Every Jamaican has encountered some dealings with the Passport office or the Immigration Officers. It is a part of Jamaican life especially since Jamaicans are known as World Travelers. You can name anywhere in the world and I guarantee you. they have a Jamaican population or at least one Jamaican who has visited there at some point in time.

My Granny was the national poster woman for Jamaica, she was adamant about her Jamaica and swore that the only way she would leave, is if they carried her out of the Island. Well, Granny began to get older, and the family felt it was best for her to be near her children in case she took ill. Most of the family were preparing to migrate to America, therefore it was only natural that Granny and I would follow accordingly.

Going to the Jamaican Immigration office is like a sojourn to Mount Olive. The lines are longer than any concert ticket queue. Therefore, you have to get up at daybreak to get a good spot on the line. The Jamaican sun is hotter than hell and the stories you see being played out, make pantomimes and theatre seem like foolishness.

When Granny heard the news that her "papers" came and she had an appointment to go to the office at Half-Way-Tree, she was not a very happy camper. Granny frowned, "I don't know why the children have bothered themselves with all of this."

"I'm a Jamaican Ragamuffin, and I will be one till the day I die".

I had never seen Granny so ired about anything in my life. She was visibly upset about the thought of leaving her beloved Jamaica.

I asked her, "Granny you don't want to go to America? Well, if you're not going, then I don't want to go."

Granny said, "No, Ms. Magsy you're young and America has plenty opportunities for you, but a ole lady like me, what am I going to do there? Just sit done in the house like an old relic and watch life go by?"

"No Granny, you and I can go places man."

"Like where Mags?"

"I don't really know, but I'll figure something out. Granny you have to go, you're my one companion. you know."

Granny smiled, "That's nice my love, but Granny has to take this idea to the Lord."

The next day was Granny's scheduled appointment, the mere thought of going and standing on line for several hours made Granny wince with disgust. It just seemed like a waste of time standing there idly, so she decided it was a great time to catch up on her bible reading.

Granny and I packed a nice lunch basket, two parasols and our rain cloaks in case the weather decided to have its own way.

We made it to the Half-Way-Tree Office at half past four in the morning. Granny looked around, "But Jesus Have mercy! Is send them send me out here to scare away duppy at this hour! What an ungodly hour to be out here."

I began to hold on to Granny's skirt, because the area looked a bit spooky until we turned the corner and saw the unending line. On this day it was a sight for sore eyes. Like a brave soldier Granny marched on with me at her side and assumed her position in line. She turned to a Rasta that was waiting there while reading the Jamaican Gleaner, "Excuse me Sir, can you tell me how long the wait is going to be?"

Granny took off her straw hat to curl her hair in a "cotta" (bun), while the Rasta prepared to give her an answer, he stopped for a second, and said, ""Are you Sista B?"

"Wait de, me tink se me know you grandson from Georges, yeah man , me rememba you. Him is me good fren, Michael. Come sista B, come take my place pon the line."

Well being the lady that she was, Granny refused the young man's offer, but he insisted, and about a quarter dozen people seem to have either heard about my Granny or knew someone who knew her from church. Usually people get quite miffed when you take their place in line, but not my Granny, they were practically waving her along to the Immigration doors.

Granny and I had secured a nice little place on the line and we sat their watching the parade of Jamaicans. First a man, who called himself Oswald showed up on the line with exuberance and enthusiasm, "Me readdy fi a go a America!" He yelled with grip in hand. apparently this man thought that once you went to Immigration , you went straight to the Airport and got on a plane.

Granny and I smiled at each other because we knew different, nevertheless we thought he was very entertaining. Until a woman who called herself Ms. Erasmus showed up with a crocus bag full of bammy and fish and started to sell to people on the line.

For some reason she was drawn to my Granny and she started telling her about her baby daddy and the twelve children that she had. Then she started to show Granny the injections she got for immunizations as a child, and each one had a story that was longer than the ten commandments.

Granny quietly turned to her and said, "Sweetheart , put your sleeve down before you catch cold, Granny understand, never mind things will be alright."

As Granny and I crept further to the top of the line an immigration Officer came out yelling, "We'll be closing early today so some of you will have to come back tomorrow and she slammed the door."

Well, my grandmother went into Diva mode, "You know you give some people a little position and they abuse it. Now what was all that for?"

Meanwhile, I was quite frustrated about the task of coming back the next day, waiting and perishing for the "golden" opportunity. I commented, "Granny, you mean we are going to have to, scorch in the sun again, and stand on this long, long, line?"

Granny nudged me, "You see how hot hell is? So that's why I am always urging you children to behave."

"We won't be back here tomorrow. Not if my Saviour has anything to say about it!"

Granny proceeded to tap on the door of the Passport Office, "Excuse me Dearie, the Consul General, is he here?"

The lady scrutinized Granny up and down, as if to say, "Who does she think she is?"

Granny continued, "Look here sweetheart, take this note to the Consul General and tell him I have my little grand-daughter with me."

The officer continued, "This note not going to help you know, this goes beyond the Jamaican Government."

"Please, just take the note."

An hour went by and nothing. We didn't see the lady who was supposed to deliver the note, but luckily our number got called and we got in before the Embassy called it a day.

We proceeded to the counter to a very surly gentleman, who reminded me of one of the soldiers who stood guard for the Queen. Not even Granny could get him to fake a smile.

It was like the Spanish Inquisition. First he presented us with paperwork that resembled an encyclopedia. It was thicker than the entire volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica.

Granny managed to peruse some of the questions quickly, while the Officer questioned us.

She paused for a moment, "Sir, what is this question about diseases?"

"I'm an old woman believe me if I had any disease, I would have dropped dead already and you would surely have known about it!"

"I mean no disrespect, but this whole process is a bit demeaning, don't you think?"

The officer became quite flustered and responded, "Y-e-s madam, but I'm just doing my job."

"Well, tell your superior they have to be a little bit more tactful about their questions, ok my love?"

"S-u-r-e."

I could tell by the way the officer responded that he was completely out of his realm. He was wondering who was this lady and why did she have such an authoratative effect on him?

After Granny's shaking up, the next thing that came out of his mouth was, "How do you feel about living in the United States of America?"

Granny responded strongly, "I would like it fine, if they will have me!"

Granny and I heard the clicking of his stamps and then he said, "Congratulations you are approved!"

Granny said, 'Thank you sir, and all the best to you and your family."

We came out of the office, both exhaling a big "Whew!"

Who did we glimpse standing there with a letter trying to hide from Granny and I? No other than "Iron Curtain Inez" as I endearingly named her.

Granny approached her and asked if she had given the note. She responded, "Yes but as I told you, he's a very busy person and he really has no affiliation with the American Government."

As she was about to finish her sentence, out came the Consul General with arms wide open to hug my Granny. His Grandmother belonged to my Granny's church, once again Granny had amazed me with her Godly connections.

"I hope everything worked out o.k. for you Sister B?"

Granny answered, "More than o.k. I was sent by the King who has more clout than any human being I have ever met. Praise God!"

As Granny and I made it across Half-Way-Tree Road, heading for King Street, I realized that it was in those little lessons of my grandmother, that she taught me that a person doesn't have to embody money and wealth to have true power.

Personal Power comes from God the Almighty. His powers stretch from sea to shining sea. Amen!

*Dedicated to the memory of MM.