Adventures in Visa Acquisition

Work has recently shifted away from teaching the students who will be taking their standardized tests this year to helping last year’s students get their visas to go off to college. I’m not sad at all to be teaching less: it’s felt like a constant battle to convince the students that I’m much more strict than I actually am (my inclination is not to care if they don’t come to study hall, for instance, as long as they get their work done. And I want to believe that the students are motivated enough to put effort into class, but realistically the motivation is coming from the parents at this point). There were some memorable classes though, like when I gave out an interesting article on the perception and the mind, and our debate almost felt like a college class, or like when class was disrupted by stray cats having sex on the roof (we think).

So on the one hand, I’m inclined to embrace the next task. On the other hand, dealing with immigration officials has got to be one of the most frustrating, thankless tasks. Most of the students got appointments that are very close to the day they’re supposed to start school, so many applied for emergency appointments before I arrived in Ghana—all were rejected.

One student came in to ask if we could try again, so I opened his online profile. “No appointment scheduled.” What?!? Saleh tells me this is normal, give it some time and the appointment will come back. A couple hours later, there’s no change. I shoot off an email through the “Provide Feedback” link and am told to call a phone number.

Woman: “That appointment was cancelled.”
Me: “What? What do you mean ‘cancelled’?”
Woman: “The appointment is cancelled. You must reschedule. The next available date is in October.”
Me: “That’s not acceptable. That date is too late. We did not cancel this appointment.”
Woman: “Please, there’s nothing you can do.”

The poor kid is sitting next to me, looking like he’s about to cry as I try to phrase my responses so that he doesn’t know just how bad things are getting. Then his mother comes in, the look of death on her face. I call the appointment-scheduling people again, and yell on the phone to no avail (but with the hope that the mother will see that I am actually doing everything I can).

The next morning, we start at it again. I send of another email, and again am told that visa enquiries are only handled through the phone. I call the embassy, only to discover that Consular has an explicit policy of never answering the phones. Ever. Under any circumstances. The phone menu is hermetically sealed to prevent anyone from talking to a human being once you hear “Welcome to Consular.” I call the main embassy directory back and speak to the people routing calls:

Me: “Hi, I’m calling because I am having a problem with a visa appointme—”
Automated voice: “Welcome to Consular.”

Me: “Hi, I really need to speak with a person regarding a problem with my visa. You see the thing is I scheduled an appoint—”
Automated voice: “Welcome to Consular.”

Me: “Hi, no one is answering at Consular, but I have a problem with my visa appoi—”
Automated voice: “Welcome to Consular.”

Me: “DO NOT TRANSFER ME TO CONSULAR.”

Eventually I figured out how to keep the call-routers on the phone long enough for them to explain that no one in the Consulate office answers the phone. As though they are physically incapable of picking up a receiver.

Call router: “You should send an email. We don’t handle these issues by phone.”
Me: “Ok, I did that. The email said that I should call.”
Call router: “Please, Consular doesn’t take calls. You need to send an email.”
Me: “But I did that! The email does. not. work.”
Call router: “Please, there’s nothing I can do.”

We made contact with a woman who works in the embassy, who told us that a number of emergency appointments had recently been made available to undergraduate students, leading my boss to believe that we could simply reschedule a student’s appointment for one of these newly available dates. At the very least, we reckoned, rescheduling the appointment would allow us to request an emergency appointment again. We started on a student whose appointment date was so late that he risked deferring to the Spring semester. MISTAKE. In order to reschedule, you have to cancel the existing appointment, and those new appointments are only available to those who were approved for an emergency appointment. Our student’s interview was rescheduled for October, no emergency requests permitted.

The next morning, we tried to contact the people behind the appointment schedules via an online chat, which was actually much more successful than I anticipated (or so we thought…). Rolande informs us that the best option is to pay the visa fee again ($140) so that we can re-apply for an emergency appointment.

Me: Ok, so that will work if I repay?
Rolande: If you repay you will have a new emergency slot available to submit a new request.
Me: I have been in touch with someone at the embassy who told me that I should not have to pay again.
Rolande: Please, the system has been changed and it does not work like that anymore.

We send the student out to get money from his parents and pay the visa fee again. We are all sure that this will work. The student is back within the hour, and we get back on the chat to let Dovene know. Dovene assures us that the request is being processed, they are working on our student’s account and passing the request up to their superiors for approval to grant us the opportunity to reapply for an emergency visa appointment. There is a four-hour wait period, so I turn to the teaching I had scheduled for the day.

I return four and a half hours after the payment was made, and see, to my dismay, that the “request emergency appointment” button has not yet appeared. Back to the chat.

Me: I have been speaking with people on the chat today, because I need to schedule an emergency appointment. I have already been denied, but I was told that if I paid the fee again, I could re-apply
Rolande: Mr. Student, I do sincerely apologize for the information I am about to give you.
[Long pause]
Rolande: Please, the possibility to reapply for a new emergency visa is no longer available.

Um. What?!

Me: What do you mean?
Rolande: I do sincerely apologize, the Embassy is no more granting emergency slots. The decision has changed. It is now one emergency per applicant no matter how many time the applicant has applied.

Now wait just a minute. There is NO WAY you told us just hours ago that the solution was to pay extra, and now you’ve just changed your mind.

Me: When did this happen?
Rolande: I do apologize about an hour ago.

WHAT? WAIT. WHAT! WHAT THE. AAAAAAUURRGHHHHH!

Me: But I made the payment before the change went into effect.
Rolande: Yes, however, the system has been upgraded already. Right now, it is no more possible for us to work with the old procedure. I do apologize Mr. Student, we here only abide to decisions and procedures.

Well if that isn’t the greatest statement of bureaucracy I’ve ever heard.

Rolande: It is our inner concern to help you.

Oh, I could tell. So thanks, American embassy. I already can’t wait to dump this mess on the person who replaces me next year. Not only are the lists of required and supporting documents ridiculously long and involved, this whole byzantine system seems to change by the minute—because God forbid any “undeserving” applicants make their way through the system for the privilege of paying tens of thousands of dollars to live in a country that is doing its best to drive all who aren't rich, white Christian males into poverty.


(Both of these students’ visa issues have since been resolved, through no work of my own.)