A trip to Maun to conclude that I am not an imbecile, I do not have leprosy or syphilis. I am not an idiot, an imbecile or a feeble minded person. (see attached certification as proof) Yes, these plus a list of other seemingly odd highly contractable disease that I must be cleared of, and I am than able to apply for my residence permit. This process turns out to be a complete and utter gong show. Inefficient would be an understatement. I had full intention of taking a lot of pics of Maun, however because we spent the best part of the trip running around doing errands and being sent into all sorts of opposing direction by a lazy system I was unable to. There are two passport and immigration offices in Maun. Both appear exactly the same, both do exactly the same thing, process exactly the same paperwork and can produce exactly the same results. These two offices are less than 1km from each other on the same road. We proceed to one, with all the necessary paper work for me to apply for my Botswana residence. Police clearance from Canada to prove I am not a wanted criminal, my birth certificate, application, letter of employment, my film permit, and yes a note from a local Dr that states I am in good health, not an imbecile, clear of all communicable disease including and not limited to syphilis. The Dr that examined me, who is in a wheelchair, asked me do I have syphilis? No I respond, am I an imbecile, again a strong and certain, no. Do I have leprosy? no. He listened to my heart, took my blood pressure and signed the form. Clearly a thorough screening process. Than all these forms had to be signed by a lawyer to prove they were the real deal. I do have to say that I don’t know anywhere that one can simply walk into a lawyers office, no appointment, and have something done on the spot for a pretty reasonable price. I was impressed.
There we were, in the correct place, ducks in a row, money in hand ready to pay our $500 pula. You can’t pay here they say. The revenue is closed. I can see Grahams forehead start to distort into a strained position. Clearly he’s been through this before and is painfully aware of what direction this is going to lead us. You must go to the employment office to pay, get a receipt and come back with the form. It’s 2pm, but it’s a friday. Graham sternly asks what time they close, 4pm they say. Again, the forehead, now joined by the eyes.... I decide it’s best to remain quite and let Graham handle it. Some harsh words, a hard stomp out and we proceed to the “other” immigration office, 1km down the road. Money in hand, forms all ready to go. We hand it in, of course they inform us that we can’t pay there, we must pay at the other office. Graham suggests that they call them and tell them that. These ladies seemed much nicer and a little more helpful, they sort through my forms to make sure we have everything. This is when she points out that the film permits were not the originals. We must have the originals. I am now afraid to look at Graham, his forehead has disappeared into his hat. I must not make eye contact. The originals are back in camp.
At this point I should paint a picture of the office for you, the passport and immigration office. A government office. One desk, 4 employees, one phone, no computers. A list of names on the wall, similar to when your grades get posted, however this is where you go to look if your permit has come in, if it has it’s highlighted. There are no piles of forms anywhere, handy to hand out to those that need them, they are in another office, outside and down the way.
We high-tail it back to the earth-touch office in some hope that we have the original film permits there. We don’t, but my individual one is. We grab that and mix it in with some copies of the rest, back to the lawyer (again we just walk in!) and pull a cheeky move, we look stressed and he clearly sees this, therefore he may have been keeping a silent eye as well. We tell him we were just handed a bunch of papers and the originals are in there somewhere, he looks at us, back at the papers and stamps them for us. Off we go to the employment office to pay our $500 pulla, get a receipt and turn in the forms. The demeanor of the employees at these places is less then responsive, and they obsess little sense of urgency or efficiency. She barley stirs when we walk in, and barley picks up the phone to call the right person for us to pay. We have a seat, and wait, wait, wait....... you get the point. Eventually we pay, get the receipt, back to the passport office, hand in the forms, and are done, but not until I get my visitors permit extended till june, which I need while I wait for my residency to come in. This form is down the way in another office...eventually we are done. It’s 5pm. Graham needs a beer, maybe 10 of them. I find it all a bit hilarious, but I may not say that next time I have to deal with this. Now let’s see if my name gets on the board.......
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