “So long school year. You guys are doing e-learning.” It wasn’t an official “e-learning from here on out” but as news from around the world trickled in, and Qatar reported enough cases to make me cancel my mom’s flight to Qatar, we sort of knew the writing was on the wall. Leen, Eliot and I hunkered down for a key weekend. The last weekend before Leen’s immigration interview
March 16th: Happy Birthday Mom! Just kidding. Literally two hours before Leen was scheduled to have her immigration interview at the US Embassy in Doha, they cancelled. In order to understand the magnitude of this, the immigration interview is basically the final step to the 16-month immigration process to turn a non-American spouse into a green card possessing non-American spouse. The interview, scary in principle, was mostly merely a formality. They are looking to see if you’re really married. Leen and I had sent them over 100 pages of evidence to make our case. We were assured throughout the process, “Your case isn’t a matter of if, but rather when.” Well, “when” remained elusive. It was an unprecedented step. Cancelling an immigration interview over the phone two hours before it was to happen? We were, to put it lightly, gutted. I believe I sent a text to a friend and it said: “send dogs. Leen is distraught.”
Not even dog instagrams could pull Leen out of this sadness. At least in the moment.
But we rebounded. We set about plugging away at e-learning and Eliot learning. We watched him learn to roll over. We watched him in the nascent steps of learning to sit up. We watched him grow. Quite literally. With all the shops in Qatar closed, Leen and I took the drastic step of cutting the footies off a pajama so that it would still fit. Baby growth doesn’t stop just because Baby Shop isn’t open.
I sent the embassy emails frequently. They responded with canned responses about COVID-19 and suggestions to follow them on social media, in case they had any updates. My parents set out to see if there was some sort of way around the embassy closure through elected officials. They were assured that when everything returned to normal, Leen and I would be first in the queue.
There is some truth to this. And it’s what I kept repeating to myself when I was about to have anxiety attacks or to be more honest, in the middle of crazy-wobbly-leg-inducing-stress bouts. There are worse places to be “stuck” than Qatar. We have a home. We have jobs. We have our health. We can figure this out. We just need to be patient and let it pass.
In week three, I decided I would join a Facebook Live event the embassy was holding. They were taking questions from the audience and guys, I had some questions. “Have you given any consideration to e-interviews?” “What are you doing for people who were in the final steps of the immigration process who were halted by COVID-19?” “Is it considered an emergency if we need to know if we can move to America by the middle of May so I can inform my employer?”
I was on a roll. I decided to grab my phone and put on some music while I waited for the event to kick off. I checked my email.
“Holy shit.”
I tossed my phone to Leen.
“After a long discussion with our Consular Leadership, and following a thorough review of your case, and given the unusual circumstances; we are scheduling your appointment on Wednesday, April 15th at 09:30 am.”
The interview was less than a week away!
We contemplated not telling our parents, lest something terrible postponed the event again, but we decided to inform them but we kept the circle about that big, family only. The fewer that knew, the fewer we’d have to inform in case something bad happened.
On Wednesday April 15th at 9:30, Leen walked into the embassy and at about 11:15, she texted me two words:
VISA APPROVED.
This underplays the nearly two hours that I walked around the house too nervous to do anything, thankful that Eliot was sleeping. And the hours that Leen and I spent thinking about it in advance, but either way!
Visa Approved
We look great
And so our moving plans went into hyper-drive. Delayed a month by COVID, we set about trying to figure how to get 8 years of my stuff and 5 years worth of Leen’s to America. I ordered boxes five big boxes and some bubble wrap and Leen packed them all while I tried to navigate international shipping regulations.
All was going well! We told our bosses we were leaving. They were excited but nervous for us.
“Can you delay?” “Are you sure now is a good time?” “You can stay another year.”
I picked up Leen’s passport at the embassy the next day (talk about efficiency) and we enjoyed the prospect of a new future for about… 100 hours.
“In light of the attack from the Invisible Enemy, as well as the need to protect the jobs of our GREAT American Citizens, I will be signing an Executive Order to temporarily suspend immigration into the United States! ”
One of those mornings…
Ooooooooof. Talk about a tough start to a day. When the President tweets that he’s going to suspend immigration 100 hours after you’ve been approved for immigration, it’s a weird feeling. I had friends and family reach out.
I should rephrase. Friends reached out. My family responded the way I imagine pilots who just realized the engines have failed respond. Panic.
I mean this with the most love possible as I out them on the internet.
They lost it.
Leen went grocery shopping.
I sent emails.
We all cope in our special ways.
We spent the next 48 hours in a weird limbo.
It seemed unlikely that we could pack our stuff, sell what’s left and board a flight to the USA before the president signed any order, so we were stuck.
We all poured over the news looking for clues or inklings to whether or not we’d be impacted. We held onto sentence fragments and unnamed sources as we hoped that this wouldn’t further delay our process.
“Will Trump’s immigration ban impact you?”
“I saw the news and am sorry to see that the President has done something to delay your arrival once again. We’re thinking of you.”
“Jesus, I just saw. How are you doing?”
“Look like Leen just made it, right?”
“What’s the soonest you can get home?”
“Sorry to be alarming: but you need to leave ASAP”
And then, this morning, after the Executive Order was published, I received an email from an immigration attorney and girl I went to homecoming with nearly 20 years ago.
“Hey Sam- Great news! Leen is OK to enter the US. The EO was just issued and does not apply to those who already have Immigrant Visas, and also doesn’t apply to spouses of US citizens, so she is actually doubly OK”
GREAT NEWS
We promptly booked three seats on a flight from Doha to Chicago. It leaves Hamad International Airport early on June 1st and lands at O’Hare early that Monday afternoon. Let’s hope nothing changes between now and then!
We are bringing 7 bags at 23 kilos a piece, plus the 5 boxes that I frantically shipped off today weighing a staggering 35 kgs per box. I am selling everything else. This has led me to some weird Qatar-based Facebook groups where I have been accused of price gouging and taking advantage of people during the time of COVID because I wouldn’t go lower on the Nespresso machine I am trying to move.
I’ve got a couch that you’re welcome to have, assuming you know how to take IKEA furniture apart, and a car you can buy, if you’re in the market for a 4x4 Pajero that Leen drove to the desert exactly one time before deciding she didn’t like that at all.
Long story short people, (and if you’ve gotten this far, you’re the real MVP) we’re moving home.
Anyone who tells you we need to make immigrating to the United States more complex is ill-informed. Nothing about this process has been simple.
See you soon. Thanks for reading.
I am dumping Qatar. America 2020- Sam
* the memoir will tell some of my favorite Doha-related tales about: “dicks for chips,” unique massage experiences, a 60-hour labor, car crashes, friends who come and friends who go, teaching Oedipus to Qatari boys, bosses who make people divide the number 13 equally by 3, a meet-cute involving a post it note, medical adventures both positive and negative, travel shenanigans, all you can eat and drink brunches, haircuts and countless other weird things that escape me at the moment.
