Home Sweet Home Affairs

You know how frustrating a day at the Department of Motor Vehicles can be?  That ain’t nothing my friend.  Try getting a Visa in South Africa.  Here’s a little taste of what a day in Home Affairs is like.  This blog tells of my first attempt at the department of Home Affairs back in April and I have had three more runs at it since then.  Visa status still unknown.

I arrive at Home Affairs with one simple objective – obtain an application for a Permanent Resident Permit.  Upon entering, I see it is one huge room with hundreds of people sitting around.  There is a row of windows across the front with grimacing government employees behind glass and each window has a long queue.  That’s a fancy word for line, and they never say 'line' here.  You queue up.  Have you ever seen so many vowels in a row, I mean queue? 

A queue in South Africa.  They have a different concept of personal space.

So as not to waste time in the wrong queue, I stood in line at the Info desk for half an hour to find out which window to go queue in.  The Info lady sends me out of the building to another building and the sign on that door says Temporary Permits.  I don’t want a Temporary Permit, I want permanent.  But the Info lady must know what’s she’s talking about right?  That’s her job to know where to send people, that’s ALL she does all day long.  So I go in.  Inside, there are benches along three walls facing inward and a couple facing forward in the middle.  All the benches are full.  There are no windows to queue in front of or signs with helpful instructions.  I walk through the middle of the room past all the people glaring at me and enter a hallway.  A lady sitting at a chair just inside the doorway stops me.  Gruffly, boredly, “Why are you here?”

Me: I need an application for a Permanent Resident Permit.

“Go back out there and sit down.”  She doesn’t take my name or give me a number.  I go sit down.  There’s no clear system.  I refrain from my innate urge to organize the benches so there’s a beginning and an end.  Periodically a person pops up and goes into the back.  How do they know who’s next?  New people walk in.  Sensing a fellow lost soul, they ask me, “Is this the queue?” 

Me:  No.

Confused new people: Then where do I go? 

Me:  I don’t know.

They sit down next to me.  It felt a bit like Alice in Wonderland.  If only a white rabbit would hop on by so I could follow him.  In sudden horror, I realized that I had left my cell phone in the truck, and worse, it is visible in the center console.  Someone will break the window to get it.  But I can’t leave, what if the Permanent Resident Permit expert comes out to get me and I miss my window of opportunity and have to start all over again waiting?  Another hour goes by.  A glutton for punishment, I go back to the lady.

Me: I just want to make sure I’m in the right place.  The door says Temporary Permits and I want a Permanent Permit. 

Lady: Yes, all permits are done here.  Are you waiting to get a form?

Me: Yes, I need a form and I want to set up an appointment for an interview.

Lady: What kind of form?

"Permanent Resident."   I am quite pleased with myself that no sarcasm or exasperation has crept into the tone of my voice.

Lady: You can’t get that here.  That’s next door.

Me: I was next door, they sent me here.

Lady: They don’t know what they are talking about.  Go next door to Room 21, Permanent Resident Permits.

Me: Why didn’t you tell me that to begin with?

Lady: Dumb stare.

I go back next door and bypass the Info lady, careful not to make eye contact, in search of Room 21.

I spy Door 23, Birth certificates.  Then Door 22, Citizenship.  Getting close… but the next door in line is 43.

Of course, makes perfect sense, 23, 22, 43.  But the Door 43 sign says Permanent Resident, so I overlook the mathematical anomaly.  Sign further reads:  "Enquiries & Forms 11 – 3, Interviews 8 – 11.  Don’t Interrupt."  It’s now after 2:00 so the interview period is over.  I knock on the door.  A guy sitting on a bench outside the door meekly warns me, “Don’t knock.  There’s someone in there.” 

Me: Well how do I know if I don’t knock?

Meek man, obviously beaten down by hours of waiting: Just sit down.

Again no visible queue, just sitters waiting for any one of the doors to open. 

I cheerfully call out, “Who’s waiting for Room 43 like me?”  The sea of zombies does not reply.  I sit.  The man next to me is in traditional dress wearing a cow skin with chunks of skin still attached wrapped around his waist and a feather anklet.  Room 43 door opens and I bound in.  Not to get away from the Zulu, just wanting to get my application at last and be on my merry way.

I explain the situation to the man behind the desk.  “I have been here on a Volunteer Visa but I have had an offer of permanent employment so I would like a Permanent Resident Permit application please.”

Rajeev (I learned in subsequent trips because he was actually quite helpful): It doesn’t work that way in our country.  You have to be on a Work Permit for 5 years before you can apply for Permanent Resident.

“But look what it says right here, I printed it off the Home Affairs web page.”

“The web page is wrong.  You should just extend your Volunteer Visa.”

“I don’t want to be a Volunteer anymore, I am out of money.  I want to get paid.  How do I get a Work Permit?”

“Your employer has to meet 20 requirements, you can’t get that done in 6 days before your Volunteer Visa expires.”

“Can I leave the country for a while and then come back in so I get another 90 day Visitor Visa and that will give me time to get the Work Permit done?”

“Depends.  If they don’t look at all the pages of your passport, they will stamp you for 90 days.  But the border guard may see that you are expired and not let you back in.  Your options are to extend your Volunteer Visa and don’t get paid or apply here for a Holiday Visa to give you 90 days to get a Work Permit or Exceptional Skills permit.”

“Ok, give me a Holiday permit.”

“I don’t do that.  You have to go back next door.”

So back I go to Temporary Permits.  Talk to same uber friendly lady.  “I need forms for Holiday Visa and Exceptional Skills Permit.”

“Have a seat, someone will help you.”

Another hour goes by.  Lady is calling names.  She didn’t take my name down.  They are never going to call me.  I am holding back tears.  Jeesh, I’m just trying to help you decrease rape in your country.  I just want to help.  Why won’t you let me?  I could say I am here to start a business, which I am, PLAY.  But I don’t have $250,000 in my banking account – that’s the requirement.  I’m only $240,000 short.

Now it’s almost closing time.  A man comes out, “Everybody left out here, follow me.”  We stumble into the back.  Takes him all of 5 minutes to distribute various forms to the mob of people who had been waiting all day just to get a blank form.  They couldn't have done this hours ago?  Finally, I am the only one left.  “I want a 90 day Visitor visa form and an Exceptional skill Visa form.”

“Why do you want both?”

I explain.  He transforms into a snarling badger, “You can’t change back and forth between status.”

Surprised by his attack, I stammer, “I I I I’m not.  I have worked for the last 3 years for free.  For 3 years I took care of orphans in your country and did not get paid.  I have now been offered a job and I’d like to take it.”

“You said you wanted to volunteer.  You can’t change your mind.”

“Well I can’t work for free forever, I am out of money.”

“You should have thought of that before you came from America.”

“Are you telling me I can’t get a work permit?”  I was beyond tears, now I was angry.

“Why do you have a process in place to get one if it’s not possible?  Work Permit Applications exist, why can’t I have one?”

Badger backed down, “Ok, come with me.”  Down the hallway we go.  He sits at a desk in a dreary gray office mere inches larger than the desk.

“What are your exceptional skills?  Why should we keep you in our country?  What can you offer?”

“I am a lawyer, I have a doctorate of jurisprudence, a law degree.  I have a job offer from an organization that wants to use those skills.”

“Ok, you are right, you have skills we need.  Here’s what you need to do.  Go to the building next door and ….”