Waiting at Home Affairs, my 5th visit to the place. I’ve been sitting in line for over an hour. There are still at least four people ahead of me and only one woman working the counter.
I’m tired of this place; I’m sick of its brown walls, its brown floors and its brown seats. A cockroach scuttles past, it will soon end up crushed under the foot of any of the 60 or so people who are waiting in queues. There is a lady sitting next to me on my left and a man on my right. Luvuyo comes after some time to see if he can find a way to prevent me having to pay a R10 000 repatriation fee.
We play musical chairs. As one person moves to the counter we all move up a place. Each time we scoot over we get one seat closer to the front of the line. Conversations start amongst the waiting people. In this section we are mostly all foreigners applying for visas to stay in the country. I’m talking to Luvuyo, telling him I’m not sure I want to stay in South Africa after this six months in P.E is over. I ask him if he knows where they plan to send me next. He says Polokwane, in the north. The lady next to me interrupts our conversation. “In Polokwane people will take care of you, it’s only in the big cities that you’re left to fend for yourself.”
The conversation continues. She is a 35+ lady from Spanish Morrocco, she’s been in South Africa for 11 years. “When I first came here I was in Pretoria for the first 2 weeks, no one was there for me. I had to figure everything out on my own. When I went to the rural areas that’s when people cared for me”.
She talks about living and studying in Cape Town.“I was given such a hard time there, I was called names like white caffa, it was a horrible experience”. She shows me her teeth which are all missing on top. “Everything I have was stolen from my home, even my dentures. This is a very rough country.”
She tells us she came to SA to work in the navy. She’s in the marines. I ask her if she’s ever been home. With an expression of contempt she says yes. She was deported just 3 weeks ago. All of her paperwork and visa were on the ship she works on. She was stopped by officials, asked to show her documents. She tried to explain to them that if they just checked with the government, called one of her officials, anything, they would see she’s employed by the navy and is legally in this country. Within 3 hours she was arrested and put on a plane home. Her 8 year old daughter left behind in South Africa.
I’m absolutely dumbfounded. Without even doing a proper check or trying to find the truth she was deported. After living here for 11 years! At home she contacts a friend who is a lawyer and now she is fighting back.
I’m shocked at how this could happen. I can see that this woman has suffered. It is there in her eyes. “It’s been so hard here, living away from your family and friends. The immigration people tell me to marry a South African and that will make everything easier. I’m a Catholic, when I marry I marry for love not for a visa and besides I’m already married; I’m married to the sea.”
She tells another story of life in Cape Town. In the span of 3 months she was mugged 4 times. “I was sick of it, I thought if they are going to keep trying to mug me then I’ll get a gun. So I get a license and I buy a gun. One time as I was walking these four guys approach me. Two go behind me and two in front. One of the guys pulls out a large knife. He tells me to take off all my jewellery and hand it over and while I’m at it I should take off all my clothes and lay on the floor. So I pulled out the gun, pointed it at him and told him and his friends to take off their clothes. And then I left them there, naked and I walked away with their clothes.”
Aside from being amused and proud of this woman for fighting back it’s also sad that you have to be armed in order to be safe.
I was absolutely astounded by this encounter. It’s amazing how we can cross paths with people never knowing what they’ve been through, what they’ve seen, what they know.
I love hearing other people’s stories, it opens up our own little window and through the eyes of others we are able to see pieces of the world we would otherwise never have discovered.
After her turn at the counter she walked away as any other stranger would, perhaps never realising the impact she had on me.
I still have to go to Home Affairs, hopefully for the last time and maybe while there I’ll encounter another person in line who’s story we share and even though we only have a few moments together the impact they could have on me might be just as great.
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