"When I was here I wanted to be there. When I was there, all I could think of was getting back into the jungle.
I've been here a week now. Waiting for a mission, getting softer. Every minute I stay in this room I get weaker. And every minute Charlie squats in the bush he gets stronger. Each time I look around the walls move in a little tighter."
- Apocalyse Now
Well, it's been over a month since I arrived back in Jozi. My cheery parting words to my client "See you in 10 days" are long gone, leaving a bitter, a dry, hungover taste in my mouth. Through no fault of mine I should stress, and indeed, I am stressing. What momentum I built up in my first 3 weeks in Lagos has now ground to a halt under the blind, crushing weight of bureaucratic ineptitude that is the Nigerian Consulate. My first task upon arrival in SA was to submit, in quadruplicate, applications for an STR (Short Term Residence) visa, including everything from my employment contract to letters of reference to copies of my UCT degree (retrieved miraculously by Christy from the garage debris) and even my Matric certificate. My first - and last - foray to the consulate to drop off all the paperwork was blocked by a guard who informed me that they only accept applications on Tuesdays and Thursdays (it was Friday). Thinking to make the best of a wasted trip, I elected to go inside and clarify what payments would be required. Expecting an unruly, bewildered throng of people as we find at our own Home Affairs I was bemused to enter a large hall and find mself the only occupant, besides two women hunched sullenly behind the counter at the far end of the room. I cheerfully approached and aksed about paying for a visa application. After railing at me with the chant "Tuesdays and Thursdays only" and then being apprised of my intention, one of the trolls underlined a web URL on a photostated form and pushed it towards me. Apparently payments can ONLY be made online. I thanked her and gathered my pile of papers. She perked up visibly as she espied one of the four painstakingly completed 8-page application forms lying on top. "That's not allowed," she commented with grim relish. "It has to be typed up." It was at that point I decided to leave it to our capable Nigerian lawyers and (as it turns out) not-so-capable local facilitators to get my visa through the system.
It's been wonderful seeing my family and friends, even though it has been atrociously cold this year. Last weekend I removed a 3mm disc of ice from the dogs' water bowl outside! My bakkie also refused to start the other morning (I suspect a frozen solenoid) and I had to reverse bump-start it down the driveway. But it's been fun, generally speaking, and I have certainly enjoyed working with the creatives at the Firehouse in Jo'burg.
Meanwhile my bosses have been tearing out their hair as much as I've been climbing the walls. So, I'm massively relieved to hear, at last, that the visa will be ready on Tuesday and, with a bit o' luck, I'll be flying out next Thursday or Friday.
Thank God.
Or, based on past experience, maybe that should be,
If it pleases God.
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