Just thinking about this is exhausting.
A few months ago, when my adviser Laura was visiting Manila, we talked about the possibility of my doing field work. I wanted to go, I told her, it’s what I signed up for. My manger, Polly, had mentioned it before, and I kept cracking jokes about where I wanted to go.
“Kiribati!” I said, imagining the crystal blue waters of the the Pacific Ocean slowly swallowing up the country’s 32 atolls and one remote raised coral island. “Myanmar?” I asked, thinking of the stories I heard from a Swedish journalist last year. “How about Papua New Guinea?” I suggested, remembering that Doctors Without Borders had a TB project there.
It was in May when Polly told me that Laura had suggested I go to Bangladesh. Apparently the field communications officer, Farah, was going on detachment to Pakistan–meaning she would be deployed to our operations there for a while. In the meantime, her post in Bangladesh would be empty, and the idea was for me to fill in.
Over the next few months, there were countless emails back and forth, questions and discussions: when to go, for how long, what I would need, how long I could stay. At first we thought I would be there in August, in time to commemorate six years since the Rohingya exodus from Myanmar. But there were delays and discussions, and many times we thought I would not be going at all.
Still, I started getting ready. I started gathering my documents in preparation for applying for a Bangladesh visa. I needed letters and forms and so many things.
I got so many vaccinations. SO MANY. Some of them needed multiple doses, and one required a blood test too! The first time I went for my vaccinations, I got four shots in one day: one in each arm, and one in each thigh. The second time, I got five shots! (Guess where the last one was.) I got a vaccine certification booklet from the Bureau of Quarantine.
Farah had troubles on her end too. It turned out that her application for a Pakistan visa would take much longer than expected. Initially we thought it would take up to eight weeks between the submission of her application to the release of her visa, but later on we found out that it would take at least eight weeks.
When I found out about this, I paused all my preparations. It was almost a dealbreaker for me. We thought she would end up leaving for Pakistan by October, which would not do for me at all, as I wanted to be back home by then. But after further discussion, we decided I should go ahead and apply for my visa anyway.
So I went to the Bangladesh embassy, armed with all my documents and application form. I had extra ID pictures too. Unfortunately the visa application required a picture size not typically offered by photo studios, so I even brought glue, scissors and a ruler in case I had to cut them up.
Fortunately there were few people when I went there. Unfortunately, I had missed one critical requirement: police clearance. I had been so focused on all the other documents that I completely missed it on the list. The front desk officer at the embassy, a Filipino, suggested I go to a nearby police station and try to get police clearance. “I can wait for you until 3pm,” he said.
So hurriedly I got a Grab and went to the police station. “Oh, good, no crowds or lines,” I said as I entered the compound. I walked into the building, and asked the first officer I saw where I could line up for police clearance. I was stunned when she reminded me that it was a government holiday, and nobody was processing police clearance that day.
Oh, I was very very annoyed.
I called Oneal to rant, then I quickly got a Grab to go home so I could make it to a meeting. As the car sped down the Skyway, I opened my laptop and booked an 8am appointment at a different police station, so I could get my clearance the following weekday.
On the day of my appointment, I got up bright and early and got a Grab to the police station where I had my appointment. I got there before 8am.
And guess what? Their machine was busted.
They were very apologetic, and they suggested I quickly make an appointment at the nearest police station, where they were sure the machine was working. So I got my phone, and made the appointment.
“Is it far?” I asked the police officer who made the suggestion. “Oh no, it’s just in the next barangay,” she told me. “Can I walk there?” I asked. “Uhm, that’s up to you, ma’am,” she laughed awkwardly.
Already annoyed at the prospect of surge pricing and lack of cars on Grab, I decided to walk. “It’s only 1.3 kilometers away,” I muttered to myself. It took me about 20 minutes, and I was disgustingly sweaty, but I made it there in about 20 minutes.
And guess what? The officers who were there said the guy was doing the police clearance wasn’t arriving till 9am.
So I sat down and did my best to cool down and calm down.
And guess what? The guy arrived at almost 10am. And I was first in line. And I got my clearance in 5 minutes.
Hurriedly I walked to the embassy, 1.4 (I think?) kilometers away. It was late morning, and I didn’t want to risk the Makati traffic.
The waiting area was full. I told the security that I was there the previous week, and that I was missing only one document so I could submit my application, so he let me in earlier.
And guess what? I ran into a colleague, who was also going to Bangladesh! Rommell and I (below) were in Dinagat Island together during the Typhoon Rai response, in January 2022! It was good to know I could expect to see a familiar face in a strange country.
So eventually the officer at the embassy called me, and I gave him my paperwork. He saw my expected departure date, so he told me to come back by September 8 so that I could make my flight. And indeed, when I came back on September 8, lo and behold, after all the hoops I had to jump through, there on my passport, was my visa for Bangladesh.
Good Lord, that only took forever.
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