FOR AS LONG AS I have been a journalist, I have had a United States visa in my Barbados passport.
When Bajans used to visit the Consular Section of the United States Embassy on Broad Street, I went there to apply for my visa. That’s when you waited on the sidewalk until the security guard determined periodically it was time to unlock the heavy bulletproof glass door to let you in.
When it moved to the Alico Building on Fontabelle and the line used to snake around the building, and applicants used to arrive as early as 5 a.m. to get “a good place” in the line, I went there to apply. Since it moved to Wildey, I have also been there as well for my visa.
Way back in the 1980s when I was heading off to Virginia Commonwealth University for undergraduate studies and I had to apply for a student visa, I had to do so at the embassy.
In 2005 when I was accepted as a Humphrey Fellow to student at the University of Maryland – College Park, I also had to go to the embassy to apply for a student visa.
The fact that the programme was funded by the US State Department, under which American embassies around the world fall, did not exempt me from going through the visa application process. But having an officer from the Broad Street office walk with me to Fontabelle and usher me to a senior official who expedited the process, did help.
Over all these years I have never found the process a comfortable or inviting one. From the old hard benches where you had to slide one place over each time someone ahead of you was called to a window; then to the bench ahead and sliding again until it was your turn at the window; to the more comfortable cushioned chairs and more recently the appointment system, I have been through it all.
Never any privacy
Throughout those years with the long waits, the security checks, making sure you had every last piece of documentation (including the ones you did not know you would need), nothing bothered me like the interview.
And truth be told, it was not just the interview, but the fact that regardless of which location it was, the exchange between applicant and consular officer was never private. If anything, it was quite the opposite.
I could never understand why the arrangement could not be more private. And for me, until my last occasion late last year, I was never bothered about my own interview. I always felt more for the individuals who would do their best to whisper to the officer, only to be followed by a question that everyone in the waiting area could hear.
And somehow to me it appeared that women, particularly young women with children, always seemed to get questions that left them most embarrassed. An example would be when you see the mouth of the applicant moving, but you can’t hear a word, but then the interviewer asks quite loudly: “So where is the child’s father?” Instantly everyone awaiting their interview focuses on that window, compounding the poor applicant’s embarrassment.
Then there was always that window or booth that traditionally no one wanted to be called to. You didn’t know the interviewer, you didn’t have any evidence to suggest applicants were being unfairly denied visas, but you realised that no one standing at that location ever cracked a smile or made a joke, and all interviews seemed to end in record time with the applicants walking away with a dejected look.
Conversely, you noticed another window where the exchange appeared always to be characterised by pleasantries, applicants appeared to be given more time to explain themselves and a larger percentage of individuals walked away with the brightest of smiles, suggesting they had been successful.
Then came the questions
Having been involved in two matters involving the law courts since my last visa hearing, I attended my appointment with some trepidation at the interviewing process, although I was still reasonably sure my application would be successful.
The officer who questioned me was pleasant. She made the session easy and even chatted casually about my time as a Humphrey Fellow in Washington as she entered data in the computer.
Then came the questions about my court matters and it seemed the volume on the speaker got louder so everyone in the waiting room could hear the exchange – although on reflection, I am sure it was just my heightened sensitivity.
After well over three decades in journalism, I have a familiar name and an even more familiar face. As much as I would wish otherwise, my presence attracts attention, and the last thing I want is for people to know the intimate details of my life (even though that is what I have done to other people all these years).
Just a few weeks ago I was chatting with a few colleagues about these visa application interviews and soon recognised that everyone who had ever been to the embassy had a story to tell. I must have been fortunate that my only real story relates to my sixth visa.
But then a colleague put it all in perspective. She said: “But you know what? At least you can’t say the process is not transparent because everybody sits in the same waiting area and everybody has to stand at one of those windows while everybody else hears their business . . . .”
Successful businessman
Then she recalled that during her last visit, sitting in the waiting area not far from her was one of the most respected and successful businessmen in this country, Ralph “Bizzy” Williams.
Every Barbadian knows Bizzy is as Bajan as they come, and is rich, with money to spare – but she remembered that when he got to the window the officer asked him, as she would have any other Joe Bloke: “Mr Williams, do you have any property or other assets that tie you to Barbados?”
According to my colleague, my good friend Bizzy, as we all do, tried his best to whisper through the microphone, but with a pronounced smirk: “I’ve got [a few about] here and one or two in the US.”
It is not unusual to see people on the outside expressing their anger and/or disappointment at being denied a visa to travel to the US. Apparently people who are successful never hang around – because I’ve never seen them.
But folks, think about it, whether you are successful or fail in your attempt, we all have the same generally not-so-pleasant experience right up until the point of decision. So don’t beat yourself up, the rich and famous suffer equally.
