We were at the stage of a medical checkup. People around me hadn’t yet known why I was going to the hospital and bringing back papers and test results. Since they believed I was not sick or getting married, why hospital? Nobody asked.
I was yet to believe what was happening. I still hadn’t shared the news with the world yet, but I understood a lot more people than I thought had learnt about the journey, but indeed not from me. The thing was that even if this journey didn’t happen, no one could directly hold me accountable.
However, the story got a way of circulating within the narrow circle of friends. So I had no option but to start sharing the news to extremely select few – friends who would feel bad if they heard this story in the street, who could understand if this journey didn’t happen.
On the other side, the host institution was conducting various layers of background check, a critical step before they could grant me access to their resources, system and online infrastructure. I am very sure other US agencies did the same before this. I knew I’d pass, but I was nervous until the last and final vetting email said we “found you an original thinker and a man of personal integrity.” I joked with this email that my future in-laws have their work done for them.
Things looked good; the travel was imminent. We did the predeparture orientation online and started our regional Fulbright orientation at the University of Arkansas, which was supposed to happen physically but for the Coronavirus-imposed restrictions.
At the predeparture orientation, nominees were required to introduce themselves. Out of almost 20 nominees, as person after person introduced themselves, a pattern emerged to the surprise of everyone. We just realized 6 of us were from ABU. We instantly formed a network and community. In addition, two other embassy staffers are ABU graduates. It was a great moment for all of us.
I had done all the paperwork; ticket had arrived and the departure date fixed. All the necessary papers from the US had come. What remained was an invitation letter for the visa interview. I had two weeks to go. All set, I would go to Abuja for the first week for visa, come back to Kano, visit family for goodbye, announce the journey, and prepare in the second week.
The first week passed. All the other nominees had gotten their letters on Monday the following week. Other FLTAs from the South had gotten theirs too. So I was the only guy waiting.
And as you know, a visa is the second most crucial travel document aside passport.
I was in a great dilemma. It was Wednesday, five days to the departure. Overall, we only had three remaining working days for the week. The passport would have to remain with the embassy for at least one day for the visa processing. If I had to go to Abuja Thursday, I would get the interview on Friday and wait till Monday to collect the document, which was the date of my touchdown in the US since we supposed to take off Sunday.
In whatever case, I would have to travel to Abuja either on that Wednesday or early Thursday morning. If I didn’t begin the journey as early as Wednesday morning, I could not get there on time due to road conditions and insecurity. Who would wish to travel Kaduna-Abuja by road?
But I could buy a ticket and begin the journey as soon as I, hopefully, received the letter any time on that Wednesday. But as of the previous day, Kano-Abuja tickets were sold out.
However, all of that could not even happen without first securing an appointment for the visa interview. It was 9 am Wednesday, and still, I didn’t receive the letter.
Time was ticking away. What should I do? Travel to Abuja without the letter for the visa interview? And then to approach who at the embassy or say what? Should I wait and receive the letter later in the day and travel the next day with a great possibility of missing the appointment? Any day for the interview other than Thursday was a disaster!
Around 6 am I wrote an email to the Fulbright officer in Lagos, notifying him about my situation. I remained in my room, anxious, rolling on my bed, waiting for a word from the embassy.
With this reality in my mind, I went out to execute some necessary things. I was racing against time. I left the phone home for two reasons: to charge the battery for this all-important correspondence and to have peace of mind. I couldn’t concentrate with that phone in my hand and the anxiety of waiting for a word from the embassy.
Madison, WI
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