A Malaysia Trip

Part 2

‘I don’t have it. Malaysia is visa-free for us,’ I said tentatively.

‘Visa-free?’ He doubted it.

‘Yes, it’s a new policy?’ I now doubted it too.

‘Wait, let me ask about it.’ And he went to talk to another officer. This second officer, instead of sitting behind a counter, was swaggering about. He had a conspicuous waistline and an overbearing air. He must have been the boss.

After a brief conversation between themselves, the two officers came to me. Officer Boss said, ‘You need a visa to go to Malaysia. No? Do you have an entry? No again? Then you can’t cross the border.’ Behind me, Vincent saw the hold-up and came to find out what was wrong. ‘But you do not need that visa!’ he said, annoyed by what appeared to be an unreasonable denial by the authorities. The officer looked at Vincent and then back at me: ‘You two are together? Follow me.’ He led us to an exit where he delivered the same verdict: no visa, no go. I translated his words to Vincent, and he suddenly seemed to grasp the situation. He whipped out his phone and thrust it towards the officer.

‘Call the Malaysian embassy!’ he demanded.

The officer looked at Vincent’s phone and waved his hand in dismissal: ‘I’m not calling anyone.’

‘You want money! That’s it, right? How much?’ Vincent raised his voice.

It would appear that Officer Boss knew the English word ‘money’ because he protested, ‘Money? What money? It is she who does not have the permission to go through customs!’ Then rather abruptly, he softened his voice: ‘Look, if you really want to go you can buy a visa underground. You’ll be able to enter Macau but’, a smirk flashing on his face, ‘I’m not sure you can get on the plane.’

Vincent wanted to insist but I dragged him away. It was a dead end in my eyes, and I had no intention of attracting the police.

So that was what ‘selling visas’ meant, but why would I want to go to Macau if I couldn’t go to Malaysia? I sighed and told Vincent that apparently he would have to go alone. This determined boyfriend of mine, though, wouldn’t have it: ‘You read the official announcements! Those officers just want money. Let’s buy you a visa.’ I was uncertain but he did have a point about the notices, and since we had bought all the plane tickets, giving up right now would mean giving them up too. I’m not a gambler. Still, sometimes in life you need to roll the dice.

We went underground and randomly picked a stall. A worker there informed me, ‘E-visas are available and each comes with a plane ticket. It’ll be 150 yuan (approximately 20 euro).’ For which country would the visa be? ‘Somalia,’ she answered. How exciting! I looked around me; it was hustle and bustle. Nearly every stall had customers. Unsurprisingly, given the location of the businesses and the personal recommendation of customs officers. Maybe Vincent was right. Maybe the whole mess was just blatant corruption. Disgusted, I shot a question: ‘And of this 150 yuan, how much are you giving to those officers?’ The worker was taken aback by my candour. She giggled nervously and admitted, ‘A bit ... Yes, a bit ... We must …’ A while later, the documents were produced and I laughed: I couldn’t go to Somalia after all because, with this plane ticket, I’d take off from Macau and land in - wait for it - Macau.

With a weak passport, one can feel trapped. Photo by Zibow Retailleau

We headed back to customs and a different officer received me. Having seen the visa, she couldn’t be bothered to touch the other documents and let me pass. That young officer sprang to mind. Did he get kickback too?

Once we’d got to the Macau airport, I made a beeline for the AirAsia kiosk to see if I’d made the right bet. A lad there revealed the result: ‘Indeed there is this visa-free policy but the condition is departure must be from mainland China.’ There was a hidden condition! But I’m not sure you can get on the plane … He knew. If a staff member at an airline knew this condition, how could he, a customs officer in charge, have not known it? But why trouble himself to tell the truth when he could easily feather his nest with the money of a desperate traveller? Well, no use dwelling on that. Now Vincent would have to go alone. I summoned up the energy to thank the lad and was about to leave.

‘However’, he continued, ‘some destinations allow Chinese passport holders a 72-hour visa-free transit. You said you were going to Kuala Lumpur? That’s one of them.’ A feeling of relief washed over me; I almost hugged this lifesaver. I gave him a second but heartfelt thank you, and then rushed to a smoking area to find Vincent. ‘We can’t stay in Malaysia for five days as planned, but at least I can come with you!’ I said breathlessly. At once, Vincent took out his laptop and tried to change the plane tickets. The clock was ticking: we would need to check in soon.

‘Travelling with you is a riot, eh?’ he said wryly.

After we managed to re-schedule the trip, a friendly assistant checked us in. ‘Enjoy your journey,’ she wished us. Thank you, I’ve begun to already.

On our second day of arrival, Vincent went to a café to give an ‘agent’ his papers for the visa. When he came back, he told me it’d been an interesting experience. ‘I made friends with someone. He’s from Nantes and also came to buy a visa to stay with his Chinese girlfriend,’ he explained. As the two romantic Frenchmen chatted, more people arrived and they joined in the conversation. Everyone had come for the same thing, albeit for different reasons. They all had their own shuren and the price they’d paid varied. As it turned out, Vincent had got the best deal. Obviously, this black market trade brought good money, and the facilitating guanxi was vast. I looked at Vincent’s new visa with mixed feelings: I was happy that we didn’t have to part, only I wished we hadn’t had to bribe our way to achieving this.

When we were leaving for Phnom Penh, I carefully packed away the Somali visa and the Macau-to-Macau plane ticket.

‘Surely’, I thought, ‘I must write this all down one day.’

read Part 1

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