Farang trapped in No Man's Land

[lumar]

From todays Stickman weekly:

Quote:

I have always wondered what would happen if you got caught in limbo, in no man’s land.  There is a small space between many countries at the border where you are at a particular moment not in any one country.  A good example of this can be seen when you go from Thailand to Malaysia overland at the border crossing at Pedang Basar.  

Once you are stamped out of Thailand, you walk up and around this small hill on a windy road for what must be a couple of hundred metres, before you get to Malaysia.  On this little bit of land, you are no longer in Thailand and have yet to enter Malaysia.  

Would it be possible to somehow find yourself stuck in no man’s land?  The answer to this is a resounding yes.  As crazy as it sounds, this happened to a Brit a bit over a week ago.  He exited Malaysia and for some crazy reason he broke one of the very basic rules of behavior for anyone crossing any border and gave the immigration officials a bit of lip.  Dumb.  He was stamped out of Malaysia and walked the couple of hundred metres or so to the Thai checkpoint.  He had a number of Non-immigrant B visas in his passport and the Thai authorities asked him what his business was in Thailand to which he gave an answer that didn’t satisfy them.  

They claimed that he would be heading up to Bangkok to work, which he denied.  They didn’t believe him and refused him entry.  Yeah, he does work without a work permit so if anything, the Thai authorities should be praised for doing their job, denying entry to someone who is working illegally.  Aghast at being refused entry, he wandered back to the Malaysian entry point to get back into Malaysia and plan an alternate entry into Thailand.  

At the Malaysian entry point he is refused entry on the basis that he had been rude to one of the Malaysian immigration officers and it was obvious that he was not entering Malaysia as a bona fide tourist.  Now stuck, he found himself caught in no man’s land, with the two countries refusing to allow him to enter.  

I’m not sure how he managed it, but after three hours in limbo, the Thai authorities kindly allowed him to enter Thailand where he conveniently made his way up to Bangkok and back to the job where he works illegally.  This fellow was very lucky indeed.

???

[dr_Pat_Pong]

RULE # 1  Never give lip to a person in authority. NEVER

RULE # 2 Never give lip to a person in authority. NEVER

RULE # 3 Never..........................................  NEVER

etc, etc, etc.

[tomy]

quite an interesting story there, MAN! i'll bet he feel so low at that momment stuck between no man’s land, but basicly all story will come to an end, one of the two country will accept him, they can't just leave him there in between border lol, i guest thailand is more generous, people with heart sort of speak.

never ever break one of the very basic rules of behavior for anyone crossing any border, remember you are not in western civilization, asian have different way of thinking and different way of life  

good story to be taught

[ThaiAdventure]

So what does a business visa actually allow you to do apart from separate you from your money!

[Heng]

From todays Stickman weekly:

Quote:

I have always wondered what would happen if you got caught in limbo, in no man’s land.  There is a small space between many countries at the border where you are at a particular moment not in any one country.  A good example of this can be seen when you go from Thailand to Malaysia overland at the border crossing at Pedang Basar.  

Once you are stamped out of Thailand, you walk up and around this small hill on a windy road for what must be a couple of hundred metres, before you get to Malaysia.  On this little bit of land, you are no longer in Thailand and have yet to enter Malaysia.  

Would it be possible to somehow find yourself stuck in no man’s land?  The answer to this is a resounding yes.  As crazy as it sounds, this happened to a Brit a bit over a week ago.  He exited Malaysia and for some crazy reason he broke one of the very basic rules of behavior for anyone crossing any border and gave the immigration officials a bit of lip.  Dumb.  He was stamped out of Malaysia and walked the couple of hundred metres or so to the Thai checkpoint.  He had a number of Non-immigrant B visas in his passport and the Thai authorities asked him what his business was in Thailand to which he gave an answer that didn’t satisfy them.  

They claimed that he would be heading up to Bangkok to work, which he denied.  They didn’t believe him and refused him entry.  Yeah, he does work without a work permit so if anything, the Thai authorities should be praised for doing their job, denying entry to someone who is working illegally.  Aghast at being refused entry, he wandered back to the Malaysian entry point to get back into Malaysia and plan an alternate entry into Thailand.  

At the Malaysian entry point he is refused entry on the basis that he had been rude to one of the Malaysian immigration officers and it was obvious that he was not entering Malaysia as a bona fide tourist.  Now stuck, he found himself caught in no man’s land, with the two countries refusing to allow him to enter.  

I’m not sure how he managed it, but after three hours in limbo, the Thai authorities kindly allowed him to enter Thailand where he conveniently made his way up to Bangkok and back to the job where he works illegally.  This fellow was very lucky indeed.

???

Would make for an interesting (or at least amusing) short film to show on the plane right before you land in Thailand or Malaysia.

[taxexile]

there is an iranian or iraqui man who has been living in the departure lounge at orly airport paris for the past three years.

he has been denied entry to his destination by the airline authorities and denied entry to france by the french.

he lives on the generosity of passengers passing through and of the food outlets in the departure lounge.

numerous tv programmes have been shown about him,but his case (and i dont mean his suitcase) just gets pushed from court to court.

Edited by Admin

[tomy]

there is an iranian or iraqui man who has been living in the departure lounge at orly airport paris for the past three years.

he has been denied entry to his destination by the airline authorities and denied entry to france by the french.

he lives on the generosity of passengers passing through and of the food outlets in the departure lounge.

numerous tv programmes have been shown about him,but his case (and i dont mean his suitcase) just gets pushed from court to court.

the brit yob was,unfortunately, lucky.

this story is a little bit hard to swallow, 3 year in the departure lounge, now way, is like the airport owner would let him be there.

[taxexile]

tomy,it is a true story. i'll try and find a news clipping about it and post it.

[taxexile]

its eleven years not three.!!!

He's still there...

My students always tell me that I seem to have a story for just about everything.  So, when several of them told me that they were headed to France for spring break, I just couldn't let them down.  I just had to tell them the strange story of a guy known as Sir Alfred, a man that has been stuck in a bureaucratic quagmire for more than a decade.

Now, Alfred isn't his real name.  His parents gave him the less noble title of Merhan Karimi Nasseri right after his birth in Iran back in 1945.  His father was an Iranian doctor and his mother a British nurse.   In 1974, he left Iran to go study in England.  While there his father died and, since his parents had never married, Nasseri’s funding was cut off.  Forced to return to Iran in 1977, Nasseri was arrested for participating in protests against the Shah and was expelled from Iran without a passport.  He traveled around Europe for nearly four years until being granted refugee status in Belgium in 1981.  

And he lived happily ever after…  Well, obviously not.  

Nasseri decided to leave Belgium for Great Britain to search for relatives there.  While on his way there, he was mugged in a Paris train station.  All of his papers proving that he was refugee living in Belgium were stolen.  

Uh, oh!

When Nasseri arrived at Heathrow Airport in 1988, he was immediately sent back to France.  Without a passport, the British authorities would not let him into the country.  Upon his return, the French police tried to have him arrested for illegal entry, but without any papers, there was no evidence of what country to deport Nasseri to.

So there he sat.  Nasseri took up residence on one of those red plastic chairs at Terminal One of the Charles de Gaulle airport.  In 1992, the French courts ruled that he had entered the airport legally as a political refugee and they could not toss him out of the country.  Yet, the French denied Nasseri any type of visa, so he was not free to walk outside of the terminal at any time.

Oddly, when the Belgian government first heard of his plight, the Belgian authorities said Nasseri could get his documents back, but he had to come get them in person.  Yet, without those documents in his hands, he was unable to travel to go get them.  Talk about a catch-22 situation.

Then the Belgian government made a complete about-face.  They outright refused to let him return under any circumstance.  They argued that under Belgian law, anyone with refugee status that chooses to leave the country automatically forfeits their rights.

In 1995, the Belgian authorities finally told Nasseri that he could return to Belgium and get his papers.  The catch was that he had to live there under the supervision of a social worker.  Nasseri refused and insisted that he would only leave if he could go to Great Britain.

It was this desire to go to England that got Nasseri his nickname.  He had repeatedly applied for admittance to Great Britain, but had no luck.  Since the UK’s immigration forms have a space for an adopted name, Nasseri started writing in Alfred.  He chose that pseudonym simply because he liked the name.  The name stuck and people have been calling him Sir Alfred or just plain Alfred ever since.

Life may seem harsh being stuck in an airport for years, but Nasseri makes good use of the little that is offered to him.  He sleeps on an airport bench at night.  During the day, he patiently waits reading books and magazines, writing in his diary, and conversing with travelers.  He is very tidy, clean cut, and washes in the men’s room early in the morning before the passengers arrive.  He refuses to accept charity, although airport staff and stewardesses provide him with meal vouchers and complimentary travel kits.  He never begs and has politely returned lost wallets to their rightful owners.

Finally, in July 1999, the Belgian government agreed to send Sir Alfred his refugee papers.  He was now free to leave.  But, eleven years of sitting in an airport can wreak havoc on a man’s mind.  It seems that Alfred no longer wanted to leave.  The airport has become his home and he feels safe there.  People treat him as a celebrity and he enjoys the cards and letters that he receives from all over the world.

And this is where my students enter the picture.  Since they were traveling to France, I asked them to check to see if he was still there and to politely ask Sir Alfred if he would allow them to snap a picture of him.  They asked around and confirmed that he was indeed still there, but he was in a different terminal.  Upon their return, my students seemed disappointed that they were unable to meet the man whose plane seems to be permanently delayed.

and we think the thai authorities can be bloody minded, they have got nothing on the euro-jobsworths. but that is another topic altogether.

[sinbadsailor]

You could live in no mans land robbing travellers going over the border, you could build a house out trees you cut down and buy stuff at the duty free.

There should be no law in the no mans land so you can do as you wish, even make your own country.

[george]

Several inappropriate and off topic postings was deleted. Please keep to the topic!

/Admin

[derekdawson]

he should have stayed in no mans land and set up a food cart

[plachon]

I thought 3 years was a bit on the short side Tax, as I remember reading about Alfred at least 8 years ago. But one doesn't have to go as far as Paris to meet people in the same predicament, so it's nothing to do with European bureaucracy or Asian values or other such bull.

I met someone in the same situation as Alfred in Singapore airport in 1993. I had just arrived from Jakarta and was waiting for a friend coming in from BKK. It was late at night when he arrived and we went up to the departure area to get some food and coffee. An elderly guy of Chinese descent came over and started talking with us. Very polite and unimposing, though at first we suspected he was just after money. He was carrying around a couple of plastic bags, but was otherwise quite smart. He was interested to know where we were going, where we were from, etc. and likewise we wanted to know what he was doing there.

He told us his story, which went something like this. He was a Chinese immigrant into Malaysia, and somehow never got any ID papers. He found work chauffering and serving British and Australian army officers up round Butterworth / Penang in the days where they were interested in zapping the Communist Party from the northern jungles and there was an active guerrilla-type war going on. He said he worked for years and years for an Australian airforce officer, and showed us some letters from him sent in the years after his tour of duty finished (late 60s?). Since then, this Chinese guy had been doing odd jobs but had always held out the hope that his ex-employer would either come back and get him or send for him to go to Australia. But it seems he still wasn't a bona fide Malaysian citizen after all those years living there and had no Chinese passport or papers either. Eventually, on the basis of the address on the envelope in the last letter sent to him from Oz, he decided to go and find his ex-boss, as none of his letters had been replied to. A long shot by a desperate man. His ticket to Aus transited Singapore, but that's as far as he got. The Singaporean authorities wouldn't let him travel on (probably found he had a fake passport or travel documents) anbd the Malaysian authorities wouldn't take him back. He probably didn't know how to request asylum in Oz, and with their attitude to asylum seekers, there's slim chance they would have taken him anyway. So he was screwed in Singapore at the age of 70 +, with no country willing to have him.

Like Alfred, he lived off the charity of airport workers and travellers who bought him food. He didn't drink so wasn't an alchy and was extremely polite, not asking for money once. The only thing he requested was to help in trying to contact the old Australian boss. However, as he only had the one address and that hadn't got any replies in years, we answered there was slim chance of him living there and said he was best off in writing to the Aus Embassy for assistance with his case. His English was reasonable, but heavily accented, which made it quite difficult to catch all he was saying (spoke v. quickly too).

Interesting case and I still wonder if he finally got a country to accept him or if he was doomed to live out his life in the confines of Changi Airport?

[MekhongKurt]

There is a similar story from some years back about a passenger stuck on the ferry between Macau and Hongkong for three years or so, as I recall.

I forget of which colony (as both then were) he was a citizen, but he legally departed from it only to be denied entry, sans explanation, into the other, so promptly returned to his departure point -- which refused him entry because he lacked entry and exit stamps from the *other* colony.

This poor devil didn't have the benefit of even a regular washroom, only the ferry's tiny one (identical to those found in aircraft).  Family and friends kept him going as best they could, though both he and they were poor, so they couldn't come daily -- to do so required them to make the round-trip voyage with him, an expensive proposal for someone poor.  The guy was lucky in one way: Stanley Ho, owner of the ferry line, had his boat staff provide the guy with free food and drink when he didn't have any money, and to let him stay on the boat without hassling him.

Eventually the two colonial governments got together -- thanks to pressure brught to bear on them by Mr. Ho, who was (and remains) very powerful indeed, and worked it out so the guy was FINALLY allowed to technically enter his destination, get an entry stamp, then promptly return, under police escort, to the departure area, get an exit stamp -- and viola!  At long last he got to return home.

When I first heard this story, I tended to view it skeptically.  However, I lived in Macau for four years, during which time I had the misfortune of having my passport stolen.  I'm American, but there are no consulates of any country in Macau, and the closest American ones being in Hongkong and Guangzhou.  There was no way whatsoever that the mainland authorities were going to let me travel to Guangzhou, emergency travel papers (kindly provided by the Macau government) or no.  So I took the obvious (and only) route of going to Hongkong.  A friend, a Portuguese who was the aide-de-camp of the Portuguese army colonel in command of the Macau police forces (there are several), went to the Macau terminal with me to ensure I had no problems there, which I didn't, of course.  On his instruction, one of the officers called a counterpart in Hongkong to explain my situation and that I was en route to pick up my passport.  (I should interject that I *could* have waited umtil a consular official made a regular once-a-month visit to Macau, at which point my passport would have been brought along for me to go around and collect, but I needed to go into China rather urgently, so chose to go to Hongkong myself to get my new passport.)  Anyway, the Macau officer told me the name of the Hongkong officer he had called; armed with that information and my emergency travel documents -- along with entry and exit stamps for Macau (the former provided by simply looking it up on the computer when I had last entered the enclave).  I expected to be back in Macau in three, maybe four hours.  Wrong.

Got to Hongkong.  Asked for the officer with whom the guy in Macau had spoken, but he was away somewhere.  The officers -- several gthered -- kept asking me where my passport was.  I explained -- and explained -- and explained.  though they all spoke superb English (they were all Hongkong Chinese), I finally decided they flat were'nt getting it, so handed them copies of the police report -- THREE copies: one in Chinese, one in Portuguese, and one in English.  They STILL insisted I HAD to have a passport to enter.  Stumped, I asked to be allowed to use a phone, but they insisted I had to have a passport to go through the entry gate to a public telephone, flatly refusing to take me to one under their armed escort, because "that's not in our procedures."  I pointed out that there were several offices off the no-man's-land lobby where we were, and asked if I could use one of *those* phones, but -- you guessed it, THAT wasn't in their procedures, either.

By then I had been there well over two hours and beginning to get really word that I would become Ferry Dweller II.  I asked to see a supervisor, one higher than the sergeant who was the ranking person present.  At first they feigned incomprehension, but they were almost hilariously transparent.  I used to speak what I call "advanced tourist Mandarin," a dialect virtually every government employee in both Hongkong and Macau spoke, though Cantonese is the local dialect.  So I repeated myself in Mandarin.  that got their attention, but they retreated into "we don't understand your foreign devil Chinese."  I *knew* they had, but repeated it anyway.  No change.  Now, don't ask me why to ask a Chinese person "Do you eat rice?" is one of the gravest insults imaginable, but it is.  So I asked them that, and I damned sure got a reaction then.  The sergeant (and the rest) were infuriated, and he strongly criticized me for rudeness.  I laughed disdainfully, and told him, still in Mandarin, that if he could understand that insult, he certainly could understand my request to see a supervisor.

He had spoken is a loud voice, almost a shout.  A captain emerged from one of the office's as I was speaking again, and came over and asked me what I was doing making so much trouble.  I silently handed him the Chinese-language copy of the police report.  He read it, then motioned me and the sergeant to follow him into his office.  There, he launched into a tirade of Cantonese, all directed at the sergeant.  Then he switched to English and told me the sergeant was a turtle's egg -- a worse insult than the one I had used, one that caused the sergeant to go beet red.  The captain apologized, and said there were indeed procedures for dealing with such cases, and they were simple.  He would call the American consulate to get confirmation that I could come get my passport, then give me a separate document enabling me to enter Hongkong for the sole purpose of going to the consulate to pick up my passport then to return immediately to depart back to Macau.  And he was very polite about the whole thing, and just for good measure, chewed the sergeant out again -- in English.  He went so far as to tell me that normally I would be taken under armed escort and returned the same way, but because I was a university instructor n Macau -- I did have my university I.D. card, thank goodness, identifying me as a civil servant -- he would allow me to go by myself if I would promise to return immediately.  Which of course I did.

So, nearly three hours on, I was finally able to enter, get my passport, and return to the ferry terminal, where I found one last obstacle.

A different set of officers questioned why I had a virgin passport.  I showed them all the papers I had and explained.  The fools threatened to arrest me, have me tried for illegal entry -- and expelled to Macau.  At that point I lost all patience and shouted to the heavens, "GUILTY AS CHARGED!  Even though I have proper papers issued by YOUR captain, I entered Her Mahesty's prize colony illegally -- so deport me NOW -- no need to take me to court; I'll write a confession here and now.  you idiots, Macau is where I want to go in the FIRST place!"  The captain came racing out of his office and shouted at me, asking me what was wrong now.  Before I could utter a word, a verbal pandemonium broke out, the captain and the various other officers all shouting furiously at each other in rapid-fire Cantonese, of which I understand scarce a word, and I certainly couldn't catch anything of their faster-than-the-speed-of-light talk.  But finally the captain out-screamed the lot, in English now, ordering everyone (and I quote) "shut the #### UP right now -- or be relieved of your duties here and now!"  He snatched my papers and passport from the sergeant, turned to me and apologized, and took me to a different officer, who was visibly quaking as he realized he was to be the hapless target of the captain's wrath, a fear well-founded.  The poor devil hadn't had any part in any of the "festivities," but did the captain ever give him an earful -- again, in English, obviously for my benefit.  The guy stamped my passport post-haste, you can be sure, and almost pleadingly invited me to visit Hongkong any time I wanted -- adding, "Please???"

I don't know what happened after that, but I called my police buddy back in Macau and met him for a drink, when I told him the story.  He just laughed, but a few days later called me to come meet him.  Seems he had gone to his colonel the next day and told *him* the story.  the colonel had called his counterpart in Hongkong Immigration, a British friend of his of many years standing.  He told him the story, and asked if the Hongkong officers wanted to make me (or anyone) into another Ferry Dweller.  Apparently the head of immigration there went on a rampage, issuing orders and policy directives right, left, and center.

What a silly mess the whole thing was -- especially considering it all was totally unnecessary.

Sigh . . . .

[tomy]

hmmm! quite a story, im curious, can you actually living in and airport terminal, i mean wouldn't the gaurd, police, immigration officer, or any body do something, atleast put him in jail or something, as what i know in the state when that situation happen the immigration officer would arrest him and send him some where, i guest or either deported him back where he came from, free of charge, they will not let anybody wondering around in the airport, strange story, but i guest its actually happen   ???

[plachon]

<font color='#000000'>hmmm! quite a story, im curious, can you actually living in and airport terminal, i mean wouldn't the gaurd, police, immigration officer, or any body do something, atleast put him in jail or something, as what i know in the state when that situation happen the immigration officer would arrest him and send him some where, i guest or either deported him back where he came from, free of charge, they will not let anybody wondering around in the airport, strange story, but i guest its actually happen   ???</font>

Like put him in jail for what? He's stateless, hasn't broken any laws of the country he's in and no country will have him. If you slap in the clanger, he becomes your country's problem and somebody has to make a decision. If he stays in the airport, he can remain in limbo indefinitely, so long as he doesn't hassle anyone or create a nuisance. However, it makes the airlines and airports doubly careful to make sure other travellers do have valid tickets and travel documents before traveling.

As an aside, I once read that Thais are the most common nationality to request asylum in New Zealand. Wonder what they're running from, if Thailand really is the best country in the world? Just curious.

[MekhongKurt]

My guess is that this situation is rare enough that many immigration and police officers, as well as airport/dock/security personnel simply don't *know* what to do with such a person. But it's not all bad news. Some years ago at the small seaport in Beaumont, Texas, a ship arrived with the chief engineer, a nighly-educated South Korean who had visited America many times, sick in a life-threatening manner. Before embarking in India, he had applied for a tourist visa, planning to disembark in Beaumont, take a holidy in America, then fly to Europe to rejoin the ship. However, American consular officials refused him a visa on the grounds he could have applied in South Korea but hadn't, which raised their suspicions. The immigration officer on duty in Beaumont had never run into this situation, and knew only that seamen are allowed to travel only a *very* short distance from the waterline, and that only in connection with their official duties, when they have no visa. But there were no medical facilities within the prescribed distance, so he c alled regional headquarters in Houston -- only to be told, basically, "Tough for the Korean." Outraged by the harshness and uncaring attitude of his desk-bound supervisors, he broke the law and allowed the Korean entry -- which doctors later told him saved the man's life. The officer went a step further when *his* angry supervisors tried to have the Korean arrested and tried for illegal entry by appearing in court and saying he stood by his decision, and that if the Immigration & Naturalization Service didn't like it, they could take his badge and stick it. I admire THAT kind of immigration officer, as I'm sure we all would. The guy became something of a local celebrity for awhile. His supervisor was "invited" to seek other employment for his harsh, bureaucratic stupidity. (What ELSE could embarrassed INS senior officials do???)

[tomy]

im sorry i didn't mean jail, i meant was a holding place some where to settle the problem, as what i have known no airport in the US would let people wandering around the airport i that manner, it is a safety reason i guest