The potholed road to an unabridged birth certificate

I originally wrote this story on 30 July 2007, when I still lived in Namibia. This was in preparation for my move to Australia, which was well worth all the trouble:

This morning I had enough courage to try and obtain unabridged (Full) birth certificates for myself and my three children. I phoned the Department of Home Affairs last week about it, and they said I must bring copies of the abridged certificates, and come apply in the Northern Industrial area. You can only apply on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays.




So here I was. I first had to go the office to finish a few office-related thingies, and then pitched up at Home Affairs at 10h45. What greeted me was a "row" of people on the outside of the building.

They were roughly organized into three large bunches. I figured out my bunch was the lot standing behind a sign that said something about birth certificates.

The other two rows were Death registration (I don’t want to go there?), and ID documents. (Been there, done that!!! Did my ID in Gobabis, and it was worth the trip.) Imagine having to stand in this line to register the death of one of your loved ones - as if the experience wasn't bad enough already...

Anyway, I was standing here and noticing that nothing was really happening. Until about 11h15. The building is protected by a security gate. Whenever there is enough space inside the building, a police officer opens the gate and tries to control the crowd that wrestles to get inside. Once you're inside, you've made it! You’re “IN”, you’re on your way to progress! But while you're outside, you have to wait for the officer to open the gate every 30 minutes or so, and hope you can squeeze through.

At 12h30, it suddenly seemed that the outside row (where I was still located) tended to become less populated. A German guy next to me was also noticing the sudden progress, and started to investigate. There was a secret! Another door on the right-hand side of the building was open, and people were entering in there. Wow, we squeezed through and were just lucky enough to get in before someone realized the mistake and closed it up again.

The inside of the building was stuffed with people. I managed to get through to the counter, and requested information about the Full Birth Certificate. Apparently I was in the wrong line. This line is for people born outside the Khomas region, not those born in Windhoek. My line is the unorganized bundle that occupies the whole third of the building on the other side.

But after begging desperately I managed to get hold of the documents that you need to fill in. Nice photo copies, those that seem to be a copy of a copy of a copy. I still don’t know if I have to pay, but I've prepared myself to take some cash along.

Now I have a new plan. Tomorrow morning I will rise early, make sure I arrive at the building at 07h30 at the latest, and have my already completed forms with me. Maybe I will be able to squeeze through with the first bunch and then it shouldn’t take more than two hours.

If this doesn’t work, I’m getting in my car and driving to Gobabis. It worked for the ID documents, and should hopefully work for the Birth Certificates as well. I’d rather drive 4 hours than stand in a stinking sweaty bundle for two hours.

Pray for patience…

[To be continued]