Passport to Gbarnga

July 29, 2006


Just returned from the big trip out of the city. I am so glad I got to go. Now I am back in the city, with the noisy goats in the yard (okay, maybe you don’t think goat when you think city..rural city) and all the people, and taxis. Anyhow. Kathleen, the four children and myself all drove up to the capital of Bong County, Gbarnga about a four hour drive from here. It is a small city, more like a town really. The trip had one slight stress. We are going down the highway when Kathleen mentioned something about getting hasseled by immigration at the Iron Gate. Hmmmm, immigration in the middle of the country I am thinking, I thought you only ran into them entering and leaving a country. Anyhoo. I innocently say, “should I have brought my passport?” Kathleen, “you didn’t bring your passport??” Yeah, no I did not. Kathleen says, well hopefully it will be alright, and then proceeds to tell me how one time, when she had her resident permit, they stopped her for several hours and confiscated her papers. Hmm. Not feeling very confidant at this time. My heart begins beating faster and I get that dreaded feeling in the pit of my stomach. I spend the next hour or so praying to God that the immigration will have softened hearts and let us through. See, the main reason for my oversight is I had been through the Iron Gate (which is actually cement as the children pointed out) two years ago when we were running a feeding program, multiple times, but there was no one manning the gate. Apparently Kathleen tells me I should always be carrying my passport with me. News to me. Anyhow. We arrive and drive up. We see friends in a Samaritans Purse vehical coming the other direction, they drop the rope and they just drive on through. Kathleen goes for it, they stop her. They pull us over to the side, the man talks to her, and asks for ID, Kathleen gives her ID. He asks for mine and she explains how I forgot etc etc. He gives us a hard time, (apparently I commited an immigration offense) but lets us go after a few minutes and after Kathleen has given him her phone number. We drive away and I thank God for answering my prayers. Yay. We are on our way. We arrivei n the city and the first thing you notice is all the motorbikes. Instead of town being jammed full of taxis, it seems up here people ride motorbikes. We drive up to the Catholic Compound where we are spending the night at their guest house. It is a very nice place, with a large dinning hall and chapel and dormatories. We have two rooms with a double bed each and bathroom. I am very happy with the accomadatoins. The buildings are built with dirt bricks that are compressed with cement and make a very pretty sand coloured brick. It is peaceful here. We are all sitting out in a Palava Hut waiting for our room keys when Kathleens phone rings. Unknown number. She answers. It is the immigration man. Just making sure we arrived safely. How sweet. I hear Kathleen say “oh but why do you want to talk to her?” and then “thats not what she’s here for my friend” and click. She hung up on him. I ask her, what did he want to talk to me for?? Apparently he wanted to be my friend. Nothing like having an older sister around to fend off unwanted immigration suitors. I was pretty happy I didn’t have to talk to him. Then I think, oh I hope we don’t see him on our way back through...
Not the first immigration officer that has tried to use his position to try and be my “friend” hmm. Well anyhow. It gives me something to giggle about to myself. I will write more about this trip, but for now that is all. Have a great day.