Mike – 2, post-Soviet authorities – 0
Because the cops don’t need you,
and man they expect the same
– Bob Dylan
Unlike Kyrgyzstan where only a visa is needed to stay there, in Kazakhstan, all foreigners must register with the local authorities within 5 days of arriving in the country. So, after my arrival I went to the Migration Police (think George Orwell’s 1984) with a Kazakh co-worker and all the necessary documents (original passport with the Kazakh visa, a letter from the host organization explaining where you live and why you are here, a copy of your passport, your visa, and the letter, and $7 in Kazakh currency).
The Migration Police office is almost like a post office with about 10 different windows for different purposes (applying for citizenship, applying for residency, temporary registration for foreigners…). However, before going to the register I had to first go pay the $7 to the cashier. The cashier is located in another room, and exists soley to create yet another line that foreigners have to stand in before being allowed to legally stay in this ever so welcoming country.
After paying the cashier fee I went over to window 3, Registration for Foreigners, to submit my documents. The uniformed officer behind the window took all my documents (including my passport), and told me to come back at 5pm that day to pick up my registration. While I think this is a violation of international law for a government to hold the passport of a citizen of another country, I saw that he was keeping the passports of all citizens, and “When is Rome…” or as the Russian phrase goes, “When you live with the wolves, you must howl like the wolves.” He wrote on a piece of paper that I should come back at 5pm, then put the official stamp on the paper, which is a custom through out central Europe and the former Soviet states (and perhaps beyond).
So, the day goes by, and at 5pm I go back to get my passport, and here’s where it gets interesting. To set the scene, I am standing with about 15-20 other people crowded around window 3, waiting for them to open it and start giving our passports back. Almost everyone else was from other former-Soviet countries like Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan, Armenia, Tajikistan, Russia… and there were also a lot from China, Turkey, and one Israeli.
That morning there was a guy and a girl working at window 3, but at 5pm only the girl was there (I had submitted my documents to the guy). When I managed to push my way to the front of the line, and give the girl my receipt, she looked at it, looked at the passports in front of her, and gave me back the receipt saying that I should wait 10-20 minutes until the guy came back to work. It seemed reasonable enough, so I waited.
Eventually, the guy did show up with a box of passports, and when I gave him my receipt he looked through the passports for about a minute, then gave me back the receipt and told me I would have to wait a little bit. I thought this was a bit strange, since mine was the only American passport he had and he would certainly know where it was. But, I waited for a bit.
About 10 minutes later, I went up to the window again, pushing my way through the 10 people or so in line, and again gave him my receipt. He again pretended to look through the passports, and said it would be 10-20 more minutes. At this point I became a little suspicious that something was up, and having built up a bit of frustration I went outside a couple of times to try to cool down. During this time I started to think, what if I don’t get my passport back today, which was Wednesday, I can’t get it tomorrow, because the Migration Police office is closed on Thursdays (yes, they are closed on Thursdays).
It was becoming clear to me that the guy behind the counter was just stalling until the work day ended, then would expect a bribe from me before giving back my passport.
I knew the American embassy is in the capitol, Astana, but I thought I remembered hearing that there was also a consulate in Almaty (a note to travelers, write down all US embassy and consulate information ahead of time. Also, it might be a good idea to note the ambassador’s name, just to be able to drop it in conversations with local authorities).
Then, a strategy came to me. It was the same one that worked during an interaction with the Russian police on Red Square in Moscow with my buddies Mike and John. What post-Soviet authorities love are foreigners that don’t know what’s going on and are willing to open their wallets just to get out of a situation. What they fear is any authority above them. On Red Square I told the Russian cops that I worked at the US embassy in Ukraine and showed him my official permit stating such (sort of). Mark Twain wrote, “When in doubt tell the truth.” One Red Square I was not “in doubt”.
However, I didn’t have any type of permit here in Kazakhstan, but thought I’d try a similar tactic. I went to a local store to buy a pen, and took out one of my business cards to write on the back of. Then, I went back into the station (it was 6pm by this point and they close at 7) and again pushed through the crowd to the counter in front of the window. At this point, I heard someone say the Migration Police officer’s first name, which I quickly wrote down.
I then, addressed him by his first name and asked him in Russian what his last name was. He said, “Why do you need that?” I then told him that I was writing a statement to the US embassy saying that he lost my passport. He of course didn’t give me his last name. But, the lady working next to him, also at window 3, had a name tag on. So, I started to copy down her name, making it very clear what I was doing, and making sure she also heard that I was writing a statement to the US embassy (what they didn’t know is that I didn’t have the embassy’s address, phone number, nor did I even know if there was a consulate in Almaty). After she noticed this, she told the guy, the American’s writing down my name, just give him the passport (in Russian).
I again asked the guy for my passport, and he told me there was a computer problem and it would take a little longer. This was pretty ridiculous considering everyone else’s passports had been processed. He told me to go sit down and wait.
As I waited at the back of the crowd, the girl again said something else to the guy. After about 10 more minutes, an American passport was passed through the crowd. I quickly told everyone in Russian that it was mine, grabbed it, and found the registration card inside saying I could be in Kazakhstan until August 6. I realized that the guy was indeed keeping my passport underneath the rest, and waiting for me to pay something.
I then walked out of the Migration Police’s office, passport and registration in hand, having emerge victorious yet again from an encounter with the post-Soviet authorities.
For those of you scoring at home the count stands at:
Mike – 2 (a win on Red Square and a win in Kazakhstan)
Post-Soviet authorities – 0
Total bribes paid – $0.00
Looking back on the incident, I think there were two key mistakes I made. The first was when I first turned in my documents in the morning, the guy asked if I spoke Russian. I answered him in Russian that no, I do not speak Russian (apparently the Migration Police aren’t attracting the cream of the crop). I thought that if I pretended not to know Russian it would make the process go quicker and he would ask any more questions. However, instead I learned you should always pretend to know as much about the local language and culture as possible, and always pretend that you know what you are doing and are in control.
The second mistake, is that when I went back to get my passport I went alone, not with a Kazakh, figuring that it would be a quick process, I would give them my receipt and would get my passport. No matter how long you have been in a country, it is always best to bring a local friend that you trust with you to such official formalities.
Also, I later learned that what most foreigners (at least those from the West) do it pay a travel agency to register them. This costs a bit more, and will deprive you of a good travel story, but can save a lot of frustration.
I think that Bob Dylan summed it all up best it his song Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues, about a trip to Mexico.
“If you’re looking to get silly
you better go back to from where you came,
because the cops don’t need you, and
man they expect the same.”
