A HELICOPTER WOULD BE NICE

I am a CEDOC veteran. Last September I fought for my carte de séjour. Then I managed to get a visa de sortie. Twice. I've spent several hours queuing on a hard wooden bench, I've been patronized, proposed to and then patronized some more. I left enourmous amounts of money there. So nothing will surprise me about the place anymore. Or will it? Last week we went over to the magnificent offices to apply for another visa the sortie and to find out that I was wrong - I should never have taken success at CEDOC for granted. My arrogance was punished once more.

To get out of the country you need a visa. To get the visa you need the application form, two photos, a copy of your passport, a copy of your residence permit and proof that you paid the fee (60 000 CFA, 90 euros), which is issued by the CEDOC cash register lady, who always seems to be on the phone. I had my documents, I had my money, I was expecting nothing but big success. Cocky, far too cocky.

On entering the office, we noticed that all the employees were sucking on lollipops. So far so good, I thought, it must be somebody's birthday. As soon as I said down to talk to one of the gentlemen, a lollipop sticking out of his mouth, sucky noises instead of Bonjour, I was confronted with a question I could not understand. I asked him to repeat several times and finally it dawned upon me that I'm one document short. The gentleman was kind enough to explain that I needed to run (quickly) to the Trésor Public office and pay an additional fee of 2000 CFA (3 euros!), where I would get a receipt, vital for the issuing of the visa. Of course, the Trésor is right on the other side of the city, and, quick as I am, all running within the opening hours of both institutions was out of the question. We left the place as most people do, sulking. Once again, CEDOC had won the battle.

Luckily, the story has a happy ending. Three days after the fiasco, I managed to pay a visit at the Trésor. Armed in the receipt and determination, I came back to the visa office and, unless they lose my passport, I will be able to visit my Mom and Dad this summer. What did I learn? A helicopter would be nice.

Picture downloaded here.

ONE SORTIE FOR ME, MADAME!

So, what do you think? Exit or no exit? Yes, I got the visa in the end. One sortie, one retour - not the visa I wanted. I described my second visit to CEDOC in the previous post. What you don't know is that there was a third and a fourth.

The third time we went we were already resigned to the idea of a simple one-time visa. Sulking, we entered the CEDOC gates once more and tried to get inside the building. The soldier guarding the entrence, one hand firmly grasping his machine gun, sent us away to the "waiting room" - a set of wooden benches outside - claiming there was no space inside. After a while he called a bunch of people in and we entered with them.

I don't know if I've told you this but the place looks a bit like a bank, with employees behind a counter and three rows of wooden benches, bloody uncomfortable, by the way. The queue is attentively sitting on the benches and the newly arrived are supposed to sit at the end. There is virtually no space on benches, people squeezed in a manner that makes a can of sardines look like a spa. When the person leading the cue is called to the counter, a self-appointed queue manager tells everyone to get up and move, which they do without really getting up, probably afraid of losing their seat to one of the impatient-looking men waiting nearby, ready to jump into an open spot in the middle of the queue. Madness. I was part of it for nearly two hours.

Afterwards everything went smoothly. They took a photo of me (completely unaware that the photo was being taken) and told me to come back the following week. We came back, impatient-looking, and jumped into an open spot in the front of the queue, catching the unsuspecting queue leader off guard. We got my passport back in no time.

Good news is, I'm going home! And no power cut (still a daily phenomenon) or water cut or CEDOC employee can ruin that for me.

The picture I posted with this entry is something I found on the internet when I tried to google sortie. It's by a person called Niki de Saint Phalle and when I saw it I instantly thought of Gabon and CEDOC.

CEDOC 2: THE SEQUEL

Remember CEDOC? The famous place I wrote about in connection with my carte de séjour? Well, here comes part two of the CEDOC odyssey, entitled Visa de Sortie.

You are probably not aware that getting out of Gabon is as difficult as getting into Gabon. You would think that once in the country, with your stay legal and all, you can start breathing normally and enjoy yourself. Well, you couldn't be more wrong: you cannot leave the country without an exit visa: you will be stopped at the airport and not allowed to board the plane. Since Christmas is approaching, we started going about the whole visa business last Saturday.

There are two types of visa de sortie:
1) one entry - allows you to leave the country once and come back, it's quite simple to get and costs 70 000 CFA (105 euros) and only two visits to CEDOC.
2) multiple entries - it costs 120 000 CFA (180 euros) but is valid for six month, during which you can leave and come back whenever you want.

Now, we could of course settle for the first type and have it done soon enough but the problem is we want a multiple entry visa. In case I need to leave quickly (emergency? health problem?), I want to be sure there is no paperwork impeding it. We thus went to CEDOC on Saturday morning, equipped with:
- a corresponding form
- copy of my and Jandro's passport
- copy of my and Jandro's carte de séjour
- a sort of a covering letter
- a letter of recommendation from Jandro's boss.

The clark looked incredibly normal. A nice guy, I thought. Indeed, he was very nice. Please go to the till and pay. We went. We queued. We were informed by a bearded female cashier that we didn't tick a box on our form and had to get back to the guy who'd sent us to pay. We got back. The man was still very nice and very nicely waited for us to tick the box. We ticked. Please sit down, he said. Suddenly, his face underwent a sharp transformation: he was no longer a nice guy, he was a Gabonese CEDOC employee.

- Very well, madame. Where do you work?
- I don't.
- Very well. Madame, if you don't work, why do you need this kind of visa?
- To go to my country.
- But this kind of visa, madame, - he said smiling ironically, - is reserved to people who work. Who do important things, like your husband. That is you, sir, I presume?
- Yes, it is me.
- This kind of visa facilitates professional circulation. You are not entitled to it.

We tried to explain that we have a recommendation from An Important Person but he insisted that it was impossible. Obviously, he was waiting for a bribe. We didn't offer it.

- What is your name, please? - Jandro asked.
- No, no, that is unnecessary. In the end I do not decide this. Cross your fingers. Maybe yes, maybe no. Don't be too optimistic. Come back on Wednesday.

We went there today and found out that I was not granted the visa. Of course, we can always get the simple one but I don't fancy the idea of not being able to leave the country on a whim. So we'll try another option of getting the six-month visa, let's see if it works. Cross your fingers. Maybe yes, maybe no.

Sometimes I love Gabon and I feel grateful to be here. Sometimes, however, it seems absolutely ridiculous. And sometimes it makes me sick. Today is one of those days.

LANDED

I'm in Libreville, sitting in the huge white African living-room, overlooking the calm waters of the Atlantic Ocean. I can see the beach full of men in colourful T-shirts, playing football and bathing in the see. Tall palm trees, Toyota cars and posters of candidates for presidency. Grey, cloudy sky.

My trip from Poland was eventless, I made it in time to catch both planes, watched two films and there I was, in Africa again. I got off the plane and dutifully put myself in the "no-visa" line. In front of me some French people, behind a group of Scots. You see, the only visa I could've got outside of Gabon was a tourist one, useless if
I wanted to stay here. The procedure is thus as follows:

1) Long before my arrival, Jandro applies for a special paper ("Authorisation of Entry") and waits for it for a month. It costs money.

2) With a copy of this paper I present myself at the airport and queue in the "no-visa" line. I talk to one airport officer, who, through continuous use of the word "two" ("two two two"), informs me that I only gave him the first part of the paper and he wants the second one. I talk to another officer, who kindly ignores my question about the price of the visa and walks away. After an hour (I was third in the line), a photograph of my tired face is taken and, having left my fingerprints, I obtain my one-month visa. It costs money.

3) With my brand new visa I must now head for immigrants office (or something of the kind), where I will need to queue for God knows how long ("Remember to take a picnic basket. People get there at 4 am"), in order to exchange it for a very much desired "Carte de Séjour" (a sort of a residence permit), which lets me stay here legally for a longer period of time. This costs A LOT of money.

Ah, the things you do when you're young and in love... ;)