Your companion is now very comfortable with you and informs you that besides coming for the conference/workshop, she also comes regularly to the UK to buy “goods” for her boutique where she sells children wares. She tells you how she takes advantage of her sister being in the UK to get products cheaply when they are on sale which she then ships back to Nigeria to sell at some handsome profit. She says although she and her family are quite comfortable, settling in the abroad will be her ultimate joy as that will enable her and her husband provide their kids with a platform and environment to excel in life without being unnecessarily burdened.

Yes, it’s almost decision time and your companion informs you that you should remain calm and answer only the questions asked. She goes ahead to do a quick mock session for you. “Where are you coming from?” “Nigeria”, you respond. “What will you be doing in the UK?” “I’ll be working for xyz LTD as a DBA.” “How long will you be staying in the UK?” “3 years” you answer smiling. Your companion quickly frowns telling you to dismiss that smile from your face. “Can I have your landing card?” “Here it is” you present it to your companion. “What about your visa decision letter?” you reach into your bag and get that out. “Can I see your TB certificate, please?” You pull that put of your folder (my clear bag) and hand it to her. That is all she says and yeah the hour has now come.

Ah, I forgot to tell you about the so-called landing card. You see, if there is anything UK people like, it is called documentation. So, before they stopped using them, whenever you travelled into the UK as a non-citizen, you filled out what is called a landing card. The landing card is a small hard paper questionnaire that inquires about your basic details – Name, DOB, Nationality, sex, marital status (can’t remember), address, flight number, port of departure and then asks if you are carrying items that are prohibited – dairy, meat and fish products. Mostly, it is also another way of registering your movement and also establishing that you do not have contraband goods. These were provided inflight and of course they were filled. I gradually make my way to the front of the queue as my companion is next to be called and has promised to wait at the foot of the escalator for me (God bless this woman).

“Next!” That’s for my companion, and as she moves to a free gate, the official regulating the queue motions me to move to a new gate that has just been opened and has a male in his mid 30’s gesturing for the next arrival. I slowly make my way to the gate silently praying that my enemies must not be allowed to have the last laugh. I quickly acknowledge all my sins within that short time and ask God for forgiveness. There is nothing I didn’t promise God then – pastor, evangelist and missionary! You suddenly become aware of the seriousness of the matter at hand. You see the border police armed with small weapons and notice you are in a make or break situation.

One thing most Nigerians fail to realise is that there is hardly any reason why a person coming into the UK for studies, work or vacation legally and who has filled in the application correctly will be denied entry into the UK. The hard part was getting that visa. However, back home in Nigeria and based on the experiences of persons and our culture of fear and servitude, we impress it upon ourselves that we could still be deported. Unfortunately, if there is anything the white guys can smell from a distance, it is fear and they capitalise on it. Just answer the basic questions asked and proceed with your journey. The use of border agents is simply to screen illegal immigrants or those who have forged entry documents and want to come in legally. Of course, there are instances when people can be denied entry (mostly those on visiting visas or students with false or conflicting intentions), but workers – except you have breached immigration rules.

Well, I approach the gate to a “hello and good morning. Can I have your passport and landing card please?”

See you in Series 6 (in a week’s time).

Although I have travelled severally, I am still following ur thread bumper to bumper.�. E sweet die as u accurately describe all the emotions especially fear of village people.... I no fit shout!!!

your village people dey work overtime gat me laughing hard

Please we are waiting oh

Great thread keep dishing us with the relevant information.

UKLifeIssues:


See you in Series 6 (in a week’s time).

Great thread, well-done

We are still waiting for series 6

Hope you are alright though

This thread is loaded, it is as if i was taking the journey with you.

Eagerly waiting for part 6

Big ups, OP.
Your eloquence is next to none. Kindly continue.
Wonderful read.

fridayemmexx:
OAP come and finish it oo,,Me that I am Already seeing myself inside KLM plane

Following bumper to bumper ;Dquote author=UKLifeIssues post=92082184]Ah, I forgot to tell you about the so-called landing card. You see, if there is anything UK people like, it is called documentation. So, before they stopped using them, whenever you travelled into the UK as a non-citizen, you filled out what is called a landing card. The landing card is a small hard paper questionnaire that inquires about your basic details – Name, DOB, Nationality, sex, marital status (can’t remember), address, flight number, port of departure and then asks if you are carrying items that are prohibited – dairy, meat and fish products. Mostly, it is also another way of registering your movement and also establishing that you do not have contraband goods. These were provided inflight and of course they were filled. I gradually make my way to the front of the queue as my companion is next to be called and has promised to wait at the foot of the escalator for me (God bless this woman).

“Next!” That’s for my companion, and as she moves to a free gate, the official regulating the queue motions me to move to a new gate that has just been opened and has a male in his mid 30’s gesturing for the next arrival. I slowly make my way to the gate silently praying that my enemies must not be allowed to have the last laugh. I quickly acknowledge all my sins within that short time and ask God for forgiveness. There is nothing I didn’t promise God then – pastor, evangelist and missionary! You suddenly become aware of the seriousness of the matter at hand. You see the border police armed with small weapons and notice you are in a make or break situation.

One thing most Nigerians fail to realise is that there is hardly any reason why a person coming into the UK for studies, work or vacation legally and who has filled in the application correctly will be denied entry into the UK. The hard part was getting that visa. However, back home in Nigeria and based on the experiences of persons and our culture of fear and servitude, we impress it upon ourselves that we could still be deported. Unfortunately, if there is anything the white guys can smell from a distance, it is fear and they capitalise on it. Just answer the basic questions asked and proceed with your journey. The use of border agents is simply to screen illegal immigrants or those who have forged entry documents and want to come in legally. Of course, there are instances when people can be denied entry (mostly those on visiting visas or students with false or conflicting intentions), but workers – except you have breached immigration rules.

Well, I approach the gate to a “hello and good morning. Can I have your passport and landing card please?”

See you in Series 6 (in a week’s time).[/quote]

Series 6 (First Heathrow border force interview experience for the Tier 2 immigrant)

A brief deviation to the future
I must sincerely apologise for my brief hiatus in posting updates for the last 2/3 weeks. Let’s blame ‘life’ today. As a young immigrant who is very much interested in building a huge level of financial security, I have in recent times been working overtime to diversify my income stream. Having done a thorough assessment of my health (owing to the enormous strain I subjected myself to during my academic studies), I have made up my mind to quit paid employment in 2 years’ time and focus full time on entrepreneurship. To this end, I’m investing in proven start-ups in Nigeria and spending enormous time doing accounting and documentation. I will be returning to my passion - academics to fund my research with my money (not grants!) within the next 4-5 years God willing.

Nigeria is indeed tough for business, but the returns are astronomical. If the banks aren’t frustrating you with AML/KYC checks, it is either the revenue service guys (well now I know that revenue services shouldn’t really be friendly people) or CBN with its diabolic FOREX policies. Having dependable and reliable folks back home has been a life saver. In the midst of all these, one is still very grateful especially when you start seeing returns on your investments. In fact, RoIs in Nigeria (especially in agriculture) compensate for CPI (13%), FOREX (25%) and operational charges (5%) and still guarantee you above 15% per annum. That is certainly unattainable anywhere else. So yeah, that’s become my priority nowadays and hopefully will feature in later segments of this series. I do hope you as a reader are making concrete plans to be financially stable. Reminds me of an excerpt from “New York” (Jay Z ft Alicia Keys) – “…concrete jungle where dreams are made of…”

I’m still trying to convince wifey to work for me with up to 1.5x salary increase to even recoup more money to the home. I am tired of acting as a sounding board to her every now and then. “My manager has issues.” How is that my business. “How does my supervisor think I can cope with this added responsibility?” How does that business me? “Who sends emails after closing hours?” Snoring…… She’s as usual being wifey. She go dey alright.

Now off to the past
You see, I have attended series of interviews in my young life. In fact, I can claim that I have seen it all. I have been interviewed by sadists, frustrated people, confused people, arrogant people, brilliant people, intelligent people (oh there’s a huge difference between brilliance and intelligence), disinterested people, enthusiastic people, happy people, friendly people, unassuming people etc. I have been interviewed by males, females, and a mix of both. I have been interviewed by mid-age people and folks younger than me and those way older than me. I have almost seen it all.

If there is anything that interviews remind me of, it is that your level of confidence is usually inversely influenced most times by how desperate you need to scale that interview. Think about a situation where without an income in the next couple of weeks you may become homeless and how desperate you would act when an interview opens up that period. Of course, interviewers know how hopeless and helpless our situations are (they do sense these things from our composure and tone) and they extract the best possible deal for their companies especially in Nigeria where labour laws are not enforced.

You think you have faced tough interviews? Well, the brief chat with an immigration officer at UK borders will most times provide a 10x – 100x confidence downgrade for most first-time travellers. This is your first international travel and first ‘potential’ foreign work and first trip to a civilised/first nation. This isn’t South Africa or India or Dubai or China (no offense meant at all). This is the UK. The home of EPL and Buckingham Palace and Old Trafford, Anfield Stadium, Emirates Stadium, Stamford Bridge among others. This is the country that colonised Nigeria amongst others and has influenced our lives forever! Ladies and gentlemen, this is The United Kingdom.

I can’t quite figure it out but on this particular day and on this particular occasion, there arose within me overwhelming confidence that till today, I’m still in awe as to its origin. When the border force agent greeted me calmly and asked for my passport and landing card, the mien and calm nature of his voice was so soothing that rather than being aggressive, apprehensive and patronising, I just settled down to have a lively conversation. Unfortunately, this present government with BoJo & Priti Patel and the previous (Maybot) have been nothing but anti-immigrant. Be prepared to meet a lot of robots at UK airports.

With calm hands, I retrieve my passport which has my completed landing card inside and hand them over to the border officer. A quick read through, a scan of my passport biodata page and a flip to the page containing the visa vignette, Mr nice guy looks at me smiles and places passport on a scanning machine. Does that again for the visa vignette page and requests for my decision letter from the Home Office. I retrieve this from my clear bag and hand it over to Mr Nice guy. A brief read through and then I hear Mr Nice guy ask me “Mr Begna, how long you stayin’ in the UK?” I almost smile and then remember how my flight companion reacted during our mock interview session. “3 years” I respond calmly. “Mr Benga, do you have any prohibited items I should be aware off?” I respond in the negative and Mr Nice guy asks me to place my left index finger on the fingerprint scanner in front of me. I do and I’m instructed to do same for my right hand and then it happens – a huge “gbam” from Mr Nice guy stamping my passport, he dates it and signs, hands over my passport to me and wishes me a nice stay.

That’s it! Folks, that is it and I’m officially in the UK. Village people have failed woefully, all the promises I made to God just before the interview have unfortunately been forgotten (humans). I proceed calmly through the barrier and navigate my way to the baggage reclaim area. As the escalator moves me down, I’m deep in thoughts trying to understand the implication of what’s just happened.

Let me break it down for you folks. I’ve never been abroad before – I’ve said that now for the umpteenth time. I just simply accessed the usual site – jobs.ac.uk and looked for roles that were suited for me and applied randomly. I mean this was me just trying to please my bae who had suddenly acquired this idea that there was a need for us to relocate abroad. Sincerely I wasn’t expecting anything. I mean we all know how the job market has always been in Nigeria. Despite having all the required qualifications, one still needed most times an insider or powerful influencer to skew the process in our favour. Merit has never been a strong word for most recruitments in Nigeria – both public and private (yes) sectors. So you can imagine my trepidation when I get an email request from my current employer asking to schedule an interview session with me – me? For What? All the way from the abroad?

I can remember the day quite vividly. There was a panel of 5 folks from the company – all white! Of course, my default thinking was – not again! The session lasted quite a bit – 60 mins in total including a 10 mins presentation after which I asked about 3 questions and was told that they would get back to me in the coming weeks – they got back to me that evening. I’m trying to understand why they employed me in the first place. Are they trying to insinuate that across the UK and EU and even India and other parts of Asia there were no better qualified candidates than myself? Are they trying to say that my performance at the interview session was really impressive – because to me it wasn’t. I mean I know that my confidence level was top notch on that day simply because I had a well-paying job. I remember disagreeing with 2 of the members on the interview panel over a procedure and even correcting some questions asked as they were quite broad and needed more details to elicit the right response. Yeah, I’m good on my job but not that good compared to some other folks.

I can still remember that having asked my questions, the interview chair – a lady started using statements like “Mr Benga, you see when you start working for us, a discretionary expense account would be created for you to enable you access training and development programs that you think are essential for your growth. This will be different from our own established CPD program.” At another time, I recall her saying “When you join us…” and “As a new member of staff…” I assumed these were normal statements they said to every interviewee just to sound polite and not quickly deflate our hopes.

I’m now down the escalator and greeted by a sea of heads and an array of conveyor belts with these heads gathered around the conveyor belts in sections. I quickly remember that my fantastic companion had earlier informed me to check the display screen for the conveyor belt that would be handling baggage from our flight. I quickly see its no 4 and make my way there. As I approach the section, my companion rushes (I’m actually surprised) to me and smiles broadly as she asks me “how did it go?” I note her happiness and youthful glee to see me and it dawns on me that if she were not married, she would definitely have given me a hug – me I wouldn’t even mind now. I mean I need that warmth.

Some hindsight
If there is anything I have learned thus far from my travel to living in the UK, it is that Nigerians actually have a tender heart and communal spirit. The only problem are the few Nigerians who have NEGATIVELY exploited such opportunities, burned those bridges and forced these good Nigerians to close their hearts and also become “evangelists” of avoiding Nigerians abroad. I mean I have been accommodated (for 3 weeks in a room they cleared out for me alone) by Nigerians simply because we work in the same establishment (I had to force them to take the rent cost for that period and even threatened reporting them to some senior Nigerians who worked in same company with us). I have been fed by Nigerians simply because we attended the same church (my pastor’s house was my kitchen for a long time – at least 2 meals a day). I have received massive discounts at shops simply because the teller or attending personnel was a Nigerian. In fact, I have been offered (in the literal sense) decent Nigerian ladies from wealthy homes and British simply because folks around felt I was a decent bloke and a professional. My wifey really needs to be giving me daily massages because I was pressured with fantastic and really decent ladies – and great professionals too. Unfortunately, I must concede that a greater proportion of Nigerian males in the UK are hustlers than comfortable. Don’t get me wrong but what fraction of Nigerian males have an annual income equal to or exceeding £75K (not family/combined o, income for just the male)? And for those who earn this amount, what is the opportunity cost? How much of that income comes from investment and how much comes from paid employment?

Back to the past
I see that my companion is yet to get her baggage and so we make our way to the front as we await our bags. I explain to her that her mock session with me was replicated and further inform her that it was strange I wasn’t asked about accommodation or how much I had for my initial expenses here in the UK. My companion then asks me if I submitted a bank statement when applying for my visa. I reply in the negative and she then explains the implication to me. She makes me understand that my sponsor/employer as an A-rated sponsor had ticked my maintenance section (which I clearly remember) thus absolving me of any responsibility in meeting my initial needs – boarding, feeding etc for the first month. I smile and it hits me that indeed my companion isn’t only beautiful and well packaged but also cerebral. Her husband indeed is a lucky man.

We retrieve our bags shortly and begin the journey to the central bus station Terminal 3 at LHR. It is instructive to note at this juncture that Nigeria is indeed in need of humans as residents, not the “people” currently living there. There is the need for Nigeria to have a scheme that imports from time to time humans into the country to show us (“people”) how humans live. Of course, my companion and I needed to make use of trolleys and we did because there was enough, and we didn’t pay a penny. What’s worse, I can’t even recall seeing any airport officials trying to harass people or causing a scene. We go through the nothing to declare alley and off to CBS. In hindsight, I can just see the chaos at MMIA baggage reclaim area and the multitude of people standing sentry across the airport looking for whom to devour. I can just picture the multitude of people standing both within and outside the airport terminal shouting “recharge card”, “Oshodi”, “taxi for hire”, “change your dollar/pounds sterling here”, “Cele mile 2 (now that’s me overreaching)” etc. but you catch the drift?

As we make our way through the different underground tunnels and the lift up to the ground level, I see order and organisation. Everywhere is well lit: there are airport officials well-dressed and ready to assist with directions and guidance. The escalators are working, everything is in place! The whole environment is neat and tidy, the air is clean and crisp, I’m amazed that humans somewhere can have this level of organisation. I briefly cast my mind back to the village people and smile. It dawns on me that since they won’t be able to fly that long distance, they will have a hard time monitoring me. I think about the possibility of them collaborating with the village people here in the UK and quickly dismiss that thought – “light” and darkness cannot mix.

We make our way into a large seating space and ladies and gentlemen; I catch my first sight of the UK. This is the UK. I can now say I have touched ground. Village people have finally failed. I will now decide those who can have that privilege to reach me. The London breeze hits me as we saunter to the counter. As Usual my companion has decided to act like the big sis that she is. She has told me she would be purchasing my tickets for me – She is just something else.

We join a queue of humans and soon approach the counter. “Can I have a one-way ticket please to Bradford Coach Station” I hear my fantastic companion asking. I can’t remember the cost, but she whips out her debit card to pay for it after which she hands the ticket to me. She motions me to a shop within that arena to pick out something to eat. She settles for biscuits and apple juice for me and water for herself. We head back to the seating arena where she then again leads me to the screens ahead that display departure time and coach numbers and loading bay area. She takes time to explain how it works to me, takes me outside to see the loading area and then collects my Nigerian number (WhatsApp) and promises to call me when she gets to Reading. She tells me she is taking the train.

We wish each other well, exchange byes while I settle in to eat my first breakfast in London. Within 30 mins, I see that my coach has arrived and is loading at Bay 10. I quickly push my trolley there and I’m greeted by this big “ekenedili Chukwu bus” or the popular double decker as we call them in Nigeria. The driver quickly confirms my ticket, loads my baggage into the baggage compartment in the coach and motions me to go in. I ascend the stairs to be greeted by a scanty number of persons aboard this spacious, roomy and cosy coach. I’m definitely in for a nice time to Bradford, I think.

The only problem now is locating my seat. I can’t seem to find it on my National Express ticket.

See you in series 7

Don't keep us waiting for long this time around pls!

Nice read @uklifeissues. Please don't keep us waiting again

Nice thread brother. You and this village people Ehn

I feel I'm in London already! ���

Am glued to this thread.Its so sweet.

Op i have to commend you with this wonderful piece you have here. Btw is this your story?

Nice one op
So sweet

UKLifeIssues

It's a baffling how a first time traveller could remember everything in such details. I believe some artistic elements have been added to make the story more pleasing to read even though facts n dates were distorted (distortion doesn't make them false) quite a lot.

Actually, I am more interested in the part regarding life in the actual UK. My guess is that the actual events in this story happened at around 2 to 5 years ago.

A good read none the less, waiting for life in UK part.

Your aesthetic eloquence coupled with the you go back and forth in time.. Dey make your work make sense....

Niklausefred
Richdee

2Lynx:
Your aesthetic eloquence coupled with the you go back and forth in time.. Dey make your work make sense....

Niklausefred
Richdee

Thanks for the quote baba.. We dey follow the thread gidigba

2Lynx:
Your aesthetic eloquence coupled with the you go back and forth in time.. Dey make your work make sense....

Niklausefred
Richdee

Thanks for the mention baba,we dey the moving train.

Richdee1:


Thanks for the quote baba.. We dey follow the thread gidigba

I just say make I notify the boss dem

Peaceoma:
Following bumper to bumper ;Dquote author=UKLifeIssues post=92082184]Ah, I forgot to tell you about the so-called landing card. You see, if there is anything UK people like, it is called documentation. So, before they stopped using them, whenever you travelled into the UK as a non-citizen, you filled out what is called a landing card. The landing card is a small hard paper questionnaire that inquires about your basic details – Name, DOB, Nationality, sex, marital status (can’t remember), address, flight number, port of departure and then asks if you are carrying items that are prohibited – dairy, meat and fish products. Mostly, it is also another way of registering your movement and also establishing that you do not have contraband goods. These were provided inflight and of course they were filled. I gradually make my way to the front of the queue as my companion is next to be called and has promised to wait at the foot of the escalator for me (God bless this woman).

“Next!” That’s for my companion, and as she moves to a free gate, the official regulating the queue motions me to move to a new gate that has just been opened and has a male in his mid 30’s gesturing for the next arrival. I slowly make my way to the gate silently praying that my enemies must not be allowed to have the last laugh. I quickly acknowledge all my sins within that short time and ask God for forgiveness. There is nothing I didn’t promise God then – pastor, evangelist and missionary! You suddenly become aware of the seriousness of the matter at hand. You see the border police armed with small weapons and notice you are in a make or break situation.

One thing most Nigerians fail to realise is that there is hardly any reason why a person coming into the UK for studies, work or vacation legally and who has filled in the application correctly will be denied entry into the UK. The hard part was getting that visa. However, back home in Nigeria and based on the experiences of persons and our culture of fear and servitude, we impress it upon ourselves that we could still be deported. Unfortunately, if there is anything the white guys can smell from a distance, it is fear and they capitalise on it. Just answer the basic questions asked and proceed with your journey. The use of border agents is simply to screen illegal immigrants or those who have forged entry documents and want to come in legally. Of course, there are instances when people can be denied entry (mostly those on visiting visas or students with false or conflicting intentions), but workers – except you have breached immigration rules.

Well, I approach the gate to a “hello and good morning. Can I have your passport and landing card please?”

See you in Series 6 (in a week’s time).

Quite enlightening... looking forward to where it captures life in the UK. But please as a naija gal who likes localavista foods.. do you mean fish and milk products are prohibited? As in I cannot come with my dried fish, stockfish, crayfish, Dano milk etc? Ejo help to clarify make person no go waste money