May 27, 1999

V IS FOR VISA




Early this year, I was offered a chance to visit Washington DC for a series of guitar & flute instrumental concerts, in support of an album I recorded with flutist Ray Sison some years back called VESPERS. Our sponsor was very kind, and the idea seemed thrilling at the time since I've never been to the USA. Plus, I would be able to visit my fiancee in California. And that, for me, was even a bigger deal than the concert.
___ But of course (like all horror stories), I had yet to realize the stinking mess I would encounter in procuring a visa. Thank goodness I already had a valid passport. Now all that was needed was for me to grab a Non-Immigrant Visa application form, pay the application fee at any of the accredited banks, line up for the walk-in interview and the visa was mine, right? Blessed are the ignorant.
___ It just so happened that the Philiippines was in a tizzy over the ratification of the Visiting Forces Agreement with the US Government... leading thousands of my fellow Filipinos to believe that visas could be had for the taking.

What did I discover when I got to the line? Horror upon horror upon horror.

The line for the walk-in interview snaked impossibly into the horizon and people were willing to wait in line for DAYS at a time.

With more than 3000 people in line at any given time, the only way people could achieve a sense of security was by forming small groups of 20 each. You passed around a sheet of paper and signed up for your group, formed some sort of temporary community where you got to know the people around you. The logic? (1) If you needed to eat, sleep, flush away body waste or go home, you could rest easy knowing your group would keep your space. And to this end, groups organized several 4-hour shifts so that members could keep spaces for the ones who had to go rest. (2) Anyone who tried to worm their way into your section of the line would have to contend with the fury of a 20-person group.

With more than 3000 people in line, it would take someone at the end of the line roughly 35-48 hours before getting into the Embassy gates. See, the US Embassy in the Philippines accepts applicants for the Non-Immigration Visa every day from 8 AM till about 9:30 AM only. By that time, they would've reached the maximum number of applicants the consuls could handle for the entire day. And what happens when you still don't reach the gates? You wait in line, baby.

And just how does one wait?

During the day, you sat on your rented stool (peddlers rent plastic stools/monobloc chairs out at P40-50 a day, depending on the size, or you can bring your own) and read a book maybe. You talk with your groupmates and discover all the stupid misinformation that inevitably gets spread when you have 3000 people in line and only the first 50 know what the hell is happening. You fend off dehydration with mineral water peddlers who hawk the bottles at 10 pesos each, or you can buy an abanico fan for P25. And still, you talk...and find out all the lurid details of your groupmates who once were nameless and are now necessary allies in this battle for a stupid slip of paper that will allow you entry into a country where high school students gun each other down.

At night, it is never silent. Talk continues as people try to sleep in their monobloc prisons, or arrange themselves on purchased Flour sacks (P50 each) spread out on the grass like beach blankets. There are radios blaring, there are people snoring. It is strange and pathetic.

We are Israelites awaiting news of our Canaan--- our promised land of milk and money.

The waiting in line for a Non-Immigrant Visa to the USA is actually the easier part. The more difficult task is keeping your patience with the sheer number of people who are able to sneak into your group despite protestations from group members. Pakapalan na ng mukha. And of course this doesn't happen at night when basically nothing's going on. This happens when your line starts inching toward the Embassy gates at 8 AM when the human tide finally moves from its stupor.

Of course, during the last morning I was there, after spending roughly 32 hours with my group, all hell broke loose. From organized groupings with a thinly-veiled sheen of civility to outright disregard for the rules. Chaos.

Morning. May 26 Wedneday. 9 AM.
One consul came out of the building with a megaphone. He said they'd reached their quota of visa interviewees. And that there was a major rally being planned for that day by anti-VFA factions. It would be dangerous to stay, he said. Line up again tomorrow he said. While he spoke, utter silence. Afterwards, people jumped over the barriers, leaving groupmates, leaving their place, leaving all sense of order behind, and they pushed their way to the front of the line. The police could not stop it, neither could all the helpless others trying to stake a claim to the spot they stood on.

And there was a TV news crew from ABS-CBN capturing the entire scene. It would later be shown on Channel 2's Assignment program.

By the time the chaos died down, there was a totally new sequence of people in line. If the chaos had not occurred, I would've been absolutely 100% I'd get in the next day. But because of the squirming horde of people who'd pushed themselves ahead of me and my group... the future seemed bleak.

Once again, sheets of paper were being brought out so that new groupings could be made and places could be reserved once more. The entire exercise suddenly seemed pointless. Nevertheless I affixed my name to my new group's list, and said I'd be back at around 3 AM to man the last shift before sunrise.

I knew in my heart that I would not be back.

By this time it was 10:00 am, and I was severely dehydrated. No breakfast, no toothbrushing, hardly any sleep. And I hadn't had a drink of water in almost an hour. The bright scorching sunlight was frying the mob as I stumbled towards a 7-11 for a drink.

I had just spent 35 hours of my life in a line that suddenly betrayed me. I decided I would return instead the following week... I was simply too exhausted, dejected and helpless to continue with the vigil.

To say I was frustrated would be an understatement.

BACK TO TOP