Visa Rant

Between visits to those whom love us in JHB, we made incursions to the depths of Pretoria to various embassies.

The US embassy was very austere. We queued outside, meeting several farmers who were taking advantage of Trump's invitation for Afrikaners to work in the US. A security officer lightened us of our phones and after body scans we were herded towards a waiting area outside a manicured and unimaginative gardenscape. After a few minutes more we were led into the inner sanctum, where the volume seldom exceeded 40db: library volume. A snaking queue led to several cubicles separated by thickened bullet-proof glass with electronic speakers facilitating communication.

I could see that Shereen was appalled by neatly dressed adults accompanying two equally manicured children. "I know you're triggered by those adults, what's happening, Shereen?” "What do you notice?" "That they are paying attention to the children and holding their hands?" "No, don't you see that the children have no independence? They are not spoken to at their level. They are not explained what is happening. They are just pushed from one place to the next. They are dressed by the parents, and the little one is carried by dad, not given a chance to walk on his own. So many children are not treated as citizens of the world, they are not spoken to with respect and are not part of conversations about what it's like to be at an embassy. That's why we have adults who can't make decisions for themselves as they haven't been able to practice since they were tiny."

The person in the queue before us was not granted her visa, and the man behind the microphone said in a matter-of-fact way, that she would find the reasons why in the provided document. "Next". We stepped up to the window, confidence and friendliness hopefully masking the concern we felt on the inside. This was the same patriarchal relationship that society has perpetuated since before innumerable Jews stood before Nazi officials, holding out their documents with their life or internment hanging in the balance. After a few minutes of examining documents, asking probing about our occupation, route and funding, and a reminder that on the tourist visa we could not earn money, we were told that our visa request had been approved.

At this moment I posed the question, can I in addition apply for a business visa? "Please refer to the website for visa requirements". Sorry, I don't quite understand, I rejoined, with an accompanied dig in the ribs from Shereen and an attendant scowl, "can I or can I not receive a separate business visa?". "Yes, he gruffly responded". We turned away with our document of acceptance in hand and with instructions that we could collect the passport in two weeks’ time. "If we don't get that visa, it's because of you and your endless questions!".

The Republic of Congo embassy we reached with two minutes to spare. To our consternation, no one appeared at the gate upon pressing the buzzer. Forward ten minutes, a delivery man having arrived in the meantime, and finally a well-dressed man in a suit opened the gate. We were allowed to pay $50 for a visa along with R2000 for expediting the visas from 10 down to two days. We had to pay in cash, so stopped at an ATM conveniently close to an ice-cream shop. I bought decadent ice-creams for ourselves, then got two for the consulate staff. When we returned with our sweet treat (bribe), they took it without much more than an acknowledgement, then we left. But Shereen wanted to confirm that we didn't need DHL, so returned to find the two in high spirits and visibly excited by the prospect of tucking into their ice-cream.

Two days later we went to pick up our documents and concatenate that with the Liberian embassy application. We got there in good time, but the embassy was under refurbishment, so we were given the phone number of the diplomat, and he said he would be across shortly which became worryingly longly. He finally strode in two hours later and led the way across the rubble to his office. We got off on the wrong foot, literally, as his first question to us was why were we barefoot? I answered humorously that I didn't have shoes, but my humour fell flat. Strike one. After an inquisition that would have left the Spanish inquisitors propping up their eyelids, we were granted our visa and because we had paid an extra R350 per visa to expedite it, he said we could pick it up in two days’ time - a public holiday. Other than sending him Shereen's proof of bank account, we were one step nearer.

I successfully negotiated with Shereen that she pick up the passports from the Congolese embassy, while I went to scope out the requirements for the embassy of the DRC. I found out that you need a letter of invitation and a hotel booking. So we booked online with a "free cancellation" hotel and requested a letter of invitation.

When we went in, there were hordes of Congolese passing in and out of the strictly controlled turnstyle. A man with glasses had a bouncer-like vibe, and arbitrarily seemed to let people in. We were directed to the counter and asked about our requirements. I said transit on the 30th of November. Hang on, she said, and called another man. After a few minutes of discussion in French, she said that was okay, but where is our letter of invitation. I showed her the hotel booking, but she said we needed an invitation.

As were leaving, the man behind the counter called us aside. "What's the problem?" he asked? We need to get a letter of invitation and they said we can't expedite the visa. "You can get the visa later today, and we will do the letter too. R1000, R1000 and R750 each for the letter. So you bring R3500 in cash. Given my reticence to spend a further two weeks in Joburg, I griped with Shereen about not knowing anyone who could give us a letter of invitation in the DRC. Wait, what about Tresor, my old software developer, I think he's from the DRC. When I phoned he was on lunch, but said he would write the letter. An hour later I had it in hand, and felt a certain measure of glee at denying the diplomatic scoundrel his R1500 for a duplicated letter. He had the last laugh though. We waited the entire day by the embassy. When Shereen at the end of the day climbed into the car with the visa, she looked at it - something I likely wouldn't have done. "They've got the dates wrong!", she exclaimed. I sent her back in and he said it would be ready by 11am because the person who could sign it had left. Shereen followed up at the designated time, but only received the passport at 2pm. A day and a half, and R7500 later we were able to leave Joburg. Bearing in mind that most countries charge 50 USD for a visa, even the base rate of R2000 for a visa is extortion and probably indicative of things to come. How do they justify this visa cost?!

With public holidays and weekends coinciding with our visa applications, by expediting all three visas, we had probably gained an extra three weeks. But it had cost us R5500 for the three visas. In addition, the R4500 in petrol turned into R15 000. I was thinking the $50 visa fees are expensive, but if this continues, we'll be poverty stricken before we reach the equator!

Alas we are finally on our way!Read more