Whenever my wife and I travel, I flash her my South African ‘Exceptional Skills’ work permit – to remind her of my… exceptional skills.
South African immigration never really tested my skills. But they did test my composure, patience, and creativity.
Here’s what happened…
The company hiring me connected me with a lawyer specialized in South African immigration laws, so I was well-prepared when I first showed up at the South African embassy in the Netherlands.
I had spent weeks gathering the full stack of required documents: endless forms, certifications, recommendation letters, medical tests, police clearance, bank statements—the whole shebang. Everything neatly organized in a folder.
I dropped off the complete file at the embassy, and after they had a good look at it, they assured me everything was in order.
A month later, the embassy called. Turns out, everything was not in order. They wanted my bank statements stamped and signed by the bank.
The immigration lawyer assured me this wasn’t an official requirement, but I went ahead with it anyway.
The issue? My bank was completely digital—no physical branches, no way to make appointments. So, I printed my bank statements, snuck into the bank’s headquarters (which was for employees only), and asked reception to stamp and sign them.
The receptionist told me they didn’t do that—and they didn’t have any stamps.
I insisted they pass my bank statements to someone upstairs and told them I wouldn’t leave until it was done.
A couple of hours later, I walked out with stamped and signed statements by a random employee.
I brought them back to the embassy, and they confirmed my file was now complete, with no further documentation required.
Another month passed, and the embassy called again.
They now needed proof of accommodation in South Africa for the full five years my visa would be valid. This document had to be stamped and signed by a local police officer in Cape Town.
Again, the lawyer told me this wasn’t a requirement and suggested I file a complaint.
I didn’t.
Instead, I stayed committed, bringing them everything they asked for and returning with a smile every time they invented a new hurdle.
Since renting a place in South Africa from the other side of the world without a visa or South African bank account was impossible, I replied:
“What do you want me to do? Book a hotel for five years?”
The embassy officer chuckled and said, “Well… if that’s what you need to do, make sure you do it.”
I came up with an alternative.
The in-house recruiter (hail Lee Watts) drafted an official-looking letter stating he’d graciously offered me his living room couch for the next five years. We both signed it, and he got it stamped and signed by a police officer in Cape Town.
I was officially the proud owner of his couch.
On my next visit to the embassy, I handed over the document with a smile.
The embassy official read through it, had a good laugh, nodded in approval, and granted me my visa a week later.
Moral of the story? When there’s a power imbalance, you’ll have to learn to play by their rules to get what you want.
If I wanted justice, I would have filed a complaint. But I wanted the visa, so I danced to their tune.
It was a small price to pay.
