“Herr Ebot, wie must nach Stadt Brandenburg gehn jet” The police officer said.
He had just told me that we must go to Brandenburg. I didn’t say a word, i just got up and followed him to a waiting van standing in the Police compound. He was with my things but didn’t make any effort at giving them to me. They didn’t cuff me or even hound me; they just followed me until i entered the bus, then one of them locked the van.
Berlin to Brandenburg was just a forty five minutes drive; therefore we got to the Foreign office before 8am. The office was already open.
In German Language, the officer asked the lady behind the desk to check for my name. It didn’t take her long to find it.
“You stopped coming to renew your ausweis for long, what happened?” she asked me in Deutsch.
I told her that i followed a girl out of the country and that before i found out the place wasn’t Germany anymore, it was too late. I painted a story of a guy who suffered due to inability to secure transport money back to Germany. When they asked where i went, i told them it was France. I intentionally connected France so that if the whole thing eventually got to a stage where it get connected to my resident permit, i would be able to defend it.
The good thing about my experience and intelligence in Europe was that i answered questions my own way. It was a method of “What you see is what you get”.
If i had stayed with the general answers by the other African immigrants, i believed i would have been deported from Europe long time ago. I knew when to be a fool and when to twist things.
“Herr Ebot, we will get you another ausweis but we won’t pay for the time you weren’t here” She said in English.
I was praying to avoid jail while the woman was almost begging me not to push for the payment of all the money they owed me. A quick calculation revealed that since i left Germany in November 2005, I was owed more than five years of allowances. That was roughly €200 per month multiplied by over 60 months. I was looking at a minimum of €12000. One part of my mind asked me to pursue the money while the other asked me not to do so.
One experience i had in Amsterdam was that if you try to show the Europeans you are clever, they would concede and do whatever you wanted but it would be a matter of time before they get you.
I remembered one man named Alhaji who was a photographer in Amsterdam. Alhaji was a Ghanaian who stumbled on the police officers forcefully arresting people inside a Church. It happened there was a Ghanaian pastor who owned a Church at a place called Verein Stuartweg. The Pastor was notorious for harboring drug dealers and keeping money for them. The Police invaded his Church on a Sunday and was arresting people when Alhaji stumbled on them and started taking pictures. They found out and broke his camera.
After making statements at the police station, Alhaji claimed that he was abused by the police. There was usually an option in every police case which Allowed the one to appeal against Police abuse or even take them to court. Alhaji was asked if he would explore that option and he said he would.
He went on and got a lawyer who charged the Dutch Police to court. He eventually won the case and got €10000 compensation with a new camera. I had met with Alhaji at a barbing saloon that belonged to JayJay in Krainest, and warned Alhaji to run from Amsterdam because it was only a matter of time before he violated one law or the other but he refused.
It didn’t take much time for the Police to get Alhaji. They accused him of sleeping with a minor who wasn’t up to 18 years. A teenage girl testified against Alhaji in court and he bagged 8 years in prison without the option of parole or bail.
That one incident about Alhaji convinced me that the Police could begin to look into other things if i agreed to go for my money. The fact was that it was going to be difficult for the Foreign office to approve over €12000 for an African immigrant nomatter the circumstances. That was a very large sum of money anywhere in Europe.
“Nein, Ich wilst nicht de geld(I don’t need the money)”. I said.
They exchanged glances and told me to wait outside.
Ten minutes later, i was called inside and was presented with a brand new Ausweise. The six months permit i was initially being given back when i was in Brandenburg was cut down to three months before renewal. I didn’t care because i never expected that. It meant that i had been restored as a legal immigrant in Germany. They gave me a paper and asked me to take it to the administrators in Brandenburg heim. It was expected of them to give me a room or even a private apartment.
The Police men who brought me gave me back my wallet and my phone; then they drove off without telling me anything; I was free already and outside. The Brandenburg heim was not far from the foreign office; therefore i walked all the way.
On my way, i checked my phone and saw that Maria called three times. Akunne called twice, Johnson called Twice, Kenneth called twice as well. Everybody wanted to know where i was and what was happening.
I called Johnson and told him what happened. He didn’t even know i was in Germany. I told him that they returned my asylum status but that i was leaving town as soon as i get back to Berlin.
I got to the Brandenburg heim and walked to the entrance gate, A new face was sitting there at the gate. There was an old fat woman we nicknamed IYI who used to sit there; i believed she must have retired from work.
I handed my papers to the new man who after reading them, pointed me to the administration office. The people I knew had all gone and were replaced with new people. They checked my papers and after filling some forms, they took me to a room on the second floor and told me it belonged to me. They also asked me to return to the office in an hour.
After hanging around in the room for an hour, i walked down to the office again. It was time to face the test of money.
“He who dines with the devil must use long spoon”