Lisbon Experience

Am in Lisbon, Airport, Portugal. Beautiful day. Temprature is tagged at a high of 20 degrees celcius. A day for a stroll in the famous Portuguese streets absorbing some European history and culture, sitting in a side cafe seeping coffee and watching the day unwind before your very eyes. I thought I had my day planned as I transit from Rio de Je Janeiro, Brazil to Dakar, Senegal.

I had arrived this same airport 4 days ago transiting to Rio from Dakar. The connection time was pleasant - 2 hours of airport wait but enough time to grab some coffee at the airport shop just in front of the sign pointing to Gates 22-25. Needless to say, the flight from Dakar was extremely smooth and uneventul. I had just started to drift to sleep when we were awaken to the sweet smell of coffee and the strong rays of sun streaking through the port holes of the Airbus cabin. I was excited. My first time in Rio (and South America for that matter). I had learnt that the culture of the Brazilians is similar to those of my native African people. The vibrance, the colour and excitement of being alive! I looked forward to walking the Copacabana beach and meeting this people whom I have heard had links with the Eko people of Lagos, Nigeria. (unverified).

I was on the way to the annual iSummit (www.icommons.org) - a conference of social commons to be held at the JW Marriot hotel in Rio. It was excellent save for the fact that we were locked in the basement of the hotel for 3 days running but the activities planned for the evenings totally made up for this. I had half a day to traverse the beach - same day I was to take my flight back to Dakar via Lisbon.

Varig, the Brazilian national carrier had just gone bankrupt. With the ongoing FIFA world cup finals in Germany, Brazilian fans are yet unsure how they would make it back to their country. It did not matter as this would be an issue to be decided when the time comes. My opinion is that this will happen soon - tonight, as I have put my mouth as well as my money in Ghana performing a major upset in the 2006 world cup finals. Today, they will beat Brazil! However, this is my opinion and prediction and would have nothing to do with the content and the message I intend to send out with this post.

So, Varig passengers waiting to leave Rio along with the originally scheduled passengers on the plane to various other destinations waited for 3 hours before boarding flight TP180 to Lisbon. We arrive at 8.00am for an originally scheduled 6.00am arrival time. My connecting flight was not until 9.00pm the same evening - aproximately 15 (now slightly over 12) hours of transit time in Lisbon, Portugal.

I had intended to make good use of this time as this was my first time in Portugal When securing a transit visa at the Portuguese embassy in Dakar I had provided my tickets and passport as required and specifically requested for a trasit visa that allowed me stay for a day was requested. (As a Nigerian, I am required to have a visa for every country I would like to visit on planet earth except for 15 ECOWAS countries, hence I have two passports glued together with visas from Austria to Zimbabwe). I had to rescheduled my flight another day even though I already had my Brazilian visa - as I needed a few more days to have my request for a transit visa approved by the Portuguese embassy in Senegal. It was approved after two days. So, armed with all my visas, I set out to South America, Brazil, Rio de Jenairo via Lisbon Portugal.

This posting is however, about my return leg from Rio to Dakar via Lisbon.

As I arrived Lisbon a couple of hours ago, I presented my passport with the visa page opened and the immigration form slotted at the same visa page. Then, it hit me! I was told by the official that I could not exit the airport with the type of visa I had. The code on the page said 'A' and I require a type 'B' or 'C' to exit the airport.

"Well", I said, "I am not sure I understand codes on the visa pages. What does this mean?" Although I work with computers and sometime, (yes sometimes and on very rare occasions) I may understand zeros and ones when carrying out binary arithmetic, there was no way I could understand the visa type code 'A'. It made no sense to me and I am not sure it does a whole lot of people out there. I skimmed through other European visas I have had. A previous French type 'A' visa had additional comments indicating 'Airport Transit Only' and another one had Type 'B' with additional comments indicating 'Transit'. I have used both type visas to exit the airport in Paris into France for short periods of time.

I do understand that this may not be an issue that can be dealt with by the immgration officials at the airport in Lisbon but the manner and approach of the immigration officials is what I intend to highlight in this post.

I do understand the recent spate of immigration from Africa to European countries and may clearly see the rationale behind stringent mesures imposed on Africans visiting European states. This spate(and even periods before it) has given rise to the rather excessive high handedness handed down to passengers of planes arriving from African destinations to, through or via an European country; the amount of scrutiny on ones passports as they are called outside the queue to present themselves to stern looking and very arrogant immigration officials. It is unfortunate that the color of ones skin determines the level of respect accorded a client at the airport and a vey sad and humiliating sight when passengers of African decent are seen sprawled helplessly at the airports, on benches and seats in saddening, sick and terrible looking conditions, usually in transit for hours and maybe days. I recall the story of a friend of mine transiting another North African country to an European one who had to spend three long days at the airport as he had missed his flight due to no fault of his but the airline staff who decided and chose to go on some Nationwide strike as soon as his plane touched ground. It was as if it waited for him to arrive.

I decided to channel my complaint to a more superior officer at the airport. The immigration official I had met at the booth on arrival was rather pleasant and wanted to offer a visa. He had mentioned that, 'maybe, just maybe, if my flight was tomorrow, I might be allowed a single day stay in the city.' Highlighting the possibility that a visa could be granted on arrival. However, he mentioned that he is incapable of doing this but would pass me on to his boss who would be able to advise. His boss, a rather stern looking man, raised his voice two octaves to say how impossible this was in front of the crowd and proceeded to give me lessons on how Africans should be treated by totally ignoring me. Not only was this embarrasing but he swore that he did not understand English and would therefore not speak any further with me and then proceeded to walk away.

Needless to say, this being the usual way and manner that Africans (or persons of dark pigmentation) are being spoken to and treated, I made sure I kept my cool and explored all possible options. I walked back a few meters, made my approach to an officer that appeared slightly more superior (he sat at a desk) and tabled my complaint.

I must digress a little. No where in Africa would an European be left for 12 hours at the airport. It is not right, just and does not follow the UN declaration of human rights. Would the Nigerian government or immigration officials diplomatically reciprocate such? i doubt it. I doubt the fact that an American, Italian, or any persons from some other Western country would be treated as such at an African airport.

This new official called Mr. Sef trying to be as polite and patient as possible mentioned that it was totally impossible for me to make it out of the airport. Talked on his mobile and desk phones, did everything else but look at me or even listen to my plight. Seeng I was no longer needed, I gathered my passport, hand luggage, shirt stained with coffee from the 10 hour long flight from Rio to Lisbon to the coffee shop at Gate 22-25 where I would spend the next 12 odd hours blogging, sending mail, sleeping, waking, reading, watching all passengers go by and finally sulking an wishing I could change my national status.

I am blogging from this shop. I have access to a computer and a credit card where I can at least pay for a hours access to the internet. I may be a fortunate African that may be able to afford these 'luxuries' but totally unfortunate that I am born black, a Nigerian for which I have no part or input in deciding yet suffering the brunt of immigration officials who have set up rules that single me out amongs over 100 passengers on a plane of predominatly coloured people. A trip that should last 14 hours would now last a total of 29 hours with me sitting at a spot in front of coffee shop at gate 22-25 of the Lisbon airport.