Did Kafka Live Here?

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As director of the IH school, I was responsible for obtaining exit visas for teachers who wanted to leave the country.

Arranging an exit visa for a teacher to leave for a weekend in Tunisia or Malta wasn’t too complicated. I simply had to fill out half-a-dozen forms and then supply proof that the teacher had paid all his income and social security taxes. Since teachers often went abroad for both short and long vacations, I quickly became expert at arranging holiday visas.

However, when the end of the year came and I had to obtain visas for four teachers who were finishing their contracts, I found that arranging final exit visits was much more complicated.

One complication was that I had to prove to the Immigration Ministry that each teacher had paid his or her phone bill. At first, I didn’t see this as a problem, because none of our teachers had phones. (The waiting period to get a phone line installed was something like 9 years.) Little did I know!

I went down to the Telecommunications Ministry and asked the clerk to issue letters stating that the teachers did not have any outstanding phone bills. He told me, very firmly, that the ministry did not have a policy authorizing this. I tried to talk him around. He was adamant.

So I went along to the Immigration Ministry and explained the situation. The officials were sympathetic but said there was nothing they could do without proof that the teachers didn’t owe phone bills. Without this, the teachers would just have to stay in Libya.

I headed back to the Telecommunications Ministry. I begged. I pleaded. I even started to show irritation, until I realized this would scupper any chance of cooperation from the clerk. It was all to no avail.

Almost physically shaking with frustration - don’t forget this was my first year in Libya - I went outside, had a cigarette and racked my brains for a solution.

I went back in and marched up to the counter. “My brother, what do I have to do to get a phone line?” I asked.

“Everyone knows this,” the clerk replied. “You fill out this application form. Then we look to see if you already have a phone. If you do, we stamp ‘Rejected’ on your form. If you don’t have a phone, we stamp ‘Accepted’ on it.”

I was jubilant. “Okay. Give me phone application forms for these four teachers.”

You can probably guess the rest. I submitted the applications. The clerk gave me copies of the applications, each one stamped ‘Accepted’. I took the letters to the Immigration Ministry as proof that the teacher did not have phones and therefore could not possibly have any outstanding phone bills. I think the immigration officials were impressed by my ingenuity.

Anyway, it worked and I got the teachers’ visas.

P.S.

Of my four years in Libya, I think there was only one business working day when I wasn't involved in some way or other with arranging visas for teachers. As you can imagine, it was the worst aspect of my job.