Once upon a time I went to South Africa. Then I was refused to enter their country. Then they put me in a mad house as if I was a prisoner. I wasn´t even allowed to make a call. Shame. That´s Africa.
A note written in one of the magazines among the lines. Ironically written next to a column named: ´We are looking for Discovery members with inspirational stories to tell´.
Iš Danguas.| From the sky.
Johannesburg airport. The neutral space, which we are trying to cross in order to reach our transit flight to Swaziland. There is no need of visa for us to that country. Why couldn’t we start with the Republic of South Africa? Simple as that – for Lithuanians the only option to obtain visa is to come back to Europe and do it there. No other option. So we are trying to avoid that, and start our African odyssey somewhere in the south. Two embassies have advised us that we don’t need any transit visas, so we are confident and cheerful handing our documents to the officer at the airport to check the passports. ´Visas?´ a bit sleepy in a bored tone asks he. ´We don´t need visas to Swaziland´ like excellent pupils answered him. ´But you need a transit South African visa, if you are going to a neighboring country´. Nice one. How on earth we suppose to know if the trusted source of knowledge – embassy – does not know that. South African Airlines apparently are guilty too for letting us through.
All of a sudden we find ourselves in a small room, among the others with fake passports and miniature mistakes made in their documents. The staff works slowly, feels as they don´t have a certain pattern where to start and how to end the case. They grab one, who is already snoozing waiting for his turn. Then his case dropped for an hour until he becomes an interesting one again.
One officer comes for the third time to ask which country we are from. We are sitting there without any clue what is going to happen next. ´Maybe you will be deported´ the officer looks tired and very unhappy. ´But could we not buy another flight to the non-neighbouring country?´ desperately we inquire. It seems the officers are satisfied for a moment with a proposal as such, and we attack Internet sporadicly trying to choose a country we would need to fly to. Some seem very expensive to get to, some don´t offer visa on arrival stuff. Finally, when we find an excellent choice, Zambia, we cannot buy online. The Internet page seems to seize working. We can buy at the airport, at the SAA office, but the cash changed into local money doesn´t cover entire fare, and the debit card is not accepted. The officers seem to loose their patience, and prescribe us a vital document. Inadmissables. Deported. ´What´s now?´we inquire both tired and frustrated. ´The airlines will have to take care of you. After all, it is their fault you are here. We had to charge them ten thousand money´ (don´t ask what money, we were confused enough about our own fate). It feels like the earth just shifted underneath the feet.
So we end up in the ARM (analytical risk management) facilities, or in short, a miniature prison inside the airport. We are taken away all electronic equipment. ´Are you journalists?` the officer asks sorting away our camera, voice-recorder and microphone. ´Yes, we are´ we answered. ´You will write well about me, yes?` and his behaviour instantly and ever since was excellent with us. He didnt´t even lock us in the day time.
P.Afrika. | S.Africa
For the meals we went into the small canteen, where finally all of us got to see each other and maybe chat a bit about ´why we are here´. Two Pakistani guys are here for four days already without any idea of how long they are going to stay here. Nobody permits them to call home. Nor that we had this option. The only difference, that we are for days and days without internet so our close ones for weeks do not have a clue where we are. But here, business people went for their usual affairs, and disappeared without any notice. They cannot smoke there too, so four days with forced quitting is not something easy to handle. And the other officer who was neutral to us, seems to provoke the Pakistani guys. ´What you are staring at´ shouts he. Being witness of non-provoking glance of Pakistani at the officer seemed to frustrate us about the silly situation, but we were sitting there silent.
After a meal we are back to our cell with walls painted with a crazy smiling clown and freakish green fish. We cannot work, as our computers and pens are taken away. So the only thing we are able to do, is to get some good rest. Sleep, eat, turn on the other side and read some Lithuanian magazines, which we found them among other magazines. We in fact were very excited to get something Lithuanian from the other side of the world, and still quite fresh seems. The only frustration was to not know what is awaiting for us. Any options seemed very expensive to us, but when someone behind the walls was wailing about his stolen money (´number five, what´s happening?´ the officers were not very happy with that number five, and he would never get out for dinner with us. When we thought of what other inadmissables facing, we thought that any lost money we will get back some day by working, and overall it is more like an adventure, but not a real threat for loss of freedom or something serious as others might encounter.
At first, South African Airlines talk to us particularly rudely. ´You will be sent back to Brazil´ the unhappy woman shouted. Unfortunate for them, because they not only had to buy us another ticket back to Africa (that week we made three times over Atlantic), but also to cover our expenses in San Paulo. Truth to say, back in Brazil, at first instance we were not admitted too – seems the officers for purely being emotional and scattered can talk illogical things. But then they had to admit us, as there is nothing else they could do. We don´t need visa for Brazil, and the only fault we made is to fly with SAA. But one manager at the SAA was particularly kind with us, and he researched the problem, helping us to get what we deserved.
Verslo klasė. | Business class.
We are getting the flight to Zambia then, hoping that the try number two will be far more successful than the first one. The same Johannesburg airport to pass through, so our anxiety pockets getting fuller. Pff, the first stage happened to end up successfully. But just before we meant to enter airplane heading to Zambia, the officer takes our tickets away and tears them up. What´s that on earth. She quickly handles us new ones. Business class! So with our traveling attire we end up sitting in the puffy chairs, being served by a ear to ear smiling stewardess, asking whether we would like to try wine before pouring it into the glass. And looking down through the tiny clouds at the land of South Africa. Oh well, being Lithuanian is not exactly the same as traveling for another inhabitant of the western world yet.
Have we lost anything in this story, and have we learned anything. Wasted time? But how can you call that wasted, when we got so needed rest, learned people stories and had such an adventure (not that we would like to repeat it again). Yes, there was lots of anxiety there, much more than anywhere on the road, but to be honest, this is all part of Iter Vitae, Journey of Life.
