A Nicaraguan by birth and a U.S. citizen for two years, Morales feels free to speak for her husband, a French national whose own green-card application — the document enabling him to work — has been tied up for 16 months, leaving him unable to hold a job outside the family farming and property management businesses based at their Kula home. Morales' husband, who has a different surname, feels too fearful of further delay to state his own case publicly.

This family's distress is a common experience among immigrants caught in the obstacle course of establishing a livelihood and stable existence in America. The workload is heavy because of demand and due to the fact that the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services — formerly known as Immigration and Naturalization Services — is trying to reduce a heavy backlog revealed in June.

Officials acknowledged that the Honolulu office ranked among the worst in processing applications, with wait times of up to about 18 months.

Octavio Navaaladana of Kane'ohe gets help from a Honolulu immigration office employee. Rebecca Breyer • The Honolulu Advertiser

In the Maui case, Morales admitted that her husband contributed to his own dilemma. The stringent environment of post-9/11 America meant that the visas being issued to him were for shorter terms, Morales said, and he unwisely let one expire.

Because he now has "unlawful time" on his immigration record, travel is prohibited until his green card comes through, said their attorney, Maile Hirota. And if they leave the country unauthorized, he won't be allowed back in, whether or not they're married.

They've missed attending the funerals and weddings of close family.

Pilson and Bernard Miller of 'Aiea wait for some assistance at the Honolulu immigration office. Pilson Miller emigrated from South Korea. Officials say the Honolulu office has reduced its logjam of immigration cases by as much as a third. Rebecca Breyer • The Honolulu Advertiser

Rummery said staffing shortages hit Honolulu at a critical time, when the federal homeland security reorganization compounded the workload. Staff was transferred here temporarily to catch up while the lengthy search for permanent hires, requiring security checks, went on.

That work is nearly done, said David Gulick, who heads the Honolulu district office. He hopes this progress will produce fewer stories like Morales' and more like Honolulu resident Jesusa Bautista's. She was among the walk-ins recently who, seeking help on a form, found a surprisingly short waiting line at the counter.

"It's not bad, especially compared to other places, like in California," she said. "There were a lot of applicants there. And that was in the '80s and '90s. I can only imagine what it's like now."

While things were never so bad in Honolulu, Gulick said, he acknowledged that until a few months ago, the waiting vestibule at the Ala Moana Boulevard center would fill up.

Now he credits the shorter lines at the counter in part to InfoPass, a Web interface that allows appointments to be made online.

Immigration attorneys like Gary Singh, who save time on client appointments, say it's great.

"But at the same time, I feel sorry for those who can't use the Internet," he added. "They don't even read. I have these poor Filipino men who say, 'I don't know what to do on the Internet.' I say, 'Come in, and I'll make the appointment for you.' "

Sister Rosalinda Barrozo, a case manager for Catholic Charities, said those lacking computer skills must seek help from social service agencies.

"We're catering to low-income people," she said. "For these people we serve, they don't even know how to use the computer."

Gulick said the operation has reduced, but not eliminated, its walk-in services. The goal is to keep the 8 a.m. to noon period for those with InfoPass appointments, with walk-in customers accommodated between noon and 2 p.m., when the office closes.

Some applications are still processed locally, Gulick said, but increasingly, certain forms are submitted to Mainland centers that can handle things more efficiently.

But there are still bugs to be worked out, said Harvey Egna, a citizen who endured a troubled quest for a visa to bring his pregnant wife and her older child from the Philippines to Hilo.

"My wife is going to give birth at the end of November and my hopes of having the baby born in Hawai'i are quickly fading away," Egna told The Advertiser in his initial appeal for help.

Ultimately, everything worked out — Lhen Egna, her 3-year-old son, John, and the baby-to-be finally arrived. But what Egna will recall is the frustration of waiting while staffing shortages at immigration's processing center in Missouri delayed the application.

In February, the couple had applied for a K-3 visa, a kind of temporary clearance to enter the United States. The worry was that Lhen Egna would soon reach her final month of pregnancy and be barred from traveling.

They waited for that temporary permit more than double the expected three months, he said.

Egna's salvation came from speedy treatment from Manila's U.S. Embassy issuing the final paperwork.

That softened, but did not erase, the vexation with his immigration experience.

"All the spouse applications were crawling through Missouri," he said. "Once it shook loose of that central processing center, though, it was fine.

"It was just a bureaucratic process," he added. "There's no way it should have taken seven months."