RP

Let´s start with a story about how I got my qatari ID.

I was supposed to go to the Immigration Office close to Landmark Mall. Thursdays, I was told they close at 12, so I only had half a day to do this task. So, around 11:30, I got close to the area where this building was located - I didn´t know the exact location, but I thought I should manage it quite easily.
So, I left the car and I went towards a shop row. In a red Landcruiser, three monkeys in police dresses. I thought they were the absolute persons to ask for indications.



¨Salamualekum¨
¨Alekum salam¨
¨Can you please tell me where the Immigration Office is?¨
¨.... do you sbeak arabic?¨
¨No, sorry. Immigration Office...? It should be somewhere here, in this area...¨
¨... (gibberish conversation in arabic)... no, sorry¨. Smile.
¨C´mon, you have to know, you´re police...¨
More gibberish in arabic.
One of the two in front turn to the one on the back seat, playing on his cell phone. More gibberish follow.
¨So, you vant Lulu (hypermarket)?¨
Shocked face. ¨No, I don´t want Lulu. I want Immigration Department¨
¨...sorry¨. Smile.
*uck you very much.
¨Ok then. Salam¨
I left them to their important duties. I went to an indian monkey wandering in front of one of the shops. He pointed me to the right direction. Go back to the car, take the papers, go to the building. I entered the premises at 11:32.

A lot of people inside, a lot of desks. Numbers were displayed on electronic boards hanging above each of them. I went to a security officer.
¨Salam. Tickets?...¨
He points to a desk on the opposite end of the hall.
Go there. ¨Ticket?¨ The guy points back to the direction of the security officer and the desks. Go back. Ticket? Point back to the same desk. My patience was running low.
¨Listen, I´m coming from there. He told me to come here¨
Same answer. Go back. Ticket? Point at the opposite direction. Go back to the officer monkey.
¨Listen, are there tickets in place here? Or is just as chaotic as anything else in this forsaken country?¨
Gibberish arabic. Points to one of the counters in the row, where people were waiting with papers in hand.
Go there. The officer I was targeting just left in front of me, with some papers of some local dressed in a white robe, with the so-common white fabric on his head. I turned to the lady in abbaya next to him.

¨For the RP¨. I handed over the papers. Scan the barcode, enter some data in the machine, ¨Contract?¨ ¨There you go¨. Some hindu lady comes next to me, with a question. Even before she finished asking, the ninja at the counter says ¨Ve´re closed. Come tumorrow.¨
¨But I only want to ask something, I don´t know if I have all the right papers to be able...¨
¨Ve´re closed, come tumorrow, OK?¨
Dissapointed, the lady left. It was 11:39.
A few minutes later, after I handed over my passport and some other documents required by the ninja, another indian dressed in a nice suit, comes next to me. Before he had a chance to ask, the ninja plays the disk:
¨Ve´re closed. Come tumorrow¨
¨How can you be closed?!¨
¨The machine close at 12¨
¨...But it´s 11:41!...¨
¨Yes, the machine close at 11. Come tumorrow.¨
Without  a chance, the suited guy left. I still stood there, waiting for my piece of plastic.

After only a few minutes, a native came with two passports. The gibberish, I was unable to understand, but without any complaints, the ninja behind the desk took his passports, operated it - while I was still waiting for my ID - and left.

Finally, after paying the 1200 QAR and receiving my damn piece of plastic, I left disgusted.


I was confirmed once again that even if this country is relying 100% on foreigners to properly work, when it comes to dealing with the local authorities, you don´t worth anything to them.

Welcome to Qatar. Hope you enjoy it here as much as I am.