I posted this a while back but John made me take it down as he thought we might get kicked out of the country...now we are gone I'll post it again because my goal is to post more, however I am too lazy to come up with something new tonight. Maybe I should see if there are any openings in the immigration department...
Last week I had the pleasure of packing up Charlie and trekking up to the Botanical Gardens, which is a bit of a misnomer as its actually a badly planned concrete maze of hideously ugly government buildings without a flower in site. It is also the home of the always hospitable immigration officials. I have been dreading this trip since we landed on the island and the blank faced,money hungry immigration official at the airport granted Charlie and me a three month visa instead of the five month visa they gave John.
Last week our three months were up and it was time to pay the head blank faced official a visit. I can't really describe how nasty these people can be. They don't speak they really just bark in some sort of pigeon English, they won't look you in the eye, likely because they are on some level embarrassed by the abuse of their limited power, and they hide behind a beaten up metal door bearing a sign that says 'knock and wait." What the sign should really say is "don't bother knocking because we only open the door when we feel like it." On second thought it should just say "WAIT, we will open the door only after you've been sitting there clueless for hours and we've had our tea and made several long distance phone calls to the USA where our relatives are living illegally. We will be prepared to harass, interrogate and abuse you only after your blood pressure has reached the boiling point and you are forced to speak in grunts through gritted teeth less you unleash your pent up aggression on us and we then will deny you an extension of your visa."
I was not looking forward to this experience and really could not bear the thought of doing it with a baby. I walked into to depressing govt. building A and saw the typical confusion. Bored and broken looking yachtys, students and peace corps workers were lounged all over the place. There was no line and the woman behind the glass counter was ignoring everyone. I filled out my forms and knocked on the scary door and a blank faced minion answered the door and, then the unthinkable happened. I thought to myself "is there a trace of a smile on this blank faced androids lips? Oh my goodness I think there is." I look at my daughter who is staring intently at probably the first emotionless human she has ever encountered.
Before I knew it we were whisked back to the woman in charge and this nasty, bitter, power hungry woman engaged in the most shocking piece of behavior I have ever encountered in an immigration office and started cooing at my daughter. I swear to you I almost dropped Charlie from the shock of some emotion coming from an immigration officer.
Now was the moment of truth. Would Charlie take after dad who has a long history of abusing public "servants." There was an incident at the Zambian border a few years back which involved threats of "languishing in the cell." Or, would she take after her mother who is so petrified of these people I bribed them with tubes of Colgate and bottles of red wine during my stint in Zambia. Inwardly I am thinking please smile at this woman whatever you do do not give her your 1,000 yard stare. She is extending the olive branch. Please, please smile.
And my girl is her momma's girl. Big grins prevailed. The next thing I knew we were being stamped , approved and I was looking at pictures of this woman's children. Who lived, you got it, in the USA.
So after four years living abroad, countless tubes of Colgate dispensed and a layer of enamel missing from my gritted teeth, I have figured out the formula for cracking the toughest of immigration officials. A baby. Charlie and I set a new record. The whole process took 37 minutes.
Last week I had the pleasure of packing up Charlie and trekking up to the Botanical Gardens, which is a bit of a misnomer as its actually a badly planned concrete maze of hideously ugly government buildings without a flower in site. It is also the home of the always hospitable immigration officials. I have been dreading this trip since we landed on the island and the blank faced,money hungry immigration official at the airport granted Charlie and me a three month visa instead of the five month visa they gave John.
Last week our three months were up and it was time to pay the head blank faced official a visit. I can't really describe how nasty these people can be. They don't speak they really just bark in some sort of pigeon English, they won't look you in the eye, likely because they are on some level embarrassed by the abuse of their limited power, and they hide behind a beaten up metal door bearing a sign that says 'knock and wait." What the sign should really say is "don't bother knocking because we only open the door when we feel like it." On second thought it should just say "WAIT, we will open the door only after you've been sitting there clueless for hours and we've had our tea and made several long distance phone calls to the USA where our relatives are living illegally. We will be prepared to harass, interrogate and abuse you only after your blood pressure has reached the boiling point and you are forced to speak in grunts through gritted teeth less you unleash your pent up aggression on us and we then will deny you an extension of your visa."
I was not looking forward to this experience and really could not bear the thought of doing it with a baby. I walked into to depressing govt. building A and saw the typical confusion. Bored and broken looking yachtys, students and peace corps workers were lounged all over the place. There was no line and the woman behind the glass counter was ignoring everyone. I filled out my forms and knocked on the scary door and a blank faced minion answered the door and, then the unthinkable happened. I thought to myself "is there a trace of a smile on this blank faced androids lips? Oh my goodness I think there is." I look at my daughter who is staring intently at probably the first emotionless human she has ever encountered.
Before I knew it we were whisked back to the woman in charge and this nasty, bitter, power hungry woman engaged in the most shocking piece of behavior I have ever encountered in an immigration office and started cooing at my daughter. I swear to you I almost dropped Charlie from the shock of some emotion coming from an immigration officer.
Now was the moment of truth. Would Charlie take after dad who has a long history of abusing public "servants." There was an incident at the Zambian border a few years back which involved threats of "languishing in the cell." Or, would she take after her mother who is so petrified of these people I bribed them with tubes of Colgate and bottles of red wine during my stint in Zambia. Inwardly I am thinking please smile at this woman whatever you do do not give her your 1,000 yard stare. She is extending the olive branch. Please, please smile.
And my girl is her momma's girl. Big grins prevailed. The next thing I knew we were being stamped , approved and I was looking at pictures of this woman's children. Who lived, you got it, in the USA.
So after four years living abroad, countless tubes of Colgate dispensed and a layer of enamel missing from my gritted teeth, I have figured out the formula for cracking the toughest of immigration officials. A baby. Charlie and I set a new record. The whole process took 37 minutes.
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