I knew I had let myself go a bit lately but to be declared undesirable by an entire country? Seems pretty harsh South Africa. I should have
gotten a clue how the country felt about me when I didn’t have a single date for over six years while in it. But I never dreamed they would put it in
writing and officially declare it. As if rejection on a country-wide scale
wasn’t enough, they additionally told me not to darken their doors for 12
months!
While I am trying to remain upbeat by painting it in a humorous
light, it is actually quite serious. I have been banned from returning to South
Africa until December 2017 – banned from returning to my home, my life, my
ministry. After all the highs of 2016, with so much hope and excitement for the
growth of PLAY in 2017, to end out 2016 this way was a crushing blow. So what
happened? Why does South Africa hate me so after I gave up everything to serve
it?
It all started in August when I began the process of
applying to renew my Volunteer Visa which is a Temporary Resident Visa. I have
to renew every couple of years and it has been granted three prior times so
South Africa has been my home for the last six years now. After three prior
tussles with Home Affairs, I was getting pretty cocky - not cavalier confidence
in myself, just a firm belief that my God is bigger than Home Affairs and He
wants to keep me here. (See Home-sweet-home-affairs and Theres-no-place-like-home-affairs for my last two hoop-jumping go arounds where I emerged Victorious! Cue the
trumpets! Seriously, you have no idea what an accomplishment that is.) But back
to 2016.
My Visa was going to
expire on November 18 so throughout August and September I gathered all the
required documents – a radiological exam, a physical exam (I am not mentally
disordered or physically defective in any way nor suffering from leprosy,
venereal disease or trachoma - which you think would be enough to make me
desirable right?), police clearance certificate (I am not a criminal, again a
desirable trait in a person I would think), a letter from my hosting
organization, bank records, and a copy of my plane ticket to return to USA on
December 14.
I went to the new high
tech, we-are-organized VFS Global Office – the private company that the
Department of Home Affairs has outsourced its Permit Processing to for better
efficiency. At VFS, things at
first glance did seem to be an improvement. I was given a number upon entering
and told to report to the counter when my number was called. Hallelujah! No
amorphous blob of people randomly butting their way up to the counter.
Unfortunately, once one reaches the counter,
things revert to traditional Home Affairs modus operandi, ie. information
transmitted varies depending on who you talk to. The hoop jumping began again and I was in
that office for four days in a row attempting to submit the application. Each
day they added another thing I needed which the previous employee did not tell
me about and which is not included on the published list of things you need to
submit. Finally on November 10 the application was accepted to be submitted to Home
Affairs.
Five weeks later, December 14 rolled around and
Home Affairs had not ruled on my application to renew my Visa. I continued with
my plans to fly home for Christmas. I had been to VFS five times and spoken to
five different VFS employees. They had
all seen my December 14 plane ticket and not one of them said I could not use
that ticket if my Visa renewal hadn’t come through yet. They all said that I
could legally stay in the country past November 18 – that I was not overstaying
my Visa. I had been told to just show
the Acknowledgment of Receipt to Renew the Visa to any Immigration Official
questioning my immigration status upon departure or return. I knew that the
Immigration laws had changed since the last time I had applied so I diligently
searched the VFS and Home Affairs website for any indication that I was not
allowed to travel pending the outcome of the application. Nothing there, zip, nada.
So, believing myself to be a law-abiding
non-citizen, I was dropped off at OR Tambo International Airport and I checked
my bags through to USA and proceeded to the Immigration point. Skipping along, light as a feather, la dee da
dee da, heading home for romantic airport reunion with my new American
boyfriend (that is a beautiful story for another day, soon) when screeeeech…
thud (that was my heart dropping). Dispassionate Immigration Official bluntly
states: “You have overstayed your Visa.”
I explained that I was legally in the country
beyond the expiration date and showed her my VFS receipt. She frowned, held my
passport up in the air and yelled across the large hall where hundreds of us
were herded and waiting to get thru the switchback 90-minute Immigration line,
“We got an Overstayed Visa here.” All
eyes turned upon me to watch the drama unfold. Not only was I holding up the
line, now I WAS a criminal.
A new officer hustled over (or what passes for
hustle in a line moving at a slothy snail’s pace) and I explained it all again.
She informed me that yes, I can legally stay in the country while the application
is pending but I cannot leave the country. This was the very first time I heard
this, while standing in line at the airport with a $1200 non-refundable plane
ticket in my hand, bags on the plane, ride long gone, just two hours before my
plane was set to depart.
“You are telling me that I cannot get on my
plane.”
“Well, we can’t keep you here against your will
but if you leave you will be declared undesirable and you will not be able to
return for 12 months. You have 10 days to file an appeal of that ruling.” She
then handed me back my passport and said “What do you want to do?” Glaring
silence.
What do I do? Initial anger morphed to confusion
and despair. My eyes misted up causing brain to fog and flip the Auto-pilot
switch (preprogrammed to seek home). I had a split second to make a life-impacting
decision with hundreds of eyes watching and waiting…
“I am getting on the plane.”
In that split second before, this is what went
through my head:
1. It was necessary to go. I am on a Volunteer Visa which
means that I cannot get a job in South Africa. It is necessary for me to return
to the USA each year to raise money to live on and to raise the funding for PLAY,
Purpose Leadership Adventure for Youth, the program which my ministry runs. I
am a Mission Partner for Twin Lakes Church in Aptos, California (go to Twin Lakes Church to see my smiling face listed as a supported missionary in South Africa)
and they are expecting me back for World Outreach Week to report on my ministry.
Big Valley Grace Church in Modesto, California has also generously supported
PLAY from the very beginning but I have to go in person each year to request funding.
Without funding, there is no program to run and no need to stay in or return to
South Africa.
2. The purchased plane ticket was nonrefundable. I had spent $1200 to buy
round trip tickets to get to USA and return to South Africa. If I did not get
on the plane, that money would be lost. My financial state is such that I can’t
just throw $1200 out the window and then spend another $1200 a couple weeks
later when Home Affairs makes a ruling on my application.
3. Home. I am a single missionary (no husband or
children) and I have not been able to go home to my family for Christmas for
three years now and suddenly the thought of another Christmas all alone in a
foreign country made me cry right there in front of the hundreds of people who
were watching me intently wondering if I would be hauled off by police or if I
would make a run for it. Overwhelmed in the moment, I did what I felt was
necessary for me and my ministry and shakily blurted out, “I am getting on the
plane”.
Another officer took me by the arm and “escorted”
me to the Closet where we immigration criminals are detained. I stood there for
10 minutes while they passed my paperwork around and pecked at computer keys, completely
oblivious to my pertinent legal questions. When they shoved my paperwork back
at me, they offered no answers. “Am I free to leave?” “Yes.” I sought the privacy of a bathroom stall to
process what just happened and cry without an audience – a place where business
of this sort is often conducted.
 |
| The crying room |
When I emerged from my stall, a gnarled and
crumpled cleaning lady stood smiling at me with missing teeth. She said just
two words but it was exactly what I needed to hear, “Merry Christmas”. This
struck me as odd in a country that doesn’t say it. It was December 14 but
people don’t say Merry Christmas to random strangers, until it IS Christmas. For
one day only on December 25 you will say and hear this greeting. There are no Christmas trees or Christmas
music (unless of course you go to the mall). So this out of place wish for me reached
a place in my heart that strengthened me – a place in the Center where it is
all about Him. Walking away, I knew I’d encountered Christ in that fluorescent bathroom
in a South African airport.
I sat down in a restaurant to get a bite before
starting my 22 hours of plane time when a voice at the table next to me said, “You’re
undesirable aren’t you?” Yep, that’s me. That’s when I took a photo of my
declaration and posted it on Facebook for all the world to see. I have legally
been determined to be Undesirable.
 |
| Who could stay away from this face for a year? |
So I am confident that PLAY will continue no matter the outcome, me there or here. It’s just the Unknown in the Waiting that
pokes me. There – a house full of possessions, a truck in a friend’s garage, a beloved
puppy in another friend’s home, a ministry waiting for action to be taken. Here
– where will I live? can I still receive support money if I am here rather than
there? how will I get around? No home, no car – but family and friends galore.
The skills being developed in the waiting, a.k.a. things that make me squirm: saying I am okay with either outcome while not secretly
desiring one over the other, not making plans, ability to say to other people (particularly
to donors who aren’t going to like this answer): “I don’t know.”
On January 13 I head to California to start three
weeks of presentations to crowds of people where I shall be fielding questions
about PLAY and my future, will I be able to stand there and boldly answer “I don’t know and
I’m okay with that.” That will be extremely difficult for me. It seems
that if my faith is real, I need to say it and it needs to be true.
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