The torture of getting Nigerian passport abroad
Written by Teni Atalabi Osundeko Wednesday, 07 July 2010
I met a pleasant fellow at the elevators on my way out of the Nigerian embassy in New York.He jumped forward, held the doors open for me and threw in some friendly advice. “Please go to our web site and share some of your suggestions” I smiled weakly as the elevator doors shut him out of my view.This man had overheard me venting to my family about his delightful establishment.
Although many countries have devised painless ways around passport and visa issues, Nigeria is still working to achieve that. Hence my need to drive 170 miles to New York city. So I took the day off work, pulled my children out of school and made the mandatory trip. Fingers crossed, we set off on our little adventure.
As we entered into the embassy’s lobby, we were met by two glum male receptionists. No friendly smiles or warmth. They were simply curt and sullen. Whoever assigned these men as the public’s first contact with the embassy must not have heard of those two little words: Public Relations.
After successfully negotiating passage past the metal detectors, we were directed to a dismal office with about two dozen chairs, squeezed classroom style into a space meant for six. There were no external windows as the large glass windows that let in sunshine had been sealed off by management to carve out a restaurant. I reminded myself that I wasn’t here for esthetics or convenience. I just needed to get the new e-passports and get out.
The female clerk was an improvement on the receptionists. She was friendly until the inevitable drama started. In response to questions from customers, she got loud and defensive. As I waited my turn, persons ahead of me got blamed and dismissed to go solve their own problems.
My turn came. I was told in not so many words that I was either a liar or was deficient in reading comprehension. The crux of the matter was the misleading, obsolete and inadequate information on the embassy’s web site.
Prior to making this trip and based on my past negative experience with the embassy,I had repeatedly scoured their web site and then made numerous phone calls to them for clarifications. Though I called several times and at different times of day, I never once got to speak to a live person. The voice-mails I left on their answering machines were never responded to. Not a peep, not a sound, just the usual “Naija woman, you are on your own” silent treatment.
After getting thoroughly blamed by the clerk, then came the shake down. “The fee listed on the embassy web site is not the total fee, go down the street and buy additional money orders” she told me. Also, the embassy had no copiers for customers use, so I was directed to an Indian owned shop down the street to make copies.
I also had to help out another unfortunate Nigerian who was labelled a liar and told he could not comprehend English. This gentleman had come in from Michigan to get a new Nigerian passport or visa on his American passport. This was his second visit, the first had not been successful despite reading the instructions on the embassy’s web site. He would have gone back empty handed if I had not made copies of some of my documents for him and identified him as a Nigerian.
The clerk insisted that despite the man’s distinct igbo accent and name, his production of his driver’s licence, and other identity documents, she needed a letter and identity documents from another Nigerian to make him authentic.
Though I came in with a prepaid envelope, the embassy needed another one for documents being processed by the same department and coming to my same address. So I had to go out and buy another one. I meekly trotted back and forth like an errand person to satisfy each inane demand by Ms. Clerk and her crew.
The highlight of my day was yet to happen. On my final trip from the post office, I got to the embassy lobby at 1.03pm. The receptionists aforementioned told me I could not be allowed back inside the building because they lock their doors at 1pm. Although these gentlemen had seen me enter and exit the building severally, they stated they had to obey embassy rules and not let any one in after 1pm. Attempts to explain that my two young daughters were still inside the building fell on deaf ears.
I gave up talking to the dead and called my older daughter on her cell phone. She got a note from the relevant officers and brought it to the doormen to effect my entry. Sorry, they said, the note was not stamped and did not bear the embassy’s seal, even though it was embassy generated and on embassy letter head stationary. I cooled my heels further at the pleasure of the doormen, until I was rescued by a phone call from the higher ups directing Oga gateman to let me in.
When I finally made good my escape from that toxic environment, I was just sad. Why should the simple process of obtaining a new passport be so unpleasant and complicated for Nigerians. Americans go to the nearest post office, fill out forms and go home to expect their passport in the mail.
Dear Mr Nigerian Ambassador sir, I respectfully suggest that you should attempt to bring your establishment into the 21st century by:
1. surveying customers’ experiences and using the data to make positive changes.
2. committing to giving paying customers an enjoyable, convenient and productive service.
3. providing customer service training for your sullen, inefficient and rude staff.
4. expanding customer access to the embassy resources by revamping the web site and providing accurate information.
As for the unsolicited advice given by the embassy staff at the elevator, I won’t be using any of it. No, I will not go to the Nigerian embassy web site to air grievances or give suggestions. Why should I? An organisation that will not update information on its web site;
that will not return phone calls; and treats paying customers shabbily for its own mistakes, will not go to the same web site to retrieve customers’ complaints and act on them. If I had a choice between getting a root canal or dealing with the Nigerian embassy in New York, I would not hesitate to jump in the dentist’s chair.
Dr. Osundeko is a mother, author and clinician. She writes from the USA.
Source: www.nigeriavillagesquare.com
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