When Transit becomes a border

 We were not trying to run away from home or, as people might say, japa. We simply wanted a family holiday in Cyprus, but we made one huge mistake.

We planned to enter using our American visas, as it had been accepted before. What we didn't know was that the rule had changed. We now needed Cypriot visas.

What was meant to be a short stopover quietly turned into exclusion.

We slept on airport benches for three days and survived on chicken nuggets because airport hotels would have left us broke. In a place where we couldn't speak the language, Google Translate became our most-used app. We were stranded by a system that did not recognise us as people, only as documents.

Eventually, we got the visas and made it through, but the experience taught me that immigration is not only about permanent relocation. It is also about moments of temporary displacement and how easily dignity can be suspended by policies and paperwork.

It was another reminder that movement is not just about where you want to go, but about what your passport and documentation allow you to do.

I left that airport with a deeper awareness of the invisible hierarchies of mobility. If a short family holiday could be interrupted so completely, I can only imagine the weight carried by those who live this reality every day, especially those navigating countries where they do not speak the primary language.

That understanding has stayed with me, shaping how I see migration, community, and belonging.