At the Nigerian Embassy I wait to apply for a visa. Theire is no “blond” on the form for hair color. Applicants are instructed to fill in “black” for the hair and “brown” for the skin. People smile. Their smiles all resemble each other from my perspective. I will make my payment online and talk to the consul. He tells me he needs more than a week since he is on a trip. They don’t even have a person to handle issuing of visas. So I sit there on that leather couch in the highly secured Nigerian embassy and decide to speak my mind. My dear consul, I say, in that case I think my money is better spent in Kenya. They sell visas at the border. You should consider that. As you wish, sir, as you wish. There are more reasons why I say no to Nigeria. I think two months in the Kenya region are definitely not too much. And I need this blow from bureaucracy. It is a well-known fact that bureaucracy will kill me in the end, but until then, I want to stick as many voodoo needles through her skin as I can, to make the imaginary evil body causing all the coldness suffer. And I train to stay very calm, like that too. So as I ask my appliances back and stride out of the consulate, I start to sing
sickening system has done it again
bureaucracy strikes me a blow today
she knows how to hurt in a terrible way
but it will make me stronger
stronger in the end, yes i know i know
it will make me stronger, then
it will make me a better man
to feel how much i hate inhuman bureaucrats
to despise them like contagious sewer rats
to feel it, feel it, and then to conquer it
to be larger than it
and to smile…