To enter our country you need a visa. But you also need a visa to be able to leave! Jared and I didn’t have exit visas. The problem is that they take up an entire passport page, and I was running out of pages. So, we hadn’t applied for one over the midterm break because we were planning on visiting the desert instead of leaving the country. Usually it takes about two weeks to obtain an exit visa and our school does this on our behalf. The “visa man” was handing back passports and saying it was better for teachers to have their passports with them, because probably the school and offices would close on Monday and he wouldn’t be at work. It seemed a very bad idea to hand in a passport in such circumstances.
Sunday night we called a good friend, who had contacts to the man in charge of passports downtown. We were to get a letter from our school and meet downtown at the government building at 7am Monday morning. We had to get the principal to meet us at the school to sign the document late Sunday night, and fortunately she was willing.
Monday morning came and we were told to wait a few hours before going downtown. We were thankful since being there for 7am would have meant being out before dawn, which wasn’t advisable at that time. We continued to pack our bags: one check-in and one carry-on each.
During a teachers’ briefing at 10am, we got the call to go downtown. Someone was leaving a funeral to meet us at the office and we needed to be there within the hour. We weren’t sure what we were headed into. We were hearing of protests and skirmishes. No one was supposed to go downtown – except that was the only place where we could get an exit visa to be able to leave the country. We had heard that others were being turned away at customs for lack of a visa, and leaving without one would make it very difficult when it is time to return. So downtown we went, with much trepidation. We sang the whole way. The highway was practically empty. Nearer downtown we saw burned-out vehicles and a main government security building on fire. Most memorable was a side-street littered with thousands of stones still lying in place after being hurled the night before. Long lines stretched from bakeries as families tried to stock up on bread.
We had to drive right down the main street to downtown to reach the office, but unfortunately we didn’t know where it was located exactly. We scared several people when Jared got out of the car to ask for directions – everyone was jumpy and on edge. There weren’t many out on the main streets; however, groups of men patrolled the side streets and were setting up make-shift road blocks. Heavily armed government workers were patrolling the streets around government and communication buildings.
Once we got to the passport building, the guard outside the front gate would not let us pass inside. He said the offices were closed and no visas were being issued. We guaranteed him that our friend was there and ready to help us. We phoned our friend several times but couldn’t get through. The intermediary said we should wait and he would come out to meet us. Suddenly, down the street, I saw a man approaching who was draped in green and carrying a long metal stick. He was yelling and waving, and as he passed our car the guard started yelling at us, “Get out! Get out!” I said, “But we need visas!” Agitated he flung his arm pointing down the road and we saw a mass of protesters coming down the street. We ran back to our car and with trepidation Jared fumbled to do a three-point turn and get out as they approached. We stopped down a side street and waited for them to pass. As they moved on, we circled back around to the government building.
Anxiously we waited for the man to appear, and eventually he did. Much to our dismay, in our haste to get downtown we had left the authorization letter from our school on the table in the staff room. Jared discussed the issue with the man who looked apprehensive about giving a visa without any paperwork. The verdict was that it was impossible to issue the visas without the letters, despite ensuing chaos country-wide. The man would wait for our return. In the meantime, our intermediary contact said they were burning files and the whole office would be abandoned in one hour.
As we navigated the side streets on route back to the school we saw makeshift road barriers, smoldering fires in the streets and rubble. We raced down the highway and a friend met us outside with the letters; we made the return journey in record time - around 25 minutes going and returning. We handed the papers over and watchfully waited in the car. After a while the man returned and told me to get in the backseat. He climbed in and took us to another office. I watched a string of pick-up trucks drive by, each filled with soldiers.
The man returned and tried to force us to accept final exit visas, which would mean that we could not return. He was unhappy with our nationality and religion and blamed the uprising on us. Jared stood firm in his resolution, waving his arm in dismissal of the man’s proposal. Eventually the man got back in the car and guided us back to the original office. This time the guard allowed us to park inside the gate and Jared went with the liaison inside the building while I waited in the car.
The past twenty-four hours had been dragging by with events escalating by the minute. However it was this time of sitting in the car alone, praying for visas that was excruciating for me. Other times I felt so occupied with the events at hand that I didn’t notice how long time was. But sitting alone with little to watch and nothing to do was agonizing. I decided to watch the clock and see how time was progressing, only to be dismayed to find that a few minutes felt like half an hour!
Jared was having an experience of his own. Hours of varying offices visits, lengthy Arabic discussions, and bureaucracy ensued. The visa man continued to blame all the problems on foreigners, namely Americans, and said he could not get the visas. He continually received phone calls from pro-government personnel updating him on skirmishes and appeared to take pride or pleasure in the fighting and upcoming air raids.
After several hours, Jared and the man came back and got in the car. Jared shook his head and said they couldn’t get them. The man turned to look at me and ask what I thought. I raised my hands in dismay and confusion and then they laughed. Although a strange time to make a joke, the visa man wanted to see my reaction. I was not happy with him, but thankful for the visas. The man advised that we needed to go directly to the airport and leave the country immediately because things were going to be bad that night.
All we wanted to do was get home before the 5pm curfew and try to get our things together and book flights. But the man needed a ride to an office across town and it was the least we could do to repay him. It was disconcerting to drive him 40 minutes out of the way when we felt so anxious about time.
We reached home safely and celebrated our visas with our friends. These friends had also been in a sticky situation since they had a passport-less newborn baby. Their ability to get out didn’t seem positive and we told them the weekend before that we would not leave without them. We figured we might have to wait for official evacuations before they and the baby could get out. But when we returned home we learned that they had gotten all their papers in order and had already bought tickets! My stomach dropped a bit when I realized that we were then the only ones without tickets to leave.
Immediately we got on the internet and there appeared to be two tickets leaving the following day to London, and at a great price. I felt so relieved and moved to purchase them. However, that transaction would not go through, and nor would any other purchase I tried. All on-line reservations were frozen. I scanned our Skype list and saw my brother-in-law online. I called him and asked him to call the reservations number and inquire about booking. The help desk told him, “There seems to be some unrest in the region and I’m having trouble booking flights.” Really?!! She talked through several flights – we were trying for a $1,600 a piece ticket that put us through Malta, Amsterdam, Brussels and London – a mini tour of Europe capitals that we couldn’t split up! It was frustrating how much the airlines put up prices in light of the situation. But whatever the expense, we were willing to pay. I was just telling my brother-in-law, “Book anything; anything! No matter what the price,” and then the internet cut off. I felt so bad for him not knowing what might be happening to us. With that setback we knew that we would be unable to purchase tickets.
Our plan at that point was to get to the airport. Lots of our friends had bought multiple tickets trying to ensure their departure. We hoped we might be able to find space from some of these no-shows on later flights. We had also heard there might be flights that could only be purchased at the airport. And if all else failed, we had been assured that there would be embassy personnel at the airport to assist us – perhaps on a military evacuation. But it seemed that getting to the airport was the only way to get out.
That night we repacked. Someone mentioned that on military evacuations you’re only allowed to take what you can hold on your lap. So my carefully packed check-in suitcases were stored in the corner of our bedroom, and we rearranged our two carry-on rollers. After having already decided what was important to us to take in regular suitcases, it was hard to then downsize. It was emotional and disappointing. We stayed up late moving plants outside, locking things into our back rooms and moving our car to the school for long-term parking.
We went to bed planning to be up early to catch the first bus from our school going to the airport. We wondered what we'd find and how long we would stay there.
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