Transcript

560:

Abdi and the Golden Ticket
Transcript

Originally aired 07.03.2015

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Full audio: http://tal.fm/560

Prologue.

Ira Glass

Every year in the fall, in countries all over the world, signs go up advertising a lottery, a lottery whose winners move to the United States, get a green card, and become Americans. And though it might sound crazy to you, and impossible--

Reuben Henry

Everybody know, I mean everybody. This sign is all over on the street, all over, in the stores, in the shops. Everywhere you pass, you see it.

Ira Glass

That's Reuben Henry who runs an internet cafe in Liberia. The lottery application is online, so internet cafes are where lots of people apply. They're the ones who put up the signs advertising it. This year, Reuben says, over 1,000 people put in applications at his place. He doesn't know any Liberian who hasn't heard of it.

Reuben Henry

Not anyone at all, except the baby who was born today.

Ira Glass

If you haven't heard of this lottery, it's probably because you already live here and you don't need it. It's not a scam. It's a real thing run by the United States government every year called the Diversity Visa lottery, or the DV lottery for short. The idea is to get a more varied group of immigrants from a diversity of countries into our country. In any given year, between 8 and 15 million people apply with over 100,000 winners.

Mr. Bala

[NON-ENGLISH SPEECH]

Interpreter

Some of them are very quiet and they start to cry.

Ira Glass

I spoke to this man, Mr. Bala, with an interpreter. He owns a cyber cafe in Sri Lanka. He says he gets about 800 applicants a year at his place, and about 20 winners.

Mr. Bala

[NON-ENGLISH SPEECH]

Interpreter

Some, according to him, jump up and down and they just scream, and so excited. While yet the rest will be, you know, banging on the walls and just screaming their head off and hugging Mr. Bala or anybody who's nearby that they were so happy that they were selected.

Ira Glass

The way it works, people apply online in October, the winners are randomly chosen, and the results are posted in May. At a cyber cafe in the Congo, when Eric Muamba told one woman, "God's blessed you, you've won," she kissed him.

Eric Muamba

[NON-ENGLISH SPEECH]

Interpreter

And I was so embarrassed that-- since the husband was there, I also ran to the husband and hugged the husband, you know, just to cool the tension, because I did not want her husband to think-- I mean, to have some ideas.

Ira Glass

In Kenya, Michael Kadi Abu Niwa had the very first winner in his cybercafe two years ago. Basically he just noticed a commotion over at the computers.

Michael Kadi Abu Niwa

Shouting, laughing, trying to shake him. And the guys were around there, "you won it! You won it!"

Ira Glass

Mike told the guy, "you're now an American."

Michael Kadi Abu Niwa

Hey, you are now an American. You are now an American. You're going to a land of opportunities, and remember us when you're there. When you leave this country, don't forget about us. That's what I told him.

Ira Glass

The guy who won that day was not a Kenyan. He was a Somali refugee named Abdi, Abdi Nor. He remembers the moment this way. He sat down at the computer.

Abdi Nor

I put my confirmation number. I put my date of birth, and then clicked submit. There was a few seconds of silence, then "you have been randomly selected."

Ira Glass

Everybody went nuts, lifted him up in the air in his chair. But Abdi didn't believe it. He asked his friends to put him down and started entering his information into the computer again, and again.

Abdi Nor

It's the same answer, the same response. I put in-- same response. I realized I won. I walked out with these friends all shouting behind me, in front of me, you know, holding my hands, shaking me. My heart was bumping. I was not holding myself together.

Ira Glass

Moving to America seemed like a done deal. But he didn't know the half of it. Abdi is who our show's about today, and winning the lottery was an especially big deal for Abdi because, really more than anybody he knew, Abdi had been obsessed with America since he was little. As a kid growing up in Mogadishu, Somalia, he would go to the movies which, in Mogadishu just meant a TV perched on a table in a shack.

And he would bring a pen and paper to watch American films so he could write down any words he didn't know and learn the language better. He became known to people as the guy who could translate the movie for you. Stuff would happened on screen and everybody would turn to Abdi, who would shout out, "he says he's about to kill that guy."

He pronounces English like an American. That's why his accent is so amazing when you hear him, which led to his nickname, that all his friends called him.

Abdi Nor

Abdi the American. That's my name. That's my nickname.

Ira Glass

And as he got older, he devoted himself to the goal of getting to America, not only studying English, but also teaching it. He did some radio stories in English. And you can totally understand why he'd want to leave his country, right?

He grew up in Somalia. For years there was no functioning government. There was rival warlords and militias and just anarchy, dangerous and violent. And there were bombings and attacks from the terrorist group al-Shabaab, which is affiliated with al-Qaeda. Abdi says for him, or really for any man in his 20s in Somalia, it's hard to stay out of the fight. You can't just be neutral and go about your life.

He tells stories of al-Shabaab members threatening him to join them, or else. At one checkpoint on the way to his mom's they told him, basically, next time you come through here, you'd better be one of us. So it was that or join the government forces who were fighting al-Shabaab, or he could flee the country.

You know those boats full of people who are trying to cross the Mediterranean to get to Europe, and sometimes they sink, and hundreds of people drown? Abdi knows people who have gone on those boats, and on boats like them, to escape to Yemen.

Abdi Nor

Yes. I've lost three very good friends. And one of these friends had his child, less than a year old, with his wife. He knew how to swim, but he could not swim because his child was-- you know, he was trying to save his child and his wife. And then they were caught up in the sea and sharks.

They were not the only ones who died there. 75 other Somalis were killed in that journey. And that has changed nothing about our decision. That doesn't scare us a lot. We know death is there.

Ira Glass

Several times, Abdi planned to take one of those boats, but he had trouble getting the money together, and eventually his mom talked him out of it. So instead, he escaped across the border to Kenya. Somalia and Kenya are next to each other. Abdi moved to Nairobi, enrolled in a university, tried twice for a student visa to America, was denied both times. And if he hadn't gotten lucky that day in the cybercafe, he said he would have been looking again and getting on a boat.

Abdi Nor

Yeah. If I had not won this green card lottery, that was one of my options. I was not afraid to do that. I'm looking for a life. And to get to that, I'll keep trying to the death.

Ira Glass

The thing about the lottery though, what Abdi learned, is that it does not guarantee you a life in America. In fact, it's just the first step. After you win you have to wait more than a year, then you show up at an American embassy for an interview, and you have to gather all kinds of paperwork to bring with you, medical documents and school transcripts and a criminal background check. Everything has to be perfect. Every "i" dotted. The tiniest mistake means that you can be denied for good.

In fact, most years, over half the people who win the lottery never get their visas. They don't make it to America. And right away, after winning the lottery, Abdi got a bad break. The police in Nairobi, Kenya, where he lived, started raiding houses, looking around up all the Somalis like him and kick them out of the country. We have a very unusual day-by-day record of what happened to Abdi because a BBC reporter named Leo Hornak wanted to document this process and started calling Abdi every night. This is one of their very first recordings.

[DIALING]

Leo Hornak

Hey, Abdi, can you hear me?

Abdi Nor

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I can hear you.

Leo Hornak

Are you safe right now, for the moment?

Abdi Nor

Yeah. I'm safe.

Leo Hornak

You sent me an email that had me really worried today. Tell me what happened.

Abdi Nor

Yeah, it was crazy. I was actually chatting with some of the people in our apartment when these guys-- we don't call them the police. We called them the guys. Out of nowhere they appeared there at the gate, and they asked us all to raise our hands up. And [SIGH] you know, we-- we were thinking, like, OK. This is the end of it. We're going to go there tonight.

Ira Glass

By "there," he means a place called Kasarani, a giant soccer stadium that Kenyan authorities and police were using as a makeshift jail to hold hundreds of refugees.

Abdi Nor

Like, oh my God. The next few, couple of nights you're going to be spending there in the concentration camp, and then they take you to Mogadishu. And, OK, you're going to miss your lottery. All those things were going through my mind.

Ira Glass

This call happened on April 17th, 2014. Abdi had 96 days to go before his interview at the US embassy, which would be scheduled for July 22nd. Leo started calling him every day. He was worried for him. Like I say, over half the people who win the lottery never make it to the United States. Would Abdi succeed?

Over the next three months he faced a horrifying obstacle course. It's just like one seemingly impossible task after another. At several points he's afraid for his life. Today we bring you the story of one of the many people around the world who are desperately trying to make it to America, to become one of us. Will Abdi do it? Stay with us.

Act One.

Ira Glass

OK, so you remember where we are. Abdi is about to be taken into custody by the police. Here's Leo Hornak.

Leo Hornak

So here's why the police were raiding Abdi's neighborhood in Nairobi. Al-Shabaab was the very group Abdi moved to Kenya to escape, have been ramping up terrorist attacks inside Kenya. You may remember one of the biggest ones.

Reporter

The hostage crisis in the upscale Westgate Mall is ongoing. The chaotic scene now a tense standoff. ABC's--

Leo Hornak

In September 2013, al-Shabaab gunmen trapped hundreds of people in a mall for days, and killed 67. The way the Kenyan government responded to these terrorist attacks was the way governments often do in these situations, with a huge crackdown on the community they hold responsible. Al-Shabaab's from Somalia, so they go after Somali refugees living in Kenya.

Government's trying to clear them out of Kenya's cities and move them to camps in the country or deport them back to Somalia. And in Nairobi the neighborhood they target is Abdi's neighborhood. It's called Eastleigh. It's a dense neighborhood where many poor Somalis live, and where there is some al-Shabaab support. Eastleigh's been there for decades. It's known as Little Mogadishu. Abdi lives there with his older brother Hassan in a small room with one bed and a single bathroom for the whole building.

So back to that phone call on April 17th. The police show up and grab Abdi by the shirt.

Abdi Nor

They just get your collar and hold it so tight. And they tell you, come with me and just get into the truck. That's what they said to all of us.

Leo Hornak

It's 96 days until Abdi's interview, and Abdi's worried they're going to throw him and his brother into a truck and take them into detention before he can ever get his papers together and leave for America.

Abdi Nor

They threaten you and they try to forcibly take you to the tracks. We were not going with them. We were saying, OK, let's negotiate. I'm not going anywhere. I have legitimate documents. And they were telling us, OK, bring out all your documents. What do you have?

Leo Hornak

Abdi pulls out his refugee ID. Officially, that should protect Abdi. It's from the United Nations. Unofficially--

Abdi Nor

He didn't even try to give it single glance, because he knows the shape. He knows the frame of it. And he says-- he threw it into my face and he says, "you're a refugee? What are you doing here?" And they were like, "Come on, give us whatever you have." That's what one of them said.

Leo Hornak

So that's when the real business starts.

Abdi Nor

Yeah, when the real business starts.

Leo Hornak

AKA, the bribes. Abdi, his brother, and the neighbors start pooling their cash.

Abdi Nor

In total, I think we gave them more than 80 US dollars. And I had to beg them. Please, I have nothing. That's all I have in life. Nothing. I have nothing. This is all I have. Please, you have to take it.

Leo Hornak

And how much does 80 US dollars buy you in Eastleigh.

Abdi Nor

It gives you the best food. It's better jeans, better shirts, jacket, all that stuff. It's a lot of money. It's, indeed, a lot of money.

Leo Hornak

And, Abdi, what happens next? I mean, there's no solution, right, to this? This could happen again tomorrow.

Abdi Nor

Not even tomorrow. It can happen right now. It can happen to tonight. It can happen in the next few minutes. It can happen in the next few hours.

Leo Hornak

Talking to Abdi every day, what I realized was how relentless it is. Every night's another excuse for a crackdown, and the Somalis are sitting ducks, trapped in this one neighborhood.

Abdi Nor

Most people are indoors today. They're not going to anywhere. They're not coming out of their houses.

Leo Hornak

April 25th, 88 days to Abdi's interview, and counting. It's a Friday, which normally would be a busy day in Eastleigh because it's a Muslim holy day. People take off from work, go shopping, go out to eat, to meet at the mosque for prayers. But not today. Abdi says last week the police showed up at a nearby mosque, grabbed people as they left prayers, and drove them away in trucks.

Abdi Nor

We're getting additional threats from the police saying that they will intensify the operations and that they will take more people.

Leo Hornak

So, Abdi, what do you think you're going to do today? Will you visit a mosque?

Abdi Nor

No, I will not. I never missed a prayer on Friday, but this one-- but this one. Never missed. But you never know.

Leo Hornak

Soon, Abdi stops leaving his apartment for anything. He and his brother, Hassan, essentially go into hiding, lockdown in their building. They stop going to school. As the days go by, food begins to run short. Abdi and Hassan pool their supplies with another Somali family on the ground floor of their building, two women, one a single mother with two small boys. But it's not much.

Soon they're down to just tea and sugar, and a loaf of bread they're able to get each day from a Kenyan guy who delivers it on his bike. That's what they were living on. Tea and bread.

Abdi Nor

Our eyes are turning red and the energy's running out. We're looking, like, pretty skinny.

Leo Hornak

Abdi and Hassan are paying for the tea and bread with money they get from overseas. Years ago Abdi did some reports for an American public radio show called The Story, and a listener reached out wanting to help. She sends them money, not too different from lots of Somali refugees who have family members abroad supporting them. But, obviously, that kind of help only goes so far.

Hassan Nor

It's challenging because, you know, you can't even shut your eyes at night and sleep soundly.

Leo Hornak

This is Abdi's older brother, Hassan. He tells me they aren't sleeping. He and Abdi sound the same, by the way. Apparently even their father can't tell them apart on the phone.

Hassan Nor

Any minute you expect someone breaking into your house or grabbing you. It's like sleeping with your pants on, you know? You are always ready. You don't know what's happening, you know?

Leo Hornak

Yeah. Wow.

Hassan Nor

Feeling at home is like you relax, you watch a movie, something like-- that never happens. If you hear another sound outside or some other knocking or, you know, a small kind of sound-- what was it? What's happening? Are they coming? We are not criminals, just refugees. And I never thought being a refugee will make you sound like criminal.

Leo Hornak

The kind of police abuses Abdi told me about are well-documented by human rights groups and journalists-- arbitrary arrest, extortion, beatings, forcible deportation, family members separated. It's illegal under international law to send refugees back to a country where their lives could be in danger. The spokesman for Kenya's Ministry of Interior, which oversaw the police raids in Eastleigh, told me they were justified to make the city safe from al-Shabaab. But he confirmed that the kind of police corruption Abdi told me about has been a problem for a long time in Kenya. That is a fact, he said. We're not denying that.

Abdi and Hassan tell me Eastleigh's come up with a warning system. The first person to spot the police from his window fires a group text to his friends to say, they're coming your way, so you've got time to hide. Then you pass the message on to your friends, and so on. You can tell a raid's started, Hassan says, when you hear all the phones going off.

With just three months left until his interview, Abdi still needs to get all the documents required by the US embassy, documents from the police, his school, his doctors. But he can't do any of that because he can't even leave his building. The clock's ticking.

Abdi Nor

This is a long dream. My hopes were high to get this thing. But now, today, I'm in trouble, you know?

Leo Hornak

Right.

Abdi Nor

It's not the Americans who are, you know, putting my visa into trouble, it's the Kenyans, the Kenyan police. And I'm supposed to have my interview here in July. My heart's broke, you know? My feelings are very, very bad. I'm feeling like, OK, you're not going to make it.

Leo Hornak

April 28th, t-minus 85 days until his interview. Instead of hiding from the police, people are now surrendering. From his window Abdi sees entire families sitting on the sidewalk with their belongings.

Abdi Nor

Hundreds of families are on the move back to Somalia, are ready to show themselves to the police and say, all right, I'm done.

Leo Hornak

I'm done. They don't have any more money to pay off the police. And rather than end up at the football stadium, they'll just go back to Somalia. Even the family on the ground floor, the two women with the young boys, are packing up.

Abdi Nor

Which really broke the heart of my brother and I because that means we're going to be alone here.

Leo Hornak

Did you have any conversations with them about their plans, what they're afraid of? Can you tell me about any conversation you had with any member of that family?

Abdi Nor

What they are telling me, Abdi, what are you doing here? Come on, move. You're dreaming about America. That doesn't exist. This is a dream. Come on, boy. You are wrong. That's what they're me, Leo. At some point I'm thinking, like, would it be OK to go with them? This is totally no life.

Leo Hornak

I guess it can't be safe for two unaccompanied women with small children to be traveling by car from Nairobi to Somalia. It can't be safe, right?

Abdi Nor

They're expecting everything. They're expecting an extortion of property, they are expecting a rape. Because there are gangs on the road that can rape women, and the gangs know that there are Somalis on the move. So they're somewhere on the road where there's no police in sight, so they can come and jump into buses, rape women, take their money.

And, you know, the other thing that these families are fearing when they reach a border between Kenya and Somalia, another chapter of danger begins because it's al-Shabaab that are lurking around the border. And when you fall into the hands of al-Shabaab, you disappear forever.

The other thing that I was also discussing with them about this seven-year-old and a five-year-old kid is because these are the age that the al-Shabaab-- they really want to program the kids and teach them, you know, whatever ideologies they believe. And so, yeah. The lady looked like she was so much worried for her kids than for herself. Knowing this, these two ladies and the kids must go.

Leo Hornak

Wow.

Abdi Nor

It's really. So you have got a lot of things to think about. A lot of things to worry about.

Leo Hornak

One night, on the phone, Abdi asked me if I'm familiar with the migration of the wildebeest. Abdi wants to be clear. He doesn't know about this because he's African. He's a city kid. He's just seen it on Discovery Channel clips, like everyone else. Anyway, each year thousands and thousands of wildebeest trek to a river that they have to cross in order to graze on the other side. The river's infested with crocodiles, and not every wildebeest makes it, but they all have to try.

Abdi says he knows how they feel. Somalis are prey, he says. They're being hunted.

Each evening, when I phoned Abdi, I was always concerned that one night no one would answer, that he would have finally taken the advice of his neighbors or been hauled off to the holding pens in Kasarani. When he did pick up, often he wanted to talk about things that weren't related to the Kenyan police or al-Shabaab. We talked about his favorite movies, Rambo, that movie The Rock with Nicolas Cage, anything Schwarzenegger. We talked about his friends in the good old days in Eastleigh, when he could sit in a cafe and sip tea with camel milk.

One thing I asked Abdi about-- when people win the regular lottery you always hear stories about how all of a sudden family members are really nice to them, or cousins they haven't spoken to in years start calling to say hi, asking for favors. I wondered if this was the case with Abdi. Here he was sitting in a slum with all these refugees who were in the same terrible situation, and now he had a ticket out. Did people start treating him differently?

Abdi Nor

Yes, Leo, especially the girls.

[LAUGHTER]

This is a very good question.

Leo Hornak

Abdi is a practicing Muslim, and so were the women he hangs out with. So normally, before, you could only visit them in a kind of formal courtship visit at their home. No having girls over to his place, now hanging out in public.

Abdi Nor

The difference now, since I won the green card lottery, is that they are trying to come to my house.

Leo Hornak

He's talking about before the police raids started, when life was relatively normal in Eastleigh.

Abdi Nor

So I just hear someone coming up the stairs and knocking at my door, and saying, hey, Abdi, how have you been? And it's a lady. And, yeah, she sits right next to your bed and it's all about the conversation. She's trying to do anything to attract you with the sweet words.

Do you have a girlfriend? When do you want to marry? What type of girls do you want? Now you're going to America, you need a wife. When you go to America, please let me be the first person you get in touch. Because I'm here, and I don't have a husband.

Leo Hornak

Are you thinking about any of these girls? Maybe something could happen.

Abdi Nor

[LAUGHS] Yes. I really am attracted to one of these girls. She's really beautiful, cute. She's Somali, but she has finished high school in Nairobi. The good thing about her is that she speaks English.

She is really, I think, my type. She likes to read a lot, you know? She has a different character. The rest of Somali girls are very shy, but this pretty girl-- she gives me all this confidence, you know? And she allows me to go to her, and she allows me to hang out with her in downtown Nairobi wherever possible, you know? So I-- yeah. I think I fall in love.

Leo Hornak

Well, congratulations. That's one piece of good news.

[LAUGHTER]

Abdi Nor

Yeah. But unfortunately, for the last four weeks we haven't seen each other.

Leo Hornak

May 1st, 82 days and counting. Abdi cautiously ventures out of the apartment building for the first time in weeks. He heads downtown to central Nairobi, where life is continuing as normal. It's a stressful journey, but he's able to buy a couple of gallons of clean water and some cans of beans to bring home. He says it's amazing how good these taste to him and Hassan. He tells me he's getting more and more worried about the paperwork he still has to get together for his interview, his medical records and transcripts from his university. And there's one piece of paper that terrifies him.

Abdi Nor

One of the US embassy requirements is to get a police certificate, something called a certificate of good conduct.

Leo Hornak

What this basically is, is proof from Kenyan law enforcement that Abdi isn't a criminal. Abdi doesn't have a record, so this shouldn't be a big deal, except for the place he has to go to get the official certificate, the headquarters of the Kenyan police.

Abdi Nor

So that scares you a lot. Thousands of Somalis are being held as we speak, and they're waiting for their return to Somalia, or some of them are waiting for their return to the camps. So when I am thinking of jumping into a bus and headed to headquarters, stepping in there and saying, hey guys, I need a police letter, my heart is already pounding.

Leo Hornak

For weeks Abdi had been talking to me about this, telling me about how worried he was about having to go into the belly of the beast. Finally, on a Tuesday morning in May, 77 days before his interview, he gets up early, gets together every idea he has to prove he's a legal refugee, says goodbye to Hassan, and takes a bus to police headquarters. He walks in, waits for his name to be called, and walks up to the window where he faces a Kenyan police officer. And what he encounters is not brutal police tactics, but bureaucracy.

Abdi Nor

He was telling me, there's nothing that I can do but take your paper and send it to UNHCR, and then I have to wait for them to come back to me. Even it can take more than five months, he tells me.

Leo Hornak

Five months. Way too long for Abdi to have it in time for his interview on July 22nd.

Abdi Nor

The guy there was not friendly. He was really, really fierce, and I was frozen with fear. And finally, I tell him, wait, just listen to me, gentlemen. You're talking about five months, sir, but that's not what I'm talking about. If I don't get this police certificate, they will not give me-- or issue a visa for me, all right? So please, is it possible? And he was telling me, there's nothing that I can do for you. It's going to take more than five months.

Leo Hornak

There's no possibility of you going into a later position with the US embassy, is there?

Abdi Nor

No.

Leo Hornak

No.

Abdi Nor

It doesn't happen. If you delay your interview, that's the end of it. Some other people will grab the visa. Yeah. That's going to be a doom.

Leo Hornak

It's going to be a doom, Abdi says. And I felt that too. Up to this point it seemed like if Abdi could just hold on long enough to get to his embassy interview, he'd make it to America. Now, all bets were off. Now, unless this changed, there was no way.

Ira Glass

Leo Hornak. Abdi decides to keep going back to police headquarters every few weeks, despite the risk, despite how frightening it is, to see if one time maybe he gets a different answer. What happens next in a minute, from Chicago Public Radio, when our program continues.

Act Two.

Ira Glass

It's This American Life. I'm Ira Glass. Today on our program we're hearing the story of Abdi Nor, a Somali refugee who escaped to Kenya. And then he won what amounts to a golden ticket to move to the United States and become an American, but only if he's able to make it to an interview at the US embassy, with all the right paperwork, all done perfectly, so he can cash in that golden ticket.

The United Nations has reported that the number of people around the world displaced from their homes because of conflict and persecution is at an all time high. It's over 65 million people, the largest number the UN has ever recorded. Abdi, of course, is one of those people.

He's Muslim, from a country with a proven history of terrorism. There are proposals, of course, in this presidential race to ban Muslims or people from countries like that from emigrating to the United States, even if, like Abdi, they are running from terrorists and aren't terrorists themselves. Anyway, Leo Hornick continues this story.

Leo Hornak

May 12th, t-minus 71 days to Abdi's embassy interview. Abdi gets on a bus home from school, and this time runs into another danger. Not the police, not al-Shabaab themselves, but the fear of al-Shabaab.

Abdi Nor

The bus is so crowded with people. And there are these two ladies watching me.

Leo Hornak

Abdi looks around and realizes he's the only Somali. People can tell. Somalis look different. And a Somali with a backpack on, on a public bus-- he knows what people are thinking.

Abdi Nor

They are watching my hands. They're thinking, like, when is this guy putting his hand into that bag and start to blow up? These ladies then started shouting at the driver, have you made sure there's no bomb in that bag?

I had to fight back. And I say, listen lady, wait a minute. I'm not what you think I am, you know? No. There's no bomb in here. I'm not one of those people. I'm a student and I'm carrying my books. It's quite embarrassing. And at the same time, I feel fear because everyone in there had very cautious eyes on me.

Leo Hornak

In Kenya, because people don't trust the police, mobs will take justice into their own hands. For example, if a shopkeeper yells "thief" on the street, strangers might grab the person and beat them. And it's not unheard of for people to die this way.

A man in the back of the past chimes in. "Why is he there," he shouts. Kick him out."

Abdi Nor

I tried as much as I can to calm them down, and they were ignoring me. And then the driver turns his head and tells me, boy, step out of my car or I'll call the police. And you know, we weren't in little Mogadishu. We weren't in downtown. We were in the middle. And in the middle, what I mean in the middle, is exactly the Pangani police station.

Leo Hornak

This is the police station Somali terrorist bombed two weeks earlier.

Abdi Nor

What do you think? If they kick me out there with a bag, standing there near the police station, what's going to happen? They can shoot me to death. I said to the driver, wait a minute. You want to know what's in here? And then I had to unzip my bag and bring everything out, the books, the papers, showed him the pen, the student ID. Everything I brought out.

And then I hang the bag upside-down and showed him. Do you see anything in there? And then it looked like the driver was kind of satisfied, and he looked straight, and he drove the car a little bit faster.

Leo Hornak

Four days later, May 16th, 67 days to the interview, al-Shabaab blows up two buses. It's a big deal. They were in a central market. At least 12 dead, more than 70 injured. Abdi's sure the police will be out in force, and he hunkers down at home for a while.

[PHONE RINGING]

Leo Hornak

Hey, Abdi, what's up? How's it going?

Abdi Nor

Leo, it's good. How are you?

Leo Hornak

Yeah. Not too bad at all. Could you tell me the date? And then we can start.

Abdi Nor

The date?

Leo Hornak

Yeah.

Abdi Nor

It's May 17th, 2014. And last night, after that explosion, there was a massive operation in little Mogadishu. They have knocked at our house. It was like 2:00 last night. We haven't opened. They just kept knocking, and they were thinking, like, there's nobody here. And then they have moved.

Leo Hornak

So-- hang on. So they kind of-- if they just don't get any answer, then they think it's empty?

Abdi Nor

Yes. The thing is that, Eastleigh is not like before. Now there are no more people at all. 80% have gone. That's what I think. It was like 50% before, now it's 80%. Most buildings are empty. So these days, when they keep knocking and nobody's opening, they're thinking, like, people here have moved.

So, yes, that's what we did last night. None of us opened. There was no light in our house because these guys, they are listening to the movements. They're watching if there's any movement in the windows. They are seeing if there's a light or something. Just something like that shows them there's a life here. So that's what we do. We don't show there's a life. It's totally blackouts.

[PHONE RINGING]

Good evening, Leo.

Leo Hornak

Hey, Abdi. How are you?

Abdi Nor

I'm good. I'm good, Leo. How are you?

Leo Hornak

Good. I'm pleased to hear it. I know that you had a tough-- a very difficult evening. Do you want to say what the date is and tell me what happened?

Abdi Nor

May 19. Now the time is 8:45. All I can say, Leo, is that I haven't slept for the last, I'm going to say, 30 hours or more, because the police raid has increased. They have come and taken so many people from our neighborhood. And we have realized that this is not the ordinary police. They have changed something.

These guys, they don't negotiate on cash. Everything has changed. And they're not going into any negotiation at all. They throw you in the back of their trucks and drive away so many, so many refugees.

Leo Hornak

And how are you finding this out? How do you know this?

Abdi Nor

Well, I told you already about that girl. She's my-- I'm going to say she's my girlfriend now. But she has a Kenyan national ID. The text message she sent me here, it says, hey, they have been with me for like 15 minutes, where she was sleeping, her room.

And one of them said, you're not supposed to be a Somali. You're a Kenyan, so you can be my wife. That's one of the policemen-- what one of the policemen said when she showed them her Kenyan national ID. I'm taking all the Somalis, so you'd be lonely here. Just come and you will be safe. You will live with me. And she said, please leave me alone.

They took everyone else in the compound where she lived who had a refugee ID. She lived with other girls, and the other girls don't have the national IDs, so they forced the girls out. They have finally forced the girls out.

Leo Hornak

I tried to confirm this with his girlfriend, but she didn't want to talk to me about it. Abdi says the police took her roommates that night but left her behind.

Leo Hornak

So, what, she's alone now? What's the situation?

Abdi Nor

She is alone. Yes. So Leo, yes, that last night Hassan and I, we didn't know where to go. We could hear all those sounds, the knock of our gate, the shouts, the bullets that were being fired into the doors of people. At one moment I was thinking, like, go under your bed. And the other moment I was thinking, like, if they find you here they're going to kill you. I was like, this is-- I don't know. I've never been in such a stressful situation.

Leo Hornak

So if you were to look outside the building right now, what would you see?

Abdi Nor

Leo, to be honest-- Leo--

Leo Hornak

I'm not asking you to. I know it's dangerous. But just if I could-- help me imagine.

Abdi Nor

Leo, to be honest, if I just look through my window there's nothing that I can see, I'm telling you. There's nothing that I can see. All the lights are off. Even there's no street light here now.

It's totally, totally dark. There's only this light coming from the laptop. You have to put lots of things on the windows so that they cannot even see-- that's what I'm doing right now, so that they cannot even see the light from my laptop.

But Leo, I don't know. I don't know why they come at night. Why is that? Because they don't want us to go sleep? Why don't they come during the day? They usually come the same time, 2:30. 2:30, you know? And that's exactly when Somali women and children are all asleep, and then these guys are coming. They kick the door open, telling you, wake up, terrorists. Wake up. Why are you sleeping?

Leo Hornak

Mm-hm.

Abdi Nor

They are coming back every night. What the hell is going on? Why don't they at least-- if they are doing an operation, why don't they come at one time and finish the whole things? You know, they are killing us. They are killing us by fearing.

Leo Hornak

In this situation, it must be easy for al-Shabaab to get supporters, I guess? People who have some-- maybe a little bit of sympathy with their ideas?

Abdi Nor

Did you read or did you hear about the young men who were deported from Kenya to Somalia, have already joined al-Shabaab?

Leo Hornak

No, I didn't see that.

Abdi Nor

They are coming from the border, already attacking Kenya as revenge because the Kenyans have really mistreated so many women and children and so many young men. Kenya has really given a very good opportunity to these al-Shabaab guys because they are getting what they wanted. They are getting the young men that they were looking for.

Leo Hornak

Yeah. Well, I wish I could say more, but I think there's nothing more I can say right now.

Abdi Nor

I know all I need is some sleep. I don't know if you can feel that.

Leo Hornak

I can. I can. I can hear you feel very stressed. I hope you get some sleep, and keep safe as well. As safe as you can, with your good luck, I mean.

Abdi Nor

Thanks, Leo. Good luck to you, too.

Leo Hornak

Days go by. Abdi and Hassan do their best to keep their spirits up and entertain themselves. They read books. They watch Lost and Walking Dead. It's one of the weird quirks of Eastleigh, that even if food runs short you can still have good broadband internet.

They even built makeshift barbells out of old milk cans they filled with sand and stones, and start working out.

Abdi Nor

[GRUNTING] One, two, three--

Leo Hornak

And they do one of Abdi's favorite things.

Hassan Nor

You want me to go and get--

Abdi Nor

Yes. OK.

Leo Hornak

Listen to music.

[MUSIC - WHAM!, "CARELESS WHISPER"]

Back in Somalia, if al-Shabaab caught you with MP3s on your phone, they would flog you, or they could even kill you for it. They believe most music is sinful. But Abdi always took a risk. He kept his music collection on a secret SIM card hidden under the mattress.

Abdi Nor

This song is called "Careless Whisper." Gives me some good memories, because in Somalia we really had very few Western songs, and there was one time that they got this song and made it into Somali. They translate it.

Leo Hornak

Wow.

Abdi Nor

Yeah. Yeah. I would love to play you that. I don't know if you-- let me think where we can get it. Uh, yeah. Um--

[MUSIC - MUKTAR IDI RAMADAN, "CARELESS WHISPER"]

To be very honest, I have so many songs on my phone, but most of them are very, very old. I really enjoy them because I remember my father on the beautiful days in Somalia. He used to play these songs because he had this big radio. I'm talking about the '90s when I was a pretty young guy. And my father used to sit like this, he's leaning against the wall, his big radio is right next to him. And next to him is a flask full of hot tea, with his khat. And the khat is the small leaves that Somalis eat as a stimulant. And next to him is also a bowl full of milk.

Oh my god. My father, when he has all that stuff, he's in heaven. He's smiling. He gets his finger on the tape and he makes us quiet. He says, shut up and just enjoy.

Leo Hornak

During all this, Abdi did leave the house sometimes, but only for a very specific reason, either to go to an important class he couldn't miss, or to go to the police headquarters and try his luck again getting the certificate he needs for his interview. Then, on May 29th, with 54 days and counting, Abdi sends me this recording.

Abdi Nor

Hi. This is Abdi. [EXHALES STRONGLY] I have great news to declare, so let me just--

[DOOR OPENING AND CLOSING]

I'm so excited! Oh, my god. I'm really different today. My police clearance is done.

Let me say that again. My police clearance is done. I'm looking at my 10 fingers. They're all black because I'm still wearing the black ink for the fingerprints, and I'm not sorry about it.

I smell the US visa. I smell it. I smell it. I see July 22 coming. This was the only problem. I dealt with it. It's done.

Leo Hornak

At this point, Abdi is a shoo-in. It's almost hard to believe after all the obstacles, but he calls up the embassy, talks through all the paperwork, and they tell him he's good to go, and they'll see him on the 22nd. And his tune on our nightly phone calls totally changes. From this--

Abdi Nor

My heart's broke, you know? I'm feeling like, OK, I'm not-- you're not going to make it.

Leo Hornak

To this.

Abdi Nor

Now I am in love with the American culture. I'm in love with their beautiful roads and streets, you know, houses. I'm in love with everything, everything in the US that's going on.

Leo Hornak

Do you sometimes worry that maybe you're so in love with this place that it might disappoint you when you reach there? Many people who reach America have a very tough time.

Abdi Nor

Mm-hm. No. Um, I don't worry about that because I know, whatever I have been through, they have never been through. I've been a refugee. I've been hiding from police. I've been hiding from Shabaab. I've been hiding from so many armed groups.

I have had enough trouble. I have had enough disappointment. America is an opportunity. So I will take my chances.

Leo Hornak

And America's an opportunity not just for Abdi, but his whole family.

Abdi Nor

My mother is in Somalia. She's in Mogadishu, the most dangerous city in the world. And so every call that's coming from Mogadishu, I pick up really with shaky hands.

Leo Hornak

Abdi hasn't seen his mother in more than three years. She lives in a tiny, rundown shack made of corrugated tin, and she doesn't always have access to enough food or clean water. If Abdi gets to America, he hopes he can make some money. And even if he can't protect her from violence, he can at least help her to get a better place with clean water and three meals a day.

Abdi Nor

I spoke to my mother yesterday evening. She asked, boy, when are you going out of that country? And I said, Mom, I got 52 days. 52 days. I need your prayers. And she said, oh my god. He has got 52 days. I'm praying for you, boy.

And I know, like I am right now, she's counting the days. It's going to be something that'll make her proud, that'll make her survive. She's really sending all her prayers towards me.

Leo Hornak

Abdi's older brother, Hassan, has also applied for the visa lottery. Like Abdi, he's worked for years on his English. He came to Kenya years before Abdi. Now he's getting ready to live alone again.

Leo Hornak

Hassan, is there a part of you that thinks-- you know, just a little part of you-- that is a bit jealous about Abdi? Because you both worked hard. And Abdi has got this not through hard work, but by luck.

Hassan Nor

Actually, if I tell you, I don't have the lease jealousy at all. If we get, two of us, visa to get out of here, it will even be better. But if someone told me right now, there is one visa, which one of you will take it? I would say Abdi, because he's new to this country and I know how we are so fearful at night, and I know how he can't sleep at night.

For him to get a visa is my biggest pleasure. Yeah, there's luck there. But luck can't be fair.

Leo Hornak

June 4th, 48 days and counting. Abdi goes into the stairwell to use the bathroom and finds a police officer standing there who calls for backup. The officer doesn't ask for a bribe. He lets Abdi go. Abdi has no idea why.

June 8th, 44 days to go. Abdi tells me, apparently the police have started raiding during the day, which is a change. He avoided them because he was at class.

June 15th, 37 days to go. Abdi hears on the radio that dozens of masked al-Shabaab gunmen bombed a police station, stole its weapons, and went on a rampage in a town on the coast killing at least 48 people. Abdi and Hassan brace for more police raids. July 7th, 15 days to go.

Abdi Nor

Leo, I'm telling you, they have chased me with machetes, with stones--

Leo Hornak

Abdi, you're kidding.

Abdi Nor

Yeah, it was only two hours ago.

Leo Hornak

When Abdi and I speak, he's shaken up. He says he just tried to visit the mosque for the first time in weeks. It's right down the block.

Abdi Nor

It was, like, only ten steps away from my house. And then there's this, like, 50 armed young men. They were armed with machetes and with rocks in their hands. And they started chasing me and throwing those stones. And then I started running towards the mosque.

Leo Hornak

The mob was a bunch of Kenyans attacking Somalis at random on the streets.

Abdi Nor

Yeah. They caught up with others. They were beating these guys, and I couldn't look back.

Leo Hornak

Oh wow.

Abdi Nor

I threw myself-- I threw myself into the mosque and then somebody closed the gate. And the sheikh, cleric, he was like, please calm down. If these people want to kill us, I think we will go-- we will all go to heaven because Allah says, if we die in the mosque, that's it. We'll go straight to heaven.

Leo Hornak

Did you expect to die?

Abdi Nor

I did.

Leo Hornak

July 17th, five days to go. The woman sending in money from America wires cash for his interview fee, $320. And then finally, July 21st, one day to go.

Abdi Nor

It's actually not days. It's now hours left to my interview.

Leo Hornak

10 hours and 53 minutes, to be precise. It's at 7:30 tomorrow morning.

Abdi Nor

I'm not going to bed anymore. I'm not going to sleep. I'm sure about that. Tomorrow is going to change my life. It's going to change my life to be the happiest person, or else it's going to change my life to be the most devastated man on Earth. So it's these two.

Tomorrow night, I'm coming back to this room, breaking everything, smashing everything right here because I'm happy, or I'm angry. In both situations I'll break these things, I know. I will just give a punch into my laptop.

Leo Hornak

[LAUGHS] I have to say, Abdi, I'm really excited for you. I'm just wishing you good luck, you know, with all my heart.

Abdi Nor

Thank you. Thank you.

Leo Hornak

I'm going to leave you and let you prepare. And I can't wait to speak tomorrow.

Abdi Nor

I wish I would talk to you smiling, not really have that, notice that.

Leo Hornak

I think you will be smiling. That's what I expect.

Abdi Nor

Oh, thank you. Thank you very much.

Leo Hornak

OK. So um, while I was brushing my teeth this morning I got a text message, and it was from Abdi. "Hi. Very bad news. They gave me a red paper that said, visa rejected." And um, yeah. We text messaged backwards and forwards, and um, the last message he sent to me, which was a few hours ago, was "this is my worst day on Earth."

I couldn't get hold of Abdi for a day. When I finally did talk to him, he walked me through what happened. Abdi arrived hours early. The waiting room was filled with other lottery winners. One by one they were called in, and one by one, Abdi says, they came out grinning. Then Abdi's number was called. This was it, window 9.

Abdi Nor

Um, there is this American lady. She was a black American, to be honest. I was really happy because somebody already told me that the ladies are good than the men. So if lady interviews you, you get the visa. So I was thinking, all right, man, you got it.

So the first thing she said was, please, can you raise your right hand and swear that everything that you will say is the truth?

Leo Hornak

Abdi did. He answered a few simple questions.

Abdi Nor

And then she was busy writing something on her computer. I could feel that my legs were shivering.

Leo Hornak

Hm.

Abdi Nor

So this is the moment, man. This is the moment that you have been waiting for. And then she said, so, tell me, where did you go to high school? And I said, Mogadishu, Somalia.

Leo Hornak

Where'd you go to college? She asked. And he told her his university in Nairobi.

Abdi Nor

But she said, the transcript that you have here does not have a signature. Did you know that?

Leo Hornak

One of his school transcripts didn't have a signature. She took out a pink piece of paper and on the bottom wrote two words, "missing transcript." She handed it to Abdi and said, sorry, I can't give you the visa.

Abdi Nor

I was looking into her eyes, like, please, come back to me and say, hey, I've changed my mind. Please. Please, God. I need your help. I need luck today.

Leo Hornak

But the lady didn't change her mind. She picked up her microphone and called the next number.

Dazed, Abdi walked outside and sat alone under a tree outside the embassy.

Abdi Nor

Because I needed to calm myself and bring myself together, I sat there. I was holding my head, and I was looking at this whole world as the worst place to live. I told myself, hey, are you rejected? Is this real, or am I dreaming? I thought it was like a dream. No. They can't do this. They can't do this.

Leo Hornak

The embassy told him he could send them a signed transcript if he wanted, but they told him not to come back to the embassy. They'd be in touch, maybe. Abdi sent the transcript, even though he was sure he'd missed his chance.

Abdi Nor

Hello, this is Abdi Nor. It's the 1st of August, 2014. An email got into my inbox. It was immigrant visa department at the US embassy, and it tells me, "from our records, your document has been received, and your visa will be sent by tomorrow."

Oh my god. This email made me jump over my bed and hit my head onto the ceiling. It's issued. God, I just looked at it again. It's issued! What the hell's going on? It's issued! This big smile was on my face. I've never, ever had such a big smile-- never, ever, ever, ever.

[PHONE RINGING]

Abdi Nor

Hey, you.

Leo Hornak

Abdi.

[LAUGHTER]

Oh my god. How are you?

Abdi Nor

I think-- [LAUGHS] Leo--

Leo Hornak

Are you recording this, first, please, before you say-- don't say anything first. Please be recording.

Abdi Nor

I am recording, yeah.

Leo Hornak

OK, great.

[LAUGHTER]

How does it feel to be the owner of a US visa?

Abdi Nor

Mm-hm. [EXHALES] What was the question again?

Leo Hornak

[LAUGHS]

Abdi Nor

Sorry.

Leo Hornak

You're on a different planet.

Abdi Nor

Oh!

What does it feel like to be a green card holder? It feels like the dream has just become real. I don't know what sort of-- it feels like I am not a refugee. Now this is not the refugee that was hiding from the police. [LAUGHS] I'm an American citizen.

Leo Hornak

There was one thing about the approval of Abdi's visa that made us wonder. The day Abdi's visa was issued, before he heard the news, I had actually called the US embassy in Nairobi. I said I was a reporter doing a story about Abdi, and that I was curious about how long their decision would take because of my deadline. The woman I spoke to said she didn't know.

For nine days, Abdi hadn't heard anything. Two hours after my call, he got the good news. We asked the State Department if my phone call influenced their decision about Abdi's visa, and they told us, quote, "the journalist's call played no role in the timing of the visa issuance. Any visa process coinciding with a press inquiry is merely a coincidence."

I can't prove anything, but that is at odds with what the woman on the phone told me back when I initially called the embassy. She said that now that they knew I was doing a story about Abdi, they would try and expedite the process, even though I told her that wasn't why I was calling, and that I was only asking for information.

We spoke with eight immigration lawyers, all experienced with the diversity visa lottery, and they all said my call probably bumped Abdi's application to the top of the pile that day. And with the lottery, because they give out a finite number of visas by a hard deadline, that can be the difference between making it to the US or not.

On August 11th, 2014, Hassan took Abdi to Nairobi airport. Abdi's now living in a small town in Maine. The woman who had been supporting him is putting him up with her family. About a month in, I give him a call.

[PHONE RINGING]

Abdi Nor

Yes, Leo.

Leo Hornak

Hi, Abdi. How is it going? Good to hear from you.

Abdi Nor

It's going incredibly good. [LAUGHS] So can I tell you some of the surprises that strikes me most? There's a postbox. Do you know where the postbox is?

Leo Hornak

He's saying postbox. Mailbox.

Abdi Nor

It's on the opposite side of the road, Leo. Can you believe that?

Leo Hornak

Abdi says he's expecting his social security card and green card in the mail.

Abdi Nor

Are you telling me that everything will be delivered into that little box? Anybody can grab it?

Leo Hornak

The idea that a United States green card could sit in an unlocked mailbox on a public road blew his mind.

That was 10 months ago. Abdi spent the winter installing insulation on roofs around Maine. He really wants to apply for college, but it's hard because he sends a lot of his money back home. Hassan's now married, still in university, still living in Eastleigh.

Abdi keeps in touch with the woman he was seeing back in Nairobi. She's still asking him to bring her to the US and marry her, but he's not sure he wants to do that. One time Abdi asked her straight up if she'd be into him if he didn't have a green card, and she was honest. She said no, which Abdi appreciated. He knows Somali women don't have a lot of options for leaving Eastleigh.

Abdi Nor

Part of me is still in Nairobi. It's still in Eastleigh. My brother's there, my friends are there.

Leo Hornak

Abdi says since he left his friends have this new ritual. When they go to the tea shop they all used to hang out at, which is just some tables and chairs a woman sets up on the street outside her building, they order an extra cup of tea for Abdi.

Abdi Nor

That's what they do. And they drink it for me. Like, if they are two or three people, they just take sips, sending me a photo of the tea and telling me, that's your tea. And then, the next picture, the tea is empty. And they're like, you just drank it. So I can feel that, you know? I'm right there.

And then-- actually, it's sometimes amusing because I'm at the Dunkin' Donuts, drinking a coolatta, and my friend sends me a picture of the nice tea that we used to have at the tea shop, and then I send him a picture of the coolatta that I'm drinking.

Leo Hornak

So it's kind of like you guys are still going to the same tea shop. It's just, one of them is a Dunkin' Donuts in Maine.

Abdi Nor

That's actually right.

Leo Hornak

Sometimes, he says, the Kenyan police walk in and the next photo is an empty tea shop, empty chairs, half-full cups, everyone gone. Meanwhile, at the Dunkin' Donuts, sometimes cops walk in and say hi to him, or good morning. It's amazing, he says.

Ira Glass

Leo Hornak with the BBC. It's been a year since we first ran this story. Abdi is still in Maine, working as an interpreter for the court system there, and doing some writing, an op-ed for the Washington Post, and he's working on a book.

Credits.

Ira Glass

Our program was produced today by Brian Reed, with Zoe Chace, Sean Cole, Stephanie Foo, Chana Joffe-Walt, Miki Meek, Jonathan Menjivar, Robyn Semien, Alissa Shipp, Julie Snyder, and Nancy Updike. Editing help for today's show from Joel Lovell. Production help from Emmanuel Dzotsi. Our technical director is Matt Tierney.

Thanks today to BBC radio current affairs. Hugh Levinson and Brigitte Harney at BBC'S Crossing Continents radio show, where a version of Leo's story first aired. Also to PRI's The World, where Leo is a producer. Our website, ThisAmericanLife.org. This American Life is delivered to public radio stations by PRX, The Public Radio Exchange.

Thanks, as always, to our program's co-founder, Mr. Torey Malatia. You know, he was giving me a ride home last night and I reached out to the radio which, of course, was playing our station and before I could even touch the tuner-- Torey is so hardcore Public Radio, he screeched the car over to the curb and he tells me--

Abdi Nor

Boy, step out of my car, or I'll call the police.

Ira Glass

I'm Ira Glass. Back next week, with more stories of This American Life.