6A = THE UNIVERSITYDAILY KANSAN
NEWS
WEDNESDAY,SEPTEMBER11,2002
Visa
CONTINUED FROM PAGE 1A
return won't be declared until the 20th day of classes, Potts said.
Mandooh Alsahafe, also a graduate student from Saudi Arabia, suspects that there are many more.
He knows of at least five from his country.
Alsahafe, 28, is in a similar situation as Alharbe. Visa renewal was granted for Alsahafe's son and wife, but not for him. Because he has been unable to return to KU this semester, he is now a year behind in completing his degree.
"Maybe after September 11 they will case and start issuing more visas," he said over the phone from Saudi Arabia.
"But right now, I get no answers. I've gone to the
embassy 40 or 30 times, and always the same answer-- "we know nothing."
It isn't likely that answers will come in the near future.
Extensive background checks, especially for men aged 18 to 34, are the most likely culprit. Potts said.
"Because so many names are so similar, it takes longer to do and the process is taking months." Potts said. "Nobody wants to make a mistake."
These visa approval complications could hurt KU's international program.
Although international enrollment has been steadily increasing since Fall 1999, students from abroad may begin turning to England or Australia instead. Potts said.
The enrollment increases, which are a hard-earned result of more recruiting and funding for international programs, are
"Maybe after September 11 they will ease and start issuing more visas."
Mamdooh Alsahafe
Saudi Arabia graduate student
efforts that could be lost if visa approval continues to go ungranted.
Regardless, students such as Alharbe and Alsahafe will continue to wait.
"It seems we are not allowed to know why we wait," Alharbe said. "Nobody knows, in our government or yours. So we will continue to wonder. I'll continue to wait."
Contact Nelson at
knelson@kansan.com. This story was edited by Matt Norton.
Drinking CONTINUED FROM PAGE 1A
Despite the new law, Wetta did not receive a suspension of his drivers' license.
"I had the ticket moved to a public consumption of alcohol charge, so I didn't lose my license," Wetta said.
Wetta said his charges would probably not curb his drinking in the future.
Wetta worried that he might get another MIP because he will continue going to bars. "I am not going to change what I do socially for some ludicrous law. If I'm responsible enough to choose the leader of our country, I'm responsible enough to have a pint of beer."
However, Sean Cahill, Overland Park sophomore, said he takes the law into account before
he drinks. Cahill, 20, received a fake ID charge three weeks ago when he used a fake ID to get into a local bar.
"I think underage drinking has stayed about the same," he said, "but it's hard to tell because now people are getting wiser and safer so they don't get caught."
Although the number of incidents of minors in possession have increased, the numbers of liquor law violations and driving under the influence charges have decreased since 2000.
In 2000, the Lawrence police department reported 366 liquor law violations, which includes charges such as Wetta's public consumption. In 2001, this number dropped to 190, a 48 percent decrease.
Police reported 464 driving under the influence charges in 2000. This number decreased 13
percent in 2001 to 402.
Sgt. Mike Pattrick of the Lawrence police department said the decrease could have been because the police department's calls for service increased two percent.
"Our accident reports are up by 94 percent," he said. "When we have officers spending more time on report calls it leaves less time to patrol for liquor violations."
Patrick also said the police department has been trying to educate Lawrence residents.
"We have had large efforts for DUI's checkpoints and we are educating people about the dangers of driving while under the influence."
Contact Hodel at lhodel@kansan.com. This story was edited by Andrew Vaupel and Matt Gehrke.
Attacks' impact on our lives is more subtle one year later
The Associated Press
PRESCOTT, Ariz. — It is morning on an ordinary day in an ordinary place the locals call "Everybody's Hometown." In the downtown square, an elderly couple walk arm-in-arm, quiet and serene. A woman intently pushes a stroller along the same route. Another walks her dog. A man sits on a bench, reading his newspaper, expressionless.
A mother holds her son by his ankles, swinging him as he squeals and she giggles — swaying back and forth on the courthouse lawn under an imperfect sky that threatens rain.
Where is the sorrow and outrage and fear? Aren't we still healing? Aren't we still mourning?
In Everybody's Hometown and in all the places where Sept. 11 is being marked quietly or loudly, the answers aren't so simple a year after the day that changed everything.
The way we feel now about Sept. 11, 2001, isn't as tangible as the tears that fall at memorial services, or the faded flags draped from homes for 365 days.
Nor is it as palpable as our impatience in airport security lines, or our uneasiness when security alerts go up, or our anger when we see videos teaching terrorists to kill and learn that Iraq might be plotting an attack.
It is deeper and more subtle, concealed under this veil of normalcy that is life a year later. It could be a memory or feeling that sneaks up, like that of the New Yorker who looks at a clear, blue sky and thinks. "What a gorgeous day," and then: "It was like this when the towers came down."
It's seeing beauty and ugliness through the same lens, the focus shifting from one to the other to both.
In this middle-class town a few hours from Phoenix — far from the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, home to neither a military base nor any other real reminders of the attacks—the feelings are no less complex.
A great-grandmother hears a siren and fears something is happening again, closer to home this time.
A businessman sees a flag and
envisions the planes hitting the towers.
A dritter wonders why the government hasn't done more. An ex-Navy man wants to know the same.
A teenager prefers to discuss the next installment of "Lord of the Rings." "Why dwell on the past?"
A store owner from India worries for her future in the "land of the free" and for that of her child, born nine days after the attacks. "We lost our confidence," Neeta Patel says. "Life is not sure."
For many Americans, the day and all that it means have slipped into the subconscious, become another thread in the fabric of life. The economy, their family's well-being, terrorism — it's all interconnected now.
"People live it every day," says 39-year-old Mike Robinson, an employee at the local Enterprise rental car agency. "Every time you see that the stock market's crashing or you go to the gas station and you see that gas prices are up ... they may not think about it every day, but they're living it."
Red Cross offers support services
sav of the terrorist attacks.
PHILADELPHIA — Red Cross chapters are operating a mental-health hot line, setting up "comfort stations" with food and tissues and making grief counselors available to help people deal with the emotions unleashed by today's anniver-
The Philadelphia chapter of the American Red Cross is running a mental health hot line yesterday through tomorrow with counselors available to help people having difficulty coping with Sept. 11.
"We anticipate that people are going to want to talk about what
they're experiencing," said Patricia Hastie-Lane, administrator of the program.
In New York City, the Red Cross is deploying more than 700 volunteers to set up "comfort stations" staffed by counselors and stocked with food, 75,000 bottles of water and other items.