Something about the Immigration Department Headquarters

People from the village come to Immigration Department Headquarters in Blantyre. They have hopes, they have things to do, they are busy people.
There, at the good Immigration Department, they become 'useless', humans no longer being.
If not, why are they tossed around?
Pushed from one office to another?
The Immigration Department should think twice for sure. Didn't I hear that its offices were decentralised? Why do people come from Mangochi, Machinga, others Lilongwe and Mzuzu, to have their travel documents processed?
And, then, why do they stand on long lines; lines that never end, as Amwenye, Azungu and others pack their expensive vehicles in front of the Bible Society of Malawi, and enter from 'behind' (excuse me the pun)?.
There, behind, they get their passports within minutes- after coughing something but minutes.
Today, that's where I went: The Immigration Department. I saw the lines. A hungry woman, with a child at the back. She was eating raw cassava, white staff falling from the mouth that is but centrally-located.
Why do Malawians suffer, in their own country?
Why should they wait, for something they paid for, in the first place.
Of course, the officers at the Immigration Department try their best. But if you have no car, good clothes and a nice shave, you are lost.
Let us change our mind set; torment the Malawian no more.
Let us treat each other with dignity.
And our country will develop.