No, I am not the kingpin of the illegal trade in human body parts

My experience of moving from the UK to the US would make you think nobody has ever done it before… and wonder whether it’s worth it…

It’s a warm-ish day in early September and I am sitting outside the Ritzy Cinema in Brixton, London, my move to San Francisco just less than three weeks away, and I am contemplating all of the obstacles I have had to overcome in order to get even to this point.

I do wonder if the process is deliberately designed to make it as difficult as possible, to put people off. “Give me your poor, your huddled masses…” But only if you can fill out this 16 page questionnaire first. And prove that no American can do the job you are coming here to do. And that you’re not here to incite revolution. Oh, and did we mention we have a few questions…?

Ah, the questions.

As part of my visa application process I had to complete a very long and detailed questionnaire. I understand why, of course – any country needs to protect its borders and be sure that the people it is letting in are not undesirables. So I settled down one evening with a cup of tea and set to it.

Name, date of birth, address… fine. Last three addresses? Well, OK. Complete work history, including names and telephone numbers of my “supervisors”… this left me scouring the memory banks – and Google; some of those companies don’t even exist anymore. But OK. On we go. Names and dates of birth of my parents… no matter that my father passed away more than 30 years ago and my mother is now a little old lady living in a bungalow in Derby – hardly a criminal mastermind or part of an international terrorist network. Name of my ex-wife. (Shudder.) Address of my ex-wife? No idea. As far as I know she hasn’t moved, but I’m hardly going to ask her. At this point I begin to wonder why the US authorities want all of this information. Are they going to call my ex and ask her if I am a trustworthy individual? If so, I really am f***ed.

Then, about halfway through, the questionnaire takes a turn for the comic – a series of yes/no questions: Have you ever been a drug abuser? Nope. Are you coming to the United States to engage in prostitution or unlawful commercialized vice? Nope. Or have you been engaged in prostitution or procuring prostitutes within the past 10 years? Er, no. Wait, what about that trip to Amsterdam? No, no. Have you ever been involved in, or do you seek to engage in, money laundering? Well I did accidentally leave some dollars in my jeans when I washed them after my last trip; does that count? No.

It goes on… Have you ever committed or conspired to commit a human trafficking offense? Do you seek to engage in espionage, sabotage, export control violations, or any other illegal activity while in the United States? Have you ever committed, ordered, incited, assisted, or otherwise participated in torture? Have you ever engaged in the recruitment or use of child soldiers? Have you ever been directly involved in the coercive transplantation of human organs or bodily tissue? No, I am not the kingpin of the illegal trade in human body parts.

Don’t get me wrong, I perfectly understand that these are things the US authorities need to know about people wanting to enter the country. But here’s the thing: Surely there’s a better way of finding out than simply asking? If that’s all they are relying on then I’m beginning to think the much vaunted US security services are not all they’re cracked up to be. I mean, there’s this thing called lying. I gather it’s quite common.

Anyway, I assume that my answers were sufficient as a little over a week later my visa application was approved.

And now it’s real. It’s happening.

I’m moving to San Francisco.