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My Precious, My Kimlik

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Nerd Alert – I find myself constantly referring to Lord of The Rings in this post.  My apologies.

I wanted to do a post about obtaining my Turkish citizenship but as it would no doubt be longer than my collector’s edition of Lord of The Rings (a total of 1,215 pages for those interested) I kept putting it off in lieu of, oh I don’t know, having a colonoscopy or maybe root canal surgery or even spending an evening having my finger nails pulled out by the likes of Sauron, Osama Bin Laden or Donald Trump.

The ringAnyway, so I kept putting it off waiting for hell to freeze over but as we are now in spring and we have already hit the 30’s a few times here in Mersin it is clear that the second coming isn’t going to be knocking on my door any time soon and so … I give you … the story of my citizenship.

Before I go any further let me get the important stuff out of the way before I start banging on with my unnecessarily long diatribe.

You will need:
• Passport
• Birth certificate
• If you are married to a Turkish national, official documents confirming the identities and family ties of the spouse and all underage children (can be obtained from Nufus ofis)
• Marriage Certificate (in my case)
• Certificate of your ability to speak Turkish (well I think we all know that I did not have that document)
• A medical certificate confirming that you are of good health (obtained at any hastane)
• Four passport sized photographs (bollocks!  Get 10 and then get another 10)
• Completed application forms (we obtained from Emniyet but as mentioned now issued by Nufus ofis)

All documents issued overseas must be translated and notarized.

There will also be unannounced polis checks made to your home, polis reports made back in your home country and fingerprinting done.  It is very thorough.

My one piece of advice to each of you currently thinking about or obtaining citizenship here in Turkey is perseverance is the key.  Be prepared to chase up the documents.  Be prepared to make a nuisance of yourself.  Be prepared to smile despite the fact that you want to rip off someone’s head and be prepared to be in their face as often as you can to ensure that they won’t forget about your application or put it to the side while they watch YouTube on their computer.

Timing wise Mersin seems to be dragging its heels with other cities churning out an approval at a much, MUCH, faster pace.  For me citizenship took nearly 3 years but I understand that some cities can knock over a citizenship application in only 6 months.  Lucky bastards!

Alright.  Pull up a chair, pour yourself a glass of whatever makes you feel good and … let’s go!

When I first applied for citizenship here in Mersin, nearly 156 weeks ago, I applied at the Emniyet.  Since my application the system has been streamlined *cough cough* and now you apply directly to the İl Nüfus ve Vatandaşlık Müdürlüğü (City Population and Citizenship Directorate).

After six months we chased up the application and I have previously written about that incident here.  Another couple of months passed and I was called in to the karakol (police station) for what an interview that will forevermore be called as “The Inquisition”.  In the meantime I had polis attend at our house twice to ensure that The Turk and I were in fact in a real relationship.  All seemed in order.

Right now my application seemed to be coming along nicely however not fast enough and I had to apply for an extension to my Residence Permit (one more year I swear).

Coming into my second year my frustration levels were rising and The Turk was not interested in chasing up the application anymore.  I was at the end of my tether when we got the call from the Nufus ofis.  An interview date with the Vali (Governor) had been set for six weeks’ time however as I had already arranged a trip during that period we were pushed back for the next possible date … a further 8 weeks down the track.  I was happy with that because it gave me time to throw myself into learning the language and so I spent the next 14 weeks having Turkish lessons so I could wow the Vali with my excellent language skills.

Of course on the day I was crapping myself because my language skills sucked and by the time I went to meet the Governator (typo but I’m keeping it) I was so nervous I nearly vomited.  It was crystal clear that I was going to fail the Turkish component of the interview (particularly after the earlier mentioned Inquisition) and they wouldn’t sign off on my application.  Instead they would hate me on sight and immediately throw me out of the country!  Well.  Seriously.  No issue.  Other than a hearty merhaba the panel of professionals that held the interview (there were 3 at my interview plus the Governator) didn’t even look in my direction.  The entire conversation was held in Turkish and was entirely held with The Turk.  Everyone shook hands and we left.  All the paperwork was now to on its way to Ankara for a final decision.  (I will say that I understand this is not a normal interview.  I will say that everyone that I have spoken to has had extremely different experiences when they have had this final interview.  I feel that perhaps the sun was shining down on me that day.)

Woo hoo!!!  Any day now peeps!

NOT!

Time passed and again I needed to renew my Resident’s Permit … again.  So frustrating!  It was then that I put The Turk on notice.  I’m not going through the rigmarole of renewing my RP a fourth time.  If I do not have citizenship by the expiration of this current RP I was moving back to Australia.

And that brings us to December last year when I returned from a girlie weekend in Germany and was asked at the airport to provide my kimlik (Identity Card).  Ummm?  Huh???  WTF???

That Monday we attended at the Nufus ofis with a spring in our step and requested an update.  There was much excitement when we walked in and they congratulated The Turk on his perseverance (hello what about congratulating me for putting up with all this shite?) and they handed to us an envelope.  I felt like a presenter at the Academy Awards … “and the winner is …”  Inside was the Onay Duyu Belgesi (Certificate of Approval).  Wow.  Thank you.  Only 1095 days after my original application peeps!

And this is when it all goes south …

We were told that the polis would attend at our home again in the next few days and once that was done the kimlik will be issued.  Hold on a minute!  I was told at the airport that the kimlik had already issued and this document that I am holding in my hot little hands is a Certificate of Approval.  Are we in the Twilight Zone?  No, you are Turkish now but we just need to follow procedure.  Of course.  We waited four weeks but the polis did not appear.  The Turk started returning to the Nufus each week to try and move the matter forward but to no avail.

In the meantime an expat friend here in Mersin who had lodged her citizenship application approximately the same time as me (did I mention it was nearly 3 years ago) also received her Onay Duyu Belgesi in her precious envelope and within a week she had received her kimlik!  What the holy hell?

Another couple of weeks went by.  Anything?  Nope.  Nothing.

So we went back.  And this is what happened:

Go to the Nufus.  Sorry.  Polis check needed.

Nope.  On the advice of my kimlik holding expat friend I confirmed online that the law has now changed and a further Polis check is not necessary.

Back to the Nufus.  Dude the law has changed.  Check it!  No, he tells us.  It has now changed again.  Seriously?  In the space of 3 days?  Sorry.  Wait for Polis check.  Dude I’m telling ya check it again!

OK yes you are right.  Go to Emniyet.

Went to Emniyet.  Sorry.  Go to the Nufus.

Back to the Nufus.  Waiting on Polis check.

Are you fecking serious?  The stupid is so stupid that it actually crushes you until you become as stupid as the stupid!

 

The finger

We began to experience life at the rate of several WTF’s per hour and The Turk just couldn’t take anymore.  His sanity was being held together by duct tape and chewing gum.  I wasn’t sure if he would go postal or would have a heart attack and drop dead on the spot (which would no doubt delay the issue of the kimlik yet again) but instead he sensibly went to see our local Belediye Başkanı (mayor) here in the Village for a little advice.  The mayor rang the patron at the Nufus who confirmed that the kimlik should have already issued.  Feck my life!

The next day we again attended at the Nufus where we by-passed all the plebs and went straight to the patron.  He took us over to the appropriate desk jockey and instructed him to issue the kimlik immediately.  Five minutes later … Sorry.  No polis check.  Come back after polis check.

Now being a patient, gentle sort of girl I generally don’t worry about the little things but when the imaginary people in my head start shouting, “no fecking no you feckity feck!” I know things aren’t really going the way they ought!

I looked around for a nice strong looking pillar so I could smash my head into it but instead we went back to see the patron, who took us back to see the pencil pusher, who grumbled under his breath like a petulant toddler until … finally … it happened … nearly three years but … I got my KIMLIK!!!!

Yes peeps to quote the fabled Mr Frodo Baggins, “It’s done, it’s finished”.  No more do I have to enter the gates of Modor.  I had returned the ring to its rightful place and I can now rest easy.  I wanted to high five the pleb/desk jockey/pencil pusher/sulky child but thought better of it.  I walked out of the Nufus ofis with my head held high and a great big smile on my dial.

Its done

I am a Turkish citizen.  The short line at the airport is now MY line!  Oh and I am no longer a yabancı and woe be it to anyone who dares call me one!

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The Lord of the Kimlik

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“One does not simply walk into Mordor.  Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs.  There is evil there that does not sleep.  The great Eye is ever watchful.”

When Tolkien wrote this I wonder if he had already had the great misfortune to attend at a Government Office in Turkey because these words have never been so true.

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Before Daughter and I left Australia we had foolishly assumed that obtaining the correct residence visa was going to be a piece of cake.  It would be no more than a quick trip to the Turkish Consulate in Sydney and they would welcome us with open arms.  Hosgeldiniz.  After that fateful first trip to the Consulate it became quite clear that this was not going to be as simple as originally thought and that the journey to residency was long and thwart with peril.  In the end due to delays and the wrong paperwork Daughter and I actually entered Turkey on a tourist visa and I knew that I was now going to have to sort out the visas here.  In Mersin.  Turkey.  Yikes!

The first time I attended at the Emniyet in Mersin I will be honest.  I was nervous.  I mean the Consulate in Sydney was bloody hard so I can only imagine what it was going to be like here.  I had arrived the night before and was jet lagged and grumpy.  This was not a good start to what was going to be a very long, very tedious day.  The Turk’s brother had taken a week off work to assist with the difficulties (read that as nonsense) that is the Turkish Government and our first stop was at the Emniyet Genel Müdürlüğü (Turkish National Police) so we could obtain a Residence Permit.  We ran up and down stairs (why is there no lift?) in 40 degree heat (why is there no air conditioning?) and waited in queues that went down the corridor before being issued with a number(!) to be dealt with.  When you are issued the number 74 your heart begins to sink and as there are no chairs available (after all there are 73 people ahead of you) I leaned against the wall, sweat pouring down my back while staring at a photograph of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk.  It is a long wait.  People come and go.  Smells come and go.  I try in vain to translate the signs on the wall.  Cay comes and goes but none is offered to the suffering hordes.  I watch other, more successful, people make their way to the front of the queue.  I listen to the numbers being called.  So close.  So very close.  And then – it’s lunchtime.  We are ushered out of the building.  My postal levels are high but watching The Turk’s brother I can see that he is also becoming quite frustrated with the wait.  After the lunch break I returned to my wall and started to doze when suddenly, joyously, our number is called.  Hallelujah.  Praise the Lord or Allah or whatever!  My brother in law fought his way to the front of the counter where a heavily moustached, non-smiling government employee, glanced at the papers before handing them back.  We are missing a document.  Come again.

It took me four trips to obtain my Yabancilara Mahsus Ikamet Tezkeresi or Residence Permit for Foreigners.  I think that this is probably quite straight forward normally but as The Turk was not with us it made completing the documentation exponentially difficult.  I cursed The Turk a lot those first few days.

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As a resident of Turkey I also needed to obtain a Kimlik number.  As a foreigner I am not eligible for a TC Kimlik and instead I obtained a Yabanci Kimlik No.  Pretty much the same thing but we are identified with the number “99” as the first two digits.  Getting a Yabancı kimlik No. is actually pretty easy because you do it online and any excuse to not walk into a Turkish Government office is a win-win in my mind.

Fast forward a few months and The Turk reminded me that I still needed to get my citizenship finalised (which was lodged the previous September).  Foreigner’s can become Turkish citizens if they jump through a number of ridiculously difficult hoops but being a Turkish citizen does mean that I no longer need to fluff around with visas and various other benefits as a long term resident.

After a tedious number of hours at the Emniyet we finally received the news that my application was now held by the Nufus Office or also known by other poor yabancı as Mordor, which is well known by all as a treacherous journey, full of peril all in an attempt to retrieve ‘my precious’ also known as my kimlik card.  The Turk and I have attended this office so many times over the past week that the polis remember us and let us through without going through the metal detectors or standing in the queues.  We have attended this office so many times that the employees recognise us “Yabancı” (a most hated word) and “Al Pacino” (Good Lord!).  We have attended this office so many times that when the documents were finally stamped there was a united cheer and a lot of handshaking and congratulations from staff who proudly told us that in “six months or so” I will have my official kimlik card!  Six months!  Wow!  They did mention to us that there would be a polis check and, of course, that other well known yabancı terror known as the Interview but then it should be smooth sailing.

As I write this I feel a sense of forboding akin to Frodo before he started on his great journey:

Aragorn: Are you frightened?
Frodo:  Yes.
Aragon:  Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you.

Oh incidentally Daughter’s kimlike was actually issued back in Australia but no one told us so we find ourselves now liaising with the Consulate back in Sydney in an attempt to locate it.  I feel another journey coming on.

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