April 2010
Facing the expiration of our drivers’ licenses, my husband & I embarked upon a mission – Obtain a Jamaican Driver’s license. In Jamaica, it doesn’t matter if you have been driving 30 years & hold a valid foreign license – you are still required to take all the tests. Even if you pass the tests the first time (an event as rare in this country as, say, a shortage of Bob Marley paraphernalia), the process takes a couple of months. “Why don’t you just BUY your licenses?”, our friends demanded. We were willing, (if that’s the way things work around here), but we didn’t know how to go about it. After all, bribing government officials is not something one does lightly. So, we made an appointment with a man who we were told would “take care of us”.
My husband & I arrive at the Examination Depot, armed with our applications & our photos, as well as a wad of cash “just in case”. We enter a private office where an official introduces himself & requests our current drivers’ licenses & our paperwork. He sits deep into his chair & slowly reads thru our applications. Then, he scrutinizes our current licenses for some time – he was so intrigued by these, in fact, that I expected him to whip out a magnifying glass, declare them forgeries & haul us off to jail. Next, he moves on to our 3 photos – are they identical? Are they signed by the appropriate official? Are they the right size? Are they really us? At times he would look up with a secret smile, as if we were sharing an inside joke. Finally, the official says, “Soooo, why do you want a driver’s license from Jamaica?”. I stop myself from saying that we would consider it such an honor to be admitted into such an elite circle of license holders, & that actually THIS is the reason we have COME here, to Jamaica, in hopes that we would be found worthy…but instead I point out the fact that our current licenses are expiring in September. “Ah,” he nods wisely, “Let me check on something.” & out he goes.
We sit in the office, behind a closed door. Is this the moment we are supposed to offer some form of, shall we say, monetary motivation? We whisper about such a possibility. Do we slide some money under the paperweight? If so, how much? What currency? Are we being filmed? (fleeting visions of life in jail…our sons coming to visit us behind bars, where we sit morosely chewing on a moldy yam…) Finally, we decide, let’s just ask him about Expedited Service. That seems like a reasonable & honest question. Barely have we uttered these words, when the door is flung open & the gentleman shuffles back into the office, & while regarding us from under heavy lids, he sits & says heavily, “Here at this Examination Depot we do not offer Expedited Service.” He scoops up our papers & makes us an appointment to take the tests in a month’s time.
The next month, my husband makes history by actually passing his driving tests the first time! (“BOSS!” the boys say, “That’s really SICK!” - keeping our slang up-to-date.) No one among our circle can believe it. I am not so lucky – defeated by the yard test, which involved backing thru a 100 foot lane of cones, including a very tight curve (using only my mirrors!), making a 3-point turn & reversing back down the lane again - in my Honda Stream, which is so long that if submerged might be mistaken for a submarine. “You hit a cone,” the Examiner says. Only one? I had been visualizing a line of maimed & decapitated cones. “Well, you actually flattened it completely,” says my husband apologetically, from the smugness of the Got-My-License-Already slip of paper in his hand. “Come back next month,” says the Examiner, with a smile.
A month later, I pass the yard test as well (in a borrowed & smaller vehicle). & when I had my new license in hand the next week, I was more proud of it than I remember being when I got my first license at 16! The experience was definitely worthwhile tho, because now, whenever I see cones on the road, I don’t hesitate; I know exactly what to do. I quickly throw the gearshift into reverse!! HA!
