Readers – Kenya has been playing hard to get (get back with, that is – I have been with her before and we both had a really good time]. Getting a fresh Kenyan visa from Islamabad this morning turned out to be an 18 step process, taking 5 hours end-to-end. Painful times – patient times – persistent times. Here’s how the action unfolded:
I. 0900 hrs: Drove 40 minutes to “The Solutions” drop box office on the other end of town (almost all embassies in Islamabad now use courier companies to receive and send back visa applications – primarily for security reasons). It was a lonely, sleepy and hectic drive (I usually get a kick out of driving, especially on the wide leafy avenues of Islamabad – but not in the early morning rush hour, it seems). The area around “The Solutions” office is controlled by the auto mechanic and auto dealer mafia. Used or under repair cars occupy all available parking spots. Spanking new imported cars, with large “For sale” signs in their windshields. Rusty cars resting on bricks, having their tires replaced. Had to park two blocks away and walk through the blistering hot sun to get there.
II. 0940 hrs: Walked two flights up to “The Solutions” office, in a dingy old building, filled with the offices of struggling newspapers, and "Hajj" (the annual Islamic pilgramage) travel companies. "The Solutions" office was a large, empty, but nicely air-conditioned room, lined wall to wall with a shocking maroon carpet. Two people hidden behind a tall counter on one end of the room were looking to serve customers, which were not present in any sort of numbers. It seems that I was the only customer all day long.
III. 0945 hrs: Asked the lady at the counter for Kenyan Visa Application forms, and a list of required documents. The requirements listed two application forms, but the lady only provided me with one – I asked her if she could provide me with another one or make a copy for me – she asked me to go downstairs to the copy shop, and do it myself (OK - she was quite polite).
IV. 0950 hrs: I filled out the application form – flipped out my laptop to download PDF versions of my bank statements, and my flight bookings. I only had a one way flight into Nairobi, so I asked the lady at the counter whether return flights were required – “ABSOLUTELY”, was her unequivocal response. Got onto the Emirates Skywards website to book a return leg – credit cards and everything out in the middle of “The Solutions” office – The mobile internet connection was slow (thanks PTCL EVO - buy more spectrum, I've been telling you) – Anything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong with the Emirates website. On my third attempt, the booking was successful – Persistence pays off. All paperwork in order. One form to be photocopied – two sets of documents to be printed, which I had stored separately on a flash drive. So well organized. So close to the finish line.
V. 1015 hrs: Asked the counter lady where the nearest copy shop was – “Single Plaza to the right”, was her mildly helpful response. Walked two flights down, into the sun, and then into the “Single Plaza” – No copy shop around – Just a bunch of auto-mechanics – Asked a mechanic where I could get some photocopying done – Four plazas to the left was his mildly helpful response – Walked back into the sun, into my car, and started driving, looking simultaneously for a parking spot and a copy shop – Found a nice parking spot right in front of the fourth plaza – No copy shop around – Asked a guard, literally from the “Askari” company (“Askari Guards” is the leading security guard company in Pakistan – “Askari” also literally means guard in Swahili - common Arabic roots) – Guard told me that a copy shop is right around the corner – walked around the plaza and found the copy shop – got a copy of the visa application form, and my flight itinerary and bank statements printed – All paperwork was in order – Perfect. So well organized. Nearly done.
VI. 1040 hrs: Drove back to “The Solutions”. Climbed two flights of stairs to the dingy but cool, comfortable maroon emptiness. Like a nice, diligent, applicant, smiled and presented all my paperwork. Lady looked at my two forms and asked me whether one was a copy of the other one – My response ... <Good attention to detail - lady> - “Yes?” – she told me this is unacceptable – both forms must be hand filled and signed. I gave her a patient but disappointed smile – she offered to provide me with another copy of the form, which I filled out there and then on the counter – DONE! (with another big smile). She examined my paperwork, and told me that I needed to write a covering letter to support my application. I showed her an invitation letter from Juhudi and asked her whether it was sufficient – she insisted that I write another personal covering letter. She also told me that I needed to get a pay order from a bank to pay for my visa fees (transaction tools from the days of the earliest Rothschilds) – “But last time I was here, which was only 4 months ago, you took cash”, I inquired – “We have changed the procedure”, she told me – “Also, we will need two copies of the front page of your passport” – Why couldn’t she have told me earlier? Why weren’t these things on the list of hoops? – I had already made my big trip to the copy shop – I thought I was nearly done - Smile politely – Be patient
VII. 1050 hrs: I flipped out my laptop again and typed up a covering letter – Very careful in my choice of words – “Supporting” Juhudi Kilimo in “becoming a viable and sustainable organization, and enabling it to reach more smallholder farmers” – as generic as it gets – “In order to do so, I would need to spend 3 months in Kenya, meeting investors, businesses and customers” – Outlandish or convincing? A little bit of both. Let the nice ladies and/or gentlemen at the Kenyan High Commission decide – And I made it very clear that I have every intention to come back – “I hold a confirmed return ticket back to Islamabad, Pakistan”, I stated in the second last paragraph.
VIII. 1105 hrs: Walked two flights down, into the sun, and then into my car. Drove to the same copy shop. “Happy to see me back?”, I smiled (non-verbal communication to the folks down there). Got my passport front page photocopied, and got my covering letter printed.
IX. 1110 hrs: Got back into my car, and started driving around looking for a bank to get a pay order made. Nearly crashed into an old uncle. It turns out that it is not very safe to drive and look around for banks at the same time – every day you learn something new. Drove one block down and one block across. Found a branch of the National Bank, “The Nations Bank”. Perfect. If only there was space to park.
X. 1120 hrs: Drove around a little bit, and found a parking space one block down from the bank. Walked back in the sweltering heat of the mid-day sun. Never had a pay order made before, so had no idea what to do. Asked an idle gentleman perched behind one of the counters for help. He asked me to go to a gentleman perched behind another desk. Walked over to the desk, and greeted the gentleman in Urdu, “As-Salam-Alaikum” (Peace be upon you). Gentleman refused to acknowledge my presence. Second greeting – slightly louder and more assertive – no response. On my third greeting, which was quite possibly a shout, he finally turned to me. I explained to him that I wanted a pay order – He asked me who the payee is – I told him that it was the “Kenyan High Commission” – “Kenyan Hire Commission? They want a computerized one. We only make hand written one’s here. Sorry, I can’t help you”, the most excited and animated he had been through the entire interaction. “Where can I get a computerized one?”, I asked him. “Try the Meezan Bank next door” – mildly helpful as always.
XI. 1130 hrs: Walked over to the Meezan Bank. Again, asked a couple of people where I can get a pay order made. No one really knew. After 3 redirects, I finally reached the right person. Gentleman behind the counter asked me if I had an account with Meezan Bank, to which my response was negative. “Then I can’t help you. We don’t do cash pay orders here”, he responded. “Which bank can prepare a cash pay order for me?”, I asked him. “They all do.”, was his response. “Which one is the closest one, which also does cash and computerized pay orders?”, I asked him again. “Try the Muslim Commercial Bank down the road.”, he told me.
XII. 1145 hrs: Walked into the sun, to my car and drove to the Muslim Commercial Bank. No parking. Parked one block away from the bank. Walked through the sun again. When I reached the right gentleman in the branch, he asked me whether I had an account with the bank. We all know my response – negative. He told me to go take a hike. “This is a corporate branch, so you need an account. If you want a cash pay order, try a bank with a retail branch”, he told me in a condescending tone, as if I was supposed to know this. “But … but … but which bank? Is there a branch nearby which is retail?”, I asked him in a desperate tone. “The Askari Bank down the road should be able to help”, he guided me.
XIII. 1200 hrs: Through the sun and into my car. I drove to the Askari Bank just one block down the road. “Askari” Bank is owned by an Army Welfare Organization (provides employment to retired military personnel), hence its name - rooted in that Arabic word, which literally means "soldier". Parking was a serious pain this time. Drove up and down two blocks, twice, and absolutely no spot was available. Waited and waited. A taxi finally pulled out, and I took its spot. It was a super tight, super narrow spot. There was no space for my door to open. Reversed and re-parked several times to optimize whatever was available, and squeezed myself through the 18 or so inches of space I was able to create. Good thing I lost all that weight over the past few months.
XIV. 1215 hrs: Walked through the sun and got to the bank. After inquiring around, I found the gentleman who could help me. He asked me whether I had an account with Askari Bank, to which my response was negative. He asked me whether I had an account anywhere, with any bank in Pakistan, to which my answer was also negative. With the raise of one eye brow, a look which made me feel both suspect and stupid at the same time, he told me: “In that case, we’ll need a copy of your National ID, and you will need to fill in five anti-money laundering forms, which that lady can provide you with”. I collected the forms from a lady in another corner of the branch (who also only acknowledged me on my third shout), and headed out to get a copy of my National ID.
XV. 1235 hrs: Walked out of the bank looking for a copy shop. Walked one block straight, and then one block across. Found myself back in the land of auto dealers and auto mechanics, (underneath the same building as “The Solutons” office). Walked four plazas left to the same copy shop, through the blistering mid-day sun. People were praying on the sidewalks. People were having lunch on the sidewalks. Little space. Careful not to step on any prayer mats or food. Copy Shop folks were glad to see me again (all non-verbal again). Got my copies made quickly and efficiently, and walked back through the sun and into the bank.
XVI. 1300 hrs: Directed from one counter to the next and back to the one counter. Standard retail banking processes and controls. Cash in one counter. Data entry in another. Familiar stuff for a consultant. Made to wait a couple of times. Inadvertently broke the queue at one of the counters. All the other customers got really aggressive. I apologized and backed off – making my patient and peaceful intentions very clear. At least they were cooling this branch with some giant, heavy duty air-conditioners, something I really relished after all my sun walking. 50 or so folks were chilling out around the branch, in the waiting area. I am quite sure only a handful of them were actual customers. The rest were just sitting around to beat the mid-day heat.
XVII. 1340 hrs: Armed with all my documentation, I drove back to “The Solutions”. Finally, the finish line was in sight. Walked two flights up, past all the dingy newspapers and struggling travel agents. Announced to the familiar counter lady with a big smile that my documentation was finally complete. She glanced through each document, slowly, one by one, scrutinizing each bit of detail. It's that same feeling I got when a teacher in elementary school marked one of my tests or exams in front of me. She asked me such interesting questions as, “Was your passport issued in Dubai?”. “Yes”, with a smile, I responded. Asked for a processing fee, this time in cash, and issued me with a receipt. The deal had been sealed. She asked me to come over on Thursday to collect my passport. Finish line crossed!
XVIII. 1400 hrs: Walked through the sun, got into my car and drove over to Mocca Coffee in Kohsar Market, a bit of an up-market coffee district. Lots of foreigners and affluent Pakistanis sitting around here. Some people from my high school as well, although I don’t know these specific folks very well (ok – from what I recall, one of them had a thing for me – but she was still two degrees of separation away in that world, so introductions would be awkward). I am perched in one corner, sipping diet coke, and writing out this post. One group which was sitting next to me and just left, was discussing their Harvard Business School applications. I am also putting my applications together over the next four months or so. Such a small world. May be I will meet some of them in Cambridge, MA, if I get in.
Two lessons from today: 1) Never underestimate the “run around” in Pakistan (or any other emerging market – yes, this applies equally to Kenya). Even when there is no outright corruption or issues of integrity, processes can be loaded with apathy and inefficiency. Always ask for all documentation requirements in advance. Double check to confirm politely and assertively that they are exhaustive. Ask clearly and politely for the best place to get things done, be it copying from a copy shop or a getting a pay order made from a bank. Don’t settle for “mildly helpful” responses”; 2) Find an “errands person” to do most of the run-arounds. No matter how much one tries, there will frequently be run-arounds in Pakistan (or any other emerging market – yes, this applies equally to Kenya). Going through it once is interesting and good learning, but it might not be worth your time going through it again and again.
Kenya, my love – I know I was slow to come around, but please don’t play these childish games with me. Let me in. Let me in!
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