How many documents must I provide to the US lender to purchase a house? Double my answer. Then triple it. Then raise it to the power of 10. And wait few minutes, because the lender will ask me for more stuff. I feel like I am banging my head against the wall. I’m probably bleeding but I no longer care I’ve gotten used to the pain. I just want all of this to stop.
Notarize one document, thinking this is the only one…. A kind stranger acts as my witness. A friend scans and emails me what I think is the last of what I need to send through. Of course, I am wrong.
A day before I’m supposed to close, they want a document that I don’t have! Somehow, this materializes with sheer luck and probably some sort of miracle.
The day of my appointment with the embassy, I can’t leave work. Workers strike. We are on total knock-down. One leaves in an ambulance. No one can get in and out. A total lock down. Only in Africa. I walk around the campus to see if I can find a spot to climb over. The electric fences and my skirt kills my escape. I return to the office. Defeated. Utterly.
Few days pass. It’s 10pm. The lender tells me to get to the embassy tomorrow. I need a witness for all my signatures. I have less than eight hours to get someone to come with me. Oh, and I need to print like hundred pages. I have no appointment with the embassy.
I freak out. I take a day off from work and cancel important meetings.
Another friend is away from office but gets one of her minions to print out four copies for me. Another friend just quit her job, and so she’s able to be my witness. Bless yet another friend. He told me he’d take the day off to be my witness if I can’t find anyone else to help me. Thank you.
So far so good. The embassy grants me yet another emergency appointment! I have a witness. Let’s do this.
Wait! Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. It hasn’t been smooth sailing, and so, why would anything change? I am freaking out (still). The embassy is supposed to close in the next hour and I can’t pay them.
A kind looking man in his mid-fifties (sitting with his wife, son and daughter) reaches out, “How much money do you need?”
Me: “The cost of notarizing will set me back $450”
Taking out a fat wad of cash from his back pocket, he counts four $100s.
‘here, take this’.
Me: “no, no. I have money. They won’t take a card machine, and the embassy is about to close…. And you don’t even know me!’
Him: “Yeah but you seemed stressed and in need of help.”
Me: “Thank you so much. Wow, I’m speechless. Can I ask why you guys are here?”
The couple lives in Nigeria and their two children were visiting. They were hijacked on their way from the airport to the hotel, at gun point. No passport. No nothing. They must have been horrified.
Him: “It’s weird that it happened in South Africa. I’ve been living in Africa for the past twenty years and nothing like this has ever happened to us. We’re getting passports sorted so our daughter can go back on Sunday.”
My friend and I are in awe. After experiencing a tragedy of their own… just few hours after his family’s lives flashed before his eyes, he was willing to help a total stranger. Thank you for your random act of generosity.
Half hour later, the machine is back up and running. I sign my life away. Still no house, of course. The pain lingers.
A day before the final closing date (fingers crossed), I get another request for another signature. WTF!!! Another friend comes to rescue to print yet another form for me to sign. She scans it, and I email the attorneys.
Friends congratulate me. I know better.
Finally, the house transfers.