As we launch MigrantVoice on refuge at the beginning of Refugee Week 2008, participants in our roundtable debate discuss what asylum, sanctuary or refuge means to them:
Ms B, a refugee from Bosnia, Mrs A, a refugee from Iraq and Mr A, from Afghanistan.
Ms B, a refugee from Bosnia: This Refugee Week we want to have an honest discussion from all our different perspectives about a number of issues relevant to our daily lives. We are trying to work with people promoting cities of sanctuary, to take the debate about asylum, refugees and immigration into more normal, reasonable waters, (because what has been happening so far has been so appalling).
We would potentially like London to become a city of sanctuary, to bring back the whole idea of what being a refugee or asylum seeker is really about, and that is about seeking protection.
When I came here it was a different government and I was refused asylum and threatened with deportation. In the media they were busy bashing gypsies at the time. They hated them. To this, they attached the fact that there were asylum seekers from Roumania. And they were ‘bogus', so all asylum seekers must be ‘bogus'. At that point Michael Howard was Home Secretary, and he suggested that doctors and teachers should report illegal asylum seekers. So I felt, if I fall sick now, I cannot tell my doctor that I am a refused asylum seeker. I was paranoid: anybody could attack me on the street and I could not call the police, because I was a refused asylum seeker.
But we need to counter this whole vocabulary about how we are ‘bogus' refugees who come here wanting to take up benefits, jobs, housing and so forth. We are looking for ideas of how it might be different - rather than just talk about how bad it is right now. Look into your heart and think about what would make things better.
When the people I work with here regularly started telling their stories, my jaw was dropping because one of them was a freedom fighter, another had three university degrees from three different countries, a third was like this one - she makes her own clothes and has loads of kids and runs organisations and is a community leader - the little things about people are extremely inspiring and when you add to that the fact that on a daily basis somebody in Fleet Street or Westminster or in their neighbourhood is doing everything they can to make their lives difficult. It isn't like - people come here and someone says, OK let me nurture you, open doors for you and develop your potential. That doesn't happen.
But look at the people around this table - they all do exactly the same level of commitment to survive. There is just no time for any of them here to feel sorry for themselves. What makes me angry is that it is unnecessary - to create so many obstacles for such a small group of people and then blame them for everything including donkeys and swans - that is completely unnecessary - it is malicious - it is not only ignorance - it is personal and it is malicious. How can they be so stupid not to understand that!
But it's like : we are refugees and of course we would say this! You liberals and church-goers and sandal-wearing whatever - of course you're softies! It's only us who are tough - we can see through them! This fills the media, but still doesn't reassure anyone, it just gets more and more like that. A bit of constructive anger might help.
We should discuss what an inclusive debate would look like, including all the voices left out of the mainstream debate. And not just migrants and refugees and asylum seekers. We should go and talk to campaigners about their tactics. But also we should ask them, what made the impact in your life; what made you feel strongly about this; what worked for you; where did you get your values from? How did you grow up to be like that? How did you get involved and not just leave it to others?
Mrs A, a refugee from Iraq: We have seen people on radio and TV shows saying, "I can't find a job because refugees are coming and taking our jobs, and now we have the war in Iraq and inflation and that's why things are so bad."
But from my point of view, I had a house and I had a job of work, and I was forced to leave everything and just run away. All we wanted was to feel like human beings and be safe. We left everything that we had. So it is not a question of our looking for a better life. Not at all. We had to start again from minus zero. We had no recognised qualifications or papers, but had to start all over again from scratch. People don't begin to understand the problems we have had. It is very frustrating just to try and get to the right authorities and go through the right procedures. We would do the rounds of the Home Office, the housing and the other administrative centres, but no-one along the way reacted to us as if we were human beings: only numbers to be put through these processes. It is an immensely difficult process. Nobody would ever choose it.
Both my husband and I were qualified dentists when we came to Britain in January 2005 but had to requalify. Now in April 2008, I have finally got my exams. I still don't know where I can get a job, or where I might have to settle and my husband still has to finish re-qualifying - so we are very up in the air. We live in Central London. There is nothing to do. But we thank God that we are alive. It has been worth all this, just to feel safe. Most refugees I know feel that this is our country now, and that we would never want to do anything to hurt it - quite the reverse. We want to benefit this place, and we want to be good, because it saved us from all the miserable things that we suffered from in our old countries.
It was hardest when we went to Hull. They dispersed us, and we didn't know where we were going. We were just put in a coach, and I kept telling them that my father and sister and brother were here in London and I wanted to stay but they said No. Just that week they had changed the clocks back and we didn't realise this, so we kept missing appointments. We had no TV, no access to internet, nothing. Someone gave us a bit of money and food - but there was no other connection with the outside world. The only outlet we had at the time was the English classes. I would go to the library sometimes but I didn't feel that it was my place. I really missed the Fridays in my country, when you have a holiday feeling and look forward to meeting people. Here I just spent the week-ends crying, because even if we went out, the streets seemed so empty. It was really hard.
Then they stopped the English classes. It just seemed to get harder day after day. The day we were granted refugee status they gave us two weeks to leave the flat. In two years I must have moved ten times, from one hotel to another. There were constant frustrations. Then we came here and I spent seven months in a hostel applying to the council. They gave us three days to move. My son was eight months old. It was very difficult. After all this, as I sat my last exam, I was in a bad way, thinking - can it be true now, finally, that I will be allowed to do the work that I love? Even now, I feel that there is something very wrong, something missing really - just because of the trauma of the whole process.
Mr A, from Afghanistan. If every local council or borough created a support group made up of volunteers - native English people and refugees who have been here for longer - that could really help people like me coming into the community.
In my case there were so many problems with no-one at all to ask. When I first tried to apply for a job, I was accepted for a job that demanded my home address. I had been living in England for two years, so I sent the postcode of my address. After three weeks, a reply came, saying - OK that's your address for the last two years - but we need it for the last five years. I thought, "Five years - so what shall I say about Afghanistan? This should be interesting". My home in Afghanistan didn't have a house number. We have a small village and no house numbers. It is "the green house", "the blue, the white house" - that's all. And we don't have post codes in Afghanistan - yet! So I decided to send off what I could - the name of the village. After two months another reply came: Why didn't you put the number of the house and the postcode? So, then I put house no.1, top bell and postcode 0101199 - and then it was acceptable! It took a long time to get there. Had there been someone to ask...
