After a sleepless 12-hour flight from Cape Town to
Amsterdam, followed by another sleepless 9-hour flight to Atlanta GA, and with
my Automated Passport Control receipt in hand, I respond to a crooked-finger
summons and step up to the stern and blank-faced Customs & Border
Protection officer and hand over my APC receipt, passport and US Permanent
Residence Green-card. No greeting or welcome home from this unsmiling Gestapo
agent. Just a number of questions. Where have you been? South Africa. How long?
A month. Why so long? I went to bury my sister and take care of my mother. How
much money are you bringing into the USA? About US$200 and about ZAR3000. How
many bags did you check? Two. Do your bags contain any prohibited items such as
meat, dairy or agricultural products? No.
My passport and Green-card are placed in a clear plastic
folder and handed to another unsmiling CBP officer who beckons me to follow him
to the baggage area where I collect my 2 pieces of checked luggage. We move to
an inspection area where I am questioned again. Did you pack all of your bags?
Yes. Are you carrying anything for anyone else? No. Have your bags been in your possession all
the time. Yes, but only until I checked my bags with the airline in Cape Town
after having had them shrink-wrapped. Does your luggage contain any prohibited
items? No. Do you take full responsibility for the contents of your bags? Yes.
The officer thereupon proceeds to unpack and search both of my checked bags and
my 2 items of cabin baggage. I am questioned about everything. Why so many
chocolates? My family loves chocolate and Cadbury tastes better than Hershey. What
are these bags of powdered Pepper Sauce? Mixed with boiling water, Pepper Sauce
is great for steaks. What is this Durban Curry? It’s an Indian cooking spice. Referring
to some Panado and Venteze, what are these medicines? Non-prescription over-the
counter items from my father’s pharmacy – Panado is paracetamol, safer than
ibuprofen, and Venteze is albuterol for my son’s asthma. An hour later I am
instructed to repack my bags. I am then told to wait. My passport and
Green-card are still in the plastic folder, lying on the officer’s counter.
Another period of waiting. Then without another word, my passport and Green-card
are handed to me and I am told to exit the inspection hall. The whole process
has taken almost 2 hours. I smile at the officer with a “Thank you Sir. I hope
you found what you were looking for.” Silence from his side. Clearly I have
disappointed him.
Now I understand and appreciate the need for security. But I
am a lawful permanent resident of the United States of America. I have earned
this privilege through hard work and not through accident of birth. And I am a tax-payer. Those Customs and
Border Protection officers are there on my dime. They are public servants and
they are the first face of America that arrivals see. Would a “Good Morning” be too difficult? There was a time when a CBP officer, on
seeing my Green-card, smiled at me with a “Welcome back to America, Sir.”
But no more. The paranoia of this Fourth Reich seems to operate
under a presumption of guilt. A suspicion that everyone coming to the USA has
ill-intent. An attitude of hostility towards every arrival. And apparently
makes no distinction between visa-holders and legal permanent residents. Or has
my family been ear-marked for some sort of special treatment? Just 6 months
ago, my wife had an even worse experience at the hands of the CBP officers at
JFK Airport in New York. There’s nothing quite like having to use the ladies bathroom
in full open-door view of a watchful CBP agent and then finding that there’s no
toilet-paper, wash-basin or paper-towels, to develop just a bit of a dislike
for this so-called bastion of civilization.
Come on America. You only get one chance to make a first
impression. Be firm. Be strict. But courteousness, politeness, civility and
human decency are currencies with immeasurable investment returns.
