sarcasticsaffa

[sarcasticsaffa]

The Curse of the Green Mamba

South Africa House? More like South Africa Kakhuis.

I have unsuccessfully attempted to renew my South African passport for the last year. Yesterday was another failed mission. I cannot put in words how gatvol I truly am of this struggle. Besides making me jump through hoops like a trick pony, has anyone been to the London embassy lately? Like, can we take a minute to just discuss the absolute shitshow that is South Africa House in Whitehall, London?

As expected, the embassy runs on Africa time. Granted, if people got their forms filled in and sorted like the email instruction says when you receive your appointment confirmation, it would probably go quicker. We opted to arrive early and queued until they opened. So proudly South African, that we continue with the tradition of queueing outside Home Affairs in foreign countries. I want my Noddy badge! When the gates to hell finally opened, the man at the door was already grumpy. Someone had rammed a burning carrot so far up his arse, that we could see the doos vibes coming off of him from the back of the queue. Shame.

Those lucky souls that had appointments at nine o’clock, were admitted into the inferno and the rest of us lesser mortals had to wait another twenty minutes. Now, I had this appointment booked for ten in the morning, but by the time we made it into the dump, they were still busy with the first two appointments. We were in for a long wait… The burning carrot security oom moaned at us to wear face masks in the building, but to him I would like to say this, covering your mouth and not your nose with your handmade mask is like wearing a condom over your balls and not your dick. If you want to enforce a rule, lead by example! Also, everyone in attendance was polite and friendly – I used my nicest Afrikaans reserved only for the dominee – was it really necessary to be a grumpy old doos and treat us like we pissed on your Ouma Beskuit? Like, who lit the fuse on your tampon? Life is not that kak, for realsies. Although you work for Home Affairs, so it probably is that kak. Sorry, né.

 I called the place a dump earlier and oh boy it was. The walls obviously hadn’t seen a lick of paint since 1910 and it was so dirty, I feel like I had walked back into a government building in South Africa itself. The chairs, that looked like they had been sourced from decommissioned tube carriages, were filthy and stained with only God knows what. Sitting on them, all I could think was that I was going to need a Dettol soak and my clothes were getting burned in a dumpster fire. Not sure when the floor last saw a broom, or a mop for that matter. Do you think they burned their cleaner for witchcraft? It’s the only plausible explanation I could come up with.

The building is starting to fall apart!

I think the funniest was the photos of Uncle Cyril and company. The frames were cheap. Wilko “three for the price of two” cheap. Uncle Cyril, have you seen your pic that adorns the shabby walls of South Africa house? It is such a kak kiekie of you. The brown backdrop is the same colour as my dog’s morning ablutions. Wonder who thought that was a good idea? They could have at least taken a better photo of you and used the South African coat of arms and flag as part of the background. Like the Americans do. Naledi! What the was your stylist thinking?! No sweetie darling, that blouse you are wearing is such an unfortunate colour. It makes you look like a cleaning lady with an employee of the month photo on the wall next to Uncle Cyril. You need to fire that stylist…

I had to sneakily take this photo to show you all what I meant. 

All in all, it was a totally shit experience. If I had to rate it, I would give it zero stars – do not recommend. Sadly, I will need to make the pilgrimage back to this den of dysfunction for another attempt at renewing the Green Mamba. Anyone have a hazmat suit I could borrow?