The Passport Diaries Pt. 4: Life is a Rollercoaster
I have been waiting in Cuba this past week for a temporary Document of Identification. Issued by an embassy (in my case, the one in Washington), this piece of paper is internationally recognised for travellers in distress without papers, allowing them to return to their country of citizenship. (For most countries, this is seldom used because citizens are able to apply for and receive replacement passports wherever they are in the world. But of course Singapore’s passport is too important to be shipped around in so insecure a manner)
The DOI was shipped out via DHL on Monday, held up for customs clearance a heart-stopping 48 hours, and then rejected with no reasons given and returned to sender last night. Everyone went beserk. ITS A PIECE OF PAPER. HELLOO??? US CUSTOMS??. The hard working folk at the ministry of foreign affairs are trying to come up with some creative diplomatic solution I don’t quite understand yet, but suffice it to say I went to bed last night and lay awake, my mind in the most violent turmoil it has been in a long time. I would close my eyes and see the essence of violence, no images, no figures, nor words, just destructive blasts and disintegrating blows of blackness on black.
I have not been out much for fear of running into more misfortunes. I want out. This prison is getting to me.
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