Old Longings, New Hope

Mustafa Rasidkadic hasn't seen his son in five years. Rasidkadic and his wife were separated from him after being thrown in a prisoner of war camp during the war in Bosnia. After two and a half years in the camp, where they saw some of their fellow prisoners executed, they were released and came to Chicago as refugees in 1999. Their youngest son was allowed to come with them, but since their oldest son, now 35, is an adult, he didn't automatically get refugee status with his parents. "They didn't say yes or no, they just left his case undecided," said Edisa Duranspahic, a close friend of Rasidkadic's who translates for him as part of her work with the Interfaith Refugee and Immigration Ministries in Chicago.

Meanwhile Mohammad Asif, 21, lives daily in fear for the safety of his mother, who stayed behind in Pakistan with his younger sister when Asif, who was born in the U.S. but grew up in Pakistan, immigrated here in 1996. As leaders of the minority Shi'ite community in Quetta, Pakistan, his father had received many death threats before passing away several years ago and his uncle was also the subject of attacks and threats.

"Now my mother has no one to take care of her, and in that society she can't really work," said Asif, who now lives in Chicago. "She can't even get a visa to visit. It's really hard not being able to see her. I worry about her all the time."

Under current immigration policy, it will be years more before either man sees his loved ones. Recently, Rasidkadic learned that going through the normal immigration process, it will be nine to 12 years before his son can legally join him in the U.S.

"He [Mustafa] can't even talk about it because it hurts so much," said Duranspahic.

"Since we are getting old, we want as soon as possible to see both our kids with us," said Rasidkadic, 62, in a prepared statement. "It is so hard to wait, as you don't know how long your life will be. Twelve years from now is just too long for a person my age to wait."

As the parent of a U.S. citizen, Asif's mother would probably be able to move to the U.S. in two or three years. But as a sibling of a citizen, in a lower priority category as far as immigration law goes, his sister wouldn't be able to come for as many as 11 years. So his mother must stay with her.

However, if federal legislation proposed in the House and Senate on May 4 were to pass, Rasidkadic and Asif would soon be reunited with their family members. The legislation, known as the Comprehensive Immigration Reform Bill, is a sweeping package of progressive immigration reforms which harken back to the days before the Sept. 11 attacks when amnesty for undocumented immigrants and a more humane immigration policy were on the national radar screen. While simultaneously being introduced in the House and Senate, the reform bill was announced at about 25 press conferences around the country on May 4, including the one in Chicago where Rasidkadic and Asif shared their stories.

The Sept. 11 terrorist attacks set back immigration reform by decades, according to most immigration lawyers and immigrants' rights advocates. And with the war on terror and the drive for Homeland Security still in high gear, legal and undocumented immigrants still face intense prejudice, repression, surveillance and general insecurity. But immigrant workers and immigrants' rights advocates, including a strong presence from organized labor, are demanding that their human rights and workers rights be protected in a country that clearly needs their labor. The legislation, introduced by Senator Edward Kennedy (D-MA) and Congressmen Luis Gutierrez (D-IL)and Bob Menendez (D-NJ), is a "big step," in the words of Polish immigrant and Service Employees International Union (SEIU) Local 1 organizer Eva Garza.