At the Burkinese Embassy

For years ago on holiday in Gambia I saw a funny traffic sign; “Watch out for sleeping policemen”. Today I had a déjà vu at the Burkinese Embassy, though the sign should have said “Caution sleeping embassy”.

I have never felt so transparent in my life; it is like the lady taking care of my Visa application had just smoked a joint and fallen into emotional coma.

“What should I write on this line?”

“What ever you feel like, it doesn’t really matter…”

“How about this one?”

“It doesn’t really matter either…”

“Well, here is the money; it was 240 kr, right?”

“Yeah…you get the receipt when you pick up the visa.”

“It was 240 kr right (me expecting to get some change back as I had given her 2 notes worth more than the 240 kr) ?”

“Yeah… (and putting my money, which was definitely more than the 240 kr, on top of many other western suckers’ visa applications)”

I have a feeling I will never get my change back. I have also a feeling that I will never see my passport again.