Lagos Visa Chronicles

 If you’ve ever tried getting a visa while living in Lagos, then my dear, you already qualify for sainthood.

 Forget reality TV drama—Lagos and visa stress is the ultimate entertainment combo. Have you tried asking people who got the visas questions: everybody has an opinion. By the time you are done, compiling all you have been told, you will have your quiver full of arrows.(Useful and useless arrows)

Let’s rewind.

Let me just start by saying: this wasn’t my first visa rodeo.  

I’ve even been to countries that required me to submit a full medical, a blood oath, and a picture with Olubadan. 

But one visa has remained stubborn, elusive, and almost mythical: the American visa. I applied once and I was denied, because she felt I did not have enough ties to the United Kingdom. 

Bruh: I live and work here, what other ties do you want Ms???

Many years later:

We decided to apply for a tourist visa. Just a little vacation. A short break from Lagos wahala. Something light. 

The embassy appointment was scheduled for 8:00 AM sharp. Naturally, we left home by 5:30 AM, not because I’m responsible( I love my sleep), but because Lagos traffic is powered by ancestral curses. We arrived by 7:45 AM , anxious, sweaty, despite the AC in the car and already mentally rehearsing my fake British accent in case they tried to catch me off guard. (Spoiler alert: it didn’t work.)

The queue outside the embassy looked like an audition for Big Brother Naija. Some people were holding files thicker than legal textbooks, others were whispering prayers. There was a King in his full regalia( crown, beads and all) I clutched our folder to my chest.

 I was not emotionally prepared.

Inside, we met the Visa Officer let’s call him Mr. Stoneface. No smile. No jokes. Just questions.

“Why do you want to travel?”

“For tourism.”

“Do you have ties to Nigeria?”

Sir, I was literally tied to a danfo door last week.

I wanted to say that, but instead I handed him my employment letter, and other documents. He started to ask a whole lot of questions but I blanked out...thankfully my husband and my 8 year old were able to answer.

After a brief pause he said,  I will be approving your visas and “You’ll get a notification in a few days days on when to pick up”

And just like that, it was over.

Eventually, the email came.

Visa approved.

I danced. I cried. I am going to America.

NB: The King? He was denied visa. 

The lady who was right before us and wanted to go bury her mom, she was denied.

Won ya were gan ni Walter Carrington. 

What is your visa story?

SS.