C's Letter of Permission

Any official process in a new country causes my stomach to do flip flops. Why? It's like I'm entering Jr.High again. You know. That awkward, out-of-place feeling you had when walking into the cafeteria and not knowing who to sit with? That's the way I feel anytime I walk into a new government building in a country where I don't speak the local language, nor understand all of the cultural customs.

Recently, my temporary driver's license expired. Remembering my trials with obtaining my temporary driver's license, I had an inkling that switching that to a permanent license could take many tries. I was right.

Knowing I would need some back-up in my attempt in getting my new license, I asked a friend of mine who has amazing language abilities and has lived in this region for nearly 10 years. She was brilliant in navigating me to the correct 'office' in order to pay someone to copy my official documents. Then we walked to another building to get a ticket to wait in a cue for a completely covered woman to help us. Our number came up and my friend explained to her what I needed. She looked through all of my papers as I could feel my faced getting warm. Her eyes focused on mine as she asked in broken English, "Where is your husbands' letter of permission?" "Excuse me?", I asked. She repeated her question and I asked for clarification in what she needed. In order for any woman in this country to obtain a driver's license, she must have a letter for her 'sponsor'. That could mean your father, if you are not married, or your husband, if you are. It's as if you are not truly a contributing member of society unless you are male. If you are female, you are subject to be just that--subject to men. Before walking away from the counter, without my permanent license, the clerk told me that I would need a letter typed in the local language from my husband claiming I had his permission to drive.

Humph! My emotions were mixed. I didn't know if I should laugh, cry, or scream in frustration. I opted for laughing as the other two responses would not help the situation. I immediately called C and explained the situation. Then my friend and I walked to another building and paid a man to type a letter in the local language that C would have to sign. Don't worry, it is legal and most expats pay locals to type letters and documents for official uses. After having C's signature on the 'permission slip', I returned to the office and received my new license with no hang-ups. Ahhhh...the joys of living overseas! Just to let you in on a secret, it's not always as glamorous at it may seem.