Fathers' Rights
Walter's Story
Arusha, tanzania
February 2016
Walter is tall, dark and handsome. At 6”3”, with dark caramel
skin and long dreadlocks, he fills the room with his presence. His strong personality is equally as
commanding. He lives in Tanzania. He runs a safari company and an NGO that
focuses on education for all Tanzanian children.
Ten years ago, he met a white woman from America. She, too, worked for an NGO. They feel in love, got married and had a
child. They were living happily in Mwanza.
But one day, his wife asked if they could move back to Indiana to be
near her family. So they did. Walter got a green card and a job and settled
in to his new life. Then there was a second baby. And some time thereafter, the
marriage dissolved. And Walter
surrendered his green card and moved back to Tanzania.
Even with this huge distance, Walter continues to maintain a
strong presence in his children’s lives.
He offers his financial support.
He speaks with them regularly on Skype and other social media
sites. They have visited him in Tanzania
and he has returned to the USA to visit them.
But something has changed recently. He applied for a visa to come to Indiana in
the spring to see his children and he was denied. He was told that he was a high risk of
becoming an illegal immigrant. He wasn’t
welcomed anymore.
“I just want to see my children,” he tells me. “I love them. I love my kids. I would do
anything for them.”
He also attempted to make arrangements for them to spend the
summer with him in Tanzania. “My
grandfather is still alive. I want them
to know him. I want them to know my
brothers. They need to know their
culture. I just want them for the
summer. But the lawyers and the
judges. I can’t have them. They are afraid I will kidnap them. I do not
my kids to go to school in Tanzania. The
schools in Indiana are better. I just
want them to get to know Africa. But I
can’t. I can’t go to see them and they
can’t come here.” His voice is filled
with sadness and anger.
I am filled with frustration. “But there must be something
you can do. This isn’t right”, I tell
him with the luxury of being indignant.
“What can I do. This
is the United States and I am just one person.
I can do nothing but wait until they are 18 and they can come here on
their own.”
“No, no, no”, I bark back. “Your kids need to sue the
government for violation of their civil rights.
They are entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. They are being denied these rights when they
can not have a relationship with their father.
And you need to go to the United Nations and file a complaint with
them. This is a crime against
humanity. You have a universal right to
see your children.” I speak as if I am
completely right and this situation will be immediately reversed when the world
gets wind of this gross injustice
“Do you know how many fathers are in my same situation. The government will never let all of us in to
see our children,” he tells me with resignation of defeat.
“Too bad”, I retort with self-righteous naiveté. “Too bad,
this is wrong. And if more people knew
of this situation, I think many Americans would rally around this
injustice. Kids need a father. And dads need to be with this kids. That’s not a hard concept to understand.’
“I wish it was that simple.
But in our world, where we live, here in Africa, no one can beat the
United States. No one.”
I don’t pursue the conversation any long because I am not
sure which one of us is right.
