IGME Files

     The consul at the US Embassy told this to us — twice.  The first was an egging on, since it was all three of us, my parents and I, it would be our first time to the States.  The question led if it was our first time to go overseas.  My father paused a couple of seconds, thinking of what he would be going to say, talked about his stint at Saudi in one brief sentence.  Then the consul read my mom’s fellowship stint in Australia, she said, "I studied there." 

     It was my turn.  He looked at my paper, "So you’re an artist…a filmmaker."  I lowered my shoulders and bent my face towards the glass mirror that separates the questioner and the questioned, seconded, "An independent filmmaker."  The bold-faced "Mowelfund Film Institute" I put in really helped. 

     The next was the purpose of the visit, the clincher part.  When he saw the reason of our visit, "So, Columbia University is a very expensive school, how could she (my sister) afford it?"  My mom politely responded, "She’s on a scholarship."  He was amazed at that fact.  A follow-up question was, "What’s her plan after her graduation?"  Mother said, "She got accepted for a Post-Doctorate Research position at Brown University this July."  Now, the consul was floored. 

     I don’t recall what went previously or next, but the consul looked at my paper and joked if I’m not going to go to Hollywood and make "Superman 4."  I flashed my beauty pageant grin and said, "No, I’m going to make films here and live (here) in my lifetime."  He asked me again:  "So you teach, what do you teach?"  "I teach English, I have two students, one (basic) English, and the other under creative writing program."  And for how long, I should have said four, but I answered two, when I started teaching English for Koreans as my first job. 

     There’s a long quiet while the consul was typing, he was also biting the end of his ballpen with the cap on…then he asked for our bank certificates, my mom frantically gave them…The last paper was my bank certificate.  It was the longest time he read a paper during that interview…hmmm…bakit kaya?  Was it that it’s not too much?  I kept my poise.   Then he asked, "Is it all your funds?"  I retorted, "Some of the funds, I saved, part of it, I borrowed."  This was a blur, because after that I think he referred to my parents, maybe to take care of me.

     Then the moment came, the three yellow slips were returned to us, a signal that you’re application is accepted.  I did know that, but it was not on my head.  Then he handed his last sentence and smiled, "Congratulations, this will be your trip of a lifetime,"  And he quickly pointed a finger at me: "And you, come back, okay, there are only a few independent filmmakers in the Philippines."  I was not sure what he really meant, I heard the word "a few."  Our resolved and excited sighs deafened his last words.   

     After a three and a half hour wait for three separate waiting lines, the interview was a breeze.  We were scared shitless, that’s for sure.  But my Mom, whose more superstitious than I am, believes in signs, slightly got fate’s approval when we received our number to the interview, 3218; the number eight being a lucky number. 

     Ate, were it not for you and what you’ve achieved, we would have been denied.  We will be together again really soon. 

     A friend told me before that applying for a US Visa is like an elephant passing through the eye of a needle; he was totally right on.  But it was offset by a lot of prayers on the family’s part.  On my end, I told it to some of my dear friends and offered for their prayers. 

     After the interview, I listed each friend that knew about this, and it amounted to twenty-nine (29) people.  I thought I only told it to less than 10 people and it’s supposed to be a hush-hush.  I realized that I have a lot more to be grateful for more than a visa approval–real good friends.  A pasalubong is looming…(bibisita lang po ako…heheh).