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Using art to claim a voice

Disabled asylum seekers claim a space in Bristol

A group of disabled asylum seekers have officially claimed a space for their messages to be heard in the heart of Bristol. A painted mural composed of the drawings, ideas and messages of disabled asylum seekers was installed in the so-called Bear Pit, the multi-road roundabout at the heart of the city, close to the famously cosmopolitan Stokes Croft district.

People who are rarely heard by anyone, not the disability movement, not the refugee community and not the government, are using art to claim a voice and a public space.

Penny, one of the first people to observe the work said, ‘Words cannot express my feelings. It blows your thoughts and feelings away. It will keep me thinking for ages’.

One person living in Bristol, with no income, no fixed abode, and severe mental health difficulties, explained, ‘I am given medicine for my mental problems. The doctor says take tablets with food. I have no food. I left Iraq to find safety. But here I starve….. I drew a picture of a sun hidden by a cloud. For me there is no sun’.

Another person drew herself jumping out of a tower block when she sees a police car. ‘If the police come to my house I will kill myself’, she explains. ‘I won’t stop to ask what they want, I would rather die than be deported.’

Another disabled asylum seeker in Bristol described, ‘I have nothing, nowhere to live, no food, no money. I am not allowed to work. I have to sign at the police station every week as if I am a criminal. I could be detained and deported at any moment. I thought this country cared about human rights. Where are the rights?'

He went on, 'in my country I was beaten physically. Here they beat you emotionally’.

Several people described looking at others in their houses or in a café and thinking ‘why can some people have these things while we have nothing, no security, no money, nothing.’

This artwork forms part of a national research project run by UK Disabled Peoples Council, with funding from the Big Lottery. As one person involved put it, ‘It was so good what we did together. All of us disabled people. We will never forget. We can't ever forget because we have proof, there it is what we did. It is so good. We won't forget.’

Coordinator Rebecca Yeo explains, ‘I have worked with disabled people in many different countries and living in a wide range of different circumstances. Nowhere have I come across greater injustice than that experienced by disabled asylum seekers in this country. But equally nowhere have I come across greater compassion for others ’.

Ahmed expanded on this, ‘if people have not felt pain themselves, they do not feel others pain. My heart cries every day for other peoples’ pain’.

The people are unanimous in their pleas for justice. As Ahmed says, ‘I am a human being. I am brown, I am disabled. I have as much right to somewhere to live and food to eat as anyone else’.

For more information see www.disabilitymurals.org.uk. Here you will also find details of the work in other areas of the country, including full colour pictures of public art created with disabled ex-servicemen, parents, people with learning difficulties in residential settings.
Interview with Karina Cabrera

How did you start making jewellery?

I began making beaded jewellery as a hobby. I was amazed by the idea of using traditional techniques to make fashion jewellery; it is a way to keep tradition alive. But with time I found it difficult to create my own designs without learning more techniques and working in fine metal, so now I use a wide range of materials.

What is your philosophy as an artist?

Feelings are very important to me and art can be a way of expressing those emotions without a word. I see jewellery as a portable and interactive form of art. I make the piece but it is the person wearing it who makes it come alive. By choosing a particular accessory you can tell the world who you are, what you stand for, even how your day has been so far.

What inspires you in your work?

I work with different materials, textures and colours to create those forms that are inspired by emotions. Love, passion, seduction, but also darker feelings like sadness or anger. And in most cases, all those together. You are the one who decides when and where those feeling are going to be expressed.

What is your background?

I was born in Venezuela and my parents are Spanish. After living in Spain and Ireland, I have made London my home for the past 8 years. I love London; it is the most amazing city in the world because this city, more than any other, gives you the freedom to be yourself.

What is your working process like?

I see something that inspires me with its form, and I start to make drawings and then test pieces in wax in order to develop the idea, which goes through many versions until I get the one that I am happy with.

I make my jewellery by hand; in my jewellery there is a need for imperfection, for a human touch that makes it perfect. I like to see the idea developing through the making process - how each piece is born into this world.

Where can people see your work?

You can see some of my work on my blog http://deliriojp.wordpress.com/

Why are you a part of Migrant Voice?

Apart from the fact that we are a great team with a great work atmosphere, I am committed to defend human rights: To ensure that every individual has their rights and safety in the place they live. I believe in the way Migrant Voice works: we don't want to tell people what to think about migration, but we want to balance the equation so more migrant voices are heard. When people have the right information and understand migrants' experience they can make up their own minds.
Balti – Brum born and bred

Ruchita Daswani samples Birmingham’s latest food revolution - the birth of the Balti

Birmingham has long had a reputation for culinary innovation. Apart from being home to famous English food brands such as HP sauce, Typhoo Tea, Bourneville cocoa, Bird’s custard and Cadbury chocolate, it isnow known as the nation’s curry capital.

Authentic curries in Britain’s second most populous city go back to the 1940s when Abdul Aziz opened The Darjeeling in Steelhouse Lane, selling curry and rice.

Another landmark came in 1977: Mohammed Ajaib produced a dish that he hoped would give him an edge over his rivals in Birmingham’s highly competitive Indian restaurant market. The balti was born.

It was cooked and served in a steel wok or balti, Hindi for a bucket or pail.

It caught on rapidly. “Balti houses” mushroomed and today the south-eastern area of Birmingham that houses over 50 balti houses is known as the Balti Triangle.

The balti has since been adapted to Western tastes and needs. The meat is cooked off the bone; use is made of vegetable oil, herbs and a selection of spices that includes fenugreek, turmeric and cumin along with a garam masala mix and fresh coriander as garnish.

For quick service, the maximum preparation time is 10-15 minutes.

“The balti was born in Bham [Birmingham,or Brum],” says Mo Ahmed, manager of the award-winning Al Frash Balti restaurant in Ladypoole Road.

”It is the only place where baltis are served authentically. Food is prepared, cooked and served in the balti dish which retains the goodness and makes the dish a light, healthy alternative to the heavier curry,” he adds.

“Trying an authentic balti in an authentic restaurant is a must on every visitor’s list.”

Recognised by the council as a unique area and promoted as a tourist destination, the Triangle draws over 20,000 visitors a week.

“People come to eat here from London, from Scotland, from all over - Iranians, Saudis, Japanese, Chinese, everyone comes to visit,” says Hassan, co-owner of the Lahore Restaurant, Kebab & Sweet House.

“The Prime Minister of Pakistan had a meal of balti here recently. We also cater to all communities. We create special dishes for the festivals, not just for Eid, but also for Diwali and for Christmas,” he says.

In the wake of balti restaurants came groceries and supermarkets selling balti ingredients.

Raja Brothers, a family-led business that started 30 years ago, is one of the biggest and best-known. Three years ago David Cameron worked at the store to “spend some proper time out of Westminster” – though it was only a three-hour stint.

The store specialises in Asian and Middle Eastern food, says Kamran Ishtiaq, the third generation to handle the business.

“It’s mostly the ethnic community, but also the English, who came to eat in the Balti Triangle and now want to get the ingredients to make the same food,” he explains.

The triangle now also boasts boutiques and jewellery stores with vividly colourful

displays.

“It caters for everyone,” says Rifath Hussain of Generations, one of the

jewellery stores on Ladypool Road.

“Birmingham is a multicultural city, so many people, English people as well, come to buy things for weddings. There is something for everyone.”

“The one thing you must do here is come to eat. Not just your main meal, but also desserts: there are restaurants that just specialise in desserts. People may have their dinner in one place, then go to another place for dessert and a third for shisha [hookah],” she explains. “This is a one-stop shopping area.”
A Day in the Life of a Migrant:

A Day in the Life of a Migrant:

Anonymous, 18 year old female talks about what it’s like travelling from Calais to London undocumented, with stories of squatting, warehouses and arrests.

“WE are usually up quiet late during the night, so I wake up at around midday. We were staying at an

uninhabited warehouse in Calais. That’s in France, by the way. It was massive and spacious – big

enough to hold 600 of us. We all leave and walk for miles to a construction site where there are

buckets of water. They may have needed it for their work, or cement. Me and a few others (the

more able ones, should I say) would sneak in and take the water, and deliver it to the others. Water

was not easy for us to get, and when we did get it, there was a riot. We needed the water to drink,

wash our faces and bodies, and wash our clothes. Once we had enough, we all return to the

warehouse. There were so many of us there. We would just sit there, doing nothing. The silence is

painful! We would hope for time to fly by.

At 2pm, Caritas would arrive. They are an international charity, run by Catholics, they come to bring

us food and more water. With 600 of us, it wasn’t easy. They would bring us bread, yoghurt and

sauce. I often didn’t take any. There were so many children and elderly, they needed it more than I

did. We queue up for ages and it would be the same thing every day – there was only ever enough

food for 300 people, half of what we were. So we would have to share it between us. When we

really didn’t have enough, we would put all of our little bits of two pence pieces together and buy

some bread or something from a really cheap market. That hardly ever happened. The people from

Caritas would analyse everyone’s faces when they got their food. Sounds dumb, but that was the

only way they could make sure that no one was getting more food than they needed. So we really

were surviving on what we were given.

I go back to the warehouse that we were staying at. It’s completely empty. We had piled it up with

blankets and other bits and bobs. It was freezing in there! After all of that, it’s about 5 o’clock in the

afternoon. There is absolutely nothing to do, so we just talk. I had been there for about 3 months,

and we had all become comfortable with each other. It sounds strange, I know, but… we were like

one big family. We all had a common ground you see. We would talk about why we were there,

where we had come from, and, why did we all need to get to England? It was unbelievable how

many people were like me. We came from all walks of life, all parts of the world, and yet here we

were, cooped up in a warehouse in a little city in France, trying to get to England.

It’s 8 o’clock now. It gets colder and colder, so I wrap up. I put on every single item of clothing I own,

and so would everyone else. No one was allowed to bring anything in, not even phones. When we're

dressed and warm enough, we head out to the jungle. Well, we called it the jungle. It was really just

a bit of green. We would get there at around 9 o’clock and I wait until 1 o’clock in the morning for

the ‘people smuggler’ and – oh wait, that’s what they’re called, aren’t they? He goes off to a parking

area, where loads of trucks stand. He opens them, I never knew how, as they were always locked

and he never had any keys. Inside, there are boxes to be delivered overseas. He finds the ones that

are labeled ‘ENGLAND’ and sneaks people in. There wasn’t always space, in fact there hardly was.

Each day, we queue for hours, hoping.

It’s the time that we go in now. I hope it goes according to plan. I really do. We wait inside the back

of the lorry. The truck would drive to the border of France, towards a ship that sails to England.

Inside the truck were the boxes and of course, us. The police come aboard and search the ship for

“illegal” travelers like us. They couldn’t get into every lorry but they did have a device. I think it was

called a co2 detector. They stick it inside and it detects breathing, so we have to leave and return to

our ‘home’ and wait for the next day. I’ve lost count now.

Oh, my day is never the same. You have no idea how unpredictable life can be in this situation.

Today I just have to go back ‘home’, but yesterday I got arrested, the day before I had everything

stolen from me, and tomorrow, well…Only God knows, really.”

The story as told to Sabrin Jemal, who met the young female when she eventually arrived to the UK in 2010
Interview with Theatre Director Arne Pohlmeier

By Joanna Cordero

As part of the Globe to Globe Festival Two Gents Productions will be bringing their Shona version of the ‘Two Gentleman of Verona to the Globe theatre on 9 and 10 May.

The Globe to Globe Festival, which is part of the Shakespeare Festival for the London 2012 Festival, brings together artists from all over the world to perform Shakespeare’s famous plays in their own languages.

German-born theatre director and founder of Two Gents, Arne Pohlmeier chats with Migrant Voice about working in multicultural London and what it means to be a ‘migrant theatre director’.

1. Can you talk a bit about what the Two Gents is and how it got started? How did the collaboration between you and the actors, Denton Chikura and Tonderai Munyevu begin? Where did this focus on re-interpretations using Zimbabwe culture come from?

Two Gents Productions is a cross cultural theatre company based in London. We present work in London, the UK and on the international touring circuit. We write, devise, develop and perform challenging and unique work that draws on Shakespeare, on our experience of migration and displacement and on our two actors’ Zimbabwean/Shona background.

Our work together started in 2008. There was a joint desire to create our own work; work that reflected our experiences and inspirations of shifting between cultures and languages, of southern African modes of performance and of setting Shakespeare’s work free by giving it a contemporary, urban, outside of the box twist.

2. How did Two Gents become a part of the Globe to Globe Festival? Two Gents is one of the few London-based theatre groups in the festival, was this a deliberate choice to include a ‘migrant’ group and do you think that this sets the group apart from the other performers?

The festival director, Tom Bird, came to see our production of Kupenga Kwa Hamlet at London’s Oval House theatre in 2010 , really enjoyed it and thought the energy we brought to the stage would work well within the festival. The fact that we are a migrant company probably only influenced his decision indirectly in that our work is made to bridge the gap between cultures and in that we have a real facility in communicating to audiences no matter what their language and background.

3. Your version of Two Gentleman of Verona is hilarious and really finds a good balance between Zimbabwean cultural features and staying ‘loyal’ to the text, how does this balance come about?

This balance is absolutely crucial to our work as we aim to create a real intercultural encounter between the different element of our work. We are mindful of the fact that both the Shakespearean text and the Zimbabwean/southern African modes of performance need to be treated with equal respect, curiosity and playfulness. As a director I am aware that I cannot create this fusion between the two in my head and then only expect the actors to carried it out. It is the actors that really need to take full ownership of the text and incorporate it into the vocabulary of performance that is most readily available to them.

4. How did you become interested in re-interpretations of Shakespeare?

I really got in to reading Shakespeare at university and was a big fan of Shakespeare on stage and screen. It was self evident to me that any performance of Shakespeare is always going to be at a distance from the text and that a “faithful” transposition of text into performance is nothing but a myth. A real honest engagement with the text is then only possible if you integrate it into your own field of experience and interests, which necessitates re-interpretation.

5. Do you think that having a ‘migrant’/’mobile’ background influenced your interest and the way that you engage with the text? Shakespeare has been re-interpreted in so many different ways, do you think that ‘inter-cultural’ readings bring something new?

Directing theatre always involves bringing yourself and your perspective to the work and so I do try to us my migrant background (Germany-Cameroon-USA-South Africa-UK) to inform my reading of the text. I very much hope that the inter-cultural work I create helps to challenge the status quo by allowing audiences to see the text from a new and unexpected perspective.

6. When did you arrive in London and what attracted you to the city? Has it lived up to your expectations?

I moved to London in November 2007, I really wanted to direct Shakespeare in English and London seemed the best place to do it, alongside the promise of being part of a rich and diverse performing arts community. London has indeed lived up to my expectations, though making a living here and carving a space for myself within the arts scene continues to be a challenge, but one that I am happy to engage in.

7. Do you consider yourself a ‘migrant’ theatre director? In your day-to-day work does this play a role?

I do. For me home is a space between places, languages and cultures. When I create work my background allows me to take an impartial look at all the different cultural elements that I am drawing on.

8. Collaborating with people from a different culture can be challenging and rewarding, what are the best things about it and what are the difficulties?

Rewards: Seeing things from a perspective distinctly different to my own and being exposed to a cultural heritage that I otherwise have no access to. As Two Gents Productions Denton, Tonderai and I have learned and shared so much from our differing backgrounds including dance and music styles (Herbert Grönemeyer vs Oliver Mtukudzi) as well as food (Currywurst vs Boerewors) and more!

Challenges: Recognizing and letting go of assumptions that are not shared by other cultures.

9. How has your work been received by the London public?

Our previous shows (Two Gentlemen of Verona and Kupenga Kwa Hamlet both had extended runs at Oval House Theatre in 2008 and 2010) have been enthusiastically received by audiences, but the big test – Two Gentlemen of Verona in Shona at Shakespeare’s Globe next week – is the biggest test so far. Denton and Tonderai are not only extremely skillful performers they are also very charistmatic and exhuberant – I am sure that anyone flocking to the Globe will come away warmed and enthused!

10. Do you plan on working more in ‘inter-cultural’ settings? Other future projects (especially in London)?

I plan to focus even more strongly on inter-cultural and inter-national work in the coming years. I will be working on a German classic, Schiller’s The Robbers, with a company in Yaoundé, Cameroon later this year and would love to bring it over to the UK in the future. I am also in the planning stages of a new project in which I would like to involve artists and audiences from some of London’s many migrant communities, but this won’t be confirmed for some time yet.

You can see the Two Gents Productions at work during the following dates:

9-10 May 2012 , performing Two Gentlemen of Verona in Shona at the Globe Theatre, for more information: http://globetoglobe.shakespearesglobe.com/plays/the-two-gentlemen-verona/english

23 May 2012, performing Hamlet at the Canada Water Culture Space, tickets are available via www.thealbany.org.uk

25-26 May 2012, performing Two Gentlemen of Verona in Shona at Tara Arts, for more information: http://taraarts.ticketsolve.com/shows/126523490/events

For more information check out www.twogentsproductions.com

Photo: Two Gents Productions.
Migration in the Arts - Summer 2012
By Daniel Nelson

Migration, incoming and outgoing, is such an integral part of British life that it’s not surprising that it’s reflected in all aspects of the country’s culture – or, more precisely, it’s cultures.

That cultural presence will be magnified in the next three months because of the money and effort put into the Cultural Olympiad that is backing up the sporting contest: 12,000 events and performances featuring over 25,000 artists from all 204 participating Olympic nations. And many are free.

One of the most interesting – and widespread – projects is Stories of the World, which is encouraging reinterpretation of museum and library collections around the country.

There are too many examples to list, but here’s a small taster:
- Precious Cargo: how objects from all over the world got to Leeds, Leeds City Museum
- Stories Through Suitcases: sharing the stories, photographs and souvenirs of migrant communities in North Lincolnshire, North Lincolnshire Museum, Scunthorpe
- Dress the World: Suits and Saris: exploring fusion of fashion between Leicester, India and East Africa through Leicester's South Asian collection, Leicester New Walk Museum & Art Gallery.
London has scores of exhibitions in which migration is a central theme. They include:
- At Home with the World: how familiar domestic objects generally considered ‘English’ might have originated elsewhere, Geffrye Museum
- The Chairman and I - Kurt Tong: photographs and writings that retrace his ancestral roots from more than a century ago to the present day, Horse Hospital (“Where are you from? As an immigrant, I get asked this more than I care for. Having spent two thirds of my life in England, I am still often considered an outsider.”)
- Roma-Sinti-Kale-Manush: examines the condition of Roma people, Autograph ABP
- Traces: an attempt to trace the 1939 escape from Vienna to England of the artist’s great uncle, whose parents and most family members died in the Holocaust, Austrian Cultural Forum
- Migrations: British art seen through the theme of migration from 1500 to the present day, Tate Britain
- World City - Refugee Stories: the stories of nine refugees from Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Sri Lanka, Rwanda, Chile and Cameroon, Jewish Museum.
Many of these and similar exhibitions are accompanied by lectures, discussions and other events. For example, on 25 June playwright and critic Bonnie Greer leads a journey through Migration at the Tate and talks about what migration means to her.

On stage, between now and September the theatre group iceandfire – which explores human rights experiences through performance – is offering free performances of its verbatim production, Asylum Dialogues, together with workshops in Leeds, Huddersfield, Hull and South Yorkshire.

In London, Belong continues its run at the CLF Arts Café in Rye Lane, Peckham. It’s one of a flurry of recent productions that tackle a previously under-observed phenomenon of what happens when descendants of migrants – in this case, Nigerians - visit the country of origin of their parents or grandparents. ("Keep fooling yourself, just know that everyone you meet, everywhere you go, people will ask where you are from. Even if they won’t know straight away because of your accent, they will still ask where your parents are from, and if you tell them British, next question will always be where are your grandparents from, and will only be satisfied till you say Nigeria…")

In cinema at the moment are Free Men, about Algerians in Paris during World War 11, and Le Havre, a gentle fable that’s also about an immigrant in France. Later this month the London Indian Film Festival features several films about South Asians in Britain (notably, Tooting Broadway, about Tamil gangs in London, and Arjun and Alison, a drama about a racist murder set in Birmingham and London).

Then there are public lectures – again, too many to list, but it’s worth checking institutions and getting on email lists. Here’s a brief London selection of talks scheduled for the next three weeks:

* Roma: Self-representation and popular media symposium, Amnesty Human Rights centre

* Migration and Social Cohesion in the UK, book launch with Mary J Hickman, Nicola Mai and Helen Crowley, London Metropolitan University

* The discovered discovers the discoverers, Benin artist Georges Adéagbo examines globalisation and the one-way transfer of African cultures to the West and how he reverses the roles of both explorer and explored, Southbank Centre

* Migration, Unfree Labour and Precarious Work: From Industrialization to the Global Economic Crisis, Stephen Castles, School of Oriental and African Studies,

* Protecting People – Rebuilding Lives, discussion on challenges facing refugees and asylum-seekers at a time of political instability and economic austerity, with David Aaronovitch, Brad Blitz, Edie Friedman

* The Challenges of Diaspora Media and its Development, Firoze Manje, Frances Williams, Manoah Isipisu, Hassan Omar Dudu, Topi Lyambila, School of Oriental and African Studies

* 'No Longer Invisible' - Understanding the Latin American community in London, Cathy McIlwaine, Carolina Gottardo, Canning House

* Free The Word!: Exile and Audience, writers working in 'dislocation' from their native countries, either by choice or through forced exile, Southbank Centre, Belvedere Road

* Journeys: How Refugee Women Struggle for Justice, Natasha Walter, Jewish Museum, and to finish on a positive note:

* Brightening Britain, a celebration with music, theatre, art, poetry and speakers from various refugee communities, Human Rights Action Centre.

Reading negative tabloid headlines about migration can be depressing. But as these events show, a lively, intelligent debate is underway around the country on a host of issues of importance to migrants. Organising, taking part and responding to such events is a better way forward.

+ http://www.london2012.com/about-us/cultural-olympiad/index.html

+ 18─24 June is Refugee Week. Check the website for events:

http://www.refugeeweek.org.uk/

+ http://uk.oneworld.net/events OneWorld’s listing of global justice events in London:

+ Daniel is happy to receive information and comments and will try to answer queries: daniel.nelson[ at ]oneworld.net

Photos: From Migrations: Journeys into British art at Tate Britain; from Arjun and Alison, one of the films showing at the Indian Film Festival; from the performance of the Asylum Dialogues by the theatre group iceandfire
My struggle to be with my children

Rebel soldiers came when I was a young girl in Uganda. My two brothers were taken away; my father resisted and was killed. I was left alone with my mother, who had diabetes but couldn’t get any medical treatment. She died when I was 15.

I had to leave school because I had no money, and so I married a boy who was a soldier. For me, as a woman then, it was the only way to be protected.

Much later, we moved to Rwanda: in 1996, two years after the genocide, by which time I had three children. My husband became a big shot under the new government, in the protection unit with Bizimungu.

When the interim government was toppled by Kagame, my husband came under suspicion. On one fateful night they came and he was cuffed, beaten and taken away for good.

There were rapes, beatings, lootings. My daughter and I were both badly affected. She was twelve years old.

I called a friend of my husband who me took us in, and got medical treatment for my daughter. But it wasn’t safe for me to leave the house. I had to make this terrible decision: to leave this friend to look after my children. Being with them would attract attention. The only way for me to be safe and for my children to be safe was to leave them behind, find a safe place and then bring them to safety.

I travelled through Tanzania on a truck, dressed like a Somali, on a fake passport. In Nairobi, I got a plane at night and then landed at Heathrow. I went to Cardiff and claimed asylum there. That was in 2002. You can imagine, coming from Africa, how strange it seemed. It took me six months to make any progress in finding my children. The number I had to call for my husband’s friend was dead – I didn’t know how to go about tracing them at all. A friend from Uganda went to Rwanda and found the government had also taken my husband’s friend. And no one knew where the children were.

It took three years before I had news that they were alive.

Around that same time, my asylum application was refused. I was arrested and put in a police cell for four days, without a shower. They asked me to sign some papers: I refused. If I had signed they would have removed me from the country and taken me – God knows where. Because I refused to sign I was put in detention.

The Home Office said you can go back to Uganda. You can relocate. They put me in detention ready for removal in 2005. I had no papers. I said: what proof do you have? Where are you taking me? They took me to the Ugandan embassy but having married a Rwandan man, I had forfeited Ugandan citizenship, and they would not issue papers. So I was put back in detention.

It was only for three months, not long compared to other people, before I was released while appealing for leave to remain. I was lucky, I got a solicitor,

In 2007 I spoke to my children for the first time. They had been hungry; my daughter had tended for her siblings, fetching water, selling goods, trying to get food. I had to arrange for someone to get them from Rwanda, to take them in. It’s terrible not to know how your children are eating, what they are going through. I left my children when they were young, now they are teenagers. Before the war they had never suffered; and now they had suffered, alone.

My girl is really traumatised. She’s 20, an adult now, but there is no counselling out there, and she won’t speak. My elder son is 18, at uni now in Kampala, and the third is 16 – doing well, but I don’t know how long this person is going to keep them. I can’t have them; I can’t be with them; but now I’m the only relative living for them.

I can’t go back to Rwanda; I can’t go to Uganda. Last year I got my status, after five years of trying. I have leave to remain, but outside immigration rules. And that means I can’t be with my children. To have a chance, I would have to rent a three-bedroom house on my own, and get a job paying over £20,000.

So now I’m fighting for the right to family reunion. At least I have hope – I have a solicitor, at least I am hopeful that if I win that case I could see my children. I can’t function without my children: I am broken in half.

This is my story but this is also the story of so many women. We’ve got a self-help group at the Crossroads Women’s Centre in Kentish Town, helping women like me with their cases. It’s really very hard because legal aid has been cut. Only three women out of 40 there have managed to find legal aid – and one has won the right to bring her children.

We check up on each other so we know quickly if someone has been put in detention, and we help them to get advice if they are taken away. There are legal clinics in detention but they don’t help much. Most women who are in detention are rape survivors coming from war torn countries, they are traumatised – they have been through hell! What can they do?

If you are an asylum seeker you’re not allowed to work. You can’t afford a lawyer and can’t represent yourself – the law is so complicated. So now we get together and read the cases, see what the solicitor did wrong, lobby MPs and put in a fresh claim – and sometimes we have won!

I think most people don’t know what we are going through. We are mothers, like any other mother. We love, we live to be there to protect our children, but we can’t. There should be some changes - for heaven’s sake.

If they could only allow me to be with my children, so we could be a happy family again … Maybe that would heal all my wounds.

As told to Gwyn Topham, the Guardian, for Migrant Voice
The homelandless: limbo between two worlds

Photo by Natalie Bennet

Victor Fraga, who has made a home in Britain but fondly remembers his original homeland, talks to two exiles who are not so fortunate.

When I think of my homeland,Brazil - an ocean and a hemisphere away from my chosen home in London – I experience a gentle sense of longing. I remember my family, my schoolfriends, my childhood places, my favourite TV shows, the vibrant colours, tastes and smells. I can almost sense the beach and the joys of carnival right in front of me.

Brazil is now the country of the future. The unrelenting prophecy that “the sleeping giant is going to wake up” is now becoming reality. The economy is booming, poverty and social inequalities are diminishing. Virtually all indicators are positive.

Unfortunately, not all immigrants have the same privilege. Most did not opt to leave their homeland like me and instead were brutally forced out by a series of unfortunate, often catastrophic, circumstances. Their feelings towards their homeland are in violent conflict with mine.

Jean Baptiste and Fred (not their real names) are both from the Democratic Republic of Congo, a country devastated by decades of civil war, with little prospect for improvement. A bloody past and gloomy future.

Jean Baptiste is 40, from the eastern town of Bukavo, near the Rwanda border. His voice is placid, his manners kind and agreeable.

He was a headmaster and a preacher before fleeing to Britain because of his vocal opposition to the President, Joseph Kabila.

He had been arrested five times without a charge and feared for his life.

His wife and kids are dead, murdered by pro-government forces, like most of his friends and relatives. Jean Baptiste is 40, from the eastern town of Bukavo, near the Rwanda border. His voice is placid, his manners kind and agreeable. He was a headmaster and a preacher before fleeing to Britain because of his vocal opposition to the President, Joseph Kabila. He had been arrested five times without a charge and feared for his life.

His memories are ridden with blood and and fear, He has no-one left at home to visit, he has no desire to return to his childhood place and does not see even a faint hope of improvement.

Jean Baptiste has been fighting for years for the right to bring in his wife and three children, but the Home Office has told him that to do so he needs to earn a minimum of £2,300 a month. This is so absurd that it would have been more honest for the Home Office to have simply said “no”. As we went to

press, however, we learned that he has finally been allowed to be reunited with his family.

Fred’s story is similar, involving political opposition in Congo, arrest, and escape with the help of a black market agency, leaving wife and kids behind.

Fred, however, is not concerned about family rights. Instead, he wants to start a new family in the UK. This is not because Fred is heartless. His wife and kids are dead, murdered by pro-government forces, like most of his friends and relatives.

Talking to Jean Baptiste and Fred makes me feel like a champagne immigrant who decided to move to a richer and more promising nation on a caprice.

My life in here has enabled me to learn a lot and appreciate my Brazilian and Spanish heritage. I have helped publicise Brazilian culture in the UK and I like to think that I make a contribution to London’s diverse cultural landscape.

But what’s the point in discussing your favourite British dish or artist when your priority is simply staying alive? Unlike me, Jean Baptiste and Fred did not choose to live in the UK out of admiration for the vibrant cultural scene. They came here because it offered a chance for survival.

I have three passports: Brazilian, Spanish and British. Jean Baptiste and Fred possess no passport. They have a Home Office travel document, which grants extremely limited mobility.

My parents and sisters don’t need a visa to visit me. I speak to my cousins on Facebook. When I have kids, I have no doubt that they will be able to travel the world.

Article by Victor Fraga
Wanted: funder for UK ‘Ellis Island’ migration museum

Frank Meisler's Kindertransport memorial outside Liverpool street station

Photo: StoneColdCrazy

A former immigration minister is leading a team that aims to create Britain’s first museum of

migration.

Britain has thousands of museums – more than 100 in London alone – but no major comprehensive museum devoted to all aspects of British migration, both incoming and outgoing.

Former Labour minister Barbara Roche and her team believe it could be as significant as the opening of the International Slavery Museum in Liverpool in 2007, which director David Fleming described as the most important new British museum for 100 years: the transatlantic slave trade was the greatest forced migration in history.

The US has Ellis Island, once the gateway for millions of immigrants to the US, and Roche believes Britain needs something similar: an institution to celebrate the role of migration in the national story.

“The great thing about Britain is that it has absorbed migrants for centuries,” says Roche. “I feel very proud to be British and this project is about realising that one of the best things about being British is that we are made up of difference.”

A migration museum would also cover British emigration: 5.5 million British nationals are estimated to be living abroad (roughly the same number as foreign nationals living here) and some 60 million people around the world claim British ancestry.

Roche emphasises the importance of making people realise such a museum “is for all of us, not just for one particular group or community, because as the writer, Robert Winder says, we’ve all come from somewhere else’. The only thing that distinguishes us is how far back we go.”

Suggestions for the location include East London’s Docklands area, Birmingham, Cardiff, Southampton and Liverpool.

She says the main problem is finding a major donor –“maybe someone of migrant heritage who feels particularly patriotic because of all that he or she has managed to achieve in Britain.

“We know this project is ready to fly and we’re just waiting for the right person or people to have the courage and vision to fly with us,” she says.

Article by Migrant Voice reporter.
Yasin's story. 'We will kill you if you don't come to lunch.'

Photo: Copyright Isabelle Merminod

“I am 17 years old. I left Somalia in May 2011. I am now in Lutsk Detention Centre in Ukraine. I have been given 12 months in detention for no reason. I was captured on 23rd December 2011.”

Yasin Abdi Ahmed is a young man seeking political asylum in Ukraine.

His family is over 3,500 miles away. Yasin has been on hunger strike with 83 other Somalis in 2 detention centres, Lutsk and Chernigiv in Ukraine since 6th January. He tells his story to Isabelle Merminod and Tim Baster.

“I passed through Russia. I came to Vinnitsya because there are lots of Somalis in Vinnitsya. I stayed with 7 Somalis in two rooms. 3 girls and 4 boys.

And then I tried to claim asylum in Ukraine. Every day for six days I go to the Immigration and they say that it is closed or they are waiting for an interpreter. I went to the UNHCR twice and they said to me that if I want help from the UNHCR then I must get rejection from the Immigration. At the Immigration, they asked me to pay $150 to make an asylum claim. I said to them 'I don't have $150.' So I could not register.

I came back to my house and, because I had no documents, I hid from the police so I would not be arrested. After one and half months at 5:00am 4 policemen knocked down the two doors and then entered the home. They said that we must give them money or they would arrest us. They body- searched everyone including the girls. We had $350 to live on. They did the search to take the money. It is a common practice. Then they took us to prison in Vinnitsya.

I then faced the Ukrainian justice system along with 38 others who had also been arrested at that time. 14 had enough money to pay off the police. That left 24 Somalis in prison. We stayed in the prison until 10:00pm that night and we were then transferred to the court. There was no judge to hear the cases. And of course we had no lawyers. Nor could we talk to anyone as our mobiles had been confiscated by the police. After a three hour wait a judge arrived. It was then 1:00am in the morning.

I said 'I want a lawyer.' He said, 'You have no money to pay a lawyer.' I said 'I have.' He said 'You have no right to a lawyer.' The judge asked me to sign something and I refused. He signed it himself. Then they ordered me to stand and he said 'You have 12 months.' We all stood one after another. After that I was taken to a prison in Vinnitsya for three hours and then to Lutsk detention centre. I was in front of the judge for about 3 minutes.

When I was captured they asked my name and my age. And again they asked me when I was in prison. They never asked if I wanted to claim political asylum. I did not ask the judge as I had only a few minutes before him.

At the beginning of February, the riot police came into Lutsk detention centre and threatened all the hunger strikers saying if we did not eat we would be beaten. It was terrifying. Eight of them came to me. I did not know that they were police who had the right to come in. They had masks, big boots, sticks, tear gas and pistols – two of them had guns. I was shocked. I have never seen police – in Somalia we don't have a Government. They said 'Stand up'. They searched me and they kicked me. And they said 'We will kill you if you don't come to lunch.' The other person in the room was Pakistani and he spoke a bit of English and Russian and he translated. They took me to the dining room and they made a film of us. After 10 or 15 minutes they took me to my room and they left.

I have a feeling of being kidnapped by the Ukrainian authorities. I fled to seek refuge, I am hopeless and I am sick. I have a kidney problem which is getting worse, I have an infection. But they asked me for money to send me to hospital. But I have no money. They give me paracetamol.”

The hunger strike of 83 Somalis in Lutsk and Chernigiv detention centres started on 6th January. It carries on.

(The name has been changed to protect this asylum seeker)
A day in the life of a migrant: Yukiko's story

Article and photo by Ruchita Daswani

“I love London, and the European lifestyle, but I would always like to maintain my identity as a Japanese”, says hairdresser Yukiko Collard.

Born and brought up in northern Japanese island of Hokkaido, Yukiko migrated to the UK in the year of 2000.

Having studied hairdressing from Japan, she wanted to enhance her skills further and study hair styling the European way “Ever since I was 10 years old, I always wanted to come to London, I wanted to learn the language and discover a new world of hairstyling”.

She enrolled herself in Lambeth University where she learnt English and later did a course in hair styling as well. To support herself she took up a part time job in a salon in between terms.

Today, after 11 years in London, Yukiko is married and works as an established hair stylist in the prestigious hair salon-Rush.

“It was very hard for me at first, as I couldn’t even speak the language, but now I am used to it here and have adjusted really well.”

A typical working day for Yukiko starts by waking up in the wee hours of the morning “I am a Buddhist, so I try waking up as early so I can pray and finish up the house work before I leave for the salon,”said Yukiko.

She usually works for around eight hours everyday. “I get to meet so many new people everyday, I talk to them and thus develop my English”, she smiled. Living with her husband the Waterloo area, in her spare time, Yukiko is very fond of growing vegetables in her garden.

On asking about her favourite place in London- “Brixton” was the prompt reply.” I love the food and shopping in Brixton, it’s always so busy and colourful, she said animatedly.

As opposed to her own country, she feels that London has a lot more to offer in her field.” London is very diverse, you can find people from all over the world here and that is what makes working here so much more fun and exciting.”

Describing London as an extremely dynamic city, she rushes off for her next client concluding “ London is amazing, and I just love it here.”
Being an Asylum Seeker in Britain – a first hand account

By Howard Ndlovu

This is the story of my life as someone seeking asylum from Zimbabwe in the UK.

When the European powers, including UK, partitioned African kingdoms in the 19th Century, they took little account of tribal regions and drew borders which led to tribal conflicts and violence, because people found themselves living as minorities within these enclosures.

Since independence, Zimbabwe has seen violations of the human rights of minority ethnic groups. Many of my family members have been forced to live on infertile land and most have been pushed into seeking asylum. I have always been subjected to acts of deliberate discrimination. Having run away from the regime in my country I came to seek temporal shelter and protection in the UK, only to find myself struggling with the asylum process.

It is a challenge for many asylum seekers to get quality and affordable legal advice. As a result, I often feel very low; it is terrible to have people constantly question the authenticity of your actions. A document we are expected to produce every time we visit the Home Office in Solihull states that as an asylum seeker ‘you are liable for detention at any given time’. As a result I suffer from anxiety, insomnia, and depression.

As a refused asylum seeker I get £35 pounds per week. This is to cover food, clothing and credit to make appointments with my solicitors and the Home Office. Those of us on Section 4 support receive vouchers redeemable only in supermarkets. These vouchers do not adequately provide for basic living needs. You cannot purchase any form of travel ticket, since the vouchers can’t be transferred to cash. Some of my appointments to do with my asylum application are as far as Liverpool, and I live in Birmingham.

At one point in the asylum process, I ended up sleeping in a graveyard. Immigration letters in brown envelopes laid strewn in between my clothes. Piles of rubbish had been thrown through the railings by passers-by. As a result of the rubbish everywhere I had rat and fox problems at night. During the day I used to spend most of my time pacing from one spot to another, afraid to loiter too long, worried that people may think I was a criminal. I did not beg, despite the fact that living without any money naturally causes logistical problems. I lived on food from the dustbins before I knew that the Red Cross could help me with a weekly £10 voucher. But even with this amount, I would walk through the many aisles of the vast supermarket, searching for discounted sliced bread and four small tins of baked beans. I did not own a tin opener, but a nearby café owner usually agreed to lend me one.

I am not here illegally; I have been through all the correct legal hoops, registering my presence with the Home Office, abiding by the rule not to work, determined not to break the law, even if that means surviving in a gutter on charity handouts. The majority of asylum seekers are law-abiding citizens who have followed the legal channels. The extreme reluctance of the Home Office to allow us to work creates unnecessary dependency and contributes to popular myths of ‘asylum scroungers’. Being an asylum seeker in the UK is a very isolating process.

I am in a state of great hardship, deprived and overwhelmed with urgency and agitation about what is going to happen next. Where should I go now? What should I do next? Will I ever be free? Even assuming that someone said that from now on I was free, it would not be easy to suddenly drop the chains I’ve dragged for the 42 years of my life. To begin with, I would have to learn how to live as a free man.

Howard Ndlovu has spent five years struggling to stay in Britain. Since he wrote this article, he has been granted indefinite leave to remain. Migrant Voice caught up with him to ask him how he is getting on.

It has been a difficult process up until now, but at least I can try to start life again. I was a self-taught musician before, playing keyboards, and DJ'ing and maybe I will do that again one day. But for now I am working and trying to save up a little bit to start up a small business.

Over the last few years, Howard has been getting to know the community in the area where he lives and he tries to get people involved in the local history of the area. He is also working on plans for keeping alive the history of his own ethnic group and the knowledge of them here and in Zimbabwe.
Concern as security companies take over asylum housing

Photo by: Iseult Timmerrmans

A multinational company that has won a contract for housing asylum-seekers in Scotland has been challenged to maintain standards. Serco has been urged to adopt the “Scottish Standards for Temporary Accommodation”, which outline minimum housing and service standards for people in temporary homeless accommodation.

The standards are promoted by the charity Shelter Scotland and the Chartered Institute of Housing in Scotland.

Michael Collins of the Glasgow City of Sanctuary group commented: “Glasgow can be proud of our history as a city of welcome for people seeking sanctuary. Asylum housing provision, however, has been very hit-and-miss and some of it, particularly in the private sector, has been downright awful.

“We aren’t asking for special treatment for people seeking sanctuary, just a housing service of the same standard as that for other people who find themselves homeless.”

Collins, a former housing manager at the Scottish Refugee Council, added, “In Glasgow and across the UK there have been examples of shockingly sub-standard housing being used.”

Provision of housing for asylum-seekers in Scotland has often been controversial. For several years it was provided by Glasgow Council, and has since been managed by the private Angel Group and the charity Ypeople.

But at the end of 2011 the UK Border Agency said Serco would take over the job.

Two other multinational security companies, Reliance and G4S, have also won similar contracts elsewhere in UK. All are involved in the provision of immigration detention services in the UK. Serco runs the Yarl’s Wood detention centre in Bedfordshire.

Concern about putting responsibility for housing into the hands of private corporations has been expressed across the UK, particularly over the danger that standards of support are being being lowered.

Article by Pinar Aksu
All in a day's work

Article by Nishit Morsawala

Jobs taken up by migrants in London are no threat to British applicants, as we have found.

Martin Barnett cannot imagine how London would function if it weren’t for migrants filling up short-staffed sectors.

“It would be extremely difficult for me to fill vacant positions where I work if it weren’t for migrant applicants.”

Barnett, 33, is store manager at the Portobello Road branch of Gail’s Bakery, where the staff is made up of nationalities as diverse as Poland to Brazil.

“Honestly, when we put out advertisements for empty positions we hardly get any British applicants, almost everybody who applies is a migrant.”

According to Barnett, the reason for the low levels of British applicants in service sector jobs is that the general perception of them is not very favourable. Most British people would tend to view the jobs as “too low-paying” and “not worth their time” deeming it as a career not worthy of respect.

This reality is in stark contrast to the attitude of the British public and coalition government, who perceive increased immigration as a direct cause to higher unemployment and lowered wages for the local population.

Recent tabloid reports have alleged that migrants have claimed 90 per cent of ‘new jobs’, with only 10 per cent granted to British people.

However, the term ‘new jobs’ has been debunked by critics of the statistic as being “too vague”. Fears are based on the perception that there are only a fixed number of jobs available at any one time, though most economic experts would agree that the number of jobs available is not static, and is subject to a host of economic conditions.

Conversely, according to the Labour Force Survey around 85 per cent of ‘new hires’ last year went to people who were born here, while 15 per cent went to those born abroad.

Barnett’s view that migrants work in sectors that would otherwise be incredibly short-staffed if left to British workers is reflected in statistics. Migrants fill 69 per cent of jobs in London’s cleaning and catering sectors, while 56 per cent of care assistants are migrant workers. Additionally, one in four doctors and two in four nurses were born abroad.

Local population are especially fearful of losing out to migrants who supposedly snap up jobs while willing to work for lower wages, thus affecting the amount British workers could earn.

David Frost, on his final day as director general of the British Chambers of Commerce, however denied that overseas employees got jobs because they were prepared to work for low wages, but because they had a stronger work ethic.

“I work with many migrants and natives. I have a very high regard for migrant workers, as they really seem to understand the value of work,” said Roland Sylvester who works at the Prince Albert, a pub in Battersea.

“You know you can depend on a migrant worker to have a good work ethic - they get the job done, sometimes better than native workers. Culturally, they bring their own distinct ways of life to work - I work with men from Poland, Hungary, Egypt, Australia, Italy, Argentina…I think this enriches the work experience, from my own point of view, as you can learn so much more from peoples that have travelled from far-flung places.”

The government, however, aims to cut immigration to "tens of thousands" by 2015, although economists have predicted that decreasing the UK’s recruitment of skilled workers could reduce UK output by as much as £2 - £4 billion by 2015.

Photo by Louise Sweet
Following my passion

For Riccardo Moretti, a typical day at work might involve many things – from firefighting and motocross racing to selling cheese and salami at a farmer’s market. Add a little bit of studying economics and a rigorous swimming regime, and you begin to understand what drives this 27-year-old Italian migrant.

“I always follow my passion, but right now I need to go forward with my life, and I’ll do as much as I can for that to happen,” says Riccardo.

Riccardo has been coming to London for the past two years to work in the catering sector, though only for six months at a time. While he’s usually in London from January to June, he spends the remaining six months back home in Milan, Italy, where he works as a firefighter.

“My contract only allows me to work for a six month stretch every year, but I plan on applying for national recruitment, where I’ll be able to work all over Italy throughout the year.”

When he’s not firefighting or, at least until a few years ago, motocross racing, the Surbiton resident spends his time in London working at market stalls and cafes. This year, he worked two jobs at Costa Coffee and Paul’s Bakery, and also working at an Italian farmer’s market stall on the weekends.

“I like to keep myself busy. I always need to do something, and on the occasion I’m not working I like to go out with my friends – London is a fun place to be that way.”

Motocross racing, a passion he inherited from his father, was something he had to leave behind in the economic crisis that affected the sport in 2007-2008. When most of his sponsors backed out, he left the sport where he was a minor celebrity in Italy to devote his energies to being a firefighter, which he had already applied for before he quit racing..

“I did try to apply for a firefighting position here in London – I think I was the only migrant who did – but for some reason my form didn’t even pass the initial acceptance stage,” he says ruefully.

For Riccardo, that hardly means he’s going to stop following his dreams. Some of his friends are studying at one of London’s best business schools, and he spends as much time as he can studying finance and economics by himself.

“I buy their books when they’re finished with them and study as much as I can by myself – I can’t apply for a course myself as it’s much too expensive,” says Riccardo, who’s previous academic expertise is that of a surveyor.

Firefighting, racing, vending, studying, the list goes on for a man who still thinks he has a long way to go until he achieves success- and he’s more than ready for the journey.

He does, however have a piece of advice for fellow Italians who want to cross the channel for a better life: “If you like to make an effort, keep yourself busy, and be recognised for your work, then you should definitely come here. London is a city where you can realise your dreams, if you work hard enough”

Photo source: Riccardo Moretti

Migrant voice paper 2012

Interview with Zirak Hamad

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MV 2012: Culture

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MV 2012: Society

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Migrant voice paper 2012

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