The Passports Are Here!!!


So you all remember I went to apply for the kids’ passports sometime back, like the true mother I am, I totally forgot about it, until someone the other day asked me if I got them. She said that if I was having trouble, she would send me to her mother’s friend’s daughter who works there and she would sort me out. I honestly just forgot to go pick them, nothing on their part. So I gathered myself on Tuesday to go to Nyayo house, again! This time, no kids, just you and the invoices.

I got there at 12:30 and as usual, a winding queue, they have a new construction just outside the main entrance into the building, so you queue outside then there are seats in the new space, where you queue some more so that you can be told if your passport is ready or not. That outside process took about 45 minutes. If your passport is ready, you will be given a reference number and sent inside to counter number 14.

At this point, I wish I took up my friend’s offer for a contact inside because there is no mother with child privilege. I remind myself I am doing this for many like me, who might not have a contact, so I get inside and the chaos that is there is for tears. A lady who like me is waiting to pick up her passport tells me that I should take my invoice with the reference number to the counter then come and stand-wait like the rest of them.

My documents are picked and at this point, my phone is dying, who told me not to charge it fully! I always carry a book, because girls who read books are sexy according to Biko. So I switch off my phone to preserve charge just in case I need to look for a babysitter as I have no idea how long I will be in this place thronging with humans. Tall ones. Short ones. Black ones. White ones. Perfumed ones, I really liked these ones. Smelly ones. They all come here, camp here and wait for their luck.

I find myself a wall to lean on as there is an estimate of about 200 people to be served before me and this is gava anyway, they aren’t in a hurry. Every once in a while, there is someone stepping on my foot, because we are too many of us. Thank you, Jesus, for Mr. AC because if his invention never came to life this would have been catastrophic.

After maybe 20 minutes of waiting, this guy comes with a bunch of envelopes and starts reading names, I am honestly not interested at the beginning because I found all these people here, and his documents do not seem too many anyway. None the less, I close my book and listen, because it’s either my book, this man calling out names on font 8 instead of font 32 or the voice over from across the room echoing, “ticket number four nine eight go to counter number six.

After about 7 names, surprise to me, “Mugi Mwaura? Is Mugi Mwaura here?” I raise my hand in disbelief; I am instructed to join the queue on the left. The lady who is called after me is Jean Akinyi.

Jean was at Nyayo house queuing outside, waiting for them to open from 7:15, they open at 8, this was 1:30 and her name had just been called. I must have done something good to deserve this kind of favour, because I could have been Jean. Maybe God is pleased with the fact that I was kind enough to take the queue to document my experience for you and decided, ‘let me do you a favour child.’ Yes I thought about it that way. It took me about an hour 15 minutes, I left Jean there, the Jean who had been there since 7:15, well at least she finally got her passport.

At the counter, you present your ID and in a couple of minutes, you have your passport in a brown envelope and the power to travel the world.

If you are a mom we have a mom’s night out event planned for May 30th at Baobox Restaurant. Event details below.


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