The glitchy voter registration

It was on a Monday morning, August 29 that I took my cousin, 21, to the embassy of the Republic of Cameroon to register to vote. I also had my wife's passport and other credentials in case I could register her in absentia. When we got to the embassy, it was closed that day and the next day, Tuesday August 30. Ramadan.

On Wednesday morning, we repeated the exercise. This time, I will pick up my aunt from the nearest metro station to the embassy (she attends Georgetown University) and all three of us will register to vote. Accompanying us were two of my children, 3 and 1.

When we got to the embassy, we were greeted by a long line of people who had come for various purposes. Originally, I thought they were there to register to vote like I was. As is the proclivity with things done "a la camerounaise", people who knew people who knew people who worked in the embassy were fished from the line and given red-carpet treatment while the rest of us sons of peasants waited in line. The embassy of Cameroon is one of the few places in the US where one has to wait outside in the sun, but that is irrelevant to this piece.

Through a system of numbered tickets, a gentleman ushered us in one by one. We were offered seats in the right wing lounge of the embassy and later on, called to go and be registered. By now my aunt had joined us. The venue was the conference room of the embassy. The room has a big conference table that can seat about 30 people. My cousin was registered, my aunt was asked to go and get two passport-size photos and then it was my turn.

Registration was done by the Cultural attache of the embassy, we knew each other casually and he remembered our prior encounters. He asked me to show him my green card. I smiled and told him I did not have it, but I have another document that authorized me to stay in the US. I pointed out that not everyone has a green card. He insisted that he cannot register me without a green card. I told him he will. I was getting frustrated. He asked to see my passport and when I showed it to him, he told me it was not a valid passport to which I replied that it was certainly old, certainly not CEMAC, but it was valid to the best of my knowledge until January 31 st, 2012. The cultrual attache was surrounded by embassy aide and two or three other young Cameroonians, one of whom proceeded to lecture me on the legality of CEMAC passports much to my amusement. Imagine sitting through a lecture on the benefits of brusing your teeth in the morning. I also noticed that they all spoke the same language (in the office and regardless of our presence) which I surmise could either be ewondo or one of the languages spoken in the south of Cameroon.

After a futile back and forth, I requested to see the ambassador to bring the matter to his attention. I was asked by the gentleman at the reception if I had an appointment with the ambassador. I didn't and that was the end of the matter. By now, my children, who had exhausted the little snacks that we had brought along, were hungry. I decided to take them home and return to the embassy later. I was going to use all means necessary to be duly registered. On the way to the metro station, my aunt advised me not to go back to the embassy. I said nothing, but secretly planned to go there anyway. When I got home, I decided to listen to my aunt who represents my mother. Only a fool counsels with himself.

On Thursday, September first, I got up and called ELECAM's headquarters in Cameroon. I spoke with someone of the communication desk, Mr. Nomo (sp.?). I wanted to know what documents were needed by anyone to register abroad. He said one needs a consular card and nothing else. I asked him about the green card and he said it was not necessary. His remarks made me to recall that on the previous day I was at the embassy, a man with an expired passport had been told that he will not be registered to vote, but will be processed for a consular card. I took down the number for ELECAM and went back to the embassy.

"Where is your green card" I heard the familiar voice say again and this time, as calmly as I can be, I explained what I had done that morning and told him that I could call the Elecam headquarters for him to talk to them. No, he insisted, I needed a green card. And once again a lesson from one of the young staffers. I once again explained that the green card is not an official Cameroonian document, that all that was needed was a consular card... At some point, I told everyone in an assertive voice, and in French that I did not come to the embassy for a favor, but to exercise my right to vote and that I HAD to be registered. I was prepared to be arrested that morning. At the Cultural attache's suggestion, I requested to speak with the Consul. After about 1hr 30 mins waiting, I was finally ushered into his office. He was very polite and I explained everything to him. He said the process was misunderstood: one had to first of all obtain a consular card (delivered by the consular services of the embassy) and then use the card to register to vote. The process was flawed by its novelty, and lack of clarity, hence misunderstandings like the one I experienced.

I was registered.

Immediately, I thought about all those who had been turned down before me. What if they held the key to our future, but never had the opportunity to use it?