The day I went for the passport interview (like a week ago). I had never felt so misunderstood in my entire life as i did then… and the biggest dilemma was that i understood that this lady was only doing her job, routine work just; ask random question, cross examine, accuse, laugh a little, play serious then eventually point figures and say Hell No- in whichever language or style.
Before everything else, she had a problem with my name; there is no way a Mutetsi could be given a Ugandan passport, she said. Never mind that i mentioned how I am “third generation” of the people she continued to say that cant get a Ugandan passport.
My grandfather studied, worked and still lives in this country, i told her. which means my parents were born and raised here, not to mention that “here” is all i know and therefore if i cant get a Ugandan passport, then i cant get any passport whatsover.
So how have i been traveling before now, she asked. travel documents can take you almost every where- that dont need visas, I tell her. she is not conviced.
If you are from Mbarara, and therefore pass yourself as a Munyankole, lets only speak in Runyankole, she instructs. kawa.. i say. I cant hold a straight conversation in runyankole same as i cant hold one in straight kinyarwanda, luganda, swahili or any of those other languanges ( people who know me know that am actually verbally challenged never mind which language). Any how, i did speak in runyankole, solve her riddles (shaku-shaku… is this really necessary?)
Then she found a problem with the fact that my parents seem to come from the same village (unheard of according to her).
Then she needed a contact, some one she could call to confirm my non-kiwani status. But there was a twist, she needed a source from my father’s side.
I have no idea my father even ever existed let alone that he had a “‘side of the family”. She totally flips at this one.
Her: ” who instructed to answer like this? Was it your uncles. they advised you to talk like this?”
Me: (thinking, chic, am like going 30. so i need no uncles to feed me with words, and if i say i have no relationship with my non existent father then i dont). I only looked at her and smiled.
Her: Seriously, you are a unique case, i have never met anyone who says they are not all ‘related’ with their fathers and have no idea about partenal relatives.
Me: Really, then i gues thats terribly sad, for me.
Anyhow, the long and short of it, she asked me to see some one different, coz she doesnt deal with such unique cases like mine.
I left that place thinking: Should I go and do some community service this evening, like sweep kampala road and plant an extra tree somewhere around this city.
Should i just take a walk from internal affairs to Mbuya
In the end, i caught a boda and rode home. I went straight to my bed and sent a text to my new fav. person going on about how I hated my life right then and the next time they would see me, i would have had a Britney hair cut.
Right now, am dreading the next interview and have already had the hair cut (not the Britney).
Ps: despite all that, this week has really been a great week for me.