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He
ended
up
in
suburban
New
Jersey
,
of
all
places
,
living
for
a
while
with
an
Indonesian
man
he
’
d
met
on
the
ship
.
He
got
a
job
in
a
sandwich
shop
at
the
mall
-
again
,
ten
-
to
-
twelve
-
hour
days
of
immigrant
-
style
labor
,
this
time
working
with
Mexicans
,
not
Filipinos
.
He
learned
better
Spanish
those
first
few
months
than
English
.
In
his
rare
moments
of
free
time
,
Yudhi
would
ride
the
bus
into
Manhattan
and
just
wander
the
streets
,
still
so
speechlessly
infatuated
with
the
city
-
a
town
he
describes
today
as
"
the
place
which
is
the
most
full
of
love
in
the
entire
world
.
"
Somehow
(
again
-
that
smile
)
he
met
up
in
New
York
City
with
a
crowd
of
young
musicians
from
all
over
the
world
and
he
took
to
playing
guitar
with
them
,
jamming
all
night
with
talented
kids
from
Jamaica
,
Africa
,
France
,
Japan
…
And
at
one
of
those
gigs
,
he
met
Ann
-
a
pretty
blonde
from
Connecticut
who
played
bass
.
They
fell
in
love
.
They
got
married
.
They
found
an
apartment
in
Brooklyn
and
they
were
surrounded
by
groovy
friends
who
all
went
on
road
trips
together
down
to
the
Florida
Keys
.
Life
was
just
unbelievably
happy
.
His
English
was
quickly
impeccable
.
He
was
thinking
about
going
to
college
.
On
September
11
,
Yudhi
watched
the
towers
fall
from
his
rooftop
in
Brooklyn
.
Like
everyone
else
he
was
paralyzed
with
grief
at
what
had
happened
-
how
could
somebody
inflict
such
an
appalling
atrocity
on
the
city
that
is
the
most
full
of
love
of
anywhere
in
the
world
?
I
don
’
t
know
how
much
attention
Yudhi
was
paying
when
the
U
.
S
.
Congress
subsequently
passed
the
Patriot
Act
in
response
to
the
terrorist
threat
-
legislation
which
included
draconian
new
immigration
laws
,
many
of
which
were
directed
against
Islamic
nations
such
as
Indonesia
.
One
of
these
provisions
demanded
that
all
Indonesian
citizens
living
in
America
register
with
the
Department
of
Homeland
Security
.
The
telephones
started
ringing
as
Yudhi
and
his
young
Indonesian
immigrant
friends
tried
to
figure
out
what
to
do
-
many
of
them
had
overstayed
their
visas
and
were
afraid
that
registering
would
get
them
deported
.
On
the
other
hand
,
they
were
afraid
to
not
register
,
thereby
behaving
like
criminals
.
Presumably
the
fundamentalist
Islamic
terrorists
roaming
around
America
ignored
this
registration
law
,
but
Yudhi
decided
that
he
did
want
to
register
.
He
was
married
to
an
American
and
he
wanted
to
update
his
immigration
status
and
become
a
legal
citizen
.
He
didn
’
t
want
to
live
in
hiding
.
He
and
Ann
consulted
all
kinds
of
lawyers
,
but
nobody
knew
how
to
advise
them
.
Before
9
/
11
there
would
have
been
no
problems
-
Yudhi
,
now
married
,
could
just
go
to
the
immigration
office
,
update
his
visa
situation
and
begin
the
process
of
gaining
citizenship
.
But
now
?
Who
knew
?
"
The
laws
haven
’
t
been
tested
yet
,
"
said
the
immigration
lawyers
.
"
The
laws
will
be
tested
on
you
.
"
So
Yudhi
and
his
wife
had
a
meeting
with
a
nice
immigration
official
and
shared
their
story
.
The
couple
were
told
that
Yudhi
was
to
come
back
later
that
same
afternoon
,
for
"
a
second
interview
.
"
They
should
have
been
wary
then
;
Yudhi
was
strictly
instructed
to
return
without
his
wife
,
without
a
lawyer
,
and
carrying
nothing
in
his
pockets
.
Hoping
for
the
best
,
he
did
return
alone
and
empty
-
handed
to
the
second
interview
-
and
that
’
s
when
they
arrested
him
.
They
took
him
to
a
detention
center
in
Elizabeth
,
New
Jersey
,
where
he
stayed
for
weeks
amongst
a
vast
crowd
of
immigrants
,
all
of
whom
had
recently
been
arrested
under
the
Homeland
Security
Act
,
many
of
whom
had
been
living
and
working
in
America
for
years
,
most
of
whom
didn
’
t
speak
English
.
Some
had
been
unable
to
contact
their
families
upon
their
arrests
.
They
were
invisible
in
the
detention
center
;
nobody
knew
they
existed
anymore
.
It
took
a
near
-
hysterical
Ann
days
to
find
out
where
her
husband
had
been
taken
.
What
Yudhi
remembers
most
about
the
detention
center
was
the
dozen
coal
-
black
,
thin
and
terrified
Nigerian
men
who
had
been
found
on
a
freight
ship
inside
a
steel
shipping
crate
;
they
had
been
hiding
in
that
container
at
the
bottom
of
that
ship
for
almost
a
month
before
they
were
discovered
,
trying
to
get
to
America
-
or
anywhere
They
had
no
idea
now
where
they
were
.
Their
eyes
were
so
wide
,
Yudhi
said
,
it
looked
like
they
were
still
being
blinded
with
spotlights
.
After
a
period
of
detention
,
the
U
.
S
.
government
sent
my
Christian
friend
Yudhi
-
now
an
Islamic
terrorist
suspect
,
apparently
-
back
to
Indonesia
.
This
was
last
year
.
I
don
’
t
know
if
he
’
s
ever
going
to
be
allowed
anywhere
near
America
again
.
He
and
his
wife
are
still
trying
to
figure
out
what
to
do
with
their
lives
now
;
their
dreams
hadn
’
t
called
for
living
out
their
lives
in
Indonesia
.
Unable
to
cope
with
Jakarta
’
s
slums
after
having
lived
in
the
first
world
,
Yudhi
came
to
Bali
to
see
if
he
could
make
a
living
here
,
though
he
’
s
having
trouble
being
accepted
into
this
society
because
he
isn
’
t
Balinese
-
he
’
s
from
Java
.
And
the
Balinese
don
’
t
like
the
Javanese
one
bit
,
thinking
of
them
all
as
thieves
and
beggars
.
So
Yudhi
encounters
more
prejudice
here
-
in
his
own
nation
of
Indonesia
-
than
he
ever
did
back
in
New
York
.
He
doesn
’
t
know
what
to
do
next
.
Maybe
his
wife
,
Ann
,
will
come
and
join
him
here
.
Then
again
-
maybe
not
.
What
’
s
here
for
her
?
Their
young
marriage
,
conducted
now
entirely
by
e
-
mail
,
is
on
the
rocks
.
He
’
s
so
out
of
place
here
,
so
disoriented
.
He
’
s
more
of
an
American
than
he
is
anything
else
;
Yudhi
and
I
use
the
same
slang
,
we
talk
about
our
favorite
restaurants
in
New
York
and
we
like
all
the
same
movies
.
He
comes
over
to
my
house
in
the
evenings
and
I
get
him
beers
and
he
plays
me
the
most
amazing
songs
on
his
guitar
.
I
wish
he
were
famous
.
If
there
was
any
fairness
,
he
would
be
so
famous
by
now
.
He
says
,
"
Dude
-
why
is
life
all
crazy
like
this
?
"
