October 1, 2007

The tale of the visa

Because our tourist visa for Colombia was due to expire on September 1, we pressed German, our supervisor, into action. On August 30, Gloria and German took us to the DAS office (similar to the FBI) to see what we needed.  Because Gloria is the executive secretary of the Presbyterian Church and had worked in the government of Barranquilla, we got an appointment pronto with the man who was in charge of the foreigners.  He checked our passports and found that we had been in Colombia for over 180 days in 2007 and could not get an extension. That was a surprise to us!  We had to leave the country and obtain a religious visa (or some kind of visa) in order to return to Colombia.  He suggested leaving on Sunday for Maracaibo, Venezuela, since that would be the closest Colombian consulate. He also said that we had the proper papers so it would only take a couple days. The consulate in Washington, D.C., in June also said we would be able to get a visa.

We went directly to the bus station to discover that all the buses were full for Sunday. But we could get seats on Saturday. Doris and Yolbis, who work in the presbytery office, contacted some Presbyterian friends in Maracaibo to meet us and help us with our situation. Paula checked the Internet for hotels and found them all full. This period is vacation time in Venezuela and the time for much travel.

So, on Saturday we packed for five days and boarded the bus. Bus travel is very comfortable in Colombia with large seats, good legroom, air conditioning, and movies. We got through Colombia customs then walked across the border, got our passports stamped for Venezuela, and reboarded the bus for the last two or three hours of a nine-hour trip. As we nervously checked our watches and saw we were about two hours late, we wondered if our new friends would be waiting for us at the Plaza de Toros. Our fear was that they figured our plans had changed and that we wouldn’t be coming to Maracaibo. With no cell phone (ours stopped working at the border) and no Venezuela money (Bolivares) we could be in a “pickle.”  Happily, we stepped off the bus to hear our names being called by a very attractive woman named Zulema. She and her husband drove us to their house and showed us our room. The next morning they made us breakfast and took us to church. Zulema is the pastor of the First Presbyterian Church. We were warmly welcomed there. That was the beginning of the most amazing hospitality we have experienced.

Monday morning Yumar and Elisa, both pastors, took us to the consulate. We showed the woman our paperwork and to our surprise (well, sort of—we had gone through two meetings in Washington, D.C., and three or four at DAS with no success), she said we needed two more papers. We needed to prove that the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) is registered and is solvent and the papers have to be notarized and authenticated (they have to be sent to the state government in Kentucky to assure Colombia that the notary is valid and the signature matches). We were aghast because that would mean about two weeks to get the paperwork to Maracaibo. Maybe it would be better to go to Miami. We checked the airlines only to discover the same problem we had with the bus and motels—there were no seats except in first class. We then went to an Internet café that has international phone service to call our bosses in Louisville, Elaine and Maria. The switchboard answered and said the office was closed—it’s Labor Day!

Our new friends assured us that they would take care of us. We would continue to stay with Zulema and others would host us each day for dinner and supper. And they would chauffeur us anywhere we needed to go—wow!

Tuesday morning we called Elaine and Maria, after visiting the consulate again to make sure that we had everything else we needed to get the visa. Elaine and Maria assured us that they could get the papers, translate them into Spanish, as required and get them authenticated. The problem was that the person who knows that routine is on vacation this week, which added another six days to our stay.

On Wednesday we talked to Maria and Elaine again and found out that getting the papers wasn’t that easy. With our limited knowledge we agreed that an official letter from an attorney would do it. The following Monday we received a draft of the letter and on Tuesday Yumar took us again to the consulate. The woman looked at the letter and said that it was not acceptable. We needed three recent bank statements or a letter from the bank saying there were sufficient funds in the account. And we needed a certificate stating that the PC(USA) was registered in the United States.

On Thursday (almost two weeks into our stay) there was an email from Maria saying that the bank information would be in her hands soon but the certificate of registration would have to come from the state and would take two or three weeks to arrive. She said they would do all they could to hasten that.

Meanwhile we had moved into a hotel, since PC(USA) encouraged us to be comfortable. We washed clothes at Zulema’s. Our friends had been hosting us but we took a couple days every week just to wander the city by ourselves. Our reading material in English was exhausted except for the Bible. In our wanderings we stopped in three bookstores that were suggested but none had books in English. We started to ration our dental floss, but after two weeks we decided to splurge and buy some. On the third Sunday we went to an English-speaking worship service, found books in English, met three teachers from the United States, had dinner with them, and felt very welcomed by all and even returned the following Sunday.

Maracaibo is a fairly clean city with many high-rise buildings and condominiums. We were told that it was safer to live in a condo than in a house. There are many old cars from the United States from the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s. They are rusted, dented, and in need of paint jobs. Not so the 1966 Ford Mustang Coupe that Elisa’s brother Roberto owns. It is a beauty. He bought it in 1966 when he was a student at the University of Texas. He shipped it to Maracaibo and has kept it in mint condition. It surprised us to see these old gas guzzling “boats,” but gas is plentiful and cheap—less than 20 cents per gallon. Yet sugar is rationed, a kilogram per store visit if there is any on the shelves. Milk is often out of stock, and oil and eggs also are scarce. Since it is very hot and humid here, air conditioning is very common—in cars, offices, homes, and stores. And it is set at frigid!  We go from the furnace to the freezer.

The political situation is interesting. Maracaibo and the surrounding area did not support President Hugo Chavez. We have heard him called a “communist.” Some are very unhappy with him and blame him for the telephone problems and lack of supplies. There is a large sign on the PDVSA building (the Petroleum company of Venezuela) that reads, “Patria, Socialismo o Muerte,” which translates to “Country, Socialism or Death.” There are many billboards with the picture of Chavez. We were told that people who have more than one residence have to choose which they want and the other is taken from them to be given to someone without housing.

On the other side, the “Chavistas” say it is socialism, not communism; it is not Cuba, they say, it’s a new way of governing. The poor have more health services, education, and jobs, but there is still graft. Health care is free for all. Houses have been built for the poor, three million young people are in university compared to 67,000 before Chavez, and 600,000 more children attended the free school system the first year Chavez was president. Graft and corruption have been prevalent for many years, but they are being addressed by the government.

It was fun, visiting with people and getting a flavor of Venezuela.  There is a huge lake a short distance inland from the Gulf of Venezuela, with Maracaibo as the port city. Petroleum is the major industry. We walked the park area on the lake front and enjoyed fruit-flavored tea and ice cream. There is a beautiful basilica for the Virgen de Chiquinquira, or La Chinita. The downtown area has a lovely parkway with a huge monument of the Virgin. We frequented the many malls for the Internet stores, for lunch, and for groceries. Our friends joined us our last night to say goodbye and to send us off with a prayer. We will never forget how they cared for us. They are the Good Samaritans and truly welcomed the “stranger” in their midst.

Our fourth visit to the Consulate was more productive. It looked like we had the correct papers, only needing one more, showing a dollar figure to prove the solvency of the church. And we didn’t need the original letter of incorporation papers. The woman accepted the copy, which alleviated having to wait two weeks for the original. So, again we called Louisville. They worked quickly—translated, notarized, and sent the papers for the authentication. On Friday, we received a message saying our papers had been completed and were now in the hands of DHL and on their way to Maracaibo. DHL delivered the package on Monday, we made copies of all and on Tuesday we got the visa stamps in our passports. Praise the Lord. On Wednesday, September 26, we took the bus to Barranquilla, arriving around 7:00 p.m., and very glad to be home.

Thanks to those of you who knew the situation and prayed for us. At times we thought they weren’t working, but we have our one-year visa and also some wonderful new friends and unforgettable experiences. God is good all the time.

John and Paula

The 2007 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 46