The Foreign Service Journal, June 2005

linking under the fluorescent lighting, Rosa approached the visa interview window. The interviewer stifled a yawn, and politely asked for her appli- cation and passport. Rosa’s hands shook like freshly caught fish. She couldn’t control them as they flopped toward the slit in the greenish, bulletproof glass. The interviewer glanced down at Rosa’s hands, then diverted her eyes to the computer screen. Her voice, now soft, asked where Rosa lived. Rosa’s mouth filled with cotton. “¿Mande?” she croaked, stalling for time. “¿Donde vive?” the woman patiently asked again. “I live in a pueblo, near Culiacan, Sinaloa,” Rosa said thickly. What was wrong with her? She had practiced this a mil- lion times on the 14-hour bus ride. The passengers had played interviewer and inter- viewee, practicing the ans- wers to the questions they heard would be asked. The travel agent said the begin- ning ones were easy; if answered with sophistication, they could grease the way to a slam-dunk visa. Oh, God, how she needed this visa. “What city would you like to visit in the U.S.?” “Disneylandia.” They had told her that the Americans had a soft spot for Mickey Mouse visitors. The interviewer frowned. “Where else would you like to go?” What? What did she mean? Did the woman know that her cousin in Compton had a restaurant job waiting for her? “¿Mande?” Rosa repeat- ed weakly. The interviewer pursed her lips, bleaching themwhite across the seam. “Can’t you hear me?” she asked evenly. “No, not really,” Rosa replied, with downcast eyes. The interviewer tersely repeated the question. “Tucson, Phoenix. I don’t know. Somewhere to shop. They say the shopping is good there, no?” She forced a smile and it seemed to stretch across a face made of plastic. The interviewer sighed and then asked for a job let- ter, paychecks and a social security form. Rosa thumb- ed through her envelope for the papers from her “job” at “Carlos’ Car Shop.” She was the “manager” and “had worked there for three years.” Rosa handed over the crisp, clean papers as if they were her grandmother’s ancient rosary. They were just as valuable. For a year she had lied to Octavio, telling A STRANGER HELPS R OSA LEARN THE TRUTH OF THE PROVERB : “T HERE IS NO BAD FROM WHICH GOOD DOES NOT COME .” B Y S TEPHANIE R OWLANDS J U N E 2 0 0 5 / F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L 51 F O C U S O N F S F I C T I O N T HE I NTERVIEW B Philippe Beha