January 1959
The American Consulateâs office had arrived on Cumming Street in Suva, providing a green light at my crossroads. Â It was a Monday morning when I headed towards their front door and there was only one thing on my mind, immigration to the United States.
I seem to recall a 3-story building housing a Chinese restaurant on the street level, the consulateâs office above taking the entire 2nd floor, with the 3rd floor being irrelevant to me.
A short hike up the stairs and I was inside the office, looking curiously around. Â There was a woman sitting at a desk. Â She looked up at me and asked in a kindly voice, âHow can I help you?â Â I responded, âThis is the American consulateâs office?’ Â She smiled, Â âYes.â Â Â Â
‘I would like to apply for a permanent resident visa so I can live in the United States,’ I stated eagerly.
She got up and excused herself going into one of the rooms somewhere behind the front office. Â She returned with a stack of forms for me. Â I met her back at the counter. Â
âRead all the requirements, fill all these out and be sure to gather the necessary documents which are listed on this page..,â she was pointing to the list. Â â…and when youâve completed everything, bring the entire packet back here and weâll move to the next step from there.â
I told her my name and asked for hers; Theresa, she told me. Â I extended my hand to shake hers and left the office. Â On my way down, at the last step before I exited the premises with my stack of forms, a thought hit me like a thunderclap. Â âWait a minute,â it started. Â âDidnât I do this years before?â Â
I turned right around and marched back up those steps with even more determination than before, feeling a whole lot closer to my goal. Â Theresa was at her desk and she looked up at me again, just as before and this time she said, âWhat? Youâre back again!â Â
She was grinning at me. Â âDid I forget something or maybe youâve got something for me?â Â I shook my head and with a return smile I stated, ‘Not really but I have a question.’
âGo ahead,â she said. Â I asked her if the consulate kept old applications. Â In an assured voice Theresa replied, âWe keep everything.â Â The look on her face told me she couldnât wait to hear what I had to say.
I explained I had submitted a similar application years before; it was the spring of 1953. Â I told her I had mailed it to the American Consulate in Noumea, New Caledonia. Â She wrote my name and the year on a piece of paper. Â She got up from her desk and said sheâd go in the back and look for it. Â
Theresa suggested, âWhy not have a seat Mr. Masala. This might take a while.â Â It may have been 15-20 minutes before she returned and with my file in hand -how about that! Â She took it straight to her desk to spend a few moments reviewing the old application. Â
Theresa asked me why I had not completed the application before. Â I explained there were various particulars including timing and financial reasons. Â She nodded, adding and subtracting pages, re-sorted them and restated what I needed now. Â
It was the same as before really; the doctorâs bill of good health, no disease and such to include a chest x ray looking out mainly for TB, and financial letter of sponsorship. Â Also needed would be a letter vouching a promise of accommodation when I arrive in the United States and lastly a police report clearing me as safe, respectable and without record person.
I knew I could take care of the list for I would be persistent in changing the direction of my life.  Theresa wished me success, âI wish you all the best Mr. Masala.  I think you are really ready for this and so we will see you soon, I expect.â
I smiled and thanked Theresa. This time I actually left the building and I went straight to work. Â It took me all of 10 minutes on foot.
At the end of the work day, I stopped to have my ice cold Guinness Stout with an excited feeling following me about. Â I took the evening bus towards home.
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Theresa of course is a ficticious name for a truly helpful, sweet and kind person.