I think this is just one of those days that needs to be experienced to be believed. But I’m going to try to describe it for you anyway. 
I have a Ugandan visa which allows me to stay in the country. It is still a tourist visa so it has to be renewed then repurchased every three and six months respectively. I had purchased one when I re-entered after being in Kenya with Tim. So I just needed to renew this time. But I knew the guy who is supposed to stamp it may not be there and he is a power hungry individual who likes to jerk us around. So it may not be quite that straight forward. Anyway, left this morning around 9:00 and drove with the Kaisers the 1.5 hours to Mbale. Headed into his office. The first thing out of his mouth is “Are you the one that refused to pay my family’s hospital bill?” What?! Then I realized that he was talking about Daniel Kaiser who had been into this immigration office a few days back. He had been told that the official wasn’t there because he had family in the hospital but if he needed him to come in then he could pay the bills.
Anyway, I wasn’t going to pay any hospital bills to get him to stamp my passport. I told him that (slightly more tactfully) and he became solemn. “Look here” he said. “You are two months expired.” He was just blowing smoke but he was mad that I wasn’t paying the bribe and he wasn’t going to make things easy for me. He pointed to some illegible writing on the top of the visa sticker and told me it said 30 days, not 90 and that I had to go to the main office in Kampala and get it straightened out because I was in the country illegally. I asked if he couldn’t just stamp it, how much I would appreciate it, (I was spreading it on pretty thick) but nothing. He just kept looking at the passport, looking at me. Waiting for me to break down and pay him something. No dice, I wasn’t paying. I walked out, waited for the Kaisers to try to get their stamp (they didn’t pay the bribe either and he only gave them 1 month instead of 3) then I walked back in. He asked me “did you find something in your pocket for me?” I said no, I was just wondering if he thought I could go anywhere else besides Kampala. Jerk, I’m not paying you!
So, I decided that I was this far, I would continue to the border, leave Uganda for Kenya and come back in to get a new visa. So, I hunted down a tolerable bathroom, got rid of my skirt in exchange for some pants and hoped on a motorcycle boda to the taxi park where I found one headed to Mulaba with only 19 other people inside and crammed in. Then the three closest to the door got back out, pushed until the clutch popped and the van shook itself to life. The road was one of the worst Ugandan roads I’ve been on yet and I’m so glad I didn’t have a lunch to lose. I felt quite hot and sick but the ride was only about an hour and a fourth five minutes with all of the stops to let people off and cram more in. Once in Mulaba I found a boda bike to take me to the border crossing. I filled out the card, waited in line in the crowded tiny office and got stamped out. I hoped back on the boda and he drove me over the border to Kenyan Immigration. I filled out their card and stood in line. Got to the front and began getting the third degree. No, I’m not staying in Kenya. Yes, I want to go back to Uganda. No, I don’t have a muli-entry, that is why I’m here. He accused me of abusing Kenya just to get a Ugandan visa. I explained I was paying $25 to enter Kenya but wouldn’t use any of their services so they were getting a good deal. He didn’t find me humorous. He said he wouldn’t permit me entry. Then he just looked at me. Ummmm, I think this is where I’m supposed to offer to pay him. I just continued to stand there. He reached around me for the next person’s papers. I waited him out and eventually he stopped trying to work around me and left his post. He came back with his superior who brought me into his office. This new man reviewed my passport again, commenting on the Kenyan and Ugandan visas. He asked me if I’ve left east Africa at all in the last 9 months. He then told me that I’m supposed to leave East Africa every 6 months. This is boloney and I told him I know many people who don’t leave east Africa that often. He said they are in violation and they should all be fined just like he should fine me now. A million Kenyan Shillings. ($1,200 USD) By this point I'm getting a headache. Sir, what do you suggest I do? He said I should go to Sudan. Excuse me?! I’m here now. How am I supposed to even get to Sudan if you don’t let me in or out?! What kind of suggestion is that? I apologized that I had not left East Africa. I then explained that I know I need to get a work visa and stop using a tourist visa but that takes time and my NGO doesn’t have the necessary paperwork yet. Can’t he just give me the Kenyan visa so I can go back over and get the Ugandan visa and I can go away and stop bothering him? He didn’t find me humorous either. So I left his office. Now what? Can’t get into Kenya. Have been stamped out of Ugadan and don’t have a legit visa to re-enter. I got back on the boda and we headed back over to the Uganda side with me praying that they just give me what I need even if I don’t have anything else. My prayers were interrupted by UPDF (Ugandan military.) He asked me to step over to the side of the road and asked me what I was doing. Ummmm….I’m stuck between the Kenyan and Ugandan borders, what do you think I’m doing? Nope, I kept it together better that that and answered his many questions politely. Essentially “No, I’m not a terrorist.” Then he asked to see my yellow card. Is that like a green card? If so where can I get one? Yellow card, yellow card, I’m thinking fast but I don’t know what he’s talking about. I start to think that here is one more person that I don’t have the right paper work for. His English isn’t great but finally I get it, he wants my yellow fever immunization record. I’ve been in the country 9 months and no one has ever asked to see it. But there is a first time for everything and amazingly I have it with me. He takes less than a two second glance at it and waves me away. At least he didn’t ask for a bribe. Back at the Ugandan immigration office. My palms are sweaty and I’m pretty sure before the day is out I’m going to vomit. I just need this guy to be nice. I pass him my passport, the $50 for the visa and the papers. Then the questions begin. Why so long in Uganda? Why no work permit? What do I do? Who do I work for? I really shouldn’t be allowed back in. He takes my $ and my passport into a back room where some conversations in Swahili commence. I wait, and wait and wait. I want to pause here to say that it is probably 95 degrees outside, hotter in this crowded room. I’m tired, nauseated, and let’s face it I stink. I’m not sure where I’ll be sleeping tonight. Finally he comes back. He hands me my passport, stamps the receipt and hands me that too. No eye contact at all. I shove them in the top of my backpack, thank him and push my way out. The boda driver is still sitting there. “We go?” Yep, take me back to the taxi park. He peddles me there then says I owe him 20,000 shillings for all he has done, waiting and taking me back and forth. Listen dude. You don’t want to mess with me right now. At least not until after I have a cold coke. I know that 20,000 nearly two weeks wages. Here is 5,000 now get out of my face. I find a taxi with only 12 people in it that is headed back to Mbale. I get squeezed into my place in the back. Then sit. We are waiting on a few more so that we can be more cozy, the taxi isn’t full enough yet to go. I can’t think of a worse place to sit than in the hot sun, in a van, in the middle of a dusty taxi park. Unless, it is a van that already has 12 other bodies in it. To fill my time I pull my passport back out. I flip though. I can’t find the stamp. No new stamps with today’s date. Kenya refused and I never actually saw Uganda’s. I page though again slowly. Then one more time. Ugh. Seriously? I pull the receipt out. My $50 is on there. Today’s date. My name. No length of visa issued. Practically nothing else written on it. I actually laid my head down on the bench top in front of me and fell asleep. Dozed most of the way back to Mbale. Kaisers were waiting for me there. (Thanks so much guys for waiting it out!) Back to Soroti. I know that I need to be making a plan. Do I need to drop everything and head to Kampala? But I’m dreading that. I’ve seen immigration there and it is a worse nightmare than the two places I’ve been today. Do I just wait until after Christmas when officials are more likely to be in their offices? Possibly less likely to be looking for a little something extra from me when the holidays are past? I can’t make any decisions. We arrive back in Soroti at nearly 6:30. I tossed the offending passport on the table and told Beckie the whole saga. She flipped through it and said- right here- three months. Sure enough. Thank you Lord for answering the prayers of many even when I didn’t think you did. It was a long day and I’m tired now. I’m not looking forward to doing it all again in 3 months.
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