we are legal, part two

So, Monday morning dawns, and Rod says to me, what shall we do today? Shall we go to a grubby government building again and see if they deport you and the kids? Of course I answer, absolutely, that sounds like a great experience. Hope you're all reading that with more than a soupcon (where is that cedilla when you need it?) of sarcasm!

Lata is confident. The brown envelope is a good sign. She says it will say the Home Office recommends we get our dependents visas, otherwise they would have given us our paperwork back and asked for even more documents. Lata, Rod and I troop off to the Mini Secretariat. There's quite a queue, but experience has shown Lata the Mini Secretariat guy isn't known for his ability to finish one job at a time. He can be easily distracted, a little like a child (Mummy, what's fornication? Would you like a Mars bar, darling?). She artfully holds the brown envelope covered in seals where it will catch his eye. Like a magpie seeing the sun glint off something shiny, the envelope does the trick and he motions for it to be passed to him. He opens the envelope, reads the contents and hands Lata some forms. We will have to photocopy a double sided sheet and fill it in. Four times for the three of us. There's another double sided sheet, but we only need one copy of each. He begins writing a list of documents he wants us to produce: photocopies of our passports and visas; photocopies of Rod's house lease, Foreigner registration document, employment contract; proof of our address in England; our marriage certificate. Lata tells him we don't have our marriage certificate handy, and Rod pulls our framed wedding photo out of his briefcase. The secretariat guy laughs, and doesn't write down marriage certificate. Secretariat guy must be in a good mood today, or maybe he knows how much it would cost to mock up that photo. But not that much of a good mood, because then he declares we must bring the children with us when we lodge the documents. Lata protests we will have to take them out of school, but like Thatcher, he's not for turning.

So we go back to Rod's office and get to work photocopying. I ask whether it would be acceptable to photocopy the first form three times, fill it in for each of us, and then photocopy that form a further three times. Lata is not sure Secretariat guy will be in a good enough mood tomorrow to accept photocopies of the filled form, so I write the same details out four times for each of us. I did Keir's forms last, so they don't look as neat as mine do. I have cramp in my hand by the end, and could really have done with a drink. I would have even paid 15 times the price of a Bacardi Breezer, because then I'd have the whole bottle of wine. I would have shared it with Rod, of course, because he looked fair ready to kill someone by this stage!

We broke the news that they would have to miss school to the kids. Thalia said oh, and Keir said yippee. We told Keir he'd probably prefer to go to school...

So Tuesday Rod, Lata, Thalia, Keir and I go to the Mini Secretariat. The office we need is not huge, three men "work" in it. It has four chairs for people waiting to be seen. Once a chair becomes available, we put a child in it so Mini Secretariat guy can see we have done as he wished. The kids are in their school uniform, because they look smart, and official, and they've brought a book each to read. People are made to wait for so long it's good to sit, but the Secretariat guy really only seems to take documents from people standing, so Lata and I stand in front of his desk. Rod stands in the doorway. There are another three people waiting to be processed inside the room, there's someone waiting behind Rod. The room is really not big. Secretariat guy takes the forms from Lata, glances at them and puts them on his desk. He flicks through our passports and puts them on his desk. He answers his telephone, he picks up someone else's forms. He picks up our forms again, puts them down again, and goes outside to have a jovial conversation which seems unrelated to our impending deportation. He returns, writes something on our forms, and starts reading someone else's forms. Keir, because he was more focussed on his task, has finished reading his book. This is unfortunate, because we are not done yet. Then Secretariat guy picks up my passport and begins writing in it. This is the first definite proof we have that we will not be deported, and Rod, Lata and I cross our fingers that he doesn't get distracted before he's finished writing in all three passports. The passports are then passed to the guy on his left, who writes up our details in big bound books. I sign the books and he gives me the passports back. At the moment although we can legally stay in the country, there's nothing in the passports to show this, and I can't imagine airport immigration officers being happy to take my word for it. So we continue to wait, clogging up this little room. So far, Secretariat guy has failed to look at the kids, maybe we should have dressed them in something shiny. After he has moved some more papers around on his desk, he asks Lata why we are still here. She tells him we want our passports to show our legal status (it's asking for a lot, I know). He says we have to go downstairs with the big bound books I signed and show them to the Commissioner for Police. Lata asks for the books, the guy on the left picks them up and we all troop downstairs, along with a lady from South Korea who'd been in the office almost as long as we had. We go into a nice, large, airconditioned office and are told to sit. The Commissioner for Police puts down his cigarette, glances at the big bound books and we're told to walk up stairs again. Hopefully this means our passports can be endorsed, and we can be on our way. But our passports are still not shiny enough to attract the magpie. Keir becomes tired, after all, the kids have been sitting really quite quietly for a good few hours now. Rod suggests he stand in front of Secretariat guy's desk, and rest his head on the papers there. Keir is such a well behaved child he does as he is told. Lata tries hard to laugh quietly. This seems to help, and our passports are endorsed. The official cost of these visas is 3,660 rupees each. We hand over 12,000 rupees, Secretariat guy puts the money in his drawer, and gets his wallet out to give us change. We are now waiting for the visa details to be written up in a different big bound book by the guy on Secretariat guy's right. Unfortunately this guy seems to have lost his pen. Rather than look for a new one, he's just sitting there. Lata leans over and says pleasantly, please take my pen, I have a spare. It suits no one here waiting if you do not have one. Rod tries hard to laugh quietly.

So our visas are legal, and tied to Rod's employment visa. Unfortunately that visa expires in five months time, so we will have to go through the whole rigmarole again in February!