So I returned to Quito on Wednesday to finally finish the naturalization process. I had everything I needed. All I had to do was go back to the Civil Registry, pay my money, and wait.
The morning went well enough, even though I had to wait two hours for a process that I was told would take half an hour. But I finally got my papers and all I had to do was walk over to the "rectifications" desk and they would input my data and I would be able to get my ID (NB - apparently I technically am a citizen already, but have no way of proving it until I get my ID, which I need in order to get a passport, which I need to get back into the country if I leave since my work visa expires in three weeks).
My number was called and I gave my papers to the man at the desk. He starts typing. He asks a few questions, confirming that my parents only have one last name each (as opposed to the standard two here). Then he asks about their nationalities. The paper I gave him said that they were South African but in the computer it says that they are American. I tell him that they are both, hoping to just get the process done with. He tells me that they can't be both. I tell him that it is possible, just like how I am now both American and Ecuadorian. He responds that in the computer there can be only one nationality. I tell him just to put American. But, he responds, this official document says South African and the computer says that when your parents came last time they were traveling on American passports (and he knows that how? do they actually have an integrated system that can interact with immigration?). He cannot continue to input the data, something needs to be "officially" changed.
Let me just back up for a minute. Even though the two documents say different things they were actually both factually correct, which is what I had to explain multiple times over the next day an a half. One document was based on my birth certificate, which stated that my parents were both born in South Africa, that leads to the assumption that they were, at the time of my birth, both South African. That is true. However, when they last visited for my wedding, they traveled on American passports and were stated to be American on the marriage certificate. Again, that is true. However, no one seemed to grasp that in the more than 30 intervening years they may have changed their nationality, just like I was doing (or trying to do) at that moment.
So the guy at the "rectifications" desk tells me that I have to return to Cuenca to fix it. Freaking out, I call Carlos and he calls the lawyer to try to sort things out. At this time the battery on my phone is getting low. Fortunately, Carlos's parents were in Quito and I get the opportunity to charge up my phone a bit while lunching with them and one of his brothers.
After lunch I headed back to the Civil Registry with a plan. The lawyer had advised me to talk to someone in the legal department there and tell them that the nationality of my parents had no bearing on the process. And I was given the name and number of a lawyer in Quito who could help me. However, I didn't get in contact with her at that time since her cell phone had been damged and whenever I called the office number I got voicemail which was too soft for me to hear. Plus once again, my phone's batteries were low.
Back at the Civil Registry I talked to someone in the legal department, who sent me to speak with another women, who sent me to speak to a third women, and then finally a fourth women there. Each time I explained my situation and each time I was pushed off on someone else. The forth women finally told me that since the document that needed to be changed was produced by the Ministry of the Exterior, I would need to get them to change it. They had two offices in Quito and I was given the addresses of both, but advised to go to the closest one.
So I arrive at the Ministry and it is a tiny office with a ceiling that leaks. One guy sends me to another, then back to the first, then finally to a guy who is supposed to help me. Once again I start with the story about how both documents are technically true, but do not match. He interrupts and asks to see my passport. I give it to him and he flips through it to find my visa. Upon seeing the visa he tells me that my visa is wrong and it's going to expire soon and I'm doing everything wrong and there is nothing that he can do to help. I try to explain that the visa shouldn't matter if I now am a citizen. No, he says, I've screwed up and he can't help. That's when I start crying.
I mean, I was already pretty frustrated at that point, but this guy was just an asshole. The nicest guy in the office was the security guard who brought me toilet paper to blow my nose. I really felt that no one wanted to even try to help me or, if they did, even knew how. I mean, Kafka must have written The Trial about Ecuador.
Finally, seeing me bawling, the one of the useful guys in the Ministry suggests I go to the other office, the main one, not just this branch. It would have been nice if I had known that I was just at a branch beforehand. So I head to the main office and stated my conundrum. I was sent to the annex across the street. At the annex I was sent back to the main office and finally made my way to the office of a man who could help. I explained my story (again) but this time someone actually did something! He scanned my document and wrote down my concerns in an email to Cuenca to find out if I did indeed have to return there to fix the issue and if so how. However, since it was nearing their 4:30PM closing time, I was informed that I needed to call him tomorrow to check on my case. Unfortunately there was nothing more to do that day.
So I spoke with Carlos again and we decided that I should stay in Quito that night and meet with the lawyer the next day to try to sort things out. Well, Carlos convinced me to stay. I wanted to go home. I had no toothbrush, no change of underwear, and almost no money (totally different story having to do with forgetting my PIN). I had no batteries in my phone and no keys to the apartment (Carlos's parents have an apartment in Quito and his brother works there so he stays in the apartment during the week). I ended up waiting in the apartment's lobby for two hours for Carlos's brother to return from work to let me in. Fortunately, he had a charger that worked with my phone and once I found out that I wouldn't have to pay the lawyer the next day in cash I felt a bit better.
I met with the lawyer on Thursday morning, feeling as decent as I could with my unbrushed hair, dried out contacts, and clothes from the day before that smelled a bit like sweat. We went to the Civil Registry and once again spoke with more people about what was needed to be done. The day before, on my own, I had only gotten suggestions. This time we actually were informed about what we had to do. The conclusion was that even though the nationality of my parents had no bearing on me within this process, it needed to be correct in the system because they were trying to get organized. And since two of my documents said two different things, one needed to be rectified. And that document could only be corrected in Cuenca with supporting documents. In conclusion, I needed to go back to the office in Cuenca with my parents' naturalization certificates. Finally, a diagnosis and treatment that would lead to a cure!
It was 11AM at that point and my flight wasn't supposed to leave until 8PM. But I went straight to the airport to try to get home. I didn't have keys to get back into the apartment and was not looking forward to nine hours of wandering around Quito. At the airport (after a long, confusing, and heated discussion) I was told that I could change my flight back to another day, but I did not need to change it at that moment, for I could change it, for a $5 fee, later in the week (I knew that I would need to return to Quito again for this process, so I was just postponing the ticket, not wasting it). The only good news of the day. So I went to every ticket desk there and asked when the next flight to Cuenca was. One was at 4:45PM, another at 5:30PM, but finally I found one at 1:45PM. The credit card came out and within minutes I was past security and in the lounge waiting for my flight.
I was home by 2:30PM and spent the afternoon recovering from the most recent of the bureaucratic trauma. I'm not fully recovered yet, but at least today I only have to deal with the minor bureaucracies of buying stamps, paying the rent, and picking up the PIN for my ATM card.
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