Waiting in line in Barbados – Part II
Early morning Thursday I caught the bus from Oistins and headed to Bridgetown to the immigration office to file for my passport. I waited in line for about five minutes before it was my turn to speak to the nice young woman behind the thick glass wall. Do you have an appointment? She asked. No, I replied, I did not know I needed one. Where should I make it? Don’t worry about it she answered, what do you need? Gleefully, I made my case. I would like to make application for a Barbados passport. Is this for you, she asked, Yes, I am leaving on Sunday, and I need expediency.
Here is the application she said, pushing it through a little whole in the bottom of the thick glass. You got your birth certificate? Ok, fill this out and get the form witnessed in block number 12 by an attorney, a bank manager, or a prominent person like Headmaster and bring it back. Thanks, I said excitedly and exited to the little print shop across the street to get passport photos made. The owner of the print shop was a portly Caucasian man and spoke with a Bajan dialect. I must confess, hearing a white Bajan speak dialect is as mind jerking as hearing a black person speak in a British accent. It throws me for a loop every time, but it is cool once I get over the initial shock. And so, I filled out the application, received the photos and headed for the Caribbean Development Bank (CBC) to get block number 12 signed by a bank Manager I knew.
I made my way into the bank to find Naomi a childhood friend. I was under the impression that Naomi was the Bank Manager and could be my witness. She was not a bank manager nor did she want to ask her boss to sign the form. Who do we know that could help me, we quizzed each other. How about Jonas? But he is up by the funeral home in Waterford! I was trying to make it back to the immigration office before 1:00 pm as instructed and the funeral home was miles away heading back into the country. Not a good idea by bus.
We were almost out of options and time and I started to give up on the whole idea and thought I should wait to return to the states and process the application, because it normally took six weeks to get a passport. Then I remembered I met my cousin Derline the night before at the St. Michael Cathedral rehearsing for the Christmas cantata. I decided to throw a Hail Mary pass. We contacted Derline and she connected me to a mutual friend who was an attorney in town. I was smoking along to get expediency.
I made it back in time to the immigration office beaming to the young woman behind the thick glass. Ok, come and take a seat, she said. Since you are leaving on Sunday, let me see if Mr. Jones can help you. Thank you, I said with a deep sense of gratitude. A few minutes had pass and the young woman said, Mr. Jones will see you now.
Mr. Jones’ office was small and crowded with papers. He was dressed in brown pants and a dinghy white short sleeved shirt with red epaulets on the shoulders. He seemed bitter and troubled by everything. His introduction to me was his life story. I been working heh for nearly forty years, I see about a tousan’ people a day and deh don’ pay me enough. That’s too bad I said reassuringly. I had no intention of messing with my expediency. When you leaving? He asked. And what happened to the old passport? I am leaving on Sunday and the old passport got destroyed in a flood, as apologetically as I could. Don’t you know that is a government document and you were supposed to protect it? He wanted to sound authoritative and menacing. I remained calm and pleasant. Normally it takes six weeks to get a passport and you don’ have enough time to get it done, he continued.
Then surprisingly, he asked me how do you spell your name? With an “o” or an “a”? Which name? I asked, I have three names. Your middle name! With an “a” I said, then I spelt it, MACONIVAN. Well that’s not your name, it’s spelt with an “o” on your birth certificate. Did you not check this over? I did, but I missed that most important detail, I said. Let me check your original Barbados passport, as he looked at the ancient computer. Your original passport has it spelt with an “a”, we have a problem. So what should I do now, I pleaded? I had lost all hope of ever getting a passport anytime and especially not today. Mr. Jones was having none of it. So much for expediency.
You will have to petition the courts to change your name and it takes six weeks from the request, was his reply. You should head over to the court house and start the proceedings right away. The sun was hot, I had lost my momentum and I knew no passport was going to get done today. I made it to the courthouse to find a long line. NO! I thought out loud, this is not going to happen today, with total resignation.
We will pick up part III and the conclusion in shortly. Stay tuned.
Bajan Hotsauce: Stan
