Immigration7

Around 3pm, my name was called. Making my way past those still waiting, and this can be a tricky process with seats crammed close together and kiddies often playing on the floor, I got to the counter. A young man waited to see me, asking the reason for my request for Parole. I gave the reason and thought it a sad state of affairs to find that I was surprised at the compassion showed by this young man. After offering his sympathy, I was again asked to sit and wait. Knowing that it would be some time before I was called again, I went outside and while having a cigarette, I called Mike, giving him an updated progress report. As it was looking promising, I told him to go ahead and confirm the flight for the Tuesday.
Back inside, again through the scanner and to my seat. 5.55pm and I still sat as the room slowly emptied. My resentment deepened. A conversation I had been having with an Indian couple, he a computer expert for a large company and in the US on a work visa, was terminated when their name was called and they were given their papers. He and his pregnant wife and 4 year old daughter were planning on going to India for a holiday. While they did not need to get Advance Parole as his work visa guaranteed their return, he was taking no chances and had therefore made the Parole application.
During our conversation, we discussed that while everyone complained about the waiting, the inhumanity of having to stand outside for hours on end, whatever the weather, whatever the age of the person, nobody ever speaks out about it. Who would dare do so while going through the process of becoming a resident?? We agreed that while some might have the intention of doing so after they had been granted their residency, by that time, the relief in having got through the process outweighs intent, and the whole experience is put behind them.

We also discussed the Mission Statement hanging on the wall. Part of that statement declares that people would be treated with respect and dignity. As each and every person in that room had been herded like cattle, that negates that statement immediately. Somehow, I doubt if anyone actually reads it, let alone follows it. With the Indian couple gaining their Parole and departing, I sat silently. Just when I was wondering if I would be sleeping in the building overnight, my name was called. Up to the counter again and the same young man was on the other side, holding my papers. Thanking him, I took the papers and made my way outside. Now dark, I wearily made my way home.
Mid December, while I was in New Zealand, a letter arrived. An appointment had been made for us in January. Finally, we would have our interview for residency. On the 30th January, Mike and I made yet another trip on the train, but maybe, this would be the last one! We were prepared for a reasonably long day as we knew that an appointment meant nothing, apart from not having to stand outside. Those with appointments got to go through the front entrance. Approaching the metal scanner, we took off our coats, put them through, then I placed my bag on the conveyor. Uh oh, this guard was observant. He wanted my scissors! Should I mention that it was the same guard that had previously seen my bag go through his scanner, many times, yet never questioned me about them??? Mike told me to just hand them over, we were going to be late if I went outside to bury them. Reluctantly, I handed them over. It was my own fault, I knew better than to carry a harmless pair of small scissors around with me. I wondered how I had got away with doing so for over 8 years.

This appointment was for both Mike and I, and set for 10.20am. Arriving at the same counter, in the same waiting room, 5 minutes early, abiding by the large notice informing clients that if they arrived more than 15 minutes early, they would not be taken. Back to sitting and waiting........and waiting......and waiting. Watching people who had arrived long after us being called on and then leaving after gaining whatever permission they had been seeking. At 1pm, we enquired as to when we would be seen. Casually we were informed that our investigator was running late and would be having his lunch before he saw anyone. On hearing this, we decided to do the same thing and headed down to the cafeteria, knowing we wouldn't be called for some time.

Expecting to be seen around 2.30pm, we were disappointed, though not really surprised, to see that time come and go without being called. 3.30pm......came and left. .....and 4pm...... and 4.30pm..and 5pm. Finally, at 5.15 we were called!!! When the officer apologised for the delay, I restrained from laughing at him. Being seen nearly 7 hours late is a delay??
The documents that we were required to bring with us, were handed over. These were checked and then my medical report, submitted with the original application over a year previous and still sealed, was opened. This was closely examined while I sat holding my breath.