The Hunt for my Birthright

Why do allll government processes suck!

My name is Chukwudi Ifeanyichukwu Uraih, and every time I’ve traveled to Nigeria, I’ve had to buy a visa. My mom and dad were both born in Nigeria, so why don’t I have dual citizenship? Well, you can thank Uncle Sam and the Army. My security clearance has been the only thing between me and the green passport since 2002.

U.S. Department of State, “Security Clearance FAQs,” Guideline C: Foreign Preference.
This guideline specifies that dual citizenship is not an automatic disqualifier but may raise concerns if foreign preferences, like the possession or use of a foreign passport, are involved.

So, every time I go to the motherland, I have to go through this hoop-jumping, wallet-emptying process just to get a Nigerian visa. Those days are over — 2024’s my year to claim the green passport aka MY BIRTHRIGHT!!!!

Step One: Figure Out How to Get One

You’d think I’d know what to do becuasue all these Nigerians in my life, but when it was actually my turn, suddenly no one knew what the hell they were talking about. I asked around in the diaspora, and not one of those MOFOs was useful. So I did what I should’ve done from the start and Googled it.

I found the Nigerian consulate website and applied for Citizenship by Registration, dropping a cool $600 on the application. Turns out, it was the wrong application, and they’ve yet to refund me. Lesson learned? Look for a processing center that handles this mess for you.

Step Two: The Nigerians in Diaspora Documentation Support Center

Through the Google, I found a processing center nearby in Texas. I called them, made an appointment, and drove over with my father’s death certificate, his U.S. and Nigerian passports, and my birth certificate.

At the center, I ended up paying for a National Identification Number (NIN), Banking Verification Number (BVN), passport application, and some official-sounding letter they said I’d need (another $100). All in, I was down another $600, plus $200 to expedite it. They took my info, fingerprints, and picture, but to actually get the passport, I’d have to fly to NYC or Atlanta and redo the pic and fingerprints.

Step Three: Journey to ATL Hoe

The Nigerian Consulate is only open for passport services Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. I missed my initial appointment because I was studying for the CFP exam, but the rules are as arbitrary as they are dumb:

you can go after your appointment, just not before.

So I flew in on a Monday night and then on Tueday morning took a Lyft to the consulate 15 minutes before they opened at 9 a.m. I see people already there and sign my name on a paper that someone hands me. I was #10. Eventually, a guy from behind the gate came out and directed us to a tent where we got another sign-in sheet. The first one? Doesn’t count. I’m now #4.

Once inside, they check my packet and tell me I need a $30 money order. Why? “It’s for the embassy,” they say. I text the diaspora processing center guy to ask why he didn’t mention this shit, and he goes silent. Turns out, I also need the $100 letter he told me not to bring. I-DI-O-T!

So now, I’m at the front of the line, needing to print this letter and get a $30 money order — without transportation. Luckily, they have a business center next door, where I could get the money order… for $40. At this point, I just laughed and embraced the finess.

After that, I trama-bonded with other travelers over our shared frustrations. Three hours later, they call me up to redo the exact same damn fingerprints and photos I took back in Texas for the NIN and BVN. I spent those hours mentally redesigning their entire process:

• Get vending machines! People are here 3–8 hours with no food or drink.
• Display progress updates. If I’d known that network issues were slowing things down, I’d have been more patient.
• Preprocessing! Why are packets being re-checked? People should only be here for photos and fingerprints — no one should be there longer than an hour.

At last, they finished, and I took a Lyft straight to the airport, headed to the American Express Centurion Lounge, and started downing dark licca and hors d’oeuvres.

If You Want to Get Your Nigerian Dual Citizenship, Don’t Make the Same Mistakes I Did:

1. Find a processing center near you if you don’t live in Atlanta or New York.
2. Don’t leave the $100 letter at home, no matter what they say.
3. Bring a $30 money order (or be ready to pay extra if you need to get one on-site).
4. Don’t show up early. They won’t be ready anyway.

Hello, I’m Chudi, your favorite Army vet turned financial advisor. I have a colorful way of describing things, so I’m finally writing them down. I hope you enjoy my stories and feel free to comment. Stay tuned.

Cheers from Choo.