In the face of growing hostile rhetoric against migrants, it was fantastic to see so many people turn out for the launch of our exhibition “Putting Ourselves in The Picture” at the Kelvingrove Museum and Art Gallery in Glasgow.

The exhibition has 60 photographs in total, 50 taken by migrants about their lives in Scotland, and ten portraits by Karen Gordon.  The pictures help tell the story of migrants living in Scotland, and will act as a record for generations to come about the importance of migration to the vast history and heritage of both Scotland as a country, and Glasgow as a city.

More than 150 signed up for the event, although many more came through the doors on the day to see the diverse range of photographs on display, featuring the stories of migrants who have made Scotland their home.

Migrant Voice Chair of Trustees, Habib Rahman, opened the event, saying: “We humans are mortal, but the paintings, art and photographs will remain for a long time to come. The people who come and visit and see this will remember migrants. Migrant Voice exists to give a voice to migrants. Those who are struggling, downtrodden, fighting for their rights, to them we help give strength, to be equal with everyone.”

Nazek Ramadan, Director of Migrant Voice, expressed her delight at seeing so many people coming to see the exhibition and thanked everyone for having helped to make the exhibition. “Art and photography are important tools for us migrants to engage, in a safe way, for people who do not usually engage with us. It is important for us, as an organisation, to challenge negative perceptions and ensure that migrants’ voices are heard and listened to, to tell our own stories.”

The exhibition was officially opened by the Lord Provost of Glasgow, Jaqueline McLaren: “This feeling of place that belongs to all of us makes Kelvingrove the ideal venue for this exhibition, which tells the stories of people who have made Glasgow home, after coming from countries all around the world. In Glasgow we have a long tradition of migrants coming here to make better lives for themselves and their families. This means there is a strong history of the stories of the many migrants who came to Glasgow to tell.”

We were also delighted that Professor Alison Phipps, UNESCO Chair in Refugee Integration through Languages and the Arts at the University of Glasgow, was able to speak at the launch, with moving words about the importance of migration and the how the defence of peace must be constructed in the minds of people: “Every single time Karen Gordon takes a photograph, she is constructing the defences of peace. She is doing work which she is uniquely gifted to do on this earth and at this time to make us safer. Glasgow is a UNESCO City of Music, and sometimes that music is the sound of a shutter clicking. What an astonishing exhibition”.

Hing Fung The, one of the people portrayed by Karen Gordon for the exhibition, spoke about how “blessed” she felt about coming to Scotland: “When I came from Malaysia to England we didn’t know about Scotland. Although we have pipers, and Scottish kilts and things like that in Malaysia during celebrations and marches.”

Speaking at the opening Professor, Sir, Geoff Palmer, another participant in the exhibition, added: “It is wonderful to be here. This is a museum I visited many, many, years ago. Jamaica has that link, not only with Scotland, but with Glasgow. When I came to Glasgow for the first time in 1965 there was grass in George Square. There is no grass now. When I came to Glasgow in 1965 there was a Jamaica Street. Jamaica Street has been in Glasgow since 1763. So therefore Jamaica’s link with this city goes back a long way. When we talk about “our city”, we look back far enough, a lot of people have contributed.”

The exhibition will run for a year at the Kelvingrove Museum and Art Gallery. It is part of our 'Putting Ourselves in the Picture' project funded by the National Lottery Heritage Fund.

Photo: by Anna Majewska from our launch event

‘A Gift to Birmingham’, is a striking exhibition marking a collaboration between Vanley Burke, Migrant Voice and the University of Birmingham.

Burke, a renowned British-Jamaican visual artist better known as the ‘Godfather of Black British Photography’, offers an intimate look into Birmingham’s diverse migrant communities through seventeen portraits of members of Migrant Voice in their natural environments.

Echoing his typical style, Burke captured participants in their homes, community centres, and parks, providing an understanding of the reciprocity between migrants and the second city. Each image explores both individual and community-centric tales of migration and settlement, allowing visitors to develop a deeper understanding of the aspirations and adversities experienced by migrants during their journeys

Migrant Voice is delighted to partner with Ikon Gallery and the University of Birmingham on A Gift to Birmingham', which  is a testament to the enrichment of the city rendered by diversity. It forms part of a wider research project, led by Dr Reza Gholami, Deputy Director of the Centre for Research in Race and Education, seeking to consider the role of artists, educators and activists in confronting assumptions about migration and breaking down barriers to integration.

Following a tour of community venues in Aston, Handsworth and Smethwick, the exhibition was on display at the Exchange in July  2023. 

Find out more by clicking here

You can watch BBC Midlands Today's coverage of the exhibition by clicking here

Read I Am Birmingham's coverage of the exhibition by clicking here

Image credit: Lensi Photography / Denise Maxwell

Migrant Voice's report, “No Rest. No Security”, exposed dire conditions in UK Home Office hotels where asylum seekers are placed, enduring inadequate housing, financial support, and uncertainty.

To shine a light on their frustrations, and amplify their own stories, asylum seekers collaborated with Migrant Voice on a photography project.

These photos capture unseen moments, revealing an emotional side to an often-politicised conversation, and reclaiming asylum seekers’ agency. From park walks to shared meals, the series portrays resilience amidst adversity, inviting viewers to empathise with asylum seekers' daily struggles.

Through film photography, a frozen glimpse of life in limbo emerges, aiming to foster understanding and connection amid hardship.

Please click here for the full article and a selection of the photos.

What is your background?

I am Hsiao-Chiang Wang (Hope) and I was born and grew up in Taiwan. We mainly speak Mandarin in Taiwan, but I sometimes speak Taiwanese with my mother, because it is her mother tongue, and her cultural identity is local Taiwanese. My father’s family migrated from mainland China after the 1949 Chinese Civil War. As for myself I believe I inherited both Chinese and Taiwanese cultural values.  

What was your life like in Taiwan?

In Taiwan, I studied Chinese literature, and my first master’ is in Chinese literature and education. I got a job at the Ministry of Culture which enabled me to visit many museums across Taiwan and other countries, such as France, China, and the USA. I was responsible for museum policy, museum digital transformation projects and co-curation work with indigenous people in Taiwan. It really opened my mind and inspired me to explore multicultural identity and co-curation methods.

When did you come to Scotland?

My husband, Lupin, and I have been in Glasgow for three years, since 2021. We decided to quit our jobs to move to Scotland and pursue our studies here. In the beginning, my family was not supportive of my decision because we both had stable careers. However, we wanted a chance to see the world, and we came here in the hope of experiencing different ways of life, values, and culture. We had initially planned on staying here for my second master’s in museum studies, and then returning to Taiwan. However, I met Professor Alison Phipps and the UNESCO Refugee Integration through Languages and Arts (RILA) team during the 2022 Spring School. That encounter made me realise that I could contribute my creativity and do more valuable things in Scotland. Lupin fully supported my decision.

How has the experience of doing your PhD in Glasgow been? 

I study refugee integration and heritage education, which I am passionate about. I love being able to relate to other people and to connect to heritage sites. My husband and I have spoken about moving back home after completing my PhD, but now we prefer to stay in the UK. My PhD. research topic is about world heritage and refugee Integration, which is hard to continue studying in my country, as Taiwan is not a part of the United Nations and does not have properly designed refugee laws and policies. However, if I can continue researching this topic, I believe I can become a bridge and window for Taiwan. It is important for Taiwan to face the issue of migration and refugees. More importantly, I want to do more meaningful things for people and the heritage sector in Scotland. I believe I am more valuable here as here I can contribute both to Scotland and to my native Taiwan. 

How do you find living in Glasgow?

I love the Glasgow vibe and I enjoy my life here. I feel safe here and I like greeting and engaging in small talk with strangers. Very few people would do that in the cities of Taiwan. I have formed genuine friendships with colleagues at the University of Glasgow and with people I have met through Migrant Voice, who are all open-minded and kind. That does not mean I have not met people who are mean to foreigners. People have different views and may exclude others due to ethnicity, gender, age or disability. You cannot escape it as it can happen anywhere. However, I choose to see the bright side of life. In Chinese, we have a saying ‘此心安處是吾鄉’ – ‘Home's where the heart is.’ My heart is here now.

With thanks to Nell Williams for her support with transcription and editing of this interview.

A perspective on the West Midlands launch of our 'Migration. Making Britain Great' project activities.

When key members of three organisations keen on changing the migration narrative in the UK are in the same room, in an election year, best believe that the conversations would make you evaluate migration more critically.

This was the way I felt when I left Millennium Point, the venue of the ‘Migration Making Britain Great’ roundtable in Birmingham. The three organisations? Migrant Voice, a migrant-led national organisation that centres migrants in the migration debate; IMIX, a media charity organisation that supports the migration space through media partnerships; and Show Racism the Red Card, an anti-racism educational charity.

With 2024 being an election year in the UK, we can expect to hear a lot more conversation around immigration, stated Nazek Ramadan, Director of Migrant Voice in her opening remarks.

“Migrants are going to be used and abused. It is important to stand up and speak up about the contributions of migrants to the country. This is how we will challenge the negative portrayal of migrants,” she emphasised, which is why this year, Migrant Voice is using sports as a rallying point to shine light on migration issues.

As if to pick up from there, Gary Pluck, IMIX’s regional communications coordinator (West Midlands) emphasised the unique role that the media plays in shaping the migration narrative. This is because many of the British voters are undecided when it comes to the migration debate, and it behoves organisations within the migration ecosystem to transcend their echo chambers and speak to those who need to hear it more.

“...Our plan is to use sports and the massive impact immigrants have had in that sector to challenge the narrative. We are trying to go beyond the echo chamber we are familiar with,” he said. 

Ged Grebby of Show Racism the Red Card spoke of their long relationship with Migrant Voice, establishing past work on documentaries and campaigns to end racism.

“We are in an election year and there will be more anti-migrant rhetoric.” However, as an organisation, they will continue to highlight migrants’ contributions to different sectors in the UK, like the National Health Service (NHS) and sports, even as they continue their school education drive across the country.

“We are currently working with Migrant Voice on a new film, and an educational booklet on migration focusing on positive stories with a focus on football as a strategy. The Premier League benefits from migrants from across the world. The educational resource will be available for teachers across the UK on our education hub.”

To emphasise the critical role of migrants, Koyar Kurdy, a Mixed Martial Arts fighter originally from Kurdistan, spoke on the challenges and opportunities that sports holds for migrants.

“Everywhere I go, it is because of sports. The beauty of sports is bringing different people from different places together even if they cannot speak English. Through sports, we see that all the colours look nice when we put them together but don’t look as nice when each is alone,” Kurdy said. 

Next up was Joy Warrington of brap—a charity reshaping the way we think and do equality—who hinted on the organisation’s soon-to-be released report Too Hot to Handle on how racism manifests in the NHS.

“I think this is a very dangerous time for this country. With all the challenges today, people look for others to blame. There are different ways people fan the embers of hate. No one wakes up and says ‘today, I will be hateful.’”

After the speakers, there were group discussions, divided according to the tables in the room. Groups were tasked with the responsibility of thinking around ways sports can be used to tackle racism and hostility towards migrants and how as individuals they can contribute to changing the narrative.

Nazek Ramadan, wrapped up the evening quite nicely, recounting a chat she once had with a migrant on hatred.

“Why do they hate us so much when they don’t even know us?” The person asked her.

“Maybe when they know you, they won’t hate you,” Nazek responded. She highlighted the importance of finding home, of creating your own ‘home’ belonging in a new country.

“This is our home now and we need to belong to the community,” Nazek said, centring the importance of the meeting; it was not solely about Migrant Voice’s 2024 programme, or the collaborating organisations trying to make a difference, it was more about creating a safe space for migrants. And by extension, it was more about how the UK could become like that room, a home for migrants to find comfort, no longer quivering in fear of another policy every election cycle.

Temitayo Olofinlua is a writer and editor based in Birmingham. She is also the founder of StoriesClick, a storytelling brand in Birmingham.

The lorem ispum dummy contyent

Migrant Voice's report, “No Rest. No Security”, exposed dire conditions in UK Home Office hotels where asylum seekers are placed, enduring inadequate housing, financial support, and uncertainty.

To shine a light on their frustrations, and amplify their own stories, asylum seekers collaborated with Migrant Voice on a photography project.

These photos capture unseen moments, revealing an emotional side to an often-politicised conversation, and reclaiming asylum seekers’ agency. From park walks to shared meals, the series portrays resilience amidst adversity, inviting viewers to empathise with asylum seekers' daily struggles.

Through film photography, a frozen glimpse of life in limbo emerges, aiming to foster understanding and connection amid hardship.

Please click here for the full article and a selection of the photos.

Migration! Such a tangled subject, so many opinions, so many voices, but who is listening to the migrants themselves? Now someone has given them a place to air their thoughts, feelings and experiences, and what a dazzling medley it is. Hear Our Stories is a collection of prose and poetry gathered by TogetherInTheUK, an organisation founded in 2016 to share migration stories and to provide information and advice about life in Britain for new arrivals.

Life has been tough for all the contributors; their stories are full of pain and despair, but also of courage and hope. Some impressions that flashed like sparks:

Daniel: People falling off packed trucks in the Sahara and left behind, the longing for somewhere clean and safe. Michael: waiting for the chance of a new day. The smugglers who “see refugees as a commodity that can be disposed of without a second thought.” Asha, who wonders what it feels like to be happy, to smile without faking.

Frank, arriving safe in the UK then the agony of waiting in a hostel, “waiting to be accepted, to be free. How some are promised good jobs and houses but end up being kept in other people’s houses with neither payment nor freedom.” Exploitation and underpaid jobs are a recurrent theme.

Chelsy, forced to move from place to place, making friends with other children only to be torn apart and moved again to bad places where people steal, but finally to a house with a room of her own, and achieving great SATs at school. Evelyn, born in Britain but denied citizenship, marginalised, under-estimated.

“Even in death they don’t matter,” laments the poet Loraine Masiya Mponela, but in a later verse she speaks of the love she has found. “I have seen the better side of humanity.” Abida, from Pakistan, recalls the sharp crack of stones hitting the window and roof. The target: the immigrant house. The patter of shoes running away.

Migrants talk about the difficulties and joys of learning a new language. “We found pleasure in making our lips and faces go in new directions.” Others tell of the kindness of neighbours, of making new friends. Sumia says: “After I came to the UK I became a stronger, more empowered person... I had the freedom to be the person I wanted to be.”

Then there is the dilemma of wanting to become integrated into a new country’s ways but yearning for the culture and life of lands left behind, which persists into the generations.

It would be misleading to read just a few of the entries – the individual accounts make sense when viewed as a rich cornucopia of sadness, joy, fear and deliverance.

Hear Our Stories: An Anthology of Writings on Migration (victorinapress.com)

Join the book launch on 28 September.

Having been forced to leave Ukraine when Russia invaded her homeland Maria Romanenko has focused on helping her fellow Ukrainians feel more at home, and comfortable, in the UK. 

On the day the bombs started dropping on Ukraine, Maria’s British boyfriend warned that they would have to leave for their own safety. After a gruelling and intense journey Maria arrived in Manchester, UK, on 2 March. At the time the current visa route for those fleeing the conflict was not yet operational, and despite having already applied for a tourist visa previously, as her partner split his time between Manchester and Ukraine, the Home Office had lost it. Thanks to her connections as a journalist Maria was able to obtain a visa waiver to enter the UK.

Although already having a connection with Manchester, and a place to live, it understandably took a couple of weeks for Maria to process everything which she had been through. There was an intense amount of media attention at the time, taking up her time with interviews, although she still needed time to breathe and adjust after everything which she had been through. Realising though that, despite all she had been through, there were Ukrainians who were in a worse position than her Maria determined to try and find a way to help them. “I realised that I was in this position of ‘luck’ and, you know, privilege that most Ukrainians who come to the UK are not. I have my partner and his psychological support. I have a house to live in. I have the knowledge of the UK because I previously studied in the UK. And all the other Ukrainians have come here, you know, 95% or even 98%/99% do not have this. How can I help those people?”

With this in mind, Maria contacted a local walking tour in Manchester, Free Manchester Walking Tours, to pitch the idea of running one for Ukrainians in the city to help them feel more at home. “I remembered that I went on a walking tour of Manchester in 2020. I really enjoyed the walking tour, and I thought that I would contact the guide that I ask her if she would be willing to do this for Ukrainians, and I would translate for free and luckily she responded to me straight away saying she absolutely loved the idea.”

Thinking that it would possibly be a one-off tour, Maria, who has recently been accepted onto the Aspen Institute UK’s Rising Leadership Fellowship Programme for her role as a leader in the Ukrainian war refugee community, had 120 sign ups initially. With such high demand more tours were arranged to accommodate those who wanted to take part, and from there the ball started rolling. “I already knew that there was going to be a next one because I already had a big waiting list of people. The next one I think was even more popular because the first one was on a weekday and the second one was on a weekend. So that is how it became a thing.”

When Eurovision came to Liverpool, it seemed only natural that Maria would build on the success of the walking tours in Manchester to try and arrange one there. “We found out that Eurovision would be coming to Liverpool and Ukrainians love Eurovision. Obviously it was held on behalf of Ukraine because Ukraine won last year. So I kind of also had this random idea. How about I do this work in Liverpool and team up with a local free walking tour company there, so I started researching what they have there and came across KR Spanish and English Tours Liverpool and messaged them asking how they felt about doing this… We agreed on three dates, all around Eurovision time.” During this period Maria was approached by the team for the 2016 Ukrainian Eurovision Winner Jamala to host a more private walking tour, as they could not make any of the scheduled dates.

A huge amount of work goes into researching, organising, and carrying out the walking tours. First off, Maria has to go on the usual tour to familiarise herself with the locations and what is talked about. As translation takes time, and to ensure that tours are not too long, she then works with the guides on what could be cut out so there is time for a high quality, translated tour. “I want the quality to be good. So I first listened to the tour myself and familiarised myself with what they talked about on the tour, and then advised how to shorten it because obviously with translation, it takes twice as long.”

After announcing the Liverpool tours, but before they were conducted, Maria was contacted by the Department of Culture, Media and Sports wanting to know if she would be willing to be highlighted as a case study in exemplary volunteering. Having given them background detail on what she was doing and why, a couple of weeks later she was contacted and told that, having discussed it with Prime Minister Rishi Sunak, they wanted to award her with the Points of Light Award, which recognises outstanding individual volunteers. “I just went crazy. I started screaming. I could not even read the email properly. I had to give it to my partner to read because I just… it was just an incredible moment. I never won any awards in my life before. It is a great thing to be recognised like that. I think obviously the best thing is to be recognised by Ukrainians… It is like nothing else.”

Maria is now looking to expand the tours, possibly into other cities and areas, and develop ways to help bring more tourism to Ukraine once the war is over, as a means to help the country rebuild. There is a lot of uncertainty at the moment though, not just in terms of how long the conflict will continue, but also what life holds for Ukrainians in the UK. With visas only lasting for three years it is hard to think long-term for example, and a lack of stability with accommodation is putting many at risk. There is also a lot of positivity and hope out there too. “I think it is so important when you do not represent a specific culture but you are interested in fighting together for something good. Ukrainians, for example. I took part in one event where the Iranian women who live in Manchester, and it is basically the same fight, for example, because they fight in the Iranian government. That is basically one of the biggest allies of Russia. So that is the same fight and there are many scenarios, many situations, you can find those common things, like Syria and a lot of Syrians are fleeing Russian aggression. So I would love if there is a way that I can, or we can, all work together to achieve something good. I think that is a very good idea because it is, I think, very important.”

Photo credits: Courtesy of Maria Romanenko

My name is Ridete, I am a Brazilian resident in London working as a legal assistant. I moved to the UK in October 2020, defying the challenges of the pandemic to be with my partner, leaving behind family, friends, and familiarity. However, one crucial element has been missing to make me feel truly at home – the right to vote. I often hear that migrants should not have the right to vote because they are not committed to the UK. I don’t think I can show any more commitment than I already have.

As soon as I was allowed to move, I eagerly made the journey to the UK. Unfortunately, due to the pandemic, my initial months in London were spent confined to a room, working from home instead of exploring my new city and forging new friendships. Despite the challenges, this experience only strengthened my commitment to being here.

Since making the UK my home, I have been contributing to the community by volunteering with local organisations such as Willesden Green Town Team and Family Action. Whether it's maintaining green spaces in the neighbourhood or distributing food to families in need, my involvement has allowed me to connect with local residents and demonstrate my commitment to this beautiful city.

However, because my only citizenship is Brazilian, I am unable to participate in the democratic process. My partner, on the other hand, is Italian and can vote. My Brazilian friends in Scotland and Wales can also vote. This discrepancy has fueled my passion for advocating for the extension of voting rights to migrants like myself. I firmly believe that access to democracy should transcend nationality.

Last month, I had the privilege of joining a tour of Parliament with the Migrant Democracy Project. Surrounded by fellow migrants from Ukraine, Syria and Iran, each yearning for their right to vote, the experience was both inspiring and enlightening. Walking through the historic halls, and learning about the struggles of those who fought for voting rights in the UK, further inspired me to bring about change. During the tour, we met with MPs to share our stories and ask for an extension of voting rights.

Politicians have recently been on the news proposing the extension of the right to vote to EU citizens in General Elections. While this development is a step in the right direction, this proposal needs to include all migrants. While I am happy for my partner and other EU citizens, I strongly believe that every resident, regardless of their nationality, should have the opportunity to participate in shaping their community and country.

The implications of denying voting rights extend far beyond the ballot box. For instance, when I check my credit score, it is never “excellent”. The reason? I am consistently marked as "not confirmed on the electoral roll." This obstacle negatively affects my financial opportunities and perpetuates an unfair system.

I also wish to use my vote to reward politicians who have represented me. When I emailed my local councillors in Brent regarding road safety, my concerns were promptly addressed, reaffirming the power of civic engagement. I appreciate that Brent also passed a motion in support of residence-based voting rights for all. Furthermore, London will hold elections for the Mayor next May. I am heartened to know that our Mayor supports residence-based voting rights, as demonstrated by his favourable response to the London Assembly's motion in support of the extension of the right to vote.

Voting eligibility is puzzling. Some migrants are fortunate enough to possess the power of the ballot, while others, like myself, are excluded. This discrepancy highlights the need for a simpler, fairer system - one that grants every resident the right to vote, regardless of their background or nationality.

As a Brazilian resident of London, I am proud to call the city my home. However, the absence of voting rights hinders my sense of belonging and active participation in shaping the future of the place I have chosen to reside. By levelling the playing field and ensuring that no migrant group is singled out as more deserving than another, we can achieve a truly equitable democratic society.

Ridete Pozzetti is a legal assistant and a Brazilian resident in London, whose passion for voting rights and creating a fairer democratic system knows no bounds.

Image credit: Courtesy of Ridete Pozzetti

Lorem ispum dummy content.

We’re proud to present to you Voices for Change, a podcast episode where migrants of all backgrounds have come together to share their thoughts on issues that are affecting them.

This podcast is part of UNESCO RILA’s “The sound of integration” podcast, and it is the result of our latest Media Lab in Glasgow, a two-day intensive media training which took place in partnership with Glasgow University at the end of May.

In this episode, Fatima has a message of hope, as she talks to Grace about the obstacles she faced in her job search in Scotland despite having 7 years of experience in academic teaching prior to coming to the UK. This is followed by Annemaria and Juliette calling for urgent action by the UNHCR regarding the unbearable conditions imposed on those living in refugee camps in Malawi. They also took the time to talk about the Illegal Migration Bill sharing their concerns for how this will have detrimental effects on refugees fleeing to the UK. Life for any single parent can be hard, Ahmed uses this opportunity to address what it's like being a single parent, disabled person and refugee. This only paint’s half a picture of what you can discover on this podcast, click on the link to hear the full episode.

You can listen to the episode here:

About Migrant Voice’s intensive Media Lab

This Media Lab was run in partnership with Glasgow University’s UNESCO RILA summer school. It was attended by a diverse group of migrants, who joined either a podcasting workshop, facilitated by Sadie Ryan and John Mcdiarmid, or a print media workshop, led by Beth Pearson.

The facilitators focused on creating a safe space through setting up activities which encouraged discussions and allowed participants to share their thoughts, feel heard, and relate to each other. This led them to identify what they wanted to talk about in the podcast and who they wanted their audience to be.

You can read more about this Media Lab on our website, and sign up to our newsletter if you want to join future activities in Glasgow, London or the West Midlands.

Photo credit: Screengrab, UNESCO RILA, Twitter

When Livia Barreira moved to the UK in 2016 she would introduce herself by saying: “I am Livia, I am from Brazil, and I came to Sheffield because my husband is from here.”

There was nothing in that sentence about her – her job, skills, hobbies, passions – but she didn’t realise it until another migrant woman pointed it out. Livia, a journalist and communications expert, describes that comment as a turning point in her life in the UK: the moment she learnt to give herself the importance she deserved.

Almost seven years later she has just published her first book, Living in Sheffield: Our journeys as migrant women. Entirely crowdfunded, it tells the stories of seven migrant women, including herself, who, by choice or by chance, have made Sheffield their home.

“I wanted to have this document celebrating diversity,” Livia says of the book, “and I wanted people to see migrant women and migration from our perspective. I wanted it to be a hug to migrant women.”

Livia is active in her local community and had been considering writing a book about the women’s experiences for years. But it was during lockdown, when she found herself unemployed and with little else to do, that she decided she would go ahead with her idea. She contacted women she had met at work, volunteering or on social media, and interviewed them on Zoom, inviting them to tell her their stories.

The result is a celebratory, diverse collection of stories about what it means to be a migrant woman – in particular, a successful migrant woman, although not in a traditional sense. 

“To me, success means to feel happy. I think to succeed in another country it’s more about feeling part of that community, feeling like you belong to that place,” she explains. The women are “uniquely successful” in different ways: “One is a businesswoman; one is a mother of four kids. Another is a very happy dancer.”

Livia herself  feels successful. But it hasn’t always been that way. She struggled to find her place and balance in Sheffield. Having left a journalism career in Brazil to live with her husband, Livia had to start from scratch, learning English and making new friends.

“I was going to every course I could, to practise and improve my English,” she recalls, “and I used to volunteer a lot,” which helped her make connections with others. But when it came to applying for work she struggled. She was overqualified for entry-level jobs but her lack of UK experience prevented her getting more advanced positions. It’s a catch-22 conundrum faced by many migrants, she notes.

One day something clicked. “No one gave me an opportunity, so I decided to create an opportunity for myself.” Livia launched an Instagram page, Living in Sheffield, where she promoted local businesses and events. The page has been a success, with almost 8,000 followers, and Livia is often recognised when walking around Sheffield. She is now putting her last touches on her website, where she will be able to offer her services as a marketing consultant.

Even when things picked up for Livia and she moved from volunteering to paid jobs, she initially had ”impostor’s syndrome”, she says – a feeling of inadequacy despite her success. But with time she started to value whatever previously made her self-conscious: “I think the accent I have when I speak English is great. It’s what makes me unique.”

Last April, Livia travelled to London to join Migrant Voice’s launch of its report on extortionate visa fees, which she also had to pay to be able to live with her husband in Sheffield. In the Houses of Parliament, where the event was held, she joined a room full of migrants, activists and policymakers fighting this financial injustice.

“It was very important to occupy that space as a migrant group together,” she says of the experience. “It was special, strong, and quite emotional.

“Until we see people who share similar experiences to ours, who are going through the same thing, we think we’re the only ones with that problem. As human beings, we think that way.” But in Parliament “I listened to people’s stories. I could see people who were going through the same as me, or worse. I learnt a lot.”

The event encouraged her to speak up on issues she cares about: “I have permanent residence now, so I don’t even need to pay for visas anymore. But I won’t be silenced, I will keep speaking up, and I hope more people will do the same after me.”

Livia is now working as an “ambassador for Sheffield” with migrant communities, running events and festivals, promoting her book and sharing her knowledge, empowering her network of migrants.

Each chapter of Living in Sheffield ends with a page about Livia’s connection to the highlighted  woman. “I'd like to make the readers think about their own connections in life. 

“We all live crazy lives, we think we don’t have time. We actually don’t have much time left. I was just thinking about those friends from school or from uni, and we don’t even have time to ask if they are okay. At the end of the launch of my book I asked the audience, Why not send a message to someone you love when you leave? Don’t lose these important connections. When you have the right people around you, better things will happen.”

Living in Sheffield: Our journeys as migrant women is out now. If you're in Sheffield, find it at Good Taste Fair Trade Shop and Juno Books. Alternatively contact Livia at @livinginsheffield to get your copy.

Photo: courtesy of Livia Barreira

“We wanted a space where people with refugee background or immigrants could feel they could exercise their voice, but for an audience that is compassionate and interested.”

the other side of hope is an online literary magazine aimed at highlighting migrant and refugee narratives and creating literary spaces for people to tell stories related to migration, asylum, and settlement.

Based in the UK, it publishes work by writers from around the globe. Many members of the editing team are themselves migrants and refugees.

The twice-a-year magazine features a variety of genres and styles, from nonfiction to poetry, from essays to interviews, including powerful pieces by authors such as migrants rights activist Loraine Masiya Mponela, British-Syrian poet &andwriter Amir Darwish, and Turkey-based Mehdi Hamisi.

Migrant Voice sat down with the founder and the non-fiction editor of the other side of hope, Alexandros Plasatis and Maria Rovisco, to discuss the publication’s origins and goals, and the importance of literary platforms like theirs in the moment of such widespread backlash against migrant narratives.

Alexandros and Maria both use an inclusive approach to their editing, working directly with authors and helping people shape their stories into their literary vision. They both came to the other side of hope through other projects, where they realised that allowing migrants and refugees to work in spaces where they felt free to voice what they had experienced was necessary and helpful to change negative media narratives.

Alexandros is from Greece, where he says his everyday experiences with migrant communities led him to thinking about working in this field.

“When I was growing up, and until I was fifteen or so, I was living in a small town, so I didn't know any refugees. I knew some immigrants, the Egyptian fishermen that I used to sort of work with. I think one of the reasons I left was because I didn't like the way Greeks treated immigrants. I didn't like the way my friends at the time or even my family or the local people would treat the Egyptian immigrants that I knew.”

His childhood in Greece combined with creative writing workshops he led with refugees in the UK inspired  him to start the magazine.

Maria, whose own research focuses on the arts as a site of citizenship, points to the lack of migration-based literary magazines before the establishment of the other side of hope.

“One of the problems we have in the UK is that there are not spaces where people who are members of minorities can have a voice and can feel comfortable also to talk about who they are and tell their stories,” she says, referring to the magazine’s ability to impact debates on migrant issues.

She points out that migrants and refugees are constantly asked to tell their stories by the Home Office or by police, but never in a creative way. The magazine is a means of establishing an audience of “normal citizens who actually care”.

Contributors are highly diverse, in terms both of nationality and writing experience, Maria says. The aim is to exhibit the most diverse set of voices possible, she explains, and the editors want people to tell their own story even if they lack  experience of writing or writing in English.

Alexandros emphasises the “non-stop work” that the team puts in to each issue, and the reward of hearing that some refugee centres around the UK hand out the magazine for reading groups.

As migrants, the editorial team’s own experiences influence how they are able to edit and promote the work they are sent.

They note how often humour is used in submitted stories and essays. “You know, you can say something that is tragic or traumatic with humour. And that's not something I often saw before and I thought it was important and powerful,” says Maria.

Even the name of the magazine is taken from a Finnish comedy film about a refugee. Says Alexandros: “[humour] is also what makes us human in a way... no matter how bad things get.”

The Winter 2022 issue of the other side of hope will go online in December.

One year ago, on 24 November 2022, 32 people died trying to cross the Channel in an inflatable dinghy. A new ITV documentary shows that British and French authorities, each assuming the other would send help, passed the buck as the migrants repeatedly asked for help and drowned. Nadine*, a Syrian woman who made the same journey only three days before the tragedy, tells her story to Migrant Voice.

When I learnt about the tragedy, I had been in the UK for only three days. I was only a year older than Mariam Nouri, who was the first victim to be named. I, too, had travelled on a dinghy from Calais that sank, only reaching the UK on my third attempt. I survived. But I could have been on the boat in which Mariam Nouri died.

I come from Daraa, the Syrian city where the revolution started in 2011. When it became too dangerous to stay, my parents paid for a smuggler to get me out of the country. There was no other choice if I wanted to survive. Like Mariam and so many others, I arrived in Calais hoping to cross the Channel and reach the UK.

I have family members in the UK who could support me once I arrived: far from home and unable to return, I wouldn’t be all alone. I speak some English, so I can get by. And I thought women’s rights were respected in the UK. This is why I didn’t stop in France.

On the evening of my first attempt at crossing the Channel, in early November, the weather was bad and we ran out of fuel. We had been at sea for four hours when we called the smugglers, then had to wait three more hours until they picked us up. Eventually we were taken back to Calais.

Three days later we tried the second time. We left Calais at 2am. The air was cold. There were 18 of us in a tiny dinghy. We were sitting on top of each other, and I was terrified. We asked the smuggler to reduce the number of people on the dinghy, but he didn’t listen. The boy driving the boat couldn’t have been over 14.

At around 3.30am we saw a red light and the smuggler told us we were in British waters. We called the British coastguard, but were told we were still in international waters and they couldn’t help. They sent a helicopter, which flew over us. I took off my hijab and waved it but the helicopter didn’t stop.

Then the boat started to deflate. Water began coming in, filling the dinghy. We rapidly went below the waterline. I was swallowing seawater and throwing up. I had water in my nose and ears. In quick succession, four large waves crashed onto us.

It was panic. Everyone was screaming and fighting. The temperature was below zero. The water was freezing. The men started arguing with each other. We were cold and so scared. We called the smuggler to alert the French authorities. One of the two other women on the dinghy called her parents to tell them we were drowning. A first, they didn’t believe her because the smuggler had told them she had arrived in the UK. Finally, she convinced her parents to call for help. My own dad called the British authorities.

The smugglers don’t see us as human beings, only as a source of money. Before my first attempted crossing, they lied to me. They told me it would be easy, that I would be at sea for only four hours. It was all lies, to convince desperate people to pay them.

At 2pm we still had received no help. It had been almost 12 hours since we started sinking, and we were losing hope. For hours I was crying, trying to bale out the dinghy. I can’t swim, and I remember thinking, “This is it.” I saw my whole life flash before me. I really thought I was going to die.

As we were sinking, three different boats approached us. They all told us they could not help, but took photos. Finally, at around 3pm, a larger tourist ship arrived, and threw us ropes so we could clamber aboard.

Climbing was difficult, and many of us fell back into the water or the dinghy. I climbed half way, fell, hit my face and lost consciousness.

I was rescued and taken onto the ship, where I was given tea. The people were very nice. We were all taken back to Calais. I don’t even know if we all survived that night.

In Calais, the police were waiting. They wrapped us in blankets and took us back to the camp. I went to stay in a hotel and got ill, because of what I had experienced and the seawater I had drunk. My whole body was swollen and I was vomiting blood. Luckily, a woman found me and took me to the hospital. For five days I was in and out of hospital. I felt so bad.

On 21 November I tried to cross again. I had no choice. I was so terrified I couldn’t even think about it – I just did it.

This time there were 43 of us on a boat built for 30. There were seven other crossings on that day, I heard. We left in the afternoon and it got dark quickly. There were no life vests in the boat: only 10 lifebuoys, “for the children,” the smuggler told us. “You adults can swim and save yourselves if you sink,” he said.

I saw a helicopter and flashed my phone light so it would notice us. At 6pm we called the authorities for help. A small British boat arrived at 7.30pm and ferried three or four of us at a time to a bigger vessel waiting a little further away.

We were all scared and wanted to be first onto the boat. The rescuers became annoyed and rude and one told a woman: “Sit down, you donkey.” 

In the meantime, we were panicking, afraid we would sink and drown while we waited. Eventually we were all rescued, taken to Dover, and then to another site — I don’t know its name — where they put us in tents.

They took all our belongings, even my earrings, and gave us sandals and a tracksuit. They didn’t have a clean veil, so gave me a hat. We had to provide our details – name, date of birth, and fingerprints. It took the whole night and finally, at 11pm the day after, I was placed in a hotel in northern England.

It’s been a year and I’m still waiting for my asylum application to be processed. I’m taking English classes, but I’m not allowed to work. Back home I was a nurse. I’d like to go back to studying and working.

I have received no therapy or counselling to help deal with my trauma. I wake up at night, crying, thinking about what I went through. I haven’t recovered.

When I heard of the boat sinking only three days after I made my journey, I cried for the people on it. I cried for Mariam. I know what they felt in the last moments of their lives, because I felt that, too. I could have been on that boat. I could have been Mariam.

I want my life back. I want to study and work, I want respect and dignity. Right now only the richest can afford visas to the UK. We need safe routes to make people’s journeys easier and safer, so no one has to risk their life and go through what I did.

* not her real name.

Photo credit: Strolicfurlan / Flickr

Loraine Masiya Mponela was not born a sad poet. “All children are born happy,” she says.

I am a sad poet because of the circumstances

that life’s deal which put me on the edge

“Going through the stuff that I did,” she tells Migrant Voice, “the ‘sad poet’ is a set of my own experiences.”

Those experiences have been tough. Loraine came from Malawi in 2008 to study at the University of Leeds and worked in care after her graduation, but from 2015 until this summer she had to fight to have her refugee status recognised.

Her newly-published first book of poems, I Was Not Born A Sad Poet, consists of 21 poems. Each one documents a piece of her story: her struggle for refugee status; facing homelessness, destitution, the hostile environment, a pandemic; and fighting for others.

She won her status only in August this year. At that point she had been writing poetry for about two years – she started during the first Covid lockdown – and had been talking about publishing a book with Counterpoint Arts, an organisation that supports migrant and refugee artists. But she felt that the right moment came only after she finally won her case.

At first, she recalls, “I could not process it”. After a decade spent fighting, Loraine was free. But at the same time, “what had been keeping me alive for ten years – now I was being told to drop it. How do I even know what to drop or not drop?”

It had been a “long, bumpy road”. After completing a master’s degree and working in the UK for several years, her circumstances changed again and she was forced to claim asylum.  She lost the right to work and when her savings ran out she was placed in asylum accommodation, and had to move from Leeds to Coventry, where she now lives.

“When you are an asylum seeker, all you want is to hide because of the stigma,” Loraine says. But she found the Coventry Asylum and Refugee Action Group (CARAG, which unites refugees and asylum seekers to campaign for their rights). It proved to be a turning point: “When I joined the group it was a relief to know that there are all these people who are like me, who are also in the same system that we all are going through.”

Many members of the group were experiencing extreme hardships, including homelessness, illness, severe mental health issues and disability. She remembers thinking, “Who will speak for them if we’re all just watching?”

Friends and contacts warned her that speaking out would jeopardise her asylum application, but Loraine didn’t listen. Was she not scared? She smiles as she answers candidly: “Yes, but does it matter?” She saw no point in keeping quiet when injustice was right in front of her.

She says she has always questioned what is presented to her. She learnt this as a child when she saw her mother stand up to a teacher who wanted to unjustly punish Loraine’s sister. “I was maybe seven or eight years old,” she reflects, “but it stuck with me, questioning what people ask us to do, what we are told to do.”

Loraine’s activism takes many forms. Aside from her poetry, speeches, and articles, she has recently taken up stand-up comedy: “Poetry, comedy, they are all other ways to capture a new audience.”

Since she started campaigning, she has attended a number of training sessions and workshops to help her ensure her voice is heard. They include Migrant Voice’s Media Labs and its Migrant Ambassador Programme, where the charity’s experience is shared with participants who learn how to take their stories to the media. “Now I know how to do a TV interview, how to produce a magazine, and I got a lot of support, too.”

She always seems to have a strong impact on her audience. She received hundreds of letters in response to one of her articles on Covid-19 and asylum seekers. She has been invited to read her poems on several occasions. “My target is not just politicians, it’s the general public – and I’ve received a lot of comments, asking me to continue writing, saying that my poems were moving, heart-churning,” she says.

When it’s clear she has got through to her readers, she feels she has done her job.

“This book, I Was Not Born A Sad Poet, has been documenting my own experiences as an asylum seeker. But a lot of these are collective experiences too,” she points out.

Some poems are personal, like Four-generation warriors, in which the subject is the women in her family, sometimes addressed directly. Others, like The limbo land, are unashamedly political, depicting what life is like for asylum seekers stuck waiting for years on end.

I have a life but it’s not mine,

It’s controlled by an amorphous office

that decides what I do or do not do

I am not shackled but my mind is

locked in the eternal battle

of when will this nightmare end

During her long battle with the Home Office, Loraine was made homeless, and found accommodation at a shelter. Barred from working, she got by with the help of friends and charities.

“I was thinking, Why should I have people paying for me when I can do stuff for myself? Why do I have to wait for people, and ask them to pay for my food, my house, my water?”

Now she is on the other end of her journey she is certain she will not stop advocating for a better system in any way she can — “until the last person is free.”

“I know this is going to be for a lifetime. But you don’t want people to go through the same stuff that you have. We have to keep fighting for a better world.”

I Was Not Born A Sad Poet is out now on Amazon.

Ten years ago, I decided to leave Albania to move to London. Once in the UK, I was scared to answer the question: “Where are you from?” If I mentioned that I was Albanian, many people would get scared of me. That was the time where streets of London were full of billboards promoting the film “TAKEN”. If you haven’t seen this movie, I recommend you don't.

A few months later, one of my best teachers in the UK, who trained me in family therapy, sent me an email asking if I would write a testimonial about his book. Of course, I said yes immediately - he was a great friend as well. As I read his book, I discovered that the main character, who was Albanian, was identified in the worst way possible, which made me feel terrible.

I felt I was personally attacked, and asked my friend: “Why does this bad character have to be Albanian? Why?” He answered: “But this is just fiction, it doesn't mean anything.” In fact, it does mean a lot. My friend had been to Albania many times. We treated him like a king, with generosity and respect. How is it possible that he goes back home, writes a fiction book and decides that the bad guy is going to be Albanian? That was of course the end of that friendship. When people later asked me: “Where is your accent from?”, I would not lie of course, but soon I found an innovative response: “Guess.”

The interesting fact is that every time I played this game people would find it so hard to guess. In fact, 99% of them never managed to believe that I was Albanian. Even if I volunteered to tell them: “I am Albanian,” their body language said: “No way, you don’t look Albanian!”

Well, what do Albanians look like? If you never met an Albanian person, you would of course believe that all Albanians should be the same as in that movie or that book. If you have been watching the news in the last two weeks, you would definitely be scared to get out of the house (especially if you live in Kent), because the narrative about Albanians created across the media is really scary. It even makes me feel scared.

Having a solid background in psychology, I know the impact of this phenomenon, as people are very easily influenced. As women, for centuries we were pushed to believe that we have no value, and we should know our place (wherever others told us to sit). That was believed for many generations before ours. But we had to stand and defend our values, and show that our talents and gifts are needed to the world. So somehow we started creating a place for ourselves in the society, so we could find our seat and stand in our power.

Now we have made quite a lot of progress and being a woman is not seen as negative as it used to be before. There are many campaigns around the world which made the media change its language towards women, and as a result many policies started to change as well. This has brought big results and even a village woman from Albania started to dare that I could find a seat.

Even though a woman, even though from a small village, even though from Albania, even though alone, a single mother and everything is against me, I may try and aspire to change and transform my life.

I believe that as human beings, we all have the right to evaluate our situation, and if we are not happy where we are then we can move, because we are not trees. Many centuries ago, if you were born poor you were destined to die poor unless you married a wealthy person. If you were born in one place, whether you liked it or not, you didn't have choices.

I always start the day expressing gratitude for being able to live in this century, at this world which has developed a lot, where people have more opportunities to choose how they want to live their lives, where they want to live, who they want to become, what people they want to surround themselves with. This is such an incredible gift to have and I never take this for granted. So when people ask me what made you leave Albania I give them three reasons.

1.  I was not happy

I was not happy where I was (not because that was Albania - it could be any place). I wanted to change my life. When I realised I was not a tree and I could move I started making plans and taking action. I wanted to invest in myself, in my education and give myself a second chance to expand and grow my potential. In the last 10 years, I have met people around the world and I have heard so many similar stories like mine, especially women who have taken action to move for change. More and more people are becoming aware that they can take control of their lives, no matter what place they live or what life circumstances they are, instead of blaming the government, the system, the school and their childhood, they decide to take risks, pursue their dreams and search for their happiness.

2.  I didn’t have the choice where to be born, but I could choose where to live

Often we hear expressions such as: You can’t choose the place you were born. You can’t choose your parents. You can’t choose your destiny and so on. I wanted to challenge myself. When I was a child I used to believe it, especially growing up in an abusive childhood, with divorced parents, in a remote place, in a dictatorial regime where nobody would dare to move. But as I grew up and I invested in my education, personal development and self-growth, I realised that I had choices. I didn’t have the power to choose where to be born, but I could give myself the chance to choose where I wanted to live. I see people doing this all the time, no matter where they are - Albania, Asia, US, Europe or Africa - people have the right to explore and experience the freedom of life. Isn’t it amazing that we have come so far?

3.  I needed to “find my seat”

I remember when I started my career as a village teacher in a very small school, as I was sitting on that chair thinking “I want to stand for something bigger”. But the problem is that “You stand where you sit”.

Growing up in an environment where women were suppressed and men had the belief that “hitting a woman” is a normal behavior made me reflect and ask big questions: how do I change this? What do I need to do to stop this phenomenon happening? At least with myself. Mother Teresa (who herself was Albanian) used to say: “If you can’t change the whole world, you start with one, that one person can be you.”

As I took myself along that journey of change and transformation, I realised that I had to find my seat, where I could stand not only for myself, but for others as well.

This is how I ended up here in London, where now, 10 years later, I lead one of the biggest organisations in the world for women empowerment. I speak all over the world on big stages, meeting women and teaching them how to find their seat.

Of course, I had to break so many barriers, overcome lots of challenges and adversities, and I am still on the journey. In the end, we all know that it takes courage to move out of our comfort zone, remove the fear ignited in the subconscious mind from the post-regime years and dare to believe that we can move and seek happiness. And happiness is something that we can’t blame the country for, or our parents, the government or the world. We should be in charge of that, and if you have a calling you should go for it.

But before you take any action, I would suggest: Search, take information through the right relevant institutions, prepare yourself, invest in yourself because you may end up moving and still not be happy. This year I have been invited to work on a project with IOM Albania, and their projects are incredible, very educational and informative. It’s your right to move, but remember you also have the right to move with dignity and following the legal route. And you should have legal routes available to you. We live in a much better time, where many opportunities are open and waiting for us, we just need to be able to see and be able to make the right decisions.

A dozen colourful kites flew high in the wind, their owners carefully pulling and releasing their long strings, and about 100 people watched as they listened to music from Afghan musicians and drank tea.

The crowd had gathered on Parliament Hill in Hampstead Heath, London, last Saturday. In 20 locations across the UK and Europe, others were doing the same: communities came together for Good Chance’s Fly With Me event, a “festival of solidarity” with the people of Afghanistan involving kite flying, music and poetry, one year after the Taliban takeover of the country.

If you have not heard of Good Chance before, you are still very likely to know some of their projects. The theatre company wrote and staged The Jungle, a 2017 play about the lives of migrants living in the Calais Jungle refugee camp, which has toured theatres in the UK and US.

And last year they were behind Little Amal, a 3.5-metre-tall doll representing a young refugee child, “walked” from the Turkish-Syrian border to Manchester, with events in support of migrants and refugees organised in dozens of cities along her journey.

Fly With Me was developed by master kite maker Sanjar Qias, actor Elham Ehsas, musician Elaha Soroor and other Afghan-born artists around the UK and Europe.

The crowd on the Heath was made up of children, families, young adults, and not-so-young ones. More than a handful of languages could be heard spoken, and some Afghan participants wore traditional clothes, intricate patterns embroidered on their fabric.

Actor Elham Ehsas, who played young Assef in the 2007 film The Kite Runner and who was involved in the development of the festival, introduced the event. “Throughout our lives our flag has changed so many times,” he told the crowd, “but we’ve continued to fly kites.”

Volunteers wearing sky-blue t-shirts handed out Afghan tea. Three members of the Mahmoudi family, father Yusuf, his son Ariz and nephew Roman, musicians for generations, played tablas (a type of drum) and a harmonium and sang traditional songs, while some attendees gave in to spontaneous dancing.

Musician Elaha Soroor, who was one of the first female artists to perform in public after the fall of the Taliban, sang from the Parliament Hill Bandstand, and poet Parwana Fayyaz read out poems from her book, “Forty Names”.

Music is now banned in Afghanistan, Yusuf Mahmoud, the musician, reminded the audience. So is kite-flying. And yet, despite being thousands of miles away, regardless of distance and borders, they persisted: the beats of the tablas, the kites flying over our heads, the poems recited.

“For every flying kite, there is a story,” Ehsas had said earlier: kite-flying is an integral part to Afghan culture. Looking up at the sky, I observed the kites that I could see, imagined the ones that I could not, and thought of all the stories they told.

In the world’s largest refugee camp, a group of young Rohingya residents has put together Rohingyatographer, the first photography magazine created by refugees.

In glossy, high-quality photos, from youngest to oldest, the inhabitants of Kutupalong, in Cox’s Bazar, southern Bangladesh, are portrayed in the first issue, published earlier this year.

Sahat Zia Hero, the magazine’s founder, editor and one of the photographers, says the team created the magazine as a tool to reach people around the world and to campaign for their people’s rights.

“We want people to see us as human beings, just like everyone else, and we want to share our hopes and dreams, our sadness and our grief,” he explains.

About one million Rohingya refugees live in Kutupalong, hundreds of thousands of whom arrived in 2017, fleeing the genocide in Myanmar’s Rakhine state by the Burmese military.

Sahat is one of them: after experiencing years of persecution and discrimination, he and his family were forced to leave their home and move to the camp in August 2017. “My native village is very close to the border with Bangladesh. I can still see it from the camp now.”

Above: Sahat Zia Hero holds the first issue of Rohingyatographer. (Credits: Ro Yassin Abdumonaf)

Sahat has been passionate about photography since buying a smartphone in 2012. Years later, when he started working for the Danish Refugee Council in Cox’s Bazar, he used his phone’s camera to highlight the problems faced by his fellow refugees - damaged roads or shelters, broken pipes, floods - and to advocate for improvements in their precarious situation. He also targeted a wider audience by posting his pictures on social media.

In 2021, Sahat’s photos were exhibited at the Oxford Human Rights Festival, and he was selected as one of the winners of Oxfam’s Rohingya Arts Campaign.

The idea of Rohingyatographer was born after he met David Palazón, a Spanish photographer and humanitarian working as a curator at the Rohingya Cultural Memory Centre. David is the magazine’s designer, curator and mentor, having helped the team bring the magazine to life.

The magazine has received international media coverage and praise. It will come out twice a year, with the next issue planned to be published this December.

Photography is popular among young Rohingya refugees: most in the magazine’s team are in their twenties or younger. 
“We use photography to advocate for our rights and try to make a difference for the Rohingya refugee community,” explains Sahat. “Photography is our superpower!”

Shahida Win, another of the photographers, agrees: “Photos speak more than words,” she says.

Shahida is a women’s rights activist and a poet; one of her poems, ‘We are Rohingya’, is featured in the magazine. She hopes her photos will reach a wide audience: “I believe our advocacy through photography, poetry and art can be the bridge to pass the messages, voices and expressions of my community to the people abroad.”

Shahida’s work has already been recognised: in 2020 she was chosen by UNHCR as a youth leader, and travelled to the UN Office in Geneva to speak on behalf of the Rohingya community.

Being a woman photographer is rare among Rohingyas, and Shahida says she feels motivated to continue her work to inspire others like her.

The magazine’s photos display the faces, daily lives, happiness, joy, sadness and pain experienced by the refugees. Captions explain their stories: some are heart-warming, some are heart-breaking.

Children laugh and play in the first pages: three are photographed with masks on “to keep their identity secret because they are playing superheroes.” Elsewhere, a six-year-old is shown collecting plastic bottles in a wasteland to support his family.

Above: a refugee child is photographed looking for plastic bottles in a wasteland. (Credits: David Palazón)

In March last year a fire ravaged parts of Cox’s Bazar, leaving 15 dead, 400 missing and 45,000 people displaced.
Fires in refugee camps can be far more destructive than elsewhere: barbed wire fences prevent people from escaping; packed neighbourhoods let fire spread faster and make it difficult for emergency services to reach it; the lack of infrastructure, such as water pipes, make it impossible to douse fires quickly.

Sahat’s family escaped the blaze, but the house and all his belongings were destroyed.

“I returned to find nothing but ashes where my home used to be. Nothing. My laptop and pen drives were gone. It was the second time I lost everything since I fled my home in Myanmar back in 2017,” he has said.

Despite losing everything, he managed to take a photo of his neighbour Zaudha. In the picture, featured in Rohingyatographer, she is crouching and looking at the remains of her home, amidst thick smoke and pockets of dying fire.

“I didn’t have enough words to express my sadness to her … The smoke was all that was left of our homes,” Sahat writes in the caption.

The hardships of being a refugee are what pushes the photographers in their work and advocacy.

“Photography helps us to make the people understand our hopes, challenges, happiness and the grief without writing even a single word,” says Shahida. “If we ourselves tell our stories, the world will know the reality through our eyes … So Rohingya will not be forgotten.”

Above: Life in the refugee camp. (Credits: David Palazón)

“Day and night, all the time, I have this feeling that I was denied the right to show my personal identity. It was taken away from my basic human rights,” Shahida explains. Rohingyatographer is the refugees’ way of fighting the erasure of their identity.

Like many forced out of their own homes, they hope to return to their homeland. Says Shahida: “My dream is to go back to Myanmar as soon as possible and rebuild a better future.”

To find out more about Rohingyatographer, click here.

Cover photo credits: David Palazón

One woman said goodbye to her father when she moved to the UK, and never saw him again. Another met hers for the first time as a five-year-old at a British airport, having just arrived with her mother from Lahore. These are just two stories from ‘Queens of the Commonwealth’, a moving documentary featuring the stories of 22 women who moved to Birmingham at some point in their lives from Commonwealth countries.

The movie premiered in Birmingham on 9 July, and was directed by Panikos Panayiotou, a Brummie-Cypriot director who wanted to tell the stories of “unsung heroes.” “I’ve seen my own mother go through a lot in her life and still stand strong as a migrant woman,” he explains. “I thought that there must be a lot of heroes unsung in the community.”

Panayiotou’s Greek Cypriot parents were in England temporarily when war broke out in Cyprus and they were stuck here. They did not see their families for 12 years, except for a harrowing moment, when Panayiotou’s mother was watching the news and saw her brother in a Turkish prison camp. Panayiotou was born in Birmingham, but has moved between the two countries throughout his life.

The 22 ‘Queens’ in Panayiotou’s documentary come from many walks of life, all brought together by their migration to the UK, all striving to build better lives for themselves and their families. There is Afia, who one day supplied her homecooked Indian food to a deli counter almost by chance, and now runs a successful artisan Indian food company (she is the one who first met her father at the airport). There is Louvina, who followed her husband to the UK with their three-month-old child, at first leaving her two older ones behind, worked at East Birmingham Hospital for 43 years and had tea with the Queen at Buckingham Palace (and who later came back for her son’s MBE award). There is Esita, who, after surviving domestic violence and with a six-month-old daughter, risked losing her status in the UK because of the breakdown of her marriage, but who eventually found her home in Birmingham.

“These women who came over here with nothing are the reason why we’ve got the lives that we have today,” explains Panayiotou, also referencing his own mother’s migration to the UK. But in spite of the eventful, difficult lives the 22 women have had, Panayiotou was struck by the women’s humility and sacrifice. And despite quite literally building new lives for their children from scratch, working in the NHS, in factories and farms, giving an invaluable contribution to the UK – all while often experiencing racism, their stories have so far gone mostly unheard. This documentary is an attempt to give them their rightful place and acknowledgment.

Panayiotou’s choice to amplify migrant women’s voices in his work came from another one of his projects, a book he was writing called “Amathus to Birmingham”: “I interviewed couples that had come from Cyprus to Birmingham, and the men weren't allowing the women to talk. It was very male dominant. I would ask the woman a question, and the husband would speak over her.”

Having grown up around women – his mother, his three sisters – Panayiotou knew that women’s stories were essential and that he was missing them. “I thought, I need to do an independent female story,” he says – and that is how his first “Queens” documentary came to life: in “Queens of Amathus”, he interviewed women who migrated from Cyprus to Birmingham.

For the making of ‘Queens of the Commonwealth’ Panayiotou employed an all-women steering group to make sure his own, male, perspective didn’t misrepresent the Queens and their words. The release of the film ties in with the Commonwealth Games, which begin today in Birmingham.

The premiere was coupled with an exhibition of 22 art pieces portraying the women interviewed, all created by Birmingham-based artists. With each picture, a QR code leads to a short video featuring each woman. A mural of Louvina, painted by artist ‘Create Not Destroy’, now appears in Erdington, the area she first settled in.

Panayiotou is a sports development manager at Birmingham City Council. He is also the founder of a charity called LGK (Lakis Greek Kitchen), which he created in memory of his late father, Lakis: in May and June every year, LGK opens a Greek taverna in Panayiotou’s own garden; year-round, it supplies food parcels to the area. With his LGK Productions team, Panayiotou has shot the Queens documentaries. All of Panayiotou’s work, from the Council to his charity, is community-based and centred. When he set up LGK, he followed his father’s values: food, for its ability to bring people together, and heritage, because it does justice to everyone’s stories and journeys.

Shooting the documentaries helped Panayiotou to overcome some of his prejudice and preconceptions, too. With “Queen of Amathus”, he was able to leave behind the historical animosity that exists between Greek and Turkish Cypriots. This time, with “Queens of the Commonwealth”, he started seeing the British Queen under a different light. The women interviewed, he says, “didn’t speak of her as a monarch, but as a woman, as a mother, as a grandmother.” For maybe the first time, Panayiotou was able to look at the Queen and see the person rather than the institution.

Panayiotou hopes that this documentary will allow people to truly appreciate the silent sacrifice migrant women have made, for their families and for the UK, too. His upcoming projects expand on his now-signature format; they will explore new realms and feature new Queens.

Satinder, the woman who last saw her father before she left for the UK, sits in her garden as she is interviewed. She shares some advice for women and girls of the next generation: “Follow your dreams, make sure you have your education, explore and enjoy life, play your part in the community. Whatever you do, be a good human being, a good person, and a good citizen of this country.”

For more information about ‘Queens of the Commonwealth’, see here.

What do we have in common with people, and what sets us apart?

Baiqu Gonkar started asking herself these questions at a young age. Born in Tibet, Baiqu saw the discrimination Tibetans faced from Han Chinese when she was a child. She moved to the UK at 11, and in London, a melting pot of stories, lives and cultures – she faced racism and discrimination once again. “People do not see you as an individual, or recognise your multi-layered identity,” she said once. As a new Londoner, she began to wonder: What does representation mean? Why, in such a diverse city, do people still face discrimination, prejudice and stereotypes?

The ideas stayed with her into adulthood. Today, Baiqu is the founder of Art Represent, a platform that champions artists affected by conflict with the aim of giving them a much-needed infrastructure to showcase their art. With Art Represent, Baiqu seeks to empower artists, creatively and economically, and push for social change through art. Her is a story of representation, identity and humanity, and how they can all connect people.

The platform encapsulates Baiqu’s main areas of interest: to start a conversation about what brings people together. Her background working in museums in China and tech and start-ups in the UK, her degree in politics and international relations and her personal history of migration all helped her create Art Represent in 2015 in a gallery space in Bethnal Green, East London.

“I wanted it to be something that empowered people whose voices are maybe not heard as much,” she tells Migrant Voice today. “I really believe that having a personal connection with someone or with someone's story helps you to break down your notions of what that person's community is about, what that person is about.”

Early on, Baiqu started contacting artists that she found online, and asked them if they wanted to have their art showcased. Many accepted, knowing that this would give them a chance to reach a wider audience.

Some had their first solo UK exhibitions thanks to Art Represent: one of these was Omran Narmo, or Imranovi, as he is also known.

Picture: Omran Narmo

A Syrian who had left his home country to avoid conscription during the war, Omran made art to talk about what was happening back home. He had started when he heard of a massacre that killed dozens of children in the city of Houla, hoping that art would help spread the word about Syria. His exhibition, “Modern Face of Syria”, took place in late 2015 in Art Represent’s gallery. The exhibition was named after one of Omran’s pieces, representing Bashar al-Assad’s silhouette, made of rubble and destroyed buildings. As a result, his work was featured on CNN and on the BBC, putting him in the spotlight for his pictures.

“It was very fun, lots of people came,” Omran says. But he was watching from Dubai: unable to travel to London, Omran followed the exhibition from his phone, with Baiqu sending him photos and videos. “It was the first major achievement of my life,” he says, “and I couldn’t be there physically.”

This happens a lot with exhibitions at Art Represent; Baiqu says that she hasn’t met most of the artists featured face to face.

But what’s unusual elsewhere can be very normal at Art Represent. Baiqu learnt quickly that working with artists who live in conflict areas is not always straightforward, or safe for everyone. “The first exhibition that we launched, we had to get materials from Afghanistan, and the day that our contact was supposed to go to the market to get the material, there was a bombing in the market,” she recalls. “That made everyone sort of hyper vigilant about the safety of who you're in touch with on the ground.”

Baiqu finds it important to leave artists free to choose what type of art they want to showcase on Art Represent. Not all of them want to make art about war, conflict, or occupation, but often, western galleries or art spaces tend to focus on that aspect only. She talks about the fetishization of someone’s history – reducing an identity to their relationship to conflict.

“There is a fine line,” Baiqu explains, “because you want to highlight the existing issues, and you want to highlight the reason why you're focusing on this particular thing… At the same time, you don’t want to say that all artists from conflict areas are the same,” or force diverse artists into the same theme for the sake of an exhibition. Art Represent is, for Baiqu, “a space where the individuals who we’re working with can fully express themselves, and can freely create in the way that they see fit.”

The platform has now mainly moved online, but still runs physical projects. A virtual visitor roaming around the collection will quickly notice its diversity of topics, art techniques, places represented and almost anything else. While war and conflict are a prevalent subject, because of many artists’ experiences, many others explore themes such as identity, humanity, beauty.

Sonam Yeshi, an artist based in Dharamsala, India. Her most recent project, Evolution, is a series of prints depicting women wearing traditional clothes and headgear from different regions of Tibet, coupled with various pairs of modern, fashionable sunglasses, and patterned face masks. “Evolution is about contemporary women who have learned to navigate past and present trends in the many nomadic areas on the Tibetan Plateau,” she told Art Represent.

Picture: Sonam Yeshi

Sonam, who has a background in fashion and design, says that her artwork is not political – in fact, she tends to stay away from politics. “It is more about identity, preservation and awareness,” she adds.

Baiqu, her team and some of the artists, including Omran, have faced online criticism and threats because of some of the exhibitions, much of it from people loyal to regimes or groups the artists criticised. But, although everyone’s safety and security come first, Baiqu says, the hostility motivates her to keep going. It has made her even more determined to showcase the art even when it starts difficult conversations, as this is what Art Represent hopes to do: “every project that we put on, we hope to ask questions that are not being asked in the public forum,” says Baiqu.

Art Represent’s upcoming project, “We Represent Art Toolkits”, aims to provide young people with the tools to use art as a way to build “empathy and civic engagement”. “We wanted to look at how to replicate the impact we were having on audiences who usually come to our exhibitions to a wider audience and for it to be more scalable,” says Baiqu. The project will be run in Tower Hamlets with the collaboration of the council, and in the City of London.

Baiqu is proud of her work and what she has built. She hopes that Art Represent will bring some degree of positive change to the lives the project has touched, and it seems like she has managed to do so.

“Because of my personal background, this project is more than just, well, a project for me. This is a personal thing. I want it to always exist, even beyond me. I hope that other people can take it forward, and create something out of it.”

All photos provided by Baiqu Gonkar.

Let me introduce myself. My name is Livia Barreira. I am a proud Brazilian journalist who has been calling the UK my home for the last six years. Throughout all this time, I have been working hard to engage with and promote my city, Sheffield, to highlight meaningful projects in my community and to give my support to others (especially small businesses and female migrants like me). I am very energetic and I love to wake up in the morning and know that I am going to make a difference to other people’s lives that day. People stop me on the streets and at local events to say how much they admire me, my energy and my courage. I am someone special here. I know it. However, I have noticed that people don’t have any idea about the fact that to have the right to live in the UK I already paid nearly £11,000 in extortionate visas.

After a very challenging 5-year visa route, I just got Indefinite Leave to Remain (ILR), my permanent residence permit. My settlement journey was extremely expensive and stressful, as well as being hard emotionally (I had depression in a few moments of my life in the UK, especially when it was close to the expiry date of each visa). To be able to live in this country with my husband, who I love so much, we spent all this time saving money to make sure we would have enough to cover my visa fees. For example, we couldn’t afford a trip to Brazil to visit my family last November, after two years without seeing them because of the pandemic. It was tough, but we decided that I mentally needed that trip so much after the hard times of Covid. So I went there on my own. It was too expensive for both of us to go as we knew we had my ILR bill coming up in a couple of months.

For my last visa (ILR) I was charged £3,200. As the standard application takes up to six months to get a decision by the Home Office, I decided to pay an extra £800 for the priority service, and in four hours I received an email saying that my application was successful. It is all about money. This is totally absurd! It doesn’t make any sense: four hours or six months.

They play with our emotions. They make us feel anxious.

Yes, we need a lot of courage and resilience to start a new life in another country. Migration can be lonely and depressing. Even if you are an honest person trying your best to add positive things to the place where you are living, the immigration system can be cruel to you. Unfortunately, many people don’t know about this unfair challenge, and many migrants like myself are struggling in silence in the UK. Putting together my fiancé visa, spouse visa, spouse visa extension and Indefinite Leave to Remain I spent approximately £11,000.

I am not saying the Home Office doesn’t need to charge migrants anything, but we are clearly being overcharged, and someone is making really good money with extortionate visa fees. I cannot see many people talking about this issue. I think the situation can be intimidating and migrants normally feel scared of using their voices to speak out. However, the government cannot simply charge us a fortune and expect that we will just accept it in silence. We will not. There must be a limit! I could just be quiet now as I already conquered my permanent residency in the country, but I really wish other migrants coming after me won’t need to face this struggle.

I didn’t move to the UK to take advantage of the British system. From my point of view, it is the other way around. I have been adding so much diversity and positive things to my community, while at the same time I was financially and emotionally abused by the immigration system.

Livia Barreira is a journalist living in Sheffield. She has written her first book about the experiences of eight female migrants in her city and is raising funds to publish it.

Taking Care of Business: Migrant Entrepreneurs and the Making of Britain has good stories to tell, from Jimmy Choo to easyJet, from Madame Tussauds to the man behind the James Bond films.

It starts, of course, with takeaways and cafes and home-made food, because that’s how many migrant businesses have taken  their first steps.

An exhibition caption quotes Spasia Dinkorski’s recollection: “I would wake up, make myself a coffee and then start baking borek [a flaky pastry that can have a variety of fillings]… I would then load up my pink trolleys with pies and take them on the tube to make deliveries.”

Some enterprises fail because they are ahead of their time - like Dean Mahomed’s first curry house in 1810. Undeterred, he set up Mahamed’s Baths in Brighton (and later became “shampooing surgeon” to two British kings).

The first Indian restaurants in London’s West End - mostly employing ex-Bangladeshi seamen as chefs - catered for well-to-do Indian students and Britons returning from postings in the British Raj. 

The Bangladeshi-owned cafes in London’s Brick Lane (“Banglatown”) targeted Asian working men, until Pakistan-born Musa Patel changed everything with The Clifton in 1967.

The first Cantonese restaurant, Maxim’s, in Soho opened in 1908, but the exhibition tells us that the Chinese restaurant and takeaway phenomena didn’t take off until 1958.

Indran Selvendran from Sri Lanka opened a chicken shop in Sydenham in 1985, spawning a family-run south London chain and scores of rip-off versions, many copying its red-and-white colours.

The first coffee house, we are told,  was established by an Armenian trader in 1652 and 300 years later it was Italian migrants who brought us coffee bars - including the biggest chain, Costa, to the point where we as a nation drink 100 million coffees a day.

Survival was a key motivating force in this food revolution that has transformed and enriched Britain. Angela Hui, who grew up in a Chinese takeaway in south Wales - and is among those whose studies and memories make this show so entertaining- says that “takeaways were underpinned by colonialism, and British Chinese food developed under a determination for a better life despite the struggles faced. 

“Sweet and sour pork and chop suey weren’t just delicious; they also tell stories of waves of immigration from Hong Kong, China, Vietnam and Malaysia.”

Not all migrant enterprises survive. The exhibition has a powerful photograph of an anti-German riot outside the shop of a naturalised German immigrant, Fred Sieber, who was part of a number of migrant butchers from the small Hohenlohe region who experienced a backlash during the First World War. Many were interned or shipped back to Germany. The indiscriminate nature of xenophobia, and all forms of discrimination, was underlined by the fact that at the time of the riot Sieber had become a British national and his eldest son was a British officer fighting the Germans.

That was (and is) not the only problem for entrepreneurial migrants. Examples in the exhibition include Smokey Joe’s Diner, whose Jamaican owner couldn’t get a bank loan to expand his highly popular enterprise. “The bank told me it wouldn’t last more than two-and-a-half years.” It lasted nearly 12 before he retired.

Foreign-sounding names were often changed to make them easier for language-lazy Brits, though for Dame Stephanie Shirley, who escaped from Germany as a child in the late 1930s, the problem was not xenophobia but misogyny. Business letters on behalf of her “company of women managed by women” got zero response “until my dear husband suggested that I use the family nickname of Steve [and] things began to take off. I’ve been Steve ever since.”

Others faced racism (like the “corner shop families” who introduced open-all-hours culture to Britain and found the police unwilling to take an interest in the harassment they faced) or just general dinginess: “When I first arrived it was difficult,” a Sri Lankan is quoted as saying. “It was gloomy and dark, I struggled with the language and my studies, and I wanted to go back home.” Dinusha Dissanayake persevered and now has five cafes in south London

The exhibition also features success stories in the Tech Zone, music, hairdressers (including Britain’s first multimillion pound Black-owned business), and boutiques (where visitors are reminded that some “migrant garment-factory owners have been found guilty of exploiting migrant workers”).

The museum has tried to be bold and creative: baked bean cans that speak in the Corner Shop section, fascinating old photos, original art. But some sections look rushed, even unfinished, and do not provide enough information. The result is patchy and a bit rough-and-ready. 

In the promised land, when the Migration Museum is properly funded and has a permanent home, it should revisit and expand this exhibition to prove the enormous contribution made to Britain by migrant entrepreneurs. In the meantime, this is a good start.

*  Taking Care of Business: Migrant Entrepreneurs and the Making of Britain is at the Migration Museum, Lewisham Shopping Centre (entrance in Central Square), London SE13, Wednesday to Sunday, until 5 March 2023. Info: info@migrationmuseum.org 

TUESDAY 29 MARCH 2022 

Migrant Voice member Collette Anthonette Francis recently opened "A Gift to Birmingham" at Ikon Gallery in collaboration with Migrant Voice and the University of Birmingham. The exhibition includes seventeen portraits of Migrant Voice members, as captured by renowned photographer Vanley Burke. Here, we publish Collette's opening speech. 

My name is Collette.

I am a gift.

Isn’t it rude to reject, ignore or belittle a gift?

Behind my smile, there is pain.

I don’t feel I exist right now because I am still waiting for a decision on my extension visa after being here in the UK for 23 years and have two British children, not knowing for sure if my visa will be granted.

It more than likely will, but people don’t seem to understand the fear, the worrying, sleepless nights and the hurt of not knowing for sure what the outcome will be.

I am a Commonwealth citizen but at the same time I don’t feel as if I am treated as such.

I find the experience of being visible stressful because I feel as though I don’t belong here. It’s been a bittersweet experience for me.

I feel like this project has given me the opportunity to tell my side of my story because migrants are often talked about but are expected to just remain silent and get on with life with little or no support.

I am a gift to Birmingham, a hardworking single mother. A person of Birmingham who want to bring about changes for better in our society.

As I continue my fight, I have faith that I will in the end be a citizen of the UK.

You can watch BBC Midlands Today's coverage of the exhibition by clicking here

Read I Am Birmingham's coverage of the exhibition by clicking here

THURSDAY 3 MARCH, 2022

Our member and community activist Magdalena Zielinska discusses why she and her friends organised a 1,000-strong vigil in Birmingham following the outbreak of the war in Ukraine 

Following the terrible news of the war in Ukraine me and my Polish friends, Magda Breitkopf and Beata Zaborniak, decided to hold a vigil in Birmingham in solidarity with Ukrainians suffering on Sunday 27 February.

This was not a Polish-only event. We wanted to involve all communities to show the widespread support. We invited the Coventry Ukrainian Association and other Eastern European communities, as well as our friend, the talented singer Karolina Wegrzyn, to sing some Ukrainian songs and lift spirits. 

We are actually overwhelmed by the turnout, even the lord mayor Andy Street turned up and the leader of the council Ian Ward came, and they invited more people of Birmingham to join us. 

We had speakers from Ukraine, Georgia, Poland and Russia. The message was a very simple one, of love and solidarity, and a NO to war on Ukrainian soil. 

Lots of people brought donations of clothes to go out to Ukraine, so not only was the vigil symbolic - it was also practical. We will continue the collections focusing on medical supplies moving forward. 

Following our vigil, and others up and down the country, I understand the government has announced an extra 100,000 Ukrainian refugees will be able to come to the UK. This is a step in the right direction and we hope for more to be welcomed.

We hope to continue to highlight the needs of all those escaping war and persecution and ensure there is a safe passage for all.

TUESDAY MARCH 1 2022

Today, I am launching the Nightworker Charter, which highlights the need to recognise the contribution of nightworkers in our societies – many of whom are migrants. This charter aims to put nighttime workers on equal footing with their daytime counterparts. 

The launch of the Nightworker Charter coincides with the United Nations’ Zero Discrimination Day – a global observance of the unwritten law that everyone counts in our societies, regardless of their skin colour, gender, skill level, education, and beliefs. This important day is often symbolised by a butterfly: a sign of change, hope, renewal – and transformation. Similarly, this charters seeks to transform night workplaces by upholding the basic rights of nightworkers to live and work in dignity. The charter also celebrates the strategic role that nightworkers have been playing in keeping societies going around-the-clock.  

Recently, I created the NIGHTWORKSHOP project to carry out research into the invisible employees working nightshifts in cities. Since then, I have initiated discussions advocating for their rights, including with trade unions, academics, non-governmental organisations representing migrants, and EU agencies. Over the years, I reached out to people who work in these capacities, for example, as a night ethnographer, migration scholar, outreach worker and as a collaborator with NGOs working with vulnerable groups. I do all of this because I am passionate about improving the rights of those who work at night. The result is the Nightworker Charter. You can read all about the Nightworker Charter, via the link or in the text attached to this blog. 

This Nightworker Charter is an example of action-based research and committed ethnography proposing a set of special arrangements to recognise, address and repair specific problems with nightwork. In one sense, the Nightworker Charter has organically grown out of the past ten years of researching nightwork. Yet, the ideas behind this Nightworker Charter have developed through my conversations with individuals and organisations who also care about these workers, including Migrant Voice. The Nightworker Charter remains open to collaboration with individuals and organisations pledging to improve night working conditions. I am currently collecting signatories world-wide to engage and endorse the Charter’s democratising work agenda.

In solidarity, you can become a signatory and pledge to improve nightworkers’ lives. Sign and invite others to sign this charter. Recommend the charter to unions, labour organisations, employers, local and regional councillors, and health and safety organisations.

THURSDAY 13 JANUARY, 2022

Here is a reflection from Mara Sese, one of our Ambassadors in Glasgow, who writes about the situation for Filipino migrants in the UK.

Filipinos come to the United Kingdom for lots of different reasons, for instance, to study or because of work opportunities. They work in a variety of sectors, including hospitality, engineering, accounting - and healthcare. Indeed, an estimated 40,000 Filipinos are employed by the NHS. 

During the pandemic there was an increase of direct hiring from the different countries to fill in the labour shortages. These included Filipino nurses, who are recognised for being passionate, caring and treating each patient with dignity, respect and equality regardless of sexual orientation, religion or belief, legal status, age and disability.

There are a whole range of issues that have affected their settlement in the United Kingdom.  Some of these issues are housing, extortionate visa fees, an unpredictable immigration process, and the removal of free legal aid in 2013.

Filipino workers also face barriers such as discrimination, isolation, and learning a different language. 

According to one 2020 survey, immigration and social policies in the UK have been linked to imposing inequality on Filipino workers.

High charges for sponsoring workers to work legally in the UK also provides a burden to the employers making it difficult for them to provide support to their migrant employees and making it difficult to fill in the labour shortages available in the market creating more gaps.

The NHS needs migrants to be able to function and provide the services that they provide. 

Filipino workers have helped fill vacant positions in the NHS, plugging staffing shortages which have been exacerbated by the impact of Brexit and the severity of the pandemic.

The Government needs to review their policies in order to protect Filipino nurses and, indeed, all migrants. Migrant workers also need to raise their voices and lobby for the change that they want. If you want change in the system, you need to mobilize and raise your concerns so as to be a positive impact in your community. We must work in unity and collaboration to provide the best possible care for people.

Image credit: Laura James from Pexels

What can a small under-funded, under-staffed migrants’ NGO do in a world of state power, multinational corporations and a hostile environment?

It’s just a minnow in an ocean, I hear you say.

And, yes, picking up the dry-as-dust Migrant Voice recent annual report for the year ended March 2021, I ask myself, “Why bother to read this? It will be a heap of facts and figures and I’ll just get depressed wondering how on earth a small organisation can make an impact in an intolerant world?”

My bad, as they say on the street.

The report turns out to be a heartening account of how much a handful of enthusiastic people can achieve even in a year disrupted by Covid-19.

For example:

• The website was redesigned; work moved online and the number of migrants’ meetings and training sessions multiplied; a regular newsletter was distributed with “tip-lists” and information about activities and Covid
• Cup’a’Tea social gatherings enabled members to keep in touch, catch up and avoid isolation
• The UK Migrant Voices for Change Network in London, West Midlands and Glasgow was strengthened
• The Scottish branch became a charity (a move that sounds dull and bureaucratic but involved weeks of painstaking work and opens the door to a new range of funding and activities)
   

Partnerships – which magnify Migrant Voice’s work – also grew.  There are too many to mention but include migrant and refugee organisations, TV diversity panels, trade unions, research and  community groups, parliamentary and Lords committees, universities, student bodies, city councils, human rights organisations, anti-trafficking NGOs, equality, anti-racism and anti-poverty networks, and the UN.

Collaboration doesn’t simply mean sending emails. It involves advising and influencing media, running workshops, awareness-raising, doing surveys, advocacy at public meetings, research, participating in public meetings, pushing people and organisations to implement good practice around integration of migrants, preparing toolkits and always, always helping migrants get onto public platforms and promoting change – in attitudes and policies.

Campaigns and advocacy in the year under review focussed on the rights of EU nationals; the My Future Back Campaign, fighting for justice for thousands of overseas students who were wrongly accused of cheating and chucked off their university courses; the campaign against extortionate visa fees; work with undocumented migrants.

Any one of such campaign is really a full-time job, but Migrant Voice managed to keep them all active. Its interventions ranged from a demo (and photo opportunity) outside parliament, prompting journalists to cover the issues, lobbying ministers and individual MPs and writing briefings for politicians, supporting three students to write about their problems in a book on the hostile environment, developing surveys, helping organise media interviews for members, liaising with lawyers and actively intervening in a court case which Migrant Voice hopes will establish an important precedent. 

Sometimes specific action produces an instant result.

For example, an interview with a Migrant Voice member led the Channel4 news and another made The Guardian front page which later that day contributed to a Government U-turn abolishing the NHS Surcharge for health workers.

Mostly, however, interviews, reports and demos influence policy in subtler, longer-term ways – like the Migrant Voice-led Building Resilience project. It aims to help migrant communities most marginalised by Covid, and the work ranged from providing spaces for migrants to share experiences, a session on how to engage your MP, making campaign videos and preparing a report that got good media coverage.

Similarly, the MiFriendly Cities project ran six Media Labs with participants from Birmingham, Coventry and Wolverhampton and followed up with weekly “newsroom” sessions to produce content. The result was skills enhancement and an online and glossy magazine marking Black History month.

A Volunteering for Change project in Glasgow produced this glowing testimony:

“Volunteers have told us that the project helped to increase their skills and confidence through taking part in a wide range of training opportunities, improved their mental health and wellbeing, helped them meet new people and improve their career prospects.

“For some, the skills and confidence they gained from volunteering encouraged them to go back to college and university. A number of them found jobs using their experience with us. For the volunteers who were migrants, they told us that volunteering helped partially replace the links and ties they lost in the act of migration, creating a new sense of belonging,”

I could continue with my report of a report: this is just a taste. I haven’t even begun to cover the pioneering Meet a Migrant project, or the research activities, or the scores of details of interviews, programmes and policies, let alone the time spent organising, fundraising, monitoring and all the other activities that keep the show on the road.

But I hope you’ve got the picture. One small migrant-led organisation can change lives, shift policy. It can help, challenge, inform, educate, support, and promote solidarity and equity.

The environment is hostile, time is short, money is scarce, hope looks pollyannish.  But look at the small print, at its many activities, at the efforts of its members, and you see an organisation that consistently achieves a great deal. You even see hope.

It’s tiring to have to keep pointing out the obvious truth, to have to convince fellow humans who happen to sit in parliament about something as fundamental as the value of human life - mine, yours, this other life that happens to have been caught up in a war or is running from being a prisoner of conscience in a jail from which no one emerges alive, this person with a survival instinct that tells them to get to safety.

One life lost should be enough to wake us up. Let alone 27 deaths in the Channel. Thousands who perish every year while fleeing to where they thought they could find safety, because the route to get there isn’t safe, and it doesn’t exist.

Life isn’t valued equally in the world in which we live. We know that.

Political calculation finds it advantageous to allow some people to be constant scapegoats, constant punchbags for everything – the imaginary ogre on whom we can project all kinds of fearful scenarios.

It conveniently distracts from what are the root causes of our inequalities and political shortcomings to fix those.

And it works to feed existing fears. “But where are we going to put them? How can you trust them? We don’t even have enough for ourselves.”

No, we really don’t have enough of anything, when we think it’s okay to push people into the sea and let them drown because that will fix our problems.

The political solution presented is more force, more control, more violence. Stop ‘them’ at every cost.

So we have the Nationality and Borders Bill. We have the lies that underpin it pretending it’s a good thing, that it will better the lives of asylum seekers and Britons instead of what it will really do: violate and undermine international protection laws. Put lives further at risk. Create precarious statuses of ‘living in between’ with no rights. 

It’s tiring. We talk, we put arguments, we debate, we place our messages, we explain, we show evidence, we scrutinise, we hold up examples, support amendments with briefings, speak out. Lots of words, well put, representing problems, real people’s lives which will be at greater risk of not reaching safety in the future.

Do you want me to explain why, again?

So the Bill passed the Commons on 8 December, 298 to 231. Now it goes on to the House of Lords. And so we can still fight, put forward arguments: the battle continues, though the Bill will eventually become law. But the fundamental problem is not this Bill or that Bill, this ‘solution’ or ‘that one’.

There is no solution until we value life equally.

Photo credit: Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash. Free to use under the Unsplash License

I did feel numb when I heard the devastating yet predictable news of a tragedy, that at least 27 people died while trying to cross the Channel to seek safety in the UK. A tragedy that is purely man-made: the UK government could establish a safe and legal route for people to travel to claim asylum here. Scrolling down Twitter distractedly, I saw a notice for an emergency demo later that day, organised by Sisters Uncut.

On this bitterly cold night, I found a huge crowd of awesome humans in front of the Home Office HQ in London, united in their outrage over the lives lost through the violence of border control, and their determination to dismantle this killing machine.

I am a migrant. When I hear variations of ‘They are migrants, let them drown in the sea’ repeated again and again, I do get the message: some people think I and people who are called “migrants” don’t deserve to live. I don’t quite know how to describe the feeling when these words enter my ear, the feeling I usually put at the back of my metaphorical cupboard, trying not to let it interfere with my life and work. It is located somewhere between devastation, rage, fear and sorrow. It drains you.

And if I am feeling like that from the comfort of my relative safety, imagine what’s going through the minds of already battered migrants, refugees or people seeking asylum* now as they are bombarded with words and phrases that come out of the mouths of politicians, opinion formers, columnists… the list goes on. (*Yes, one could say that there are different categories to which we fall into but we share one crucial thing – we are humans who moved across borders.)

Nazek Ramadan, Director of Migrant Voice, and I often share and discuss what migrants actually say to us in their candid moments. Not just their words, I also hold onto the memory of how they were said: people’s body language, the tone of their voice, the way their eyes look into the middle distance or the hands that are energetically gesticulating or clutching a cup of tea as if their life depends on it. They are real people, not statistics, not numbers. I honour them by recognising their whole humanity.

In one of those meandering chats some years ago, Nazek once told me what one Migrant Voice member had said to her, which stayed with me ever since. She said to Nazek 'I don’t know why people hate us so much, when they don’t even know us.’ While looking at the ever-growing crowd of people in front of the Home Office building, I had this urge to connect with this woman right then and there.  I wanted to tell her: “Whoever you are or wherever you are, I hear you. But I want you to know about these people, who don’t know us, who came out tonight to stand in solidarity with us.”

There is so much pain as we mourn the 27 people who died and countless others who were killed/harmed by the violence of border control across the world. But in tonight’s crowd, there was also lots of love, dignity and hope. Of course, hope is no substitute for strategy. It offers no guarantee for the imagined future. But without it, we might not be able to rouse ourselves from our sleep the following day. And the day after the demo, I did get up again to face the world.

Eiri Ohtani is Strategy Advisor at Migrant Voice. Migrant Voice is a migrant-led organisation that builds a community of migrant voices which speak for ourselves to challenge and transform anti-migrant attitudes, narratives and policies and achieve social justice for all. Eiri tweets at @EiriOhtani

Meet Lina From Lima, who’s about to return to Peru after 10 years as a housekeeper to a rich Chilean family.

She’s finally going to see her son again, who has grown in her absence from a small child to an adolescent.

No, it’s not another grim film about migrant labour. It’s a gripping, funny musical.

It’s part of the London Migration Film Festival, which is run by a group of London-based women “each holding academic interest in and personal experiences of migration”.

“Lina From Lima is totally subversive,” says collective member Laura Stahnke, who works for a migrant rights charity, “When you hear about female domestic workers you think it’s a downer.  Lina is queen of her own story. She’s an economic migrant but she isn’t being exploited, subjugated and sad. This film recognises the full humanity of Lina.”

It’s the first musical in the festival’s six-year history, but the collective’s overall aim is to humanise the issue of migration and to challenge how people think, and talk, about it.

“The focus should not be on being passive victims,” says fellow organiser Lily Parrott, “partly because of this the genre we like most is comedy, which does a great job in creating affection rather than pity."

“A lot of films are sad and while we welcome them in the programme, a lot of migrants know that not everything in their experience of migration was sad.”

There are 27 films in this year’s programme – selected from searches and submissions – compared with eight in its first year, 2016.

In the beginning the team knew nothing about running a film festival, but they’ve learned fast: “We were total novices but we’ve taught ourselves about the industry.”

The festival finances itself — everything is paid for by the sale of tickets, which in pre-Covid 2019 numbered almost 2,000. This year online screenings should expand viewer numbers. A number of films will be available, free, for the week of the festival and the following week.

Parrott, who works as an immigration lawyer, says that relevance is one of the selection factors: “This year for example, we have a film on climate emergency [Whether the Weather is Fine, in which three characters must decide whether to stay on a typhoon-struck island in The Philippines or move to Manila].”

Also reflecting the headlines are a couple of films focussing on Afghans; Four Seasons in a Day on the UK-Ireland border; docu-fiction on Sudanese refugees, Chance; and Purple Sea, which charts the sinking of a refugee boat using footage from a waterproof camera.

Another factor in selecting films is ensuring a geographic spread. Gender is a theme this year, too. “A lot of films focus on women protagonists, showing their autonomy rather than reducing them to passivity,” says Parrott.

It’s all a long way since that first festival. “Lily and I were doing masters’ in migration studies,” recalls Stahnke. “We were going to a lot of events about migration and migrants. We often felt things weren’t quite right in terms of representation, so why not try to do our own events."

Both women agree that interest in migration has skyrocketed. “There’s a lot of creativity going into filmmaking around migration these days, and there’s a lot more fiction, unabashedly focussing on migration.”

And they both insist that they are particularly interested in attracting audiences who haven’t developed fully formed opinions about migration: “They may want to watch a musical, like Lina from Lima. We are trying to be attractive for those not fully sold on migration issues.”

Image credit: The Migration Collective

* The London Migration Film Festival, documentaries, features, shorts, Q&As + workshops, 25 November - 1 December.

Elham Fardad thought she had “done alright”, as she puts it. Originally from Iran, she had lived in the UK since she was 13 years old, and had now worked successfully as a Finance Director in large companies for 23 years. Things hadn’t always been easy, and in her first few years in the country, she had faced her own challenges: she had to learn a new language, had changed three state schools in three years, and her family had broken up.

At 18, she was living with her single mother and younger brother, and she was sure that only through education would she be able to get herself out of that difficult situation. She wanted to go to university.

“But I was going to be counted as an international student, because I had only been in the UK for a few years,” explains Elham. This made a sizeable difference in terms of fees and other support granted to students. “So I camped outside Birmingham City Council offices for three days, until someone agreed to count me as a home student.”

“That was such a lifeline, and it felt really good – not only because I got to go to university, but because it confirmed what I knew in my heart: that I was a Brummie.” By the time she was 25, Elham had landed her big break as a Financial Controller in GE, and went on to work as a Finance Director for over two decades.

But in 2017, Elham read the Parker Review, an independent report about diversity in UK boards. “It opened my eyes and my heart sank, because I realised that there were still others who were facing the same difficulties that I had, and maybe even more.”

The review showed that ethnic minorities and migrants made up a tiny percentage of UK board directors, less than 2%, and even those were almost always privately educated. Elham realised that more needed to be done for young people from migrant backgrounds to give them access to better career opportunities. “Migrants in Britain are very talented, but they lack the social capital, connections and insight they need to fulfil their potential,” she says.

Today, Elham is the CEO of Migrant Leaders, the charity she founded as a response to the Parker Review. She speaks confidently about her story and her work, recalling precise information with ease, and her brown eyes brighten up as she speaks of the young people the charity has been able to help in the past four years.

The charity works with first- and second- generation migrants between 16 and 25 years old, as well as white British young people from disadvantaged backgrounds. “Everyone who gets onto our programme, which is completely free of charge, gets a senior mentor from one of the companies we work with,” explains Elham. Migrant Leaders now have 890 mentors from nearly one hundred prestigious firms in different sectors, from finance to medicine. Mentees stay in the programme for three to five years, and throughout this time, mentors (and the wider Migrant Leaders programme) help them with internships, workshops, career advice, industry insights, interview practice, networking and more. “We now have 865 mentees on the programme” in 52 locations across the UK, says Elham. “They stay with us until they land their first job, and even later. It really feels like a family.”

Elham, who now lives in London and is married with two children, explains that her family was “supportive but surprised” when she decided to launch Migrant Leaders charity. “They couldn’t at first see the vision I had for it in my head.” Her own strong belief in her plan is what motivated her to carry on in the first few months, she adds. Today, it’s the mentees’ stories that drive her.

The stories are published on the charity’s website and their impact reports: there is James, the first in his family to attend university, who after three years with Migrant Leaders was able to secure his dream graduate job at Kantar; there is Wasifa, who thanks to her mentor’s insights was the first in her school to attend Medical Sciences at University College London; and many others who have been able to step out of what they thought were their limits.

“I expected young people would be interested in the programme,” says Elham. But the initiative exceeded her own expectations, gaining support from the firms themselves: “The programme has been really successful in delivering results, and mentors and corporate partners like to see positive, tangible outcomes” like the mentees’ employment and internship rates. However, Elham thinks there is something more to it: “I think it’s because there are more good people in the world than we think.”

Although most professionals she worked with have been enthusiastic of the project, Elham admits that a handful of voices have mentioned the ‘migrants taking our jobs’ trope, voices which have been more vocal with Brexit. But, she adds, Brexit also compelled some corporate executives to work more with migrants, refugees and charities.

And last year, the Covid pandemic has hit the team hard - emotionally. With offices closed, Elham says, “at first I thought this would be an operational challenge.” But the charity adapted quickly, developing virtual work experiences with its partners, and organising Covid-safe, on-site internships in the summer. What Elham didn’t expect was how tough it would be to be faced with stories of loss, homelessness, unemployment. “Those went to our heart,” she says, adding that it helped to focus on solutions and providing support for her mentees.

After four years, Elham feels that Migrant Leaders is ready to scale up its programme and reach even more young people, and she encourages anyone who is eligible to apply to it – and to not lose hope. She has a message to any struggling young person: “In your darkest moment, even when everything seems hopeless, do not give up,” she says. “If you give up, it’s game over. Even if every bone in your body says ‘This is a disaster, I’m never going to get anywhere’ – accept that you have the talent and the strength to get yourself out of that situation… Do not lose hope, do not give up.”

Image description: Elham Fardad (centre) with young people from the Migrant Leaders' programme.

Image credit: Courtesy of Elham Fardad.

To know more about Migrant Leaders and its work, visit the charity’s website. If you would like to join the Migrant Leaders Development Programme, visit this page and complete the online application form.

Elham Fardad thought she had “done alright”, as she puts it. Originally from Iran, she had lived in the UK since she was 13 years old, and had now worked successfully as a Finance Director in large companies for 23 years. Things hadn’t always been easy, and in her first few years in the country, she had faced her own challenges: she had to learn a new language, had changed three state schools in three years, and her family had broken up.

At 18, she was living with her single mother and younger brother, and she was sure that only through education would she be able to get herself out of that difficult situation. She wanted to go to university.

“But I was going to be counted as an international student, because I had only been in the UK for a few years,” explains Elham. This made a sizeable difference in terms of fees and other support granted to students. “So I camped outside Birmingham City Council offices for three days, until someone agreed to count me as a home student.”

“That was such a lifeline, and it felt really good – not only because I got to go to university, but because it confirmed what I knew in my heart: that I was a Brummie.” By the time she was 25, Elham had landed her big break as a Financial Controller in GE, and went on to work as a Finance Director for over two decades.

But in 2017, Elham read the Parker Review, an independent report about diversity in UK boards. “It opened my eyes and my heart sank, because I realised that there were still others who were facing the same difficulties that I had, and maybe even more.”

The review showed that ethnic minorities and migrants made up a tiny percentage of UK board directors, less than 2%, and even those were almost always privately educated. Elham realised that more needed to be done for young people from migrant backgrounds to give them access to better career opportunities. “Migrants in Britain are very talented, but they lack the social capital, connections and insight they need to fulfil their potential,” she says.

Today, Elham is the CEO of Migrant Leaders, the charity she founded as a response to the Parker Review. She speaks confidently about her story and her work, recalling precise information with ease, and her brown eyes brighten up as she speaks of the young people the charity has been able to help in the past four years.

The charity works with first- and second- generation migrants between 16 and 25 years old, as well as white British young people from disadvantaged backgrounds. “Everyone who gets onto our programme, which is completely free of charge, gets a senior mentor from one of the companies we work with,” explains Elham. Migrant Leaders now have 890 mentors from nearly one hundred prestigious firms in different sectors, from finance to medicine. Mentees stay in the programme for three to five years, and throughout this time, mentors (and the wider Migrant Leaders programme) help them with internships, workshops, career advice, industry insights, interview practice, networking and more. “We now have 865 mentees on the programme” in 52 locations across the UK, says Elham. “They stay with us until they land their first job, and even later. It really feels like a family.”

Elham, who now lives in London and is married with two children, explains that her family was “supportive but surprised” when she decided to launch Migrant Leaders charity. “They couldn’t at first see the vision I had for it in my head.” Her own strong belief in her plan is what motivated her to carry on in the first few months, she adds. Today, it’s the mentees’ stories that drive her.

The stories are published on the charity’s website and their impact reports: there is James, the first in his family to attend university, who after three years with Migrant Leaders was able to secure his dream graduate job at Kantar; there is Wasifa, who thanks to her mentor’s insights was the first in her school to attend Medical Sciences at University College London; and many others who have been able to step out of what they thought were their limits.

“I expected young people would be interested in the programme,” says Elham. But the initiative exceeded her own expectations, gaining support from the firms themselves: “The programme has been really successful in delivering results, and mentors and corporate partners like to see positive, tangible outcomes” like the mentees’ employment and internship rates. However, Elham thinks there is something more to it: “I think it’s because there are more good people in the world than we think.”

Although most professionals she worked with have been enthusiastic of the project, Elham admits that a handful of voices have mentioned the ‘migrants taking our jobs’ trope, voices which have been more vocal with Brexit. But, she adds, Brexit also compelled some corporate executives to work more with migrants, refugees and charities.

And last year, the Covid pandemic has hit the team hard - emotionally. With offices closed, Elham says, “at first I thought this would be an operational challenge.” But the charity adapted quickly, developing virtual work experiences with its partners, and organising Covid-safe, on-site internships in the summer. What Elham didn’t expect was how tough it would be to be faced with stories of loss, homelessness, unemployment. “Those went to our heart,” she says, adding that it helped to focus on solutions and providing support for her mentees.

After four years, Elham feels that Migrant Leaders is ready to scale up its programme and reach even more young people, and she encourages anyone who is eligible to apply to it – and to not lose hope. She has a message to any struggling young person: “In your darkest moment, even when everything seems hopeless, do not give up,” she says. “If you give up, it’s game over. Even if every bone in your body says ‘This is a disaster, I’m never going to get anywhere’ – accept that you have the talent and the strength to get yourself out of that situation… Do not lose hope, do not give up.”

Image description: Elham Fardad (centre) with young people from the Migrant Leaders' programme.

Image credit: Courtesy of Elham Fardad.

To know more about Migrant Leaders and its work, visit the charity’s website. If you would like to join the Migrant Leaders Development Programme, visit this page and complete the online application form.

THURSDAY 21 OCTOBER, 2021

Syrian musician Basel Saleh speaks to Migrant Voice about his career so far, and and his plans to make us all fall in love with the oud - one of the world’s oldest instruments.  

Destruction forced Basel Saleh to Britain, death brought him into contact with musicians at a London street party, and determination is enabling him to carve out a musical career in a new country.

The destruction was in Syria, the death was that of British MP Jo Cox, and the determination is evident in his drive to make the best of his situation.

Basel was a well-known musicologist and musician, who researched, taught and played at the High Institute of Music in Damascus. Although life in the Syrian capital was largely insulated from the war, the city was hit by occasional explosions and shells, which caused him concern for his children’s safety. “In any place at war you can’t have a normal life,” he says.

He and his musician brother Taim were handpicked by a UK-based non-profit organisation, Africa Express, for a European tour as part of the reconstituted Orchestra of Syrian Musicians, formed before the 2011 outbreak of war.

After playing at Glastonbury Festival and London’s Southbank Centre the brothers became residents of Barnsley, in the northern county of Yorkshire. “I love Barnsley,” he says. “We did a lot of concerts there.”

Despite being an experienced teacher, composer, instrumentalist and singer, he says: “many people here told me you can’t make money from music.” So, he opened a Syrian restaurant.

“I’m a good cook and so is my wife [who joined him with their children, now 7 and 10]. But after four or five months I thought I should play music.”

In Barnsley and London, where he moved after six months, Basel had little trouble establishing himself in British life. “I love people, talking with people, I met people nearly every day,” he says.

On one of those days he went to a street party in Brixton, south London, in memory of Jo Cox, and met the iyatraQuartet, who describe themselves as playing improvised music on orchestral instruments, using folk and world music as starting points. They played together at festivals in London and Brighton and at the Brighton Open Air Theatre. “They are like family,” adds Basel. 

It was just a beginning: “British, African, Arabic, Syrian, Egyptian, Iraqi musicians, I met many musicians here. You need a lot of musicians if you want to make an orchestra.”

He also wants to teach Arabic music “In Syria we know everything about European music. Syrians listen to jazz, for example. But Europeans don’t know about Arab music. So we have a chance to share it.

“In Syria we have fifty four different scales, and I have seen that many people here are interested in this. But it’s hard for them to listen.”

That’s why another of his many goals is to make Arabic music harmonious to British ears.

And he will continue composing. “I think that if I compose new music I should make it a mix between Eastern and Western music, using Arabic scale and European harmony, Arabic rhythms and British singers singing in English. We can do it.”

He is confident after conducting a concert with the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, playing Syrian, Lebanese, Egyptian and Andalucian music. Participating artists included  Blur and Gorillaz singer Damon Albarn (who is also the lead singer of Blur).  “A cellist from Liverpool told me ‘It’s the first time I’ve seen people reacting physically … people standing up and dancing.’”

Basel is brimming with enthusiasm – “In Syria you just play for the Arabic world,” he explains. “Here there is a lot you can do, here you can play for everyone in the world.”

Nevertheless, re-starting life in a new country is not easy.

His youngest son has picked up English quickly (“you’d think he was born here”) and Basel is studying the language four days a week. “My main goal is to do a PhD but I need a high level of English,” he adds.

And as if language, work, accommodation and a new culture were not problems enough, along came Covid.

The disease struck the family twice, and Basel was extremely ill: “I had nine days without food or sleep. I nearly died.”

But they all recovered.  His wife is now in her second year at the University of Bedfordshire, studying human resources, and works two days a week at Breadwinners, a non-government organisation that aims to integrate migrants through employment.

Basel has a job, too, teaching children Arabic through music at the Alyasamine  school in west London. He has a Syrian masters degree in music education, but says this is “something new for me”. He also gives lessons in playing the oud, a lute-like instrument.

He is busy and has many goals. ”I think if you want to live in London you have got to be patient and work hard because London is for active people. If you want to be lazy, go to a far [away], quiet town.”

https://www.baselsaleh.com

+ Lama Bada/Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra & Orchestra of Syrian Musicians conducted by Bassel Saleh

+ The iyatra Quartet

THURSDAY 21 OCTOBER, 2021

Syrian musician Basel Saleh speaks to Migrant Voice about his career so far, and and his plans to make us all fall in love with the oud - one of the world’s oldest instruments.  

Destruction forced Basel Saleh to Britain, death brought him into contact with musicians at a London street party, and determination is enabling him to carve out a musical career in a new country.

The destruction was in Syria, the death was that of British MP Jo Cox, and the determination is evident in his drive to make the best of his situation.

Basel was a well-known musicologist and musician, who researched, taught and played at the High Institute of Music in Damascus. Although life in the Syrian capital was largely insulated from the war, the city was hit by occasional explosions and shells, which caused him concern for his children’s safety. “In any place at war you can’t have a normal life,” he says.

He and his musician brother Taim were handpicked by a UK-based non-profit organisation, Africa Express, for a European tour as part of the reconstituted Orchestra of Syrian Musicians, formed before the 2011 outbreak of war.

After playing at Glastonbury Festival and London’s Southbank Centre the brothers became residents of Barnsley, in the northern county of Yorkshire. “I love Barnsley,” he says. “We did a lot of concerts there.”

Despite being an experienced teacher, composer, instrumentalist and singer, he says: “many people here told me you can’t make money from music.” So, he opened a Syrian restaurant.

“I’m a good cook and so is my wife [who joined him with their children, now 7 and 10]. But after four or five months I thought I should play music.”

In Barnsley and London, where he moved after six months, Basel had little trouble establishing himself in British life. “I love people, talking with people, I met people nearly every day,” he says.

On one of those days he went to a street party in Brixton, south London, in memory of Jo Cox, and met the iyatraQuartet, who describe themselves as playing improvised music on orchestral instruments, using folk and world music as starting points. They played together at festivals in London and Brighton and at the Brighton Open Air Theatre. “They are like family,” adds Basel. 

It was just a beginning: “British, African, Arabic, Syrian, Egyptian, Iraqi musicians, I met many musicians here. You need a lot of musicians if you want to make an orchestra.”

He also wants to teach Arabic music “In Syria we know everything about European music. Syrians listen to jazz, for example. But Europeans don’t know about Arab music. So we have a chance to share it.

“In Syria we have fifty four different scales, and I have seen that many people here are interested in this. But it’s hard for them to listen.”

That’s why another of his many goals is to make Arabic music harmonious to British ears.

And he will continue composing. “I think that if I compose new music I should make it a mix between Eastern and Western music, using Arabic scale and European harmony, Arabic rhythms and British singers singing in English. We can do it.”

He is confident after conducting a concert with the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, playing Syrian, Lebanese, Egyptian and Andalucian music. Participating artists included  Blur and Gorillaz singer Damon Albarn (who is also the lead singer of Blur).  “A cellist from Liverpool told me ‘It’s the first time I’ve seen people reacting physically … people standing up and dancing.’”

Basel is brimming with enthusiasm – “In Syria you just play for the Arabic world,” he explains. “Here there is a lot you can do, here you can play for everyone in the world.”

Nevertheless, re-starting life in a new country is not easy.

His youngest son has picked up English quickly (“you’d think he was born here”) and Basel is studying the language four days a week. “My main goal is to do a PhD but I need a high level of English,” he adds.

And as if language, work, accommodation and a new culture were not problems enough, along came Covid.

The disease struck the family twice, and Basel was extremely ill: “I had nine days without food or sleep. I nearly died.”

But they all recovered.  His wife is now in her second year at the University of Bedfordshire, studying human resources, and works two days a week at Breadwinners, a non-government organisation that aims to integrate migrants through employment.

Basel has a job, too, teaching children Arabic through music at the Alyasamine  school in west London. He has a Syrian masters degree in music education, but says this is “something new for me”. He also gives lessons in playing the oud, a lute-like instrument.

He is busy and has many goals. ”I think if you want to live in London you have got to be patient and work hard because London is for active people. If you want to be lazy, go to a far [away], quiet town.”

https://www.baselsaleh.com

+ Lama Bada/Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra & Orchestra of Syrian Musicians conducted by Bassel Saleh

+ The iyatra Quartet

MONDAY 18 OCTOBER, 2021

My name is Florin Mandache, I was born in Iași, Romania, and have lived in Scotland since 2000. Since my student days, I have loved to travel and, in the summer of 2000, was working in Malaga, Spain unlocking mobile phones. 

While living there, I would go to a local nightclub with my flatmates. One night I met Carolyn, who would later become my wife. The two of us just clicked, and decided that when Carolyn went back Scotland that we should try to continue the relationship.

I was fairly used to the complicated rules to travel as a Romanian at that time, and so I knew that a visa would be required when Carolyn suggested I join her in the UK. Still, I think the whole system was a bit of a shock to her. 

Carolyn joined me at the British Embassy in Madrid: we were both bitterly disappointed when my visa application was refused. This was despite a welcoming and supportive offer of accommodation from Carolyn’s parents. Disheartened, I flew back home to Romania and tried again, this time at the British Embassy in Bucharest. Thankfully, my visa was granted and I was met by Carolyn at Glasgow Airport.

After a few weeks together at Carolyn’s family home, we decided we would both have better employment prospects in London, where I already had some connections. I was self conscious about my accent, convinced that people would struggle to understand me. Ironically, Carolyn’s Glaswegian accent proved more challenging to Londoners than my Eastern European one! We stayed there for six months, but with the long commutes and the extortionate rent, we soon tired of the UK’s capital city. We knew we wanted to settle in Scotland. 

While we were in London, I had proposed to Carolyn -- and she said yes. We moved back to Glasgow, where we started preparing for our wedding. Unfortunately, when the big day arrived, my sister was not granted a visa to attend, even though she had proved that she met the requirements, including having a return flight home, a steady job to return to, and being a homeowner. It was frustrating, and it felt wrong that the government denied a close family the right to be at such an important event. My sister has since visited us in Scotland without problems, so hopefully that signals an improvement. 

Another disappointment was that I had got partway through an IT degree in Romania, but the two years I had completed of my studies were not recognised in the UK.I had a choice: to start all over again or to try and find work.

I opened my own company for unlocking phones, and Carolyn worked with me to do the accounts and invoices. The business was a success but, eventually, there was no longer a demand for phone unlocking - so I gained employment as a software engineer. However, I enjoyed working for myself and was always trying to think of a new business venture.

Fast forward to 2015: by this point, Carolyn and I had 2 sons and were guardians to our two nieces from Romania. Family life with four children could be challenging, and dining out was not always the experience we hoped for. That’s where the idea for our app, time2dine, came from. On the app, people can order and pay for food in advance, cutting wait time. The business still operates today, with interest from abroad, so we hope to expand and grow our team. I am proud that we have managed to support local restaurants throughout the pandemic. We helped them offer takeaways when forced to close, including developing QR code ordering and payment directly from customers’ tables.

Since moving to Scotland there have only been one or two racist incidents towards me, but Carolyn and I feel very strongly about the way Romanians are portrayed in the media. It’s hurtful for the truth to be twisted as it so often is, to make out that immigrants, not just Romanians, are a burden to the UK. As parents we want our kids to grow up proud of both their Scottish and Romanian roots. For this reason, Carolyn decided to write a book. “Behind the Curtain”, which is a fictional account of my life up until moving to Scotland and is available on Amazon, as well as Carolyn’s website.

Overall I am very happy living in Scotland and raising my family here. I do moan about the weather, so we enjoy sunny holidays when we can. Initially, I did miss my friends and family, and felt homesick at times, but I have been made to feel very welcome and am proud to run a successful immigrant-led business which significantly contributes to the UK.

A five-woman “community programme team” has shown how a museum can highlight migration by thinking out of the box – literally.

“Wars, Trade, Empire and Slavery’” got a brief mention in a small box in an exhibition at the People’s History Museum in Manchester about how British people won the right to vote.

There was no explanation and no link to other exhibits. The community team — Jo Yee Cheung, Monika Titane, Agnes Fough, Muliana Adjamian, Einas Khaleel, who have lived in eight countries and speak 12 languages – decided this was not good enough.

They created a timeline that presents a fuller view of the issues previously confined to a box. Visitors are invited to add their personal histories or comments to keep the timeline fresh and alive.

The community team also gave an additional migration twist to another museum display: of banners.

Members of the team commissioned Seleena Laverne Daye (“artist, zinester, workshop facilitator, tap dancer and class warrior”) to make a banner declaring The Journey We Made Across Land And Sea, To Build A Country Not Made For Me. It aims to give a voice to migrants, visually representing those working in care, hospitality, agriculture and textiles. 

“it speaks about the hostility migrants face when coming to the UK, the narrative told in mainstream media and the poor treatment, not just as workers, but as people,” Saleena explains.

The two initiatives are among several the museum calls “interventions” - known collectively as Migration: a human story - that over two years took a fresh look at existing exhibits through the lens of migration and brought new stories into the museum. 

Jenny Mabbott, head of collections & engagement at the museum, says, “We describe what has been created as interventions because of the way they interact with the existing content. That they are delivered so creatively and excitingly for visitors is thanks to the ideas and approach of the Community Programme.”

Other interventions include a Passport Trail that challenges visitors to step into the shoes of a refugee, asylum seeker or economic migrant, with your fate determined by the spin of a wheel, and animations illustrating the accounts of three migrants. (In one of the testimonies an Ethiopian girl recalls coming to the UK after 15 years in a Kenya refugee camp and finally feeling safe: “This was the first time I felt peace and security. It never felt safe in the camp.”)

The community programme team’s work “challenges you to rethink what you know about migration. Visitors will find lots to absorb and take away with them.” But team members themselves have benefitted too.

Says Monika Titãne, “It is a step in levelling the playing field for those of us who have been undermined and who deserve appreciation and recognition. Individually, this has undoubtedly made each of us braver and more hopeful for the future.”

Ensuring migrants tell their own stories has been key in developing another display, #WELCOME, which looks at the impact of negative media coverage and changing immigration controls, says exhibitions officer Mark Wilson.

It also highlights campaigns to end the government’s ‘hostile environment’ and its policies.

Wilson says the exhibition was developed after a consultation that was open to the public: “The role of the media kept coming up and how that had influenced perceptions of migrants and how that was shaping political debate.” 

His team worked with migrants. “One of the things we thought was really important was to give space to a number of personal stories and to try and present them as unedited as we could,” says Mark.

Migrant Voice asked two migrants to take a look. Both gave it the thumbs-up.

Mariam Yusuf, who campaigns for migrant rights, welcomed it as capturing a different audience.

“We speak to the papers, on the TV and to the public, but to be in an art gallery, to me is something good. It is going to be there for a long time and people will pass by and read it.”

Bukola Toba commented: “I felt empowered. At least there is an exhibition where migrant voices are being heard.

“We want our voices to be heard, our struggle and what we are facing in the UK. We want to tell our stories.”

Her final verdict: “There should be more exhibitions like this ... we would feel more part of the community.”

+  23 Oct, 10 Dec, tour of Migration: a human story with the community programme team, 1.30pm

* The People’s History Museum, Left Bank,
Spinningfields, Manchester M3 3ER is open Wednesday-Sunday, 10am-4pm, free, with a suggested donation of £5. Info: 0161 838 9190/ https://phm.org.uk/

* Migration: a human story is on display until 24 April 2022; #WELCOME and Banners until 9 January  

Escaping for your life is never going to be a neat, orderly affair, where you can carry all your evidence with you or travel via conventional routes. This has been starkly illustrated by events in Afghanistan over the last month. Even UK passport holders are stuck in Afghanistan.

Yet, the Nationality and Borders Bill would make journeying to the UK without permission a criminal offence.

Compared to the 2.2 million Afghan refugees in Iran and Pakistan alone, the UK government has said it will only accept 20,000 Afghan refugees – around 5000 a year, following the Taliban taking of power in Afghanistan. Even these small numbers are not being met via ‘formal routes’ as thousands have been left stranded in Afghanistan with evacuation efforts not able to bring them to safety.

Outside of my work for Migrant Voice I provide immigration advice at Brushstrokes Community Project Sandwell and I am contacted daily by many Afghans asking for my help.

In advice work my first port of call is checking the Home Office’s country guidance, which gives crucial information for decision makers and legal representatives as to the position on granting people asylum.

But in this instance, there has been little or no guidance from the Home Office. The only country policy information to be found on Afghanistan is on healthcare and from December 2020.

Our members, people I represent and others in the Afghan diaspora have been frantic in trying to get family out, to no avail. They contact me for advice, help and information, which frustratingly I can’t give because there is no information and guidance or actual pathways.

“I phoned the resettlement scheme number today to give some details of family living in Afghanistan, turns out they’re not taking any details. Not sure what to do now.”

“Could you please send my MP an email to ask him about update of my family details that I sent to his secretary who said MP will talk to home office and foreign office.”

“I am messaging you about my aunties who are teachers.”

“My relative, he can't contact to anyone in this situation because he deactivated all his social media accounts. Nowadays Taliban uses social media to track the former police and Army personnel down. Is there anyways we can help from here [in the UK]?”

Since the British Embassy in Kabul has closed and evacuations have ended, many Afghans have been left stranded: crossing the border and making their own way has now become the only option.

In fact, the Defence Minister has encouraged people to leave Afghanistan in whichever way they can, which contradicts the new proposed Borders Bill, which would criminalise those following this advice.

Downing Street have confirmed it is going to set up ways to evacuate people from third countries. Yet, there is no concrete guidance on government websites to help Afghans take such routes. We need to provide this information and a real process now. 

The situation starkly illustrates that people desperate to flee need to take whatever route necessary to reach safety; we must recognise this and provide protection to all regardless of how they journey.

For Afghan asylum seekers who were already in the UK before the recent events, their future is still uncertain as their cases are on hold with no decisions being made. This cannot be right; they should be given refugee status immediately.

The government is out of sync with public opinion, as people from all walks of life have been demanding the government do more.

We must stop the attempts of the Borders Bill to criminalise asylum. No matter how an asylum seeker lands in the UK they should be treated with dignity and compassion.

Image caption: Yasamin Saidi, 23, a student at Manchester University, who came to the UK as a child from Afghanistan.

Image credit: Courtesy of Salman Mirza.

One of Dipesh Pandya’s earliest memories is also his first experience as a migrant: at three years old, while migrating from his native Tanzania to England, he and his grandmother were held by immigration control authorities in Heathrow.  Speaking on Zoom from his home in Margate, southeast England, he describes how they “had to go through a process of proving” that they were allowed to be there.

Dipesh is an artist and activist whose work focuses on race and migration – a venture he was inspired to pursue as a result of his experiences as a migrant living in England and various other countries.

After first arriving in the UK in 1975, Dipesh settled in the Midlands, surrounded by a rich community of migrants from East Africa and South Asia. But life isn’t always easy “when you look like me, a Brown person," he says. “Growing up in England I always heard the words foreigners, immigrants, and far worse." Dipesh recalls the first time he was addressed with a racial slur, explaining: “I remember that feeling of being confrontational and being, ‘No, I’m not’, and getting into a fight.”

Dipesh’s identity as a migrant stayed with him when he moved to France after completing his studies at Central Saint Martins; it also followed him to India, where he lived between 2009 and 2016. But, he says, there are many types of migrants. We talk briefly about the difference between the words migrant and expat, where the latter implies more privilege than the former. “When I went to India I was thrown into a world of expats,” he says. “I considered myself an expat, but I also struggled with that. Actually, I considered myself an economic migrant when I moved there in 2009, right after the financial crisis.”

Dipesh worked in fashion and advertising for over two decades, but, in 2016, he decided to leave the industry. He felt it was too problematic. He could see imperial and white supremacist tropes and systems embedded in it. He moved back to the UK that same year, at a time when the narrative on migration – in mainstream media, in politics – had been shaped by the Brexit referendum, the Trump election, and the refugee crisis.

“Through the media, the TV, I was being fed messages saying, ‘You don’t belong here, we don’t want you here’,” he explains. Even as a British citizen, he felt “othered” by the bureaucracy of starting a new life in England. “I hold British nationality, but I really felt the hostile environment. I was questioned immediately about my identity and my rights to claim benefits or whatever,” he adds.

To make sense of what he was experiencing, Dipesh started writing, then shifted to other media – including in the realms of sound, installations and performance – joining Open School East, an art school and community space now based in Margate.

Dipesh’s art is a form of activism. One of his projects is called I.A.M. or I’m a Migrant, which focuses on reappropriating the words ‘migrant’ and ‘immigrant’. “The work is about combining the two words and flipping them and throwing them back at your face, and saying ‘Yes, I am a migrant’,” explains Dipesh. “These words have been weaponised by the government, the media, advertising, and racial capitalism.”

The words “I’m a migrant” and “I’m a majority” are printed on t-shirts, hoodies and even flip-flops for sale on Dipesh’s online “corner shop”, which are to be worn as a “statement of pride”. He adds: “When you’re made to feel like ‘the other’, you adapt and code switch to fit in. That creates a lot of problems, because you’re not allowing yourself to live in the world. And I.A.M. is, boom, this is who I am, this is me, this is our people, and we are the majority.”

This spring, for his Welcome to Migrate project, Dipesh printed his own versions of local road signs, with the word “Margate” changed to “Migrate”. As part of the project, he stood on a trafficked road with an aluminium road sign that said “Migrate B2021”. “The project is about provoking discussion,” he says. Although he saw positive feedback on social media, Dipesh did receive some negative remarks from members of the public. On one evening, he was approached by two police officers in a car. “From the car, they started asking all these questions, where are you going, what’s that sign, what does it say… It was really hurtful,” he says. The episode became part of the artwork.

For another project, titled There Goes the Neighbourhood, Dipesh recalls racist comments made in the US when people of colour moved into all-white areas. For the project, Dipesh collected voices from Cliftonville, Margate, and combined them into a mixtape: the result is a chorus of ages, ethnicities, and histories. Those involved in the mixtape ranged from six years old to 98, and from a plethora of countries including England, Ireland, Scotland, Sri Lanka, Italy, and Ghana. “I feel like a lot of these histories and stories are being erased by the dominant narrative,” he says. “What I’m concerned is what we’re leaving to future generations.”

Dipesh is aware that his work is part of a larger body of long-term, sustained efforts which aim to change mainstream attitudes towards migration and race. His work is closely tied to his interactions with individuals and groups of people; part of his practice involves “disseminating the work through memory creation” in his community. When he first moved back to England, he built relationships with migrants and shopkeepers in Margate, and particularly with a group of parents and their children, then aged between 7 and 11. Some of his art has been inspired by conversations he has had with the children, such as one called “Trigger Warning! Trigger Warning!”. “I would like to give the kids in my neighbourhood some sort of help, so that they can continue on their own,” says Dipesh. “I want to pass on my knowledge and skills, so that they can carry on the work.”

He compares the struggle against racism and xenophobia to the ones for civil and LGBTQ+ rights. “It’s a long process,” he says, “but I’m optimistic, otherwise I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing.”

Dipesh Pandya’s artwork can be found at hands.up.if.you.re.brown.

One of Dipesh Pandya’s earliest memories is also his first experience as a migrant: at three years old, while migrating from his native Tanzania to England, he and his grandmother were held by immigration control authorities in Heathrow.  Speaking on Zoom from his home in Margate, southeast England, he describes how they “had to go through a process of proving” that they were allowed to be there.

Dipesh is an artist and activist whose work focuses on race and migration – a venture he was inspired to pursue as a result of his experiences as a migrant living in England and various other countries.

After first arriving in the UK in 1975, Dipesh settled in the Midlands, surrounded by a rich community of migrants from East Africa and South Asia. But life isn’t always easy “when you look like me, a Brown person," he says. “Growing up in England I always heard the words foreigners, immigrants, and far worse." Dipesh recalls the first time he was addressed with a racial slur, explaining: “I remember that feeling of being confrontational and being, ‘No, I’m not’, and getting into a fight.”

Dipesh’s identity as a migrant stayed with him when he moved to France after completing his studies at Central Saint Martins; it also followed him to India, where he lived between 2009 and 2016. But, he says, there are many types of migrants. We talk briefly about the difference between the words migrant and expat, where the latter implies more privilege than the former. “When I went to India I was thrown into a world of expats,” he says. “I considered myself an expat, but I also struggled with that. Actually, I considered myself an economic migrant when I moved there in 2009, right after the financial crisis.”

Dipesh worked in fashion and advertising for over two decades, but, in 2016, he decided to leave the industry. He felt it was too problematic. He could see imperial and white supremacist tropes and systems embedded in it. He moved back to the UK that same year, at a time when the narrative on migration – in mainstream media, in politics – had been shaped by the Brexit referendum, the Trump election, and the refugee crisis.

“Through the media, the TV, I was being fed messages saying, ‘You don’t belong here, we don’t want you here’,” he explains. Even as a British citizen, he felt “othered” by the bureaucracy of starting a new life in England. “I hold British nationality, but I really felt the hostile environment. I was questioned immediately about my identity and my rights to claim benefits or whatever,” he adds.

To make sense of what he was experiencing, Dipesh started writing, then shifted to other media – including in the realms of sound, installations and performance – joining Open School East, an art school and community space now based in Margate.

Dipesh’s art is a form of activism. One of his projects is called I.A.M. or I’m a Migrant, which focuses on reappropriating the words ‘migrant’ and ‘immigrant’. “The work is about combining the two words and flipping them and throwing them back at your face, and saying ‘Yes, I am a migrant’,” explains Dipesh. “These words have been weaponised by the government, the media, advertising, and racial capitalism.”

The words “I’m a migrant” and “I’m a majority” are printed on t-shirts, hoodies and even flip-flops for sale on Dipesh’s online “corner shop”, which are to be worn as a “statement of pride”. He adds: “When you’re made to feel like ‘the other’, you adapt and code switch to fit in. That creates a lot of problems, because you’re not allowing yourself to live in the world. And I.A.M. is, boom, this is who I am, this is me, this is our people, and we are the majority.”

This spring, for his Welcome to Migrate project, Dipesh printed his own versions of local road signs, with the word “Margate” changed to “Migrate”. As part of the project, he stood on a trafficked road with an aluminium road sign that said “Migrate B2021”. “The project is about provoking discussion,” he says. Although he saw positive feedback on social media, Dipesh did receive some negative remarks from members of the public. On one evening, he was approached by two police officers in a car. “From the car, they started asking all these questions, where are you going, what’s that sign, what does it say… It was really hurtful,” he says. The episode became part of the artwork.

For another project, titled There Goes the Neighbourhood, Dipesh recalls racist comments made in the US when people of colour moved into all-white areas. For the project, Dipesh collected voices from Cliftonville, Margate, and combined them into a mixtape: the result is a chorus of ages, ethnicities, and histories. Those involved in the mixtape ranged from six years old to 98, and from a plethora of countries including England, Ireland, Scotland, Sri Lanka, Italy, and Ghana. “I feel like a lot of these histories and stories are being erased by the dominant narrative,” he says. “What I’m concerned is what we’re leaving to future generations.”

Dipesh is aware that his work is part of a larger body of long-term, sustained efforts which aim to change mainstream attitudes towards migration and race. His work is closely tied to his interactions with individuals and groups of people; part of his practice involves “disseminating the work through memory creation” in his community. When he first moved back to England, he built relationships with migrants and shopkeepers in Margate, and particularly with a group of parents and their children, then aged between 7 and 11. Some of his art has been inspired by conversations he has had with the children, such as one called “Trigger Warning! Trigger Warning!”. “I would like to give the kids in my neighbourhood some sort of help, so that they can continue on their own,” says Dipesh. “I want to pass on my knowledge and skills, so that they can carry on the work.”

He compares the struggle against racism and xenophobia to the ones for civil and LGBTQ+ rights. “It’s a long process,” he says, “but I’m optimistic, otherwise I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing.”

Dipesh Pandya’s artwork can be found at hands.up.if.you.re.brown.

The NHS is a system that needs migrants but didn’t always want them.

That is one of historian and commentator David Olusoga’s opening shots in his BBC One programme, Our NHS: A Hidden History.

“From the very start,” he says, “the NHS was only able to deliver on its promises by drawing into its ranks nurses, doctors, auxiliaries from other countries…

“… and what that means is that the history of our most beloved national institution is intimately connected with another history: that of the most divisive political issue of the last 70 years — immigration.”

Olusoga’s quiet, dignified, truth-telling, historically fascinating, hour-long programme introduces us to immigrants who not only kept the NHS alive but showed how some of the children and grandchildren of those migrants are still maintaining the system in the throes of its current threat: Covid-19.

When Yvette Phillips was told she needed a kidney transplant she contacted the surgeon, Sri Lanka-born Ossie Fernando, who had carried out her first life-changing transplant three decades earlier.  By then he had retired – so she insisted his son, Bimbi, did the job.

“This story of Yvette, Ossie and Bimbi,” says Olusoga,  “contains a transplant of a very different sort: the migration of one family from Sri Lanka to Britain 60 years ago, and that migrant family, the Fernandos, has been contributing to the health and well-being of this nation ever since.”

Their story is far from unique. Olusoga presents others, such as the Parsee from Bombay who arrived in 1926. His sons took over the practice and now the grandchildren are GPs in London, and in turn one of their daughters is about to become a doctor – the fourth generation. (“Without the contribution of Asian doctors [the NHS] would never have got off the ground.”)

Nurses, too, kept the institution alive, initially from Ireland and then from anywhere they could be recruited: Dr Neil Singh (three generations in healthcare) recalls how the National Health Service was sometimes nicknamed the Commonwealth Health Service.

Then there’s the third tier of NHS props: the people who clean, cook and carry – “without them the NHS would grind to a halt.”

The fortunes of the people who form the backbone of this country, then and now, are varied. Some were tricked into the harshest jobs by prospectuses that were economical with the truth; some careers were thwarted by discrimination; a few whistle-blowers changed the landscape by winning discrimination cases at industrial tribunals; many faced racism and prejudice: one doctor recalls his surgery door being splattered with faeces – “You just did your job and got on with it and over the years it got better.”

Some fought their way through the thicket of obstacles to become professors, heads of department, high-level administrators. But the battle is not over. This year the General Medical Council acknowledged that ethnic minority doctors were twice as likely to be referred to a disciplinary hearing.

It all makes a gripping human story: “The NHS by a long margin is the most diverse of all British institutions”, with 13 per cent of its 1.2 million staff coming from overseas.

Implicit in the programme, though the understated Olusoga doesn’t spell it out, is that the vast majority of this under-appreciated migrant workforce are the best of us. Their patience, tolerance, forbearance and humanity in the face of prejudice and insult (I personally have witnessed a fellow very ill patient screaming at a Black nurse to keep her dirty hands off him) is nothing short of amazing.

The programme is a small but vital contribution to the atonement and appreciation we should all feel.

* Our NHS: A Hidden History, BBC One

At just age 14, Bashir Ahmadzai fled for his life to the UK from Khost, eastern Afghanistan, escaping violence and Taliban recruitment. Now, at 27 years old, his claim for asylum has been rejected by the Home Office, and he is being told to return to Afghanistan.

Upon arrival, Bashir was placed into the foster care system under a local authority. As a young man, he was placed into a foster family, where he received care and was able to pursue his education. Completing his diploma in IT, Bashir was close to fulfilling his dream of becoming a web designer and had received a place at a Birmingham university. He was granted temporary status to remain in the UK, but this ended when he turned 18. Threatened with deportation, Bashir has been fighting to stay in the country ever since, but his asylum claims have so far been rejected by the Home Office.

A year before Bashir was due to start university, his dreams were shattered when an immigration team abruptly entered his flat. Bashir was taken to a detention centre, where he was held for 5 months before being temporarily discharged. Since the end of his temporary status, Bashir has been stuck in limbo, unable to work, study or pursue his dreams. Frustrated with the Home Office’s decision, Bashir says: “This makes me really upset because I am a Brummie but I am treated differently.”

The current situation in Afghanistan is increasingly dangerous, with more bombs being dropped on the country in 2019 than any other year since the beginning of the US’ intervention. Although the authority overseeing Bashir’s case acknowledged the deteriorating security situation in Kabul, they are still pushing to relocate him to the city as they consider it safe, despite him never having been there. Deporting Bashir to Afghanistan would put him at risk from violence from the Taliban, who murdered his father and brother, and would leave him without the support system he has in the UK.

Salman Mirza, Birmingham Network Worker for Migrant Voice, says: “Bashir has been in the UK since he was a child.He refused to join the Taliban, that takes guts, this is his home now.” Bashir has managed to integrate into British society, making many friends and having optimistic ambitions for his future in the UK. His foster mother views him as part of the family, and feels that if given the opportunity, Bashir will be able to succeed.

For Bashir, it is dangerous to return to Afghanistan, as the conditions there have not improved. He has been trying to build a life for himself, despite the many barriers he faces in doing so. “I want to work and contribute to society but I’m not allowed to,” he says.

The campaign for Bashir is gaining traction, with photos with the words ‘#BashirMustStay’ being circulated on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. The petition on Change.org is currently at almost 900 signatures. Despite the harsh decision from the UK government, Bashir remains hopeful that people are still on his side, through signing his petition and holding his banner.

You can support Bashir by sharing a photo under the hashtag #BashirMustStay. You can sign his petition by clicking here. 

Christine Bacon is so weary of lazy media treatment of immigrants as victims or villains that she is taking action.

She has started a podcast series, I am an Immigrant, which aims to help shift the public conversation on immigration.

For Christine, the personal is the political. Since arriving in the UK from Australia in 2004, she says, immigration has constantly been in the news, yet she feels the media has never reflected her own experience of immigration - or the lives of millions of fellow immigrants.

“We so-called ‘foreigners’ are framed as either victims or villains, or occasionally as inspiring hero or model citizen ‘making a contribution’'” she says.

“The truth is,” she says in an introduction to the podcasts, “ … we immigrants are mostly people who live regular lives, work in a variety of jobs, subscribe to streaming television services, socialise with friends, fall in and out of love, say and do stupid things, and pick our kids up from school. We’re everywhere guys. I mean, 9 million of us are living here.”

Her own immigration story started with her parents, who took the opportunity of moving to Australia from Ireland under a subsidised travel scheme that favoured white people from the UK and Ireland. The scheme was an echo of the White Australia policy, introduced in 1901 to keep out non-Europeans, especially Asians.

Christine was an actor and waitress in her home city of Melbourne, but her interests and working life were changed the specific motivating spark was struck by a controversy in 2001 over the Australian government’s refusal to allow a boat carrying 433 rescued asylum-seekers, mostly Afghans, from entering Australian waters.

Shocked by the government’s actions and the widespread public support for its hard-line stance, she joined a campaign group, Actors for Refugees.

She subsequently studied politics and secured a place on a refugee studies course at the University of Oxford, which is what brought her to Britain at the age of 30. 

There was no long-term plan. She thought she would do her course, travel a little, and see how life panned out.

“What happened was that I found things to do here, I found people who I loved here, I popped out a couple of kids here and, like so many immigrants before me, I stayed here.”

She founded a UK version of Actors for Refugees (now Actors for Human Rights) with ice&fire theatre, a company dedicated to “exploring human rights stories through performance”. She is now artistic director of ice&fire.

The random unexpectedness of how her life worked out is what she fears will be lost under the post-Brexit government policy of admitting immigrants only to do specific, relatively high-paid jobs. That approach “means that people who packed a suitcase and came here on a whim, for adventure, to experience life in a different culture, are a dying breed. I have a Spanish friend whose first job was in a sandwich shop in London. She gave a customer a chicken sandwich instead of a cappuccino because her English was so bad she couldn’t differentiate the words. Now she’s a social worker, running a team of people doing amazing things. She’s made her life here.

“That kind of immigration experience will rarely happen now. Someone like my friend would look at the rules and say ‘I’m not allowed in’. It’s about who we are losing.”

Bacon wants the podcast to be a place where immigrants can express themselves in the way they choose, where they can be funny, insightful, insecure, weird, eccentric, outspoken and most importantly, human.  

* Next ice&fire performance, Asylum Monologues, is at Queen Marys University, London, on 22 July.

* To subscribe to the podcast and listen to the preview and first episode, search for I am an Immigrant on a podcast platform, or click here

The UK’s system of housing and detaining migrants is rooted in hostile architecture and poor design. This includes inadequate accommodation and the deliberate placing of vulnerable people in buildings on the peripheries of cities and towns, isolated from society. Ultimately, architecture and the placement of architecture is a fundamental issue when it comes to the UK’s immigration policies. All this is underpinned by the government’s “hostile environment”. 

There is a need for a discourse on the damaging effects of immigration detention centres in the UK which design could address. There are alternatives to detention, which could be implemented through architecture, that are a way of combating this carceral system of neglect. Ultimately, we must abolish detention centres and replace them with inclusivity and compassion towards asylum seekers. 

'LACK OF DIGNITY' IN DETENTION CENTRES

There is already a crisis in how the Home Office are currently detaining asylum seekers. A recent report conducted by the Royal College of Psychiatrists (RCP) on the detention of people with mental disorders in immigration removal centres has drawn attention to the basic lack of dignity shown by the Home Office in ensuring a safe environment.

The report found that people with significant mental illness as well as those with past torture, sexual or gender-based violence and PTSD, remained detained despite their vulnerable condition a and that the design of the buildings and the conditions likely “trigger memories of previous traumatic experiences”. This is despite a previous report conducted in March 2020 by Her Majesty’s Inspectorate of Prisons in March 2020 finding cases in which the Home Office had decided to continue to detain individuals despite accepting they had been tortured.

This report addresses the forced closure of Morton Hall in Lincolnshire in July 2020, due to several deaths occurring in recent years. The centre, run by the prison service for the Home Office, was particularly unpopular due to its remote location and jail-like conditions. Although it is encouraging to see action taken against this centre, the RCP report reveals that this unacceptable behaviour is still happening a year later. 

But it is not only detention centres. Controversy has also followed the Home Office’s decision to house recently arrived asylum seekers in military barracks in Kent and Penally. According to the union established amongst the residents of Penally barracks, the conditions are “like a detention centre and are not safe or suitable places for people to live”. A report compiled for the All-Party Parliamentary Group on Immigration Detention, described cramped conditions and lack of social distancing as well as dirty shower blocks and bathroom floors covered in water. It is no surprise that this asylum camp was forced to close on 21st March 2021, after inspectors and the High Court ruled both camps in Wales and Kent unsuitable and unlawful. Recently, the High Court’s ruling of Napier Barracks as inadequate accommodation has also called for its immediate closure.

In response to the closure of Penally, a Home Office spokesperson claimed that “Penally has provided safe and secure accommodation for asylum seekers... This provided emergency capacity… during Covid.”  For the Home Office to have its electorate believe that these conditions are “safe and secure” is absurd but also incredibly concerning, especially as to how the Home Secretary is proposing in the new Immigration Bill to address the government’s asylum estate. Increasingly, we see that the government is exploring ideas of containment that surpass the detention system. Ultimately, the Home Office continues to enforce a hostile and cruel environment that reinforces their proposed two-tier scheme of ‘deserving’ and ‘non-deserving’ migrants. We are still yet to see a plan that provides adequate support for those seeking asylum. 

DESIGN MATTERS

This government’s creation of a “hostile environment” is evident in the design and management of the buildings in which it places migrants, and any change depends on a new government approach. The time has come for architectural discourse to look towards encouraging innovative design that protects and respects not isolates and segregates. 

The International Detention Coalition’s Alternatives to Detention’s Database (ATD) is a notable example of reducing the reliance on detention through “appropriate non-custodial, community-based ATD”. Prohibition of vulnerable individuals in detention and age assessments are key characteristics of its research. Additionally, when alternatives are clearly specified in law or policy, there are clear options for people to remain in the community while their immigration status is being resolved. ATD’s initiatives have been used in countries including Canada, Belgium and Thailand. 

While ATD shows it is possible for governments to lessen its reliance on detention centres, this carceral system would still exist in theory. The abolishment of detention centres must happen, and it must lead to the protection of people seeking asylum. 

There are also alternative ways of housing asylum seekers which use architectural design to positively impact on their experiences. The Immigration Services Society of British Columbia (ISSofBC), for example, is based in several of Canada’s cities and its Vancouver Welcome Centre is designed to ensure inclusivity and integration of immigrants into the community.

Alongside the provision of temporary housing, settlement support, employment services and a medical clinic, the centre is built to be used by newcomers and members of the broader community. As the location of these services are all under one roof, this reduces stress of resettlement, enhances trust and connections built between different groups of people and immediately restores immigrants’ faith in starting a new and safer life in its host country. It is important, however, to add that Canada’s immigration detention system is still in use and attracts criticism due to its carceral environment. 

We must abolish this carceral architecture in favour of designs that pave the way towards  integration not segregation. 

During Nas’s long battle with the Home Office to have his refugee status recognised, his resilience was what made him keep going. “I think the system is designed like that,” he says, “they refuse applications, they make people tired – and some people give up, some go underground. But I knew my rights and I knew I was telling the truth, so I kept trying.”

Nas was only 14 when he arrived in the UK from his native Afghanistan, after a journey through Iran, Turkey and across Europe, in 2010. His mother paid for smugglers to take him to the UK after it became clear that the Taliban, who controlled the tiny village Nas’s family lived in, wanted to recruit him. His father had been kidnapped for refusing to join the group, and his brother and sister were killed. “You go with this man,” his mother said, handing him over to the smuggler. Nas didn’t know where they were going, but followed his mother’s orders. Seven months later, he arrived in the UK in the back of a refrigerator lorry.

Once in the UK, Nas applied for asylum. He was placed with a foster family and started going to school in the West Midlands. This was the beginning of his second ordeal, one made of refusals and appeals. At first, he was refused asylum but granted a temporary leave to stay until he turned 18; at that point, when he applied again, it continued to get rejected.

The evidence caseworkers expected him to have brought was unrealistic for a 14-year-old boy, Nas says. He lost his Afghan ID during his journey and had no means to prove his age; he had no school certificate from Afghanistan. He also says that caseworkers simply didn’t believe his story, a widespread claim among asylum seekers and charities. And, although the courts did believe his brother and father were killed by the Taliban, he was still refused and told he could go and live in Kabul, a place he had never been to.

The process had a huge impact on his health. “It made me both physically and mentally tired,” Nas says. “In 2018, my case was exhausted, which meant that I had no other choice. All I could do was start from scratch and present a fresh claim.”

After another refusal, he decided to do things differently. He looked for help online and came across Migrant Voice, which put him in touch with Salman Mirza, the charity’s Birmingham Network worker. Salman suggested that Nas start a public campaign. “I said yes, and this is how we started, in 2018. I spoke with journalists, I told my story in schools and universities, I started a petition,” he says.

Within a short period, Nas appeared on ITV, took part in a BBC documentary, and was interviewed by other news outlets. He also worked hard to make his voice heard, sharing his story and his petition with as many people as he could. “I asked people to sign my petition on buses, in shops, even outside of toilets!” he jokes. It now has over 12,000 signatures. The community campaigned with him, even recording a video in support of his right to stay. Nas also held speeches at anti-racism marches in Birmingham and London. “Wherever Salman asked me if I wanted to go [and tell my story], I would go,” he says. Eventually, he was also able to talk with his MP, Steve McCabe, who wrote a letter to the Home Office for Nas.

In October 2018, Nas travelled to Liverpool for his last interview with the Home Office, which lasted over two hours. He had submitted all the material from his campaign as evidence. They asked him all sorts of questions, some of which were upsetting. Finally, in January 2019, he received a letter. “It was Saturday and I was at home, and I remember hearing the sound of a letter coming through the letterbox. I opened it and it said that I had been granted leave to remain. I was over the moon, it was unbelievable. I fought for it for ten years.”

Nas is sure that the public campaign which was set up determined the outcome of his application. “Now I had all this evidence, I had all the interviews and TV programmes, the petition,” he says. “And people knew. If anything happened to me, the public would know, and they would criticise the Home Office.”

He adds: “If I hadn’t started the campaign, people wouldn’t have known my story, my application would have been refused, and they would have sent me back.” Nas thinks his campaign was so successful because Migrant Voice helped him to meet people who took an interest in his story. He also learnt new skills: “Now I know how to campaign; I know how to spot a good story.”

Nas is now a Migrant Voice ambassador, holding sessions where he teaches others how to pitch stories to journalists and talk to the media. He has also helped people who were in situations similar to his, putting them in touch with the charity and giving them tips. “My advice is to keep going, don’t give up,” he says. “Fight for your rights. Do good things. And don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

In 2015, two men - Themba Cabeka and Carlito Vale - hid in the landing gear of a flight from Johannesburg to London. Vale tragically fell to his death, but Cabeka, against all odds, survived.

The story of these men is the subject of a documentary, The Man Who Fell From The Sky, released in January on Channel 4. The programme sees filmmaker Rich Bentley uncovering the stories of these two men, including travelling to Vale’s home country of Mozambique and an eye-opening interview with Cabeka, who now goes by the name of Justin.

Six years later, this tragedy is still emblematic of the drastic measures asylum seekers are forced to take to seek safety, as national self-securitization increases with the erection of walls, and closures of borders. The deaths of so-called ‘stowaways’ highlight the harsh reality for those seeking sanctuary in the UK - and globally. 

The documentary offers an insight into the complex motivations, sacrifices, and hardship these two men endured before their attempt to seek sanctuary in the UK. It sheds light on the stories behind the headlines, including how Cabeka settled in Liverpool after getting indefinite leave to remain in the UK. The documentary, too, contributes to the fight against problematic narratives surrounding migration in the UK. For example, according to the documentary, 109 stowaway attempts have been recorded worldwide, with London the most popular destination.

Watching The Man Who Fell From The Sky prompted me to look further into the UK’s government immigration system, which has failed too many people seeking sanctuary here, and those of other governments across the world. 

While the UK has signed up to the United Nations’ Sustainable Development Goals, including to “facilitate orderly, safe, and responsible migration and mobility of people, including through implementation of planned and well-managed migration policies”, this has not been implemented in practice. Indeed, international agreements are often not binding, meaning this has performed merely as a guiding document. 

Moreover, the Global Compact for Safe, Orderly and Regular Migration, which was adopted by the UK in 2018,  outlines the necessity for safe routes of travel, of new supportive programmes, and emphasizes the reduction of irregular migration as a mainstream goal. Again, the UK has not followed through, with the agreement amounting to nothing more than another rubber-stamping exercise. 

The records of stowaways, as explored in the documentary, exemplify the perverse policies of governments internationally, including in the UK , which work to curb migration and ultimately leave those in desperate situations who need to seek safety with no other routes but those that are dangerous, or even fatal. 

It would seem the ‘Fortress Europe’ is operating at full force, with its policing of movement emblematic of a harsh regime that pushes a policy of containment. Arguably, since Brexit, the UK has moved towards considering itself as an island stronghold, removed from various binding agreements once held with the EU, signalling a new dark chapter we must fight against. 

Denying safe routes results too often in death. Between 1993-2018, Dutch NGO United for Intercultural Action recorded 34,361 deaths of refugees and migrants. The Man Who Fell From The Sky is a sad reminder of the humans behind these figures, an antithesis to the morbid media coverage of bodies on beaches.  Home Secretary Priti Patel’s recently announced move to overhaul the asylum system, too, effectively further clamps down on ‘illegal’ arrivals of migrants into the UK, which only serves to penalise those seeking sanctuary when they have no other choice but to do this. These proposals exemplify a government that systemically fails to protect vulnerable people.

Although the Government’s proposed amendments to the asylum system have gained their fair share of criticism, my first impression - as a partner of a refugee who came to Britain after fleeing persecution - is that they finally propose corrections to wrong policies introduced in the last 15 years.

Until 2005, an asylum claimant deemed to have a genuine case that qualified them to be recognised as a refugee would have been granted Indefinite Leave to Remain – permanent residence, recognising their need for future certainty and stability.

But Tony Blair’s Government came up with a weird decision in an attempt to thwart any abuse of the refugee system. They evaded facing the issue of dealing with the supposed system’s abusers, and instead inflicted more damage on genuine refugees. Blair’s Government changed the settlement period of refugees. If they received a positive decision on their asylum application, they would be given a temporary status for five years and could only apply for Indefinite Leave to Remain after that.

Unfortunately, later Conservative Governments made things tougher instead of correcting what the Labour Government had implemented. In 2017, the ‘Safe Returns policy’ was introduced. This means that when the refugee applies for Indefinite Leave to Remain, the Home Office will assess whether their country of origin has become more stable. Under this policy, after five years of residency, a refugee who has paid taxes and built a life in the UK might be subject to return based on the Home Office’s assessment. This puts more uncertainty on the refugee’s future. 

When Priti Patel recently suggested amendments under the cloak of offering support to ‘genuine’ refugees she recognised the disadvantages they have been put through as a result of the policy that deprived them of immediate future stability through permanent residency. Yet she totally ignored those Refugee Status Holders who are currently in Britain and are on the five-year route to settlement.

This would mean that, for example, a refugee from Syria who arrives one day after the new asylum proposals take effect would receive Indefinite Leave to Remain immediately, while a Syrian refugee who arrived two years or two weeks before would still need to continue on the five-year route. This cannot represent any fair policy towards refugees.

The day-to-day concerns of my partner are not the same as many other migrants. Many people are unaware that refugees cannot secure a mortgage until they get Indefinite Leave to Remain, so if a refugee has a job and tries to buy a house they won’t be allowed a mortgage, unlike migrants with permanent residence.

The story of accommodation becomes even harder when a refugee wants to rent a house and presents a Residence Permit Card that states ‘refugee status.’ In many cases this triggers unconscious bias from landlords due to wrong stereotypes about refugees. 

In finding jobs, refugees like many other migrants are seen as temporary residents, so they end up caught in the bureaucracy of the recruiter who might be looking at them as an unstable workforce. They also face the suspicion and stereotypes around refugees that can affect their applications.

Other refugees fear travelling during their refugee status because they fear hostility at airports when they show up with their refugee travel documents.

Refugees pay taxes to councils but are still banned from voting in local elections to have a say on who is the best representative to manage their tax returns. 

All these factors cause the five-year temporary residency period of a refugee to be full of struggle, uncertainty and fear of the future. If reports about the proposed amendments to refugees’ settlement are correct, the proposals will right the wrong of the unnecessarily harsh policy that didn’t solve the issue of the system abusers but targeted genuine refugees instead.

The new policy needs to apply retrospectively, so a new refugee who arrives after the new rules are put in place cannot be better off than a refugee who is already here and on the five-year route to Indefinite Leave to Remain.

Therefore, to prove the intentions to provide genuine refugees with future stability - which is stated as one of the drivers of proposed asylum changes - and as part of correcting a bad policy, all refugee status holders in the UK should be informed that they have become eligible to switch their current temporary Refugee Leave to Indefinite Leave to Remain.

This is a guest article by Adam Mahran. The opinions expressed are those of the author.

Photo: 

Photo by Duncan C https://flickr.com/photos/duncan/

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/

When Shaheda Banu Rupa moved to Britain with her husband and three-year-old daughter, it felt like the greatest mistake of her life.

Life in London and then Oxford was a struggle: "The physically demanding work, the blatant racial discrimination, my compromised health, and my immigrant status made my life unbearable.”

The Bangladeshi university graduate (Geography and Environment) had emigrated with her husband in 2006 (he came under the Highly Skilled Migration Programme), and in Oxford she and her husband secured  jobs with Tesco. But they were living with friends, and began to think about how to give their two children a better life.

They decided their only option was to open a restaurant, Ragini, in Exeter, “to find some peace of mind and heal that sickness from being detached from our motherland.” 

Getting the business off the ground was a struggle, too. The young couple had no capital and start-up experience. Borrowing would be crazily risky when they hadn’t yet sorted out their British citizenship. 

For three years every day was a battle, Rupa recalls, whether it was managing staff, answering unreasonable customer demands, or facing contempt from more experienced business owners. One of the toughest experiences was sparked by an employee who lied about his immigration status, which resulted in Rupa being fined  £20,000. (“Check, check again, and recheck the law,” is the lesson she learned.) 

The factor that gave her hope was the number of people who treated them warmly and with respect, and ultimately became close friends. 

The turning point came in year four, when she began experimenting with food and introduced her signature dishes. These included ‘Benarasi Chicken,’ named after the red silk sari that Bangladeshi women wrap themselves in, and ‘Oh Calcutta’, which formed in her mind years before as she passed a Dhaka storefront with the same name. 

“The sheer joy I felt when these dishes struck people, today regularly ordered as hot favourites, is why I love my business,” she says. “Most of all, I love watching the man who has only ever known the Chicken Tikka Masala of the British Raj, or the lady who cannot handle spice relishing my dishes.” 

The business recruits and trains local people and has enabled her to help others: “Charity has become a tangible objective that gives me the most satisfaction. Local schools, air ambulance, the food bank, community workers, orphans in Kushtiya, Bangladesh: I can give them all actual, valuable support.”

As a migrant, she takes particular personal satisfaction in the visit by her mother and mother-in-law to her second home country, the UK, a year before her mother died. It was a priority and she says she is grateful that she was able to organise the visits.

Rupa happily pays tribute to “the vast social network of inspirational women in my community, to whom I look up to and who support each other greatly.” Groups such as the 2,500-strong Lyme Bay Ladies in Devon and Dorset, and individuals like Lisa Eastwood, “One of my icons, who has been an incredible team leader and fighter of cancer, continuing her business strong-headedly despite her struggles”, and her friend Marie Holmes, “a single mother and a business owner, helping people with aromatherapy and reflexology while fighting alone, caring for her parents, and battling physical illness”.

She has a few tips to pass on. Enjoy yourself as much as you can, but wisely. If you want to eat something new, try it. If you have a crazy idea, explore it. Truly engage with the people around you. In doing so, you will forge lifelong friendships with others, which is key to a satisfying life. 

To migrant women, she says that though it is hard, you must love a country and its people and try not to think of them as foreign: “Welcome the new land as your mother and she will eventually love you back, however much you feel attacked in the beginning. Most of all, learn her language.” 

This year’s census, which took place on Sunday 21 March and counted everyone living in England and Wales, included a new ethnic category: for the first time, people were able to select a ‘Roma’ option when describing their ethnicity. (This is in addition to the already existing ‘Gypsy/Irish Traveller’ category, introduced in the previous census ten years ago.)

When the news was announced, the move was widely welcomed by NGOs supporting the Roma, Gypsy and Traveller communities, which hoped that the inclusion of the new category would help tackle the inequalities some members of the Roma community still face: discrimination against Roma, Gypsy and Traveller communities is still widespread, recent headlines have reminded us.

According to the Census website, the information gathered by it will determine how authorities will plan their projects and funding in the next few years. Simply put, they need to know who they are working for, if they want to be effective. And if they don’t know you’re there, it becomes harder for them to help you.

A year after the start of the first lockdown, we all know the impact of the new pandemic on our lives. And while we all have had to adapt, the most vulnerable in the Roma community have faced serious challenges, says Mihai Bica, campaign worker for the Roma-led charity Roma Support Group. “The pandemic made existing problems worse,” he says. The charity aims to improve the quality of life of the Roma community in the UK and provide direct support to individuals, which has proven vital.

Following Brexit, Roma Support Group has been carrying out information campaigns and helping people apply to the EU Settlement Scheme, the process through which EU citizens can apply to remain in the UK after Brexit. The scheme has been largely criticised by migrant groups, and there have been widely-shared reports of people in several communities struggling with the application process.

“There were huge fears in the community because of Brexit,” says Bica, but the situation deteriorated with the pandemic. “The pandemic had the strongest impact on the people who needed the most help.”

Thousands of people successfully submitted applications to the Settlement Scheme with RSG’s help, Bica says. But, by the time the pandemic hit, “most of the people who hadn’t applied were the ones with the most complicated situations,” such as the homeless, children in care, or those with very limited English skills.

Moreover, the shift to online meetings caused by the pandemic has had a negative impact on some members of the community, says Bica. “The lack of face-to-face appointments meant that we found it harder to reach the most vulnerable,” who often lack access to devices, or do not have the skills to use them.

Nevertheless, since the start of the pandemic, RSG has done its best to step up its efforts to help the community, setting up new systems of support and focusing on providing assistance to immediate problems. Among other things, it produced explanatory videos on the pandemic, the lockdown, and the vaccines; it organised online tutoring classes for home-schooled children and it facilitated acquiring equipment for those who didn’t have the appropriate tools; it also provided support with Universal Credit applications. At the same time, crucially, it carried out campaigns with local authorities to inform them on how to provide better information and support to struggling members of the community.

What is missing, according to Bica, is adequate resources for community-based and -focused charities like his, and adequate guidance to local authorities – who sometimes do have the resources but do not know how to use them best. Decision-makers, Bica says, “need to involve more people from the community, to speak with them, and to test their initiatives” to see if they work.

This year’s census seems like the right opportunity for the Roma community to make their voices heard. “The funding is there,” says Bica. “But we do need more awareness and a better use of resources.”

Have Your Passport Ready is an interactive choose-your-own-adventure that offers an insight into the lives of Syrian refugee brothers battling the hostile environment that is the UK’s asylum system. 

Simple and effective, this free film-meets-video game allows players to engage with the stories of Khaled and Mohammad Aljawad as they struggle to get by in Sheffield on the £37.75 a week asylum seeker’s allowance.

I was deeply moved by their stories: the spinal injury that Mohammad has lived with since being forced from a young age to carry 20 litres of water a day, and both hardly able to afford bread, let alone medical treatment. And in Britain, having to repeatedly provide evidence to support their asylum claim is dispiriting and degrading. 

XXXX

The virtual dice rolls and interviews conducted with caseworkers illustrate the unpredictability, hostility and miscommunication that occur in the rushed and often debilitating setting of the Home Office’s asylum programme. While some scenes illustrate the brothers’ experiences of claiming asylum, there are opportunities for players themselves to become asylum seekers, forced to decide, for example, whether to wait three months for another meeting about their claim or risk meeting without legal supervision. 

XXX

In the midst of a global pandemic, hidden behind PPE and surgical masks, stands a vibrant and dedicated team of healthcare workers, many of whom are migrants. Those on the frontline have risked - and sometimes sacrificed - their lives, yet the public knows little about them or why they matter. The Migration Museum’s Heart of the Nation exhibition is a good place to start to find out more. 

The online exhibition tells some of their stories. It covers six areas: On the Frontline; Birth of the NHS; Arrival; On the Job; Making a Life in Britain; and Looking to the Future. An animation, photographs, audios, films and graphics help you navigate the exhibition, revealing some of the individual lives of those involved in making the NHS what it is today. Visitors can share their own stories of working as a migrant in the NHS. 

(use photo: “still from introductory animation of arrival of NHS staff”)

I was particularly drawn to the stories of arrival. For nurses like Gulzar Waljee, the pressure to succeed so that other migrants from her country, Tanzania, would be given the opportunity to work in the NHS shows both her commitment and her ability to adapt to her circumstances. 

(use photo: “Gulzar Waljee in 1959”)

Similarly, learning of the obstacles that many faced - whether the barrier stopping Dr Veena Rao from continuing the job for which she had trained in her own country, India, or the shortage of funds that stymied Filipino migrant Petronio Demillo’s career in medicine - offers stinging insight into the cruel realities of migrants working for the NHS. 

To see the struggles of these healthcare workers and their contributions and achievements brings home how much this community deserves to be recognised for helping build the health service on which the nation relies. This is particularly relevant as the national conversation on immigration, which was already predominantly negative, has soured further since the Brexit referendum.

Heart of the Nation is insightful and engaging, and I recommend it highly.

To view the exhibition: https://heartofthenation.migrationmuseum.org/

Other current Migration Museum displays include:

The Emigration podcasts

https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast/departures-400-years-of-emigration-from-britain/id1539394686

The 100 Images gallery

https://www.migrationmuseum.org/100imagesgallery/

and 

The Keepsakes Gallery

https://www.migrationmuseum.org/keepsakes-gallery/ 

When Covid-19 vaccination programmes began in the UK and around the world, many governments promised to prioritise the most vulnerable individuals in their communities. But very little has been said, so far, about an extremely vulnerable group of people, who walk the same streets as the rest, yet are often invisible: undocumented migrants.

In many countries, undocumented migrants – including those whose permits have expired and are waiting for new ones – live in limbo, with virtually no access to public health care. An action as simple as registering with a local doctor, which in many places (including the UK) is the gateway to getting a vaccine, may need proof of ID, a social security number, proof of address, and so on. This is the case in Italy and France, for example.

On paper at least, the UK seems to be further ahead than elsewhere: everyone in the UK is allowed to register with their local GP and it is not a legal requirement to provide proof of address or immigration status when doing so. This is laid out clearly on the NHS website. 

Technically then, anyone in the UK should be able to get a Covid-19 vaccine, sooner or later, regardless of their immigration status. However, there are still a number of barriers – many GP surgeries wrongly refuse to register people without ID or proof of address, and many undocumented people don’t know they’re eligible to register or are too scared about potential costs or being reported to the Home Office to access their GP’s services, including the vaccine. (Despite promises in 2018 to largely end the practice of data-sharing between the NHS and Home Office, some data-sharing has continued, and many migrants simply don’t trust those promises.)

Furthermore, while testing and treatment for Covid-19 are free of charge for everyone and require no immigration checks, the NHS has not yet made it clear whether vaccinations are covered by the same rules. 

Could the UK then learn from what other countries are doing with regard to undocumented migrants?

Several governments in Europe and elsewhere have taken a number of actions to enable undocumented migrants to access healthcare and other state support  during the pandemic, for example temporarily extending migrants’ permits, thereby granting them access to healthcare for a longer period. 

Others have gone one step further: last year, Portugal granted access to healthcare to those who had applied for a permit but were still waiting for it; Italy made an effort to regularise some undocumented migrants who were working in agriculture, domestic and care work – hence giving them a residence permit; more recently, Thailand took a similar measure. 

On the issue of vaccines, very few countries have released information on their plans for making it available to undocumented migrants. In the US, single states seem to be responsible for choosing who gets the vaccine and when, with diverging policies. While New Jersey, for example, has stated that undocumented migrants will be vaccinated with the rest of the population, Nebraska is prioritising residents with papers. the situation in Nebraska seems to be different. In response, Mexico’s government stated that it will seek to invoke labour provisions in the North American trade pact, which should ensure that migrant workers in the US receive a vaccine regardless of their immigration status.

European countries, for the most part, still don’t have clear policies. There are positive signs from some governments, with Belgian and Dutch officials stating that undocumented migrants will not be excluded from vaccination programmes. But it looks like others, such as Italy, only intend to provide a vaccine to migrants with a valid residence permit. In South America, Colombia is planning to do the same.

Across the world, the uncertainty about whether they will be able to access the vaccine along with everyone else is only adding to the struggles that undocumented migrants face on a daily basis. Compared to many other countries, the UK is in a good position to make sure everyone gets the vaccine who wants it, but there is still work to be done to ensure this happens.

TOP IMAGE: Man in front of a woman holding an injection, Nenad, Stojkovic, Flickr (CC BY 2.0)

test

Like Migrant Voice, Together in the UK is committed to amplifying the voices of migrants in the UK. We warmly extend an invitation to friends and supporters at Migrant Voice to enter our exciting new creative writing competition or to share the invitation with first or second-generation migrants in their networks.

Founded in 2015, Together in the UK is a social enterprise that provides a platform for migrants to share their experiences and offer advice to other migrants navigating life in a new country. We also share Migrant Voice’s aim of creating a more empathetic society and making the transition to life in the UK a smooth one for people who come here.

With these goals in mind, we have launched a creative writing competition on the theme of migration. We are looking for the next wave of first and second-generation migrant writers to share their poetry, short stories or essays on what migration means to them. It can be a work of the imagination or based on their lived experience. 

We are excited to hear from new voices of all ages, so we have an Over 18s and an Under 18s category. The judging panel for each category comprises people with expertise in migration and in literature. The judges include:

• Lord Dubs, active member of the House of Lords, who migrated from the Czech Republic to Britain in 1939 as a child 
• Sunder Katwala, Director of British Future, a thinktank concerned with integration and identity; his parents migrated to the UK to support the NHS 
• Consuelo Rivera-Fuentes, author, academic and the publisher of Victorina Press, who migrated from Chile to the UK in 1992
• Jonathan Portes, Professor of Economics and Public Policy at King’s College London, who is well-versed in synthesizing complex topics like migration into something easily understood 
• David Marshall, founder and CEO of Marshall E-Learning, who specialises in diversity by creating products that are designed to help organisations become more inclusive and diverse
• Tyrone Roach, UK Correspondent for the Barbados Nation News and Chairperson of the Barbados Overseas Community and Friends Association

We are particularly thrilled to have Nazek Ramadan, Director of Migrant Voice and an award-winning expert in her field, on our judging panel. Originally arriving in the UK from Lebanon in 1986, Nazek has been at the forefront of bringing migrant voices to local and national attention. Having successfully brought migrant voices into the spotlight in London with the launch of The New Londoners newspaper in 2007, Nazek expanded this reach to a national audience through the creation of Migrant Voice in 2010. Nazek’s wealth of experience both personally and in her work is a much-appreciated asset to our panel.

Speaking about the opportunity to be a judge, Nazek said, “Migrant Voice has led on lots of different campaigns over the years, all geared to developing migrant voices, sometimes through arts and poetry, through engaging with the media or through images. It’s therefore obvious to me that I would want to encourage more voices, more creativity so of course, I want to be a judge on the Together in the UK competition.”

There are some great prizes for the winners, including a Chrome Workbook (donated by Marshall E-Learning), an iPhone 6S, a scooter, an illustration of the winning piece, career counselling, cinema vouchers, and a place on one of Migrant Voice’s Media Lab training sessions. The winners will also have the opportunity to present their work at Together in the UK’s next event.

The deadline to submit your poem, short story or essay is 24 January 2021. Have a go yourself and share with all who you think may be interested. We look forward to reading the work of the latest migrant voices in the UK creative scene!

Read all the details here: https://www.togetherintheuk.co.uk/creative-plus/

My surname is ‘Anson’. I received this name from my father, and I love it. It means ‘Anne’s son’ or ‘son of God’. The name is found mainly in Yorkshire, UK.

In my research I found out that the name started off as ‘I’Anson’, and that in Jamaica it’s also spelled ‘Hanson’, which I’m told is the same name.

So you see names can be very complicated, because of language differences and one’s accent.

In my own family, my older brother James spells his surname ‘Hanson’. My mum wasn’t able to go and register his name so she asked someone else to - and that was the result.

When researching, I was also struck by the story of Thomas Anson, a slave owned by a man called Edmund Sill near the village of Dent in Yorkshire. Thomas reportedly escaped from his master in 1758 and later joined the English Army, serving as a trumpeter. He was discharged in 1768 because he “had lost his tooth” and could presumably no longer play the trumpet!

My first name is Althia, also spelled Althea. I love my name. Its Greek meaning is ‘healing herb’, healing (‘life’), herb tree.

My eldest sister told me she named me after US tennis star Althea Gibson. She was one of the first professional Black tennis players and won the French Open in 1956 and the US Open and Wimbledon in 1957-58.

TOP IMAGE: Healing Herbs_2, Royal Botanic Garden Sydney, Flickr (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

I first read about the news of a possible second Covid-19 lockdown in England while having breakfast before going to work, early on a Saturday morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet and reading the news I had a feeling that the darkness would last, uninterrupted, for the next four weeks. 

The next day at work, after the lockdown had been officially announced, the questions being asked over and over were typical of a group like ours, made up of immigrants mostly from continental Europe: What are you going to do? Are they still going to pay us? How much? Are you going home this time? Wait, what, they’re banning outbound travel? Do you think they’ll extend the lockdown? Hey, if they do, perhaps this year we get to go home for Christmas as we won’t have to work on Boxing Day. It’s always easy to joke when there’s a feeling of being all in the same boat, but to me, lockdown meant that we would all be cooped up in many tiny personal dinghies instead.

For many from my generation who were keen to escape their ordinary lives in their home countries, London has always been one of the top choices, as a poll from 2018 shows. European millennials have been graced, so far, by the free movement policy, which allows EU citizens to feely live and work in any EU country without the need for visas or permits. This means that deciding to move to London for six months, a year, maybe two, takes roughly the time to book a plane ticket and pack a bag. (Yes, this will end very soon. We have been lucky.) 

Many of us came here this way, after completing our studies, after looking endlessly for entry-level jobs in our home countries, or maybe just after deciding to go on an adventure. Ask us, and many of us will say that we came here knowing that we’d also go back at some point. This is why you’ll find us working jobs barely above minimum wage: we’re not here to have a career, we’re here to have fun, to learn the language, to see how we do by ourselves. This is also why, if you’re one of us, much of your social circle changes every few months. Someone is always leaving and someone new has always just arrived. You can have friendships, but never long-lasting ones. And this is why so many people I know spent the first lockdown – and the present one – essentially alone.

When I spoke to a co-worker of mine whose family lives in Europe, after coming back to work in the summer, she told me she was relieved that lockdown was over. “I don’t get along with my flatmates, so I basically spent three months in my room,” she told me. “I didn’t talk to anyone. I’d only leave to go to the supermarket. I barely went to the kitchen to cook meals.” I wondered how many went through the same. 

Another friend’s family lived in the worst-hit area of her home country, her sister worked at a hospital, and her dad was a vulnerable person. I could see in her eyes what we all felt: fear for ourselves and for the people we loved, and helplessness for being so far away from them. The near-total cancellation of flights during the first lockdown and the ‘travel ban’ during the second have made it virtually impossible for us to travel to our home countries.

“Besides, what am I supposed to do?”, a co-worker asked one of the last days before the shop closed this month. “What if they call us back to work and give us two days’ notice? I’d have to quarantine for two weeks if I was coming from home.” 

When the shop was open, travelling to a country outside of the travel corridor meant that the quarantine period after coming back to the UK counted as unpaid leave. The company hasn’t told us what would happen if we travelled while the shop is closed, but what’s certain is that either way we’d lose two weeks of fully paid work. 

Several people I knew left London for good in the spring, and I don’t blame them. With little to no support network, close relationships, or career, why would anyone want to spend the scariest months of our lives alone? Others had commitments here, such as a rented room or flat with a contract that couldn’t be ended, or the knowledge that there wasn’t really anything that they could do at home if they went back, or again the fear of missing out on work because of the two-week quarantine. Many, like me, were afraid of catching the virus while travelling and then infecting their families. So we stayed in our rooms and waited.

London is so lonely that there have been art exhibitions about it; a London Assembly article from last year spoke of a “loneliness epidemic” in the city. Coupled with the enforced isolation of lockdown and the surge in mental health issues caused by the pandemic, it’s easy to see how my friends and I, and so many like us, are in a very precarious position. Our workplace has offered no support services. Our families are far away. Still, it feels wrong to complain when we are perfectly aware that so many people are doing far worse than us. None of the people I know that are struggling have looked for help, and many prefer to joke about their worries rather than having serious conversation about them. This isn’t a coping mechanism that can work in the long term, but it’s what we make do with for now.

The first lockdown came with the spring. The nice warm weather and the longer days gave us a feeling of hope as we watched the infections curve slowly flatten. Six months later, it feels as if we’re starting from scratch, but this time the days are only getting darker and colder.

TOP IMAGE: Day 057 by Holly Lay, Flickr (CC BY 2.0)

Lazy and dishonest lawyers, a couldn’t-care-less Home Office, school racism, inadequate jobs – most refugees and many migrants will recognise elements of Inua Ellams’ story.

But though the UK’s hostile environment – still as viciously destructive as ever – harms and hurts everyone on the receiving end, every newcomer to these shores has a unique story to tell.

Ellams, for example, had a Muslim father and a Christian mother, a distinctively ungendered upbringing in Nigeria, a particularly heartless relationship with the UK immigration authorities that forced the family to relocate to Dublin, racist threats that drove them back to London, a talent for poetry and literature, and an invitation to Buckingham Palace that misspelt his name.

For Ellams, however, every setback and incident is grist to his storytelling skills. He turned his experiences into a semi-autobiographical play, had a sell-out run with another play, Barber Shop Chronicles, at the National Theatre, and has won a hatful of poetry (“the cheapest way to be free”) and drama awards.

Now he is helping Londoners beat lockdown blues by appearing in a one-man show at the Bridge Theatre.

He canters genially through his story, from his happy middle-class childhood to his name in lights and champagne with the Queen. The emotions and incidents (facing his first British bully, Mitchell; denial of British citizenship on the grounds that he “wasn’t of good character”; depression) are interspersed with his excellent poems: “Without a doubt, poetry saved my life.”

It’s a delightful, entertaining performance, but in the final few minutes he delivers the punch – an impassioned monologue about the iniquities and inequities of Britain’s immigration procedures, the casual cruelty, the crippling fees, the blaming of migrants for the country’s ills, discrimination in the NHS and housing. And he doesn’t let the socially distanced audience off the hook: Say No, not in my name, he urges – search Google to see if there’s anything you can do. 

* An Evening With An Immigrant is at The Bridge Theatre, 3 Pottersfield Park, SE1, £29.50/ £22.50/  £15/ £10, until 15 October.

Read more: Inua Ellams: ‘London is the closest I’ve felt to a home’, Time Out

Another asylum seeker dies in Glasgow – another preventable death? 

Mercy Baguma, a young Ugandan mother, was found dead in her flat in Glasgow in August. According to reports, her one-year-old son was found malnourished and crying next to her. Mercy’s death follows that of a young Syrian man, Adnan Olbeh, who died in May, reportedly after his mental health problems worsened after being moved to a hotel during the lockdown. 

It’s understood that Mercy was working in a restaurant until her leave to remain (her permission to stay and work in the UK) expired. Her employer had to let her go, because of fear of heavy fines if he was found to be employing people without a work permit. According to Positive Action in Housing, a charity that she had contacted, Mercy had later claimed asylum and was facing severe financial struggles. 

Apart from a very few exceptions, asylum seekers in the UK are not allowed to work and are forced to live on £37.75 per person per week.

This payment is to cover all their expenses except housing and utilities. They must pay for food, clothing, transport, medication and any activities they would like to arrange for their children. 

This amount is well below what a jobseeker in the UK currently receives – £74.35 per person per week if over 25, and if under, £58.90.

One would rightfully ask, why this is? How is this policy justified? How come asylum seekers are considered to need less money to survive on? A number of charities and activists have questioned this policy over many years – and many have raised the particular urgency for asylum seekers during the Covid-19 pandemic, when financial support for jobseekers has gone up by £20 per week, but support for asylum seekers has gone up just £1.85.

Mercy is reported to have died partly as a result of poverty. She had become dependent on charities and friends for help – even for food – yet because of the lockdown, help could not reach her. 

Something has gone seriously wrong here. In a developed country like the UK, surely no one should die in these circumstances.

We can’t only blame Covid-19 conditions for this tragedy. If Mercy had been allowed to work, she could have at least tried to get a job and earn the money she needed for herself and her son.

Last year, while I was working as a researcher at a charity, I conducted a survey with the help of asylum seekers living in Glasgow, as part of the national Lift the Ban campaign. We found that a majority of asylum seekers are not only eager to start working and pay their own way in life, contributing to their societies, but also are highly qualified and skilled.

A lifting of the ban on asylum seekers working could have helped Mercy to be alive today and able to look after her son. It could still help hundreds, if not thousands, of asylum seekers who are currently living in destitution and even prevent more deaths.

Migrant BAME women, including asylum seekers such as Mercy, face complex issues due to layers of prejudice and non-inclusive policies, as well as problems such as extreme poverty, domestic violence, institutional victimisation and long-term mental health illnesses. The solutions are not simple, but lifting the ban on working for asylum seekers would be a big step forward.

I hope and pray that Mercy’s son can heal well from this horrid incident so early in his life, that he won’t become another victim of a vicious cycle of poverty and tragedy – and that no other asylum seekers will face the same poverty and desperation as his mother. 

The issues faced by migrant BAME women in the UK, particularly the above-mentioned ones, are explored further in ‘A migrant’s guide to the western galaxy’ by Azadeh Sufiyan, a work of creative non-fiction, available online and at Aye-Aye and Good Press Gallery bookstores in Glasgow.

TOP IMAGE: Manos - Hands, by Jhairo Lug, Flickr (CC BY-SA 2.0)

This blog was first published on Engender.

I came across some shocking news regarding the health and the high rate of death of pregnant black women recently, which I believe, together with the news of a higher rate of mental health issues among South Asian women in the UK is at least worthy of some thoughts by the population and certainly worth sharing worth sharing with readers of the On the Engender blog.

BAME women's mental health

There are concerning statistics and facts in connection with the mental health of BAME women and the barriers they face in accessing services. Memon, A et al. (2016) in a study of this group of women in southeast England revealed a higher prevalence of anxiety and depression in south Asian women, 63.5% compared with 28.5% in white women (over 2.5 times higher).

This research identified personal and environmental factors together with the relationship between service user and healthcare providers as two broad and interrelated areas creating barriers in accessing services for these women, referring partly to non-inclusive services. The paper also reported that few studies have explicitly examined the barriers to accessing mental health services from the perspective of BAME individuals.

Black women's reproductive health

Emma Kasprzak, in her report at BBC News (2019), revealed in the results of the ‘UK Confidential Enquiry into Maternal Deaths’ of women in the UK that the rate of death of black women in the UK in recent years have been five times higher than the white women!

Kasprzak quotes Dr Ria Clarke, who is working towards becoming a consultant in obstetrics and gynaecology, where she speaks of medical, economic and social reasons behind the high rate of maternal death rate among black women in the UK.

Dr Clarke also adds: "We need to talk about the fact black women may not feel that they will be taken seriously, which might make them less likely to disclose how they are feeling”.

The BBC article goes on to report Candice Brathwaite’s comments, a black woman who had a caesarean and hours after being discharged from the hospital and insisting that she wasn’t still feeling well, had gone back there with Septicaemia. Candice reported that she was not being listened to in depth or with empathy, similar to other expectant white mothers who were in the hospital she was giving birth in.

BAME women with no recourse to public funds

I would also like to highlight some other potentially very difficult situations that immigrant women, especially of Asian, Middle-Eastern and African origins can face should they have obtained their right to remain in the UK through getting married to a British national. Naturalisation and citizenship acquiring period can take a few years, according to the British Citizenship by Marriage regulations. During the naturalisation period (which used to be longer for women who arrived in the UK during the 90’s), immigrant women have no recourse to public services, which means they cannot apply for benefits such as job-seeker allowance or housing benefits. These regulations can put these women in very vulnerable positions, having to rely on their husbands for all their financial needs.

One hopes that their marriages will be a successful one, where the husband is happy to financially provide for the wife, at least for the first few years of their lives together, until she can either find a job or be eligible to apply for benefits, but we all know that is frequently not the reality of married lives.

The dependent wives usually also don’t have any family members to turn to for support, since immigrant women are usually alone in the country they have arrived at, either as a refugee or as a student originally. As a result, these women will be under the mercy of their husbands totally.

I have heard from many of my immigrant friends and also women I interpreted for in my freelance work, that they have even been subjected to various forms of psychological or physical domestic abuse by their husbands and husbands’ family, due to their lack of ability to earn money or for any other excuse. Because of their inability to pay for an accommodation for themselves or find a network of support, these women would face abuse for years.

It is also important to remember that these women usually cannot find employment or suitable work for many years, due to a variety of reasons such as: poor language skills; unfamiliarity with the job market in the UK and how to apply for jobs; lack of self-confidence as a result of living with abusive men; and as a result of prejudice and racism existing in Scotland and the UK. This will add to their problem of not becoming financially independent and so they can find themselves in a vicious cycle of despair.

Even after an immigrant BAME woman finds employment which is suitable to the level of her qualifications and skills -usually after several years of job-seeking, taking on small temp jobs and extended volunteering, due to the various types of prejudice existing in the UK and the inability of the current employment laws to protect them from bullying and harassment in a meaningful way - many of these women can and have (based on the real-life stories of immigrants) faced mental health issues and have been unable to keep their jobs or get promoted, hitting the glass ceiling or getting unfairly dismissed more than white women with similar level of qualifications and experience to them.

These are only a few types of issues that immigrant women face in the UK including in Scotland, there is no time or space to address all the other kinds here. These issues and more are explored in a creative non-fiction book, ‘A migrant’s guide to the western galaxy’ by Azadeh Sufiyan, (available from the Aye Aye and Good Press Gallery bookstores in Glasgow, and online)

I am reminded of Einstein’s wise words: “The world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it”.

Azita Jabbari-Arabzadeh is a BAME migrant women with an extensive background working with BAME women, including migrants and refugees.

TOP IMAGE: OMDB0221, Magdalena Roeseler, Flickr (CC BY 2.0)

As an asylum seeker with a disability, I am of the opinion that people like myself are very vulnerable and more exposed to Covid-19 when compared with other people and groups in the UK due to poverty and lack of resources. 

However, little is heard or reported about this vulnerable segment of British society during these challenging times. The voices of asylum seekers with disabilities are seldom heard, yet the risk we face is significant. Our lifestyles are often characterised by poverty as we have no recourse to public funds, and we are therefore unable, or struggle, to access equipment and products that can make it easier for us to adhere to good hygienic practices. 

As an asylum seeker with a disability, I normally have no money to take a taxi – and certainly not enough to buy a car – so that I can be less exposed to the virus when compared to using public transport.

People such as myself who use a wheelchair face very particular problems. Instead of the cheap disposable gloves others use, I have to use strong and expensive “Rigger” gloves that I have to constantly change and carefully discard after every single use – since my hands are my legs. 

When I want to sit on my wheelchair, I must use my hands to grab either a rail or the wall. When I want to disembark, my hands must again touch a rail or a wall. When entering or disembarking the bus, I have to grab a handle or rail, and the same when I use a toilet. While others can avoid touching things around them to some extent, I don’t have that option.

The same is true for people with visual impairments, who use handrails to guide them around. While others can use their elbow or a pen to press a button in a lift, for someone with a visual impairment, they have no choice but to use their hands as they use their fingers to read the world around them. They need to buy more gloves, more hand sanitiser than others.

Simply put, the funds needed for a disabled asylum seeker to protect themselves from Covid-19 are beyond their means. I am appealing to the authorities who have the mandate of providing support to asylum seekers to take some reasonable steps aimed at addressing the plight of disabled asylum seekers, many of whom are continuing to suffer in silence.

The subsistence support provided by the Home Office should be increased for all asylum seekers, as £38 per week is not enough to live on, especially in a pandemic. Those with disabilities should be provided with additional funds on top in order to enable us to meet the extra costs that come with a disability as we seek to protect ourselves from Covid-19 (for example, the special gloves). This is a matter of fairness and equity. 

Unfortunately, the particular plight of asylum seekers with a disability is often ignored by those making policies. Care must be given to them and their issues in the face of the Covid-19 pandemic as they are vulnerable members of our society – and we must make sure everyone is protected.

It is regrettable that the coronavirus pandemic has heightened inequality and increased marginalization of asylum seekers with disabilities in the UK, who are already facing difficulties. Yet while we face social and economic deprivation, and healthcare deficits, this is going unnoticed in the mainstream media.

It is imperative that the Government develop an inclusive response to cushion the impact of Covid-19 on asylum seekers with disabilities.

Dickson Tarnongo is an asylum seeker living in Coventry. He has received an an offer to do a PhD in Disability Rights and Citizenship at Leicester University, and is currently crowdfunding to raise the money for his first year of tuition.

An elderly grandma will be ripped from her adopted family and friends and be deported back to India if she is not given ‘Leave to Remain’ in the UK.

A community in Smethwick, West Midlands, has jumped to the aid of 75-year-old Mrs Gurmit Kaur, who is threatened with deportation by the Home Office.

In 2013, the grandmother received letters from agencies representing the Home Office for her removal from the UK back to India where she says she has no family. Seven years on, she is still fearful of being removed.

Mrs Kaur said: “Being here in Smethwick is my true home, it’s where I work to help the community, it’s where I know and love the people who have become my family. This is the place I have made my home.”

Mrs Kaur has been living in her Sandwell home for nearly 11 years since arriving in the UK in 2009. She is much loved and is very active in the community, but she does not have documents. Undocumented migrants in the UK are unable to work or register with relevant authorities and have no recourse to public funds.

Campaigners are gathering signatures on a petition for Mrs Kaur to remain in the UK indefinitely, which has so far gathered nearly 60,000 signatures.

Salman Mirza from Migrant Voice, the organisation spearheading the campaign, said: “Our concern is that her status remains that she can and may be ‘forcibly removed’. Though we do not condone it, it is understandable that after such threats, people then do not pursue the Home Office.”

According to Mrs Kaur, she has no family to return to in India and has made her home in Smethwick, including many friends within the Sikh community and temple, where she helps out with cooking and serving food to visitors on a daily basis. She goes on to say, “In India, I have nobody, absolutely nobody. I fear loneliness and the impact on my mental health if I go to India all alone.”

Mrs Kaur’s plight was aired on the BBC on 25 July, in the hope that it will highlight the struggles this elderly lady is facing to get the relevant authorities to take note of what is happening, not only to her, but to undocumented migrants across the UK. 

TOP IMAGE: Migrant Voice members supporting the #WeAreAllGurmitKaur campaign

The British press is notably hostile in its coverage of immigration. Between 2010 and 2016, the Daily Express ran a staggering 179 front pages devoted to anti-migrant stories, with the Daily Mail publishing 122 over the same period. 

Yet as the nation has come together during the fight against Covid-19, the immense contributions that migrants make to society have become impossible to deny. It is therefore important to examine whether media coverage has changed accordingly, or whether the negative rhetoric is still just as present. 

Coverage prior to the pandemic

Prior to the UK outbreak of Covid-19, print media coverage of immigration was characterised by derision, suspicion and venom. There was a calculated attempt to emphasise the supposed criminality of migrants, as evidenced by this Sun headline from 2 January 2020:

‘MIGRANT CRISIS: Priti Patel wants to deport illegal immigrants crossing channel faster after numbers soar in run up to Brexit’

The word ‘immigrants’ sits directly beside the word ‘illegal’, adding fuel to the widely-circulated falsehood that the majority of migrants have no legal right to be in the UK. This fixation on illegality and criminality is a recurring theme. Research from the Migration Observatory found the word ‘illegal’ to be the most common descriptor for the word ‘immigrants’, appearing in 10% of mid-market stories (titles include the Mail and Express), 6.6% of tabloid stories (including The Sun and the Mirror) and 5% of broadsheet stories (including The Times, The Telegraph, The Guardian).

The above headline also deliberately draws attention to the number of migrants entering the UK, evidenced through its evocative use of the verb ‘soar’ – this creates the illusion that the country is being overwhelmed. A fixation on numbers has also been pinpointed in previous research, with words such as ‘million’ and ‘thousands’ frequently appearing beside ‘immigrants’ across all newspaper types. 

In short, pre-pandemic coverage of immigration was built upon an ‘us versus them’ mentality that sought to portray migrants as a threat to society. 

Has coverage changed? 

The key question concerns whether or not coverage has changed in light of the extraordinary events that have unfolded in recent months. A quick glance at the archives of either the Daily Mail or Daily Express reveals that, regrettably, much of the vitriol is still present, as evidenced by this Daily Mail headline from 4 July 2020:

‘How it can take EIGHT guards to escort one prisoner on a deportation flight from Britain: Figures reveal shocking rise in number of taxpayer-funded staff it takes to remove disruptive criminals and illegal immigrants’

The ‘villain’ frame is used emphatically here – not only does the aforementioned ‘illegal immigrants’ collocation appear, but the direct use of ‘criminals’ is designed to stoke fear. Further to this, the use of ‘disruptive’ reinforces the notion that migrants are a burden on the UK and fail to adhere to the rule of law. 

This skewed and sensationalist presentation of events is completely devoid of empathy and balance – the desperate and often unjust circumstances surrounding deportation are completely excluded from the narrative, leaving the reader with the impression that immigration and criminality go hand in hand. On the basis of this evidence, the ‘all in this together’ spirit that has been fostered in recent weeks has been no match for the longstanding and deeply ingrained prejudices of the British press.

Having said this, headlines such as the following – published in the Daily Mail on 24 March – suggest that the pandemic has shone a spotlight on the harrowing situations that some migrants face: 

‘Greece is at risk of coronavirus deaths spiking due to migrant camps where 42,000 people are packed into facilities designed for 6,000, making social distancing impossible’

Overcrowded conditions are immensely newsworthy due to the bearing they have on Covid-19 transmission. The severity of the situation at the Greek refugee camps has made it impossible to portray migrants as villains, and has in fact shown that they are victims of a cruel and unjust system. With this in mind, the pandemic appears to have increased the need for truthful, accurate reporting, making it difficult to maintain a consistently negative approach to immigration. 

Whilst this can be seen as a positive development, it should not be interpreted as a sign of genuine and lasting change. Recent months may have shaken up the discourse somewhat, but ultimately the antipathy towards migrants can still be observed. 

Cameron Boyle is a political correspondent for the Immigration Advice Service, an organisation of immigration solicitors.

Monitored constantly, branded a ‘liability’, feeling like a criminal.  This has now become the reality of Syed’s experience in the UK higher education system. Yet it is a far cry from his experience when he arrived in the UK to study nine years ago. 

Drawn to the UK by the reputation of its education system, Syed started his course at the London College of Advanced Management with high hopes for the future. Things started well, with Syed enjoying the experience and benefiting from services aimed at helping international students settle. Before long he had completed his Level 5 diploma in Leadership and Management. 

“My initial year as a student in the UK was fantastic. The support I was given by my lecturers and college staff was incredible and there were other students like me who came from different backgrounds.”

By 2014, Syed had continued to make progress and was ready to apply for his Level 7, having completed his Level 6 the previous year. Syed had also sat the TOEIC test (the Test of English for International Communication), in order to get his visa extended and continue with his studies. Unfortunately, this would mark the beginning of a terrible ordeal. 

Following a letter accusing him - falsely - of cheating, his extension was refused and the situation quickly deteriorated. No longer able to study, Syed instead found himself branded a criminal, caught up in a murky world of Home Office reporting centres and spiteful immigration enforcement officers. 

“I used to stay awake at night because I was scared that immigration enforcement officers would raid my house and arrest me.”

After spending huge amounts in legal fees and winning his appeal, Syed eventually received a letter in February 2019, granting him just 60 calendar days within which to find an appropriate university sponsor and submit a fresh Tier 4 application. This would have been an unreasonably short allowance at the best of times, let alone in the middle of an academic year. 

On top of this, Syed faced the challenge of being refused on the basis of a supposedly chequered immigration history. Universities variously described him as ‘high-risk’ or a ‘liability’, despite the fact he had won his appeal. It seems obvious that the allegation should simply have been wiped from his record. Fortunately, he has now found a place and resumed his studies. 

Sadly, Syed is not alone in his experience. Described in Parliament as Britain’s ‘forgotten immigration scandal’, it has now emerged that over 34,000 international students were wrongly accused of cheating by the Home Office and a further 22,000 wrongly labelled possible cheats. 

The cases that have made it to the courts have shown that the evidence the Home Office relied upon to make the accusations is largely absent – and where it does exist,

it’s deeply flawed. Students have been accused of cheating in one test centre, while having proof they sat the test in another. Others were accused having never sat the test at all. Migrant Voice has been working alongside the students since 2017, fighting with them for justice. Syed says he doesn’t think he would be where he is now without their involvement.

Six years on from those initial accusations and, despite Syed winning his case, it is hard to escape the sense that all parties have lost out in this saga. For Syed, one of the most frustrating things about the whole injustice is the feeling of a lost future, as well as being branded a criminal for no reason at all: 

“The Home Office has made me suffer by wrongly presuming that I have done the TOEIC test non-genuinely, and has only ever used very generic evidence against me.”

Even now, like all international students in the UK, Syed faces constant monitoring by his university and the Home Office, making it hard for him to shake the feeling of being seen as a criminal.

For the UK government, and the UK in general, it is also difficult to see what has been gained by such a vindictive approach as was shown in the TOEIC matter. As well as tarnishing its reputation, it has successfully driven away talented and hard-working young graduates. Syed currently plans to return to Pakistan after his studies, although states that he would stay in the UK after graduation if the route to a post-study work visa was easy and not expensive. Whilst this is not the case at the moment, the Government’s proposed new ‘Graduate Route’ visa does mean it could be possible from next summer. 

Even if this does prove to be the case, some of Syed’s most valuable years will never be regained. And without righting the wrongs of this scandal, or addressing its root causes, it seems the UK’s former reputation for higher education will also be lost forever. 

TOP IMAGE: Demonstration outside Parliament organised by TOEIC students and Migrant Voice, calling for justice for those wrongly accused of cheating, like Syed.

London, home to some of the best museums in the world, seemed the obvious place to do museum studies, and being an American holding an Irish passport conferred an additional privilege. 

Even though Britain is no longer part of the European Union it has a special deal with Irish citizens who do not need a visa to study or work. That was one less factor to worry about and another cost for which I didn’t need an additional loan. Friends had described the process of getting a tier 4 visa and it sounded terrible and confusing. I already had enough stress from moving to a different country, leaving my family and taking on a masters. 

But halfway through my course Covid-19 arrived. It raised the problem of whether I should stay in London during lockdown or return to Boston and my family. 

I had two options and neither really appealed to me. 

If I stayed in London I would be cooped up in a tiny dormitory room with a shared kitchen and bathrooms. I couldn’t really leave the student halls unless I needed essentials or wanted to do my allotted one hour of exercise.  If I decided to go home I would be living with mom and dad, confined to my room, the basement and a backyard. I would also be working 40 plus hours a week at a grocery store.  Ultimately, getting a pay check while living with my parents won. 

So I said goodbye to friends, classmates and flatmates. It was hard because they had become my family and lifeline.  I saw them almost every day and they often tagged along for the little adventures I went on or helped celebrate holidays such as Thanksgiving.  

My experiences, friendships, education were cut short. Even though classes were transferred to an online platform, it didn’t feel the same. I didn’t feel connected to my teachers and classmates. I never felt that I got what I paid for. I spent money on tuition and room and board for a whole year and online classes and a city on lockdown did not seem fair. I felt like I had wasted my time. 

I hated the thought of abandoning my friends and classmates but I realised I was not in the same predicament as some of the other international students. They did not have an Irish passport so they had spent money on a visa to study and work in the UK. Since everything was shut down they did not get their money’s worth out of the Tier 4 visa. They had bills but if they couldn’t work they couldn’t earn money, and therefore couldn’t pay for rent or school. 

I am beyond thankful to have Irish citizenship and passport. Without it I would have not been able to study in London as easily as I had. I am also thankful for the friends that I made along the way and hope that they are handling Covid-19 as well as they can. 

This article was written and published as part of Migrant Voice's International Students Week (13-17 July 2020). We're celebrating international students in the UK and raising their voices on the issues that affect them. Read more here.

TOP IMAGE: Sam Joyce, provided by herself

Students aspiring to study abroad go through a careful decision-making process before choosing to move their whole life to a different country for a minimum of 3-4 years. They weigh many factors that help formulate this life-changing decision that is not only an investment towards the betterment of their future but also comes with a significant financial commitment. 

In 2007 when the Post Study Work Visa (PSW) was put in place, British representatives travelled to recruit students. They made a compelling pitch about the benefits of choosing to invest in your higher education in the UK, citing the UK’s international competitive edge: the Post Study Work Visa. The promise offered a world-class academic experience as well as two years British-standard work experience via the PSW scheme after graduation. This package meant that students would benefit from acquiring a unique set of skills and experience which would set them apart among young professionals in the workforce in their home country.

In 2008 I was one of those students who, after visiting the British Council, felt excited for the future I could obtain through this experience. As planned, I graduated in 2012, but what should have been a moment of celebration quickly descended into hellish nightmare far from the dream Britain’s representatives had painted of my future. The government did not just alter the deal: in 2012 it abolished the PSW route.

The policy reform was applied rigidly, with no consideration about exempting students who had already invested in the UK whilst the policy was in place. It failed to recognise and act justly to prevent unfair disruptions to the plans of students who had a legitimate expectation of qualifying for this route on graduation. British universities and government spoke as one voice when selling the benefits of this opportunity of a lifetime, but suddenly became separate entities, with both unwilling to assume any responsibility. 

I felt abandoned and in limbo, no longer fitting into any box. At the time I sincerely believed this must have been an administrative oversight, and so raced to find a fair resolution to get my plans back on track.

The institution that I once trusted would conduct itself in a principled and responsible manner had changed to operating with a single motive: implementing a hostile environment policy. My family and I had invested all we had in the original promise. So to have been faced with the reality that the future in which I had invested was snatched away through no fault of my own was a loss too hard to bear. 

The PSW scheme has now been reinstated, so this is a cautionary tale of the difficulties you will face as an international student hoping to invest your future in the UK as I once did. There are no measures in place to safeguard your investment and the rights of international students are poorly represented. Often you will end up alone fighting a battle that’s bigger than you, with the chance of success slim to nothing. At any point the UK government could cease to honour any policy currently in place: four years down the line you might find yourself in the same hopeless position as I did.

Here also lies an opportunity for the government and official bodies like Universities UK to recognise the difficult considerations and choices international students make before they invest a huge portion of their life and youth in the UK, and to make every effort to put tangible measures in place to protect the rights of this group of people with the fairness and integrity they deserve.

migrantvoice New Test

Here I am, the sun lazily dipping beneath the treetops, absent-mindedly tracing the brim of my shimmering, sun-struck wineglass on my back porch. And as I’m sitting here with my right hand on my keyboard and a German Shepard excitedly panting to my left, I can’t help but think:

What on earth is going on?

And this isn’t just today. This is just like any other steamy summer evening in July breezing by on the other side of the Atlantic marking the 104th day of my social distancing journey. 

In 2017 all that I had on my mind was perfection. I graduated with excellent grades and was perfectly ready and content with spending the next four years wandering the pretentious ivy-covered walls of Cornell University. 

That was until an opportunity arose that I could not pass up: the opportunity to study in London. My dreams became consumed with cobblestone walls, colourful terraced houses, and new, undiscovered teashops to explore around every corner. I took this as a sign, put my previous plans aside, and enrolled at the University of Westminster to study journalism

In hindsight, a large part of me wishes that I had not changed my course.

The first two years were unbelievably amazing. I spent every minute accepting any opportunity that I could. Traveling to the 49 neighbouring European countries, networking with alumni and public speakers, and putting myself in the position to get among the best marks possible. 

My third year, I really buckled down. I went to every networking event possible. I contacted everyone I could. My connections grew to reach major organisations: Cosmopolitan, New York Times, The Independent, BBC. I was determined to not make this year my last, for you see, I fell in love. I fell in love with the cultures I was meeting in this giant city. I fell in love with navigating the tube. I fell in love with my flat, looking out onto Regent’s Park. I fell in love with everything possible: with the motivation and happiness that this city and its people gave me. 

Love causes people to do crazy things. Like, against all odds find a company willing to train you and sponsor your visa post-graduation. The stars aligned, my hard work paid off, and I was eager and fully prepared to slave over a computer designing for one of the biggest circulation newspapers in the UK. 

That was until my future plans and current path came crumbling down. Despite being a fan of the dramatics, this is not an over-exaggeration. 

On 13 March I was informed that my university was closing the following week. On 22 March my soon-to-be supervisor informed me that the programme was cancelled and not taking place until December at the earliest. I was also told that they would no longer be able to sponsor my visa. On 25 March I left the country out of fear of my country closing. It didn’t flight, but I was among the last “regular” flights to my city. That “regular” flight had nine passengers.

Covid-19 struck and with it took my final three months of university, my employment plans, a critical part of my final journalism project due to a lack of resources, and just about any chance of finding an entry-level job within the next three months. A person who was once so prepared and ahead of the curve was suddenly swept into a sea of uncertainty with little-to-no help. All I’m left with is a phoney congratulations letter which is supposedly coming in the mail.

I want to start off by saying that I love my university and I recognise that their hands are tied. They have no means of helping their international students out of the mess that has been created. The government on the other hand has every means of doing so.

Starting this year, students will have a two-year post-study period added to their visas. I genuinely don’t see any reason why this shouldn’t be added to the Covid classes of 2020 and 2021. Your previous reasonings are now completely outdated.

"Those who graduate and whose leave expires before the route is introduced will not be eligible for the Graduate route. The vast majority of these students will have commenced their course prior to the announcement of the new route, and therefore had no expectation of benefiting from such a route when they applied to study in the UK.

This route is being introduced to help new graduates who complete their education in the UK to get a head-start on their career and allow them to look for work as soon as they have successfully graduated. It is entirely appropriate that they should benefit from this route, rather than those with degrees previously gained in the UK who have already progressed in their career, whether in the UK or overseas."

This statement was painful to read in 2019, but it’s even more heart-breaking now. Yes, a lot of us did have a plan. That plan did not include being deported due to a global pandemic. Our “expectation” was never to have the final seven months of visas be unusable due to a virus killing hundreds of thousands of people, including your international students. We never signed up for this. To claim that we did would be incorrect and further prove your neglect and lack of compassion for our classes. 

You claimed that you wanted to increase the rate of international students remaining in your country after graduation, and here is your chance. Future international students may never apply due to the situation. They might not want or have the means to learn through a tiny screen.

But the classes of 2020, 2021, and 2022? We are here. And we want to work. We want to strengthen your economy and stimulate it. We want to keep our cultures present here. You don’t have to wait for something you don’t know will happen, when you have the solution right here, staring you in the face, and challenging your policies. Give the class of 2020 and current international students a visa extension. Even if it’s not for two years, and in return for the amount of time Covid has affected our studies and future plans, it will thoroughly benefit both parties.

Your stubbornness – not Covid – will be what ruins the future course of international students, and has been what has ruined all our future plans. Your unwillingness to aid students so willing to help you is what is wrecking our futures. You are choosing to treat us as though we don’t exist and claim that we had it in for ourselves by agreeing to a pandemic. And instead of simply reforming your policy, which would only take a mere paragraph on a sheet of paper, you are continuing to show how little you care about us.

There are a lot of conversations going on now, due to the pandemic and the resulting travel and visa restrictions, about the value international students bring not only to UK universities but also globally. 

There is no doubt that international students make a valuable contribution to our universities and also to the wider community that the University sits in. 

The value of international students has and always will be about much more than the financial contributions they bring to universities. The University of Westminster has been involved in international education since 1888 with its first school journey abroad to Switzerland.  We have worked to bring and send out students to and from international destinations because we understand the importance of a global learning landscape for all our students. One of my favourite facts about our history and our contribution to London is that we appear in immigrant literature as a place where a person was able to transition into wider UK society and to learn and gain the skills needed to make the UK home.

Having international students in our classrooms enriches our learning experience, it allows those of our students who might not be able to engage in a physical international experience the option to learn about how people from other countries think and view the world, contributing to the global skills set we all need in today’s world. It can also help UK students see that an international learning experience is both valuable and a possibility for them, empowering UK students to embrace an overseas learning experience for themselves. 

Many international students go on to work in the UK after their studies have completed, and there is no doubt that the ability to attract this international talent benefits our wider society. The role of international education in bringing these individuals to the UK should not be underestimated; it is a key reason why the UK has notable successes in, for example, areas of scientific research. As the pandemic has also shown, an international workforce has been key in ensuring the UK can fill its demand in sectors such as engineering, technology and medicine, and the UK Government recognised this in its own Migration Advisory Committee findings in 2018.

The University is currently home to 169 nationalities and we are proud that so many international students choose to study with us. International students bring many benefits to the University and the community we serve. We are proud of the diversity of our University and the positive global student learning environment this creates.

TOP IMAGE: College of DuPage Celebrates 50th Commencement 2017 124, by COD Newsroom, Flickr (CC BY 2.0)

International students in the UK bring in over a whopping £4.8 billion a year in tuition fees and an additional £5.4 billion in accommodation, food and other expenditure. 

What the government forgets, however, is that international students are often from low- and middle-income families. Most are motivated by the pursuit of better opportunities and international experience. We are not born with silver spoons in our mouths: we are dependent on scholarships and part-time jobs to get by. 

But unprecedented times means that we have moved from lecture halls, labs and libraries to online seminars in our rooms. While most British students have the luxury of going home and of meeting family and friends, albeit socially distanced, international students have been far from family and friends for over three months. We are also out of employment and are knee-deep in academic pressure, yet our tuition fees are still feeding the economy. 

As an international doctoral student, I am also a part of a group that contributes an immeasurable wealth of knowledge through research.

Unfortunately, I and others in my position are also among the last to be considered for support during this time. Though universities have put various funds in place for student support, many of us are either ineligible or are awaiting decisions which might take months, while seeing some of the billions of pounds we bring being allocated to other sectors.

When I first applied to UK universities I envisioned a new chapter that would allow me to explore Europe, make new friends and colleagues and develop academically. Most of those plans have been erased because I have been stuck in my room, socially distancing. No-one could have predicted this situation, but I am disappointed that all the money spent to access facilities and opportunities has now gone to waste. 

I am especially disappointed in the lack of prioritisation of international students in government plans. Instead, the government focuses on trying to get more students enrolled for the upcoming academic year, while barely coping with the current cohort. The focus on online support and continued teaching is publicised as if we are supposed to be happy that we are getting an education while stressing over where our income is going to come from. 

As a partially funded student, I do not receive funding or a stipend from the university, so I am responsible for all my living costs. I had been getting by on my savings and on part-time jobs, which have been completely halted. I spend hours searching the internet for opportunities, but I am also faced with the tough decision of whether to stay home and protect myself from the virus or to go out and try to generate an income. This has obviously affected my productivity levels because it takes time away from my research and weighs heavily on my mind. 

I do not consider myself the worst case, but I have no clue how long I will be able to sustain my living costs with my dwindling funds. All conversations with other international students are about financial worries and sharing possible work. Some students have to provide for their spouse and children, others are juggling with their academic work. It all has an effect on our mental wellbeing. 

News headlines are focused on how the government wants to ease to visa restrictions to allow more students in 2020/2021. Yet there is nothing on how it plans to support them once they get here, which further reflects how international students are viewed as piggy banks for the economy. 

Unashamedly, the focus is solely on protecting the plummeting economy by getting more money from international students. it would be great if funds were allocated to support the various funding initiatives originally proposed by universities to support international students. This will not only support more students in need but will appeal to other prospective students concerned about sustaining themselves once they get here. 

Most importantly, I think the government should treat international students as the valued contributors they are and show the same compassion as it does for others during this time.

TOP IMAGE: Sinenhlanhla Zondo, supplied by herself

I loved my time as an undergrad at the University of Westminster and knew I wanted to come back and live here. I was on my way to doing this in 2019 when I returned to start a master’s with the goal of obtaining a job after I finished. This all changed in the wake of Covid-19. 

Many of my friends, who were semester study abroad students, were recalled to their home countries. Mid-March the West End closed and effectively cancelled all shows, six of which I had tickets for. By 17 March I lost my job and by 20 March the rest of my club volleyball season was cancelled. On 23 March – one day before my birthday – the UK Government ordered a nation-wide lockdown. Attending one of the most international universities in London meant that when the university transitioned to online learning many of my friends went home – homes not just elsewhere in the UK but all over the world. 

By the time 1 April rolled around, my life had stopped. I had to grapple with the decision of whether to stay in London while not being able to experience anything London has to offer or return to Chicago while still having to pay rent for my flat in London. I decided to stay, not knowing when I would be able to return if I went back to Chicago. The life I had begun to live in London ended and I was forced to isolate with no end-date and no friends; alone in my bedroom in a flat shared with four strangers. 

My degree ends in September and now I am forced to grapple again with the same decision: back to Chicago to live with my mother, or stay in a place where I have longed to be for almost 10 years? The economy has taken a hard hit from Covid, and many have lost jobs. It is already hard to find a job with sponsorship: add the pandemic, resulting economic decline and hiring freeze and it is nearly impossible.

If I have not found a job by January (or perhaps before, because of lack of funds), I will be legally forced to move back to the United States. I have paid over £500 in government fees and well over £30,000 on tuition and housing, not to mention everyday purchases, all of which has fed into the UK economy, in order to experience all that London has to offer for less than six months. I and thousands of other international student graduates have been cheated out of fundamental experiences and time in London due to Covid-19. Yet the government is doing nothing to help despite continuously saying the UK wants to attract ‘the best and brightest’ and ‘maintain global brainpower’. 

Modules we paid to take in person have transitioned to online, and personal graduations have been cancelled or moved online. Time in London has been stripped from those in the class of 2020. Unless the government acts now, we will be the class that slipped through the cracks of a pandemic for whom the government did nothing. 

In September 2019 the Government announced it would be reintroducing a visa route for international students that it dismantled in 2013 under Prime Minister Theresa May. The Graduate Route of the Tier-2 Work Visa will allow international students on a Tier-4 visa to work, or look for work, post-graduation, for two years. The visa itself is unlike the Tier-2 general visa as it does not require the student to have a CoS (Certificate of Sponsorship). 

For many international students this will be a dream come true: the key words are ‘will be’. However, for the class of 2020 it will not be. The issue we face is that the Graduate Route visa is currently only eligible for summer 2021 graduates and after. So what is happening for international class of 2020 students during a worldwide pandemic, economic decline and hiring freeze? Nothing. 

We are looking to the Government to make the right decisions during these difficult times. Help could start with the implementation of the Graduate Route Visa for 2020 graduates and beyond. When asked why the Graduate Route Visa is set to be available only for 2021 summer graduates and after, the Home Office advises:

It takes time to develop a new immigration route and ensure the framework is in place for it to successfully operate. Introducing the route in the summer of 2021 will mean that all students who graduate in the summer of 2021 or after will benefit, regardless of when they started their course. The route was announced in September 2019 to ensure that universities and stakeholders could promote the route when attracting prospective students. 

Now that an international pandemic has occurred it is time for the government to show support for its Class of 2020 international students. While the government may maintain that it takes time to develop a new immigration route, the fact is this is not new. The only way in which to show solidarity and support to us is to change the regulations around the Graduate Route Visa and allow anyone holding a Tier-4 visa to be eligible on graduation. 

Allowing the class of 2020 to obtain this visa will not only make up for the time in enforced isolation or forced back to home countries, but also continue to benefit the UK economy. Since the post-study visa was taken away in 2013 the education and business sectors have lobbied for it to be brought back and immigration regulations around international students to be eased. The Covid-19 pandemic has driven workers and students away from the UK and until a vaccine is found we will continue to see a decline in international students coming to the UK. 

This is the time for the government to protect and uplift the class of 2020, as well as think about the future ramifications for the national economy if it fails to make this visa accessible now. 

TOP IMAGE: Abagail Catania, provided by herself

The impact of coronavirus on migrant labour in the UK – and the UK’s response – could be considered a warning of what might happen after Brexit. 

Due to travel restrictions, many seasonal migrant workers who might normally come from Europe to work in the UK’s agricultural sector have not been able to travel. This threatened to cause a crisis in the UK’s food supply, forcing some of the UK’s largest food suppliers to bring in workers from Eastern Europe on charter flights. 

But I have a question. Why should any young Bulgarian or Romanian person come to the UK, possibly risking their health on the journey, just so that Brits – many of whom voted to leave the EU as they wanted fewer Eastern Europeans coming to the UK – can have their strawberries this summer? 

Surely those who voted ‘leave’, hoping for a ‘brighter future’ with no migrants, should be the ones rolling up their sleeves and doing the job themselves – digging up the potatoes and picking the strawberries to feed their own families.

But despite a national campaign by the Government to “Pick for Britain” and huge initial enthusiasm, the number of Brits hired for these jobs has remained low and tens of thousands more are still needed. 

During this crisis, we have seen a growing realisation of the necessity of migrant labour in a number of sectors, including food supply chains. We all know that without food we can’t survive and migrant workers who are trained and willing to pick the UK’s fruit and veg are therefore a fundamental piece of the economic puzzle. Yet we are pushing forward with Brexit, which will make it almost impossible for many of these workers to come to the UK in the years ahead. This pandemic has given us just a foretaste of what’s to come. 

The contradiction of this situation and of the attitude towards migrant workers is painfully clear in the Government’s rhetoric. Despite almost daily recognition from MPs and ministers of the importance of migrant key workers during the coronavirus pandemic, Home Secretary Priti Patel has now returned to the misleading language of “high” and “low” skilled workers, pledging to almost close the door on the latter. In a recent debate on the Immigration Bill, which will end free movement and pave the way for a new points-based immigration system, she described the new system as one that will “attract the people we need to drive our country forward through the recovery stage of coronavirus laying the foundation for a high wage, high skill, productive economy.”

Isn’t this a contradiction to you? The very same government who is clapping for key workers, including migrants, is also passing legislation to shut the door in those migrants’ faces.

Unless a person meets certain requirements (such as being able to speak English to a certain standard, having a job offer from an approved employer, and meeting a salary threshold of £25,600) she/he will not be able to enter the UK once the Immigration Bill has been passed. This will affect most people in key worker roles – nurses, bus drivers, supermarket assistants, agricultural workers and so on. 

However, we can be sure that if not enough British people are willing to pick tomatoes, there will still be charter flights to collect workers from other countries – using whatever loopholes they can find in the legislation – in order to keep the economy running and to make sure there will always be food on the tables of British families.

At best, this sounds like having your cake and eating it too. At worst, it’s hypocrisy and exploitation disguised as economic necessity.

TOP IMAGE: Emma Lea Farms, Heather Joan (Flickr, CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)

If Covid-19 has an impact on UK citizens, it also and particularly has an impact on asylum seekers and those who are homeless. Even if the government has taken measures to help most of them, their lives during this period are very different, with support from charities much less available demonstrate the real inadequacy between the money received and actual needs.

Because of the Covid-19 pandemic, British people are advised to stay home to protect the NHS and save lives. This lockdown has been implemented progressively across different sectors, with announcements made by the Prime Minister and senior politicians. Like everyone else, asylum seekers and those who are homeless are being asked to stay home during this critical time. But these are people who before often spent time in different charities, which provided food, advice, psychological help, and WiFi, and who are also now asked to respect the lockdown.

For many UK citizens, appropriate measures have been taken, such as financial support for businesses and workers. Nick Mbourou Essongue, an asylum seeker who arrived from Gabon in 2017, describes this as a “discriminatory environment”.

“Do you think this is condemnation for the whole population of asylum seekers and refugees alike, regardless that they ran away from a very hostile environment, for not being a citizen of the country?” he asks. One solution would be for the Government to have more consideration for asylum seekers and people who are homeless – for example, such as creating a crisis fund that could help them respect the ‘stay home’ command, one of the most important parts of the lockdown. 

Staying at home, living in safety: meaningful concepts but difficult to execute

It's clear that when the UK Government declared a lockdown, the main purpose was to stop the spread of Covid-19. Nobody should have to pass away because of the Covid-19 pandemic. Nobody would need to have another person die because of him. That is why people stay at home. However, some asylum seekers who have been asked about this situation have said they are worried about it. Some of them say they have to stay home without the internet, radio or television. This is a very difficult situation when they don’t know when the end of the lockdown will come and that maybe it will be renewed. 

Their financial situation is also very difficult. 

"Asylum seekers just have £37.50 per week for food and other needs. How they can buy enough food? How they can avoid being outside if they have to go to the cash point every Monday?" said Nick Mbourou Essongue.

The unconditional support of charities put in trouble during this period

With the number of cases increasing every day, the doors of charities are not likely to be opening soon. Sam of C4WS Homeless project considers this as "a time of challenges and uncertainty". Even in this situation, his organisation is continuously in touch with some of the most vulnerable people.

“We are providing continuous remote support,” he said. “This takes the form of regular phone calls, messages, WhatsApp and FaceTiming, as well as arranging for care packages to be delivered to them. Our Mentoring and Befriending Programme has also moved to online platforms so that people can still receive this support.” 

This approach clearly includes providing data or mobile top-ups for phone calls. The organisation is also looking to explore moving their Jobs Club and English Classes online so as to support those who need these. 

The mental health of the people he supports is a big concern for Sam: "There is a lot of anxiety about what is going on," he said. This concern partly explains the efforts that his organization continues to make, despite some changes, in particular the plans for housing and employment that they had set up and that have now been radically altered. But the uncertainty of what will happen next is the biggest problem. There are many things that need to be reviewed and adapted to current circumstances.

Speaking about the charity’s beneficiaries, he said: "As a project, we are also working with people who were in the shelter and who are now being relocated. The loss of jobs, the worries about how to pay their rent, concerns about the lack of networks and the management of self-isolation and the impact on wellbeing are all issues we need to explore with them.” But there are some significant obstacles to continuing their support for those in need.

As the world heads towards the peak of the Covid-19 pandemic, we can say according to the number of deaths that the impact on humanity is quite significant. For some, the damage is irreparable. That includes many asylum seekers and people who are homeless, being stuck between the Government’s official guidance and the support they receive. The habit of living in community within charities during this period is almost impossible - even if some are trying to maintain their services through multifaceted support at a distance.

A solution must be found for the eradication of Covid-19. In the meantime, asylum seekers and those who are homeless must be treated with more consideration and support giving to charities to help them continue their work. 

With the outbreak of coronavirus, the undocumented migrant community is susceptible to go through all kinds of struggles and exploitations. Some don’t speak English and are afraid to ask for help because of fear for themselves and their families. They become anxious, hungry and homeless, or are fearful of being deported.

Many want to regularise their stay, but the fee for 2.5 years Limited Leave to Remain (plus NHS fee) is astronomical for someone who is not supposed to work. Home Office fees go up most years and the goal posts keep shifting. Renewing an application has increased by 238% in the last six years - from £601 per person in 2014 to £2,033 now (including NHS fee).

Undocumented migrants with a family of more than two children find it very hard to maintain themselves with no work. They also have to pay rent and utility bills and send their children to school. The only way out of this situation is to pay the extortionate Home Office fees, and this prospect puts a strain on these people’s mental and physical health.

Some migrants risk their lives to leave their country for different reasons. Some move for better lives, some for political reasons, some flee wars and genocide, while others might be fleeing persecution for their beliefs, personal identity or sexual orientation.

Sometimes they end up in a worse situation than what they were in before because of Home Office restrictions and waiting times, and the need to save up for their applications. They are left with little money to purchase supplies such as food, clothes, shoes and a warm place to stay in winter.

Some may have to live in cramped bedsits or overcrowded houses rented to them by unscrupulous landlords who also charge them extortionate rates in horrible, under-maintained properties.

For those with Limited Leave to Remain, it takes 11 years to become eligible to apply for British citizenship – and their leave has to be renewed every 2.5 years, with the same costs each time.

One recent report by the Pew Research Center said there could be up to 1.2 million undocumented migrants in the UK. If the government should tap into this area, they would find doctors, engineers, nurses, teachers and a wealth of other trades that could be a great asset to society.

I think the Government should allow undocumented migrants to work and pay taxes – they would then be better able to maintain themselves and their families. Migrants are ambitious people who want to work hard and contribute to society – it makes sense to allow all migrant, including those currently undocumented, to do that. 

This article was written by Althia Barnett, who is training as a citizen journalist with Migrant Voice and MiFriendly Cities’ ‘Media Lab’ initiative. The project is co-financed by the European Regional Development Fund through the Urban Innovative Actions Initiative.

TOP IMAGE: Trapped, Tomasz Baranowski, Flickr (CC BY 2.0)

The following poem was written in November 2019. Reading it now, it seems to speak directly to the current state of the world and where we are as a collective consciousness.

Stuck in a cycle
By Michelle Fuller (Nov2019)

As it was told to me;
In a place filled with giants and ogres,
Where the ground cracked beneath every boot,
And the air smelled of decay.
Where LIFE itself did not enter.

In this place, the many were born one in division.

Their energy extracted to build.
They laboured and laboured,
Exhausted - they no longer resisted,
But began giving themselves away.

Further and further apart they grew.

Losing sight of each other,
As they could no longer see themselves.
LIFE decided to hover
And waited with bated breath.

Wanting to step in, but knowing,
life as they know it – would be no more.
She patiently waited hoping they remembered,
But they grew further apart.

Sucked dry. Building. Burning.
The giants and ogres grew fatter and fatter.
And life in division grew into a web – 
Turning cells into cells.

It flowed in and out of itself.

The old became new 
And the new got old.
In and out of itself,
Stuck in a cycle.

Sucked dry. Building. Burning.
LIFE decided to hover
And waited with bated breath.
As the body kept falling apart.

__________________

THE WORLD WAS PUT ON PAUSE,
BUT YOU CAN’T PUT FEELINGS ON HOLD!
FOR THOSE NOT LUCKY ENOUGH TO HOLD YOUR LOVED ONES, 
PLEASE HOLD ON TO YOUR HOPES!

These unprecedented times are full with uncertainty, and isolation can be a lot worse when on your own away from your loved ones! However the key to sanity is to keep good spirits and a positive state of mind. 

How to do it? We already know all this will end at some point, so do things you love to help you cope with the situation better, whether is cooking, writing, dancing, singing, exercise, you know better what is that puts a smile on your face.

With a lot of time on your hands, you could learn something you’ve always wanted, but never found the right moment for it. The moment is NOW! 

You can have some ‘Me Time’ without regrets.

Be positive and pass on the positivity

Stay informed, but watching news once a day is more than enough!

Nothing is stronger than optimism, share it with all your dear ones!

STAY SAFE, AND STAY INDOORS!

"The story of women's struggle for equality belongs to no single feminist nor to any one organisation but to the collective efforts of all who care about human rights.” Gloria Steinem

On 9 June 1914 a woman named Bertha Ryland slashed a painting in an art gallery in Birmingham. It became one of the major incidents of the militant suffrage campaign – the campaign for women’s right to vote in elections.

There are several other famous incidents that happened around the world to establish women's rights. A hundred years ago, this fight was mostly for their voting rights. Over time, other issues were included that are reflected in the values that guide International Women's Day today: justice, dignity, hope, equality, collaboration, tenacity, appreciation, respect, empathy and forgiveness. 

The first International Women’s Day congregation happened in 1911. Today it is observed globally to celebrate the social, economic, cultural, political, and individual achievements of women around the world. The day is also a source of inspiration for promoting gender equality. 

Today, in 2020, #EachforEqual was the campaign theme worldwide. The hashtag promotes the idea that an equal world is an enabled world.

A recent case involving BBC journalist Samira Ahmed makes it very clear that the fight for women’s rights and equality is still raging, as the Guardian reported on 28 October 2019: 

“The BBC presenter Samira Ahmed has launched a landmark equal pay case, claiming she was paid 85% less than her male equivalent.” 

So, seemingly the fight is not over just yet, although it started well over a century ago. 

Collective individualism (in other words, our individual activities, dialogues, practices, and attitudes) can affect our wider society. Collectively, we can make change happen, and we can each assist with making a gender equal world. 

Gender is a social construct, created by humanity, yet it negatively impacts around half the world’s population who for centuries have been deemed inferior in one way or another.

Contemporary women's rights is an internationalism dependent on regions in battle. That is the thing that makes its development progressively perplexing and polyphonic: it progressively incorporates more regions and dialects. It doesn't rely upon the system of the nation state and thus it floods the name 'internationalism’. Rather than worldwide, it is transnational and ‘plurinational’. Since it perceives different geographies and follows different maps of coalition, experience, and assembly, it incorporates an extreme investigation of the national fenced-in areas that look to confine our battles. It combines urban, rural, indigenous, neighbourhood, and network components.

Among migrant communities, we often find narratives of female migrants, refugees, asylum seekers and women of colour are overlooked.

To find out more about the views of this sometimes invisible demographic, I asked a few of my friends that classic question: 

‘What does International Women's Day mean to YOU today?’

Ameena Tabassum (38), Head of Data Quality at London Ambulance Service, Surrey: 

“More than 15 years ago, when I started my career, I was made to believe that there is a limit on what I can achieve. Because I am a woman, I am a first-generation Bangladeshi immigrant in the UK, I am a Muslim, I am a wife and I am a mother of two children. 

“I joined an organisation where the majority of the administrative and junior staff were similar aged young women and the majority of the senior managers and decision makers were middle aged predominantly white men. So my aspiration was guided by what I could see around me and not by my capability or my wish. Over the time, as I gained more experience, I realised that there are so many women out there who are also settled with the environment around them and do what society expects from them. 

“Unfortunately that environment is full of stereotypes and biases against women. As a result women are not able to fulfil their potential or offer so many amazing things they can offer to this world. For me, International Women’s Day is an opportunity for women to encourage each other to challenge our own perceptions instilled by the society, to fight all the stereotypes and biases against us and to support each other to achieve what we are truly able to achieve as women.” 

Dr Sanchita Chowdhury, Senior Formulation Scientist, East Midlands: 

“Certainly we are yet to achieve gender equality and women's rights. When the families around the world who raise their girls and boys without gender stereotypes are the majority, you will know we have achieved that. To make that a reality, YOU, as a woman and mother must take the lead in your family.”

Rahnuma Tabassum (46), Retail Operation Manager:

“International Women's Day is simply a day for reminding me of the decades of battle and struggle in order to establish women's rights. By celebrating Women's Day, it establishes more that women were suppressed before and still are suffering. I think instead of celebrating the day we need to treat women with dignity, equality, respect their contributions, especially the act of bringing up a child and a powerful nation.”

Janette Taylor, former postal worker, Gloucester:

“It marks the great strides women all over the world have made and keep making despite everyday struggles that everyone faces. To me it honours womanhood.’’ 

Ava Nasrin Nipa (38), housewife, Essex:

“Every day seems to be my Women’s Day. I think there shouldn’t be any discrimination. Men need to help women with their job, housework etc.”

Nazia Tabassum Nawmee, London:

“’Women’ is not just a word with five letters. It describes motherhood, sisterhood, a wife, a daughter and especially a girl. This should not be the only day to respect them or love them. We have to prepare ourselves to accept a girl every day with love, respect and with independence.’  

Niaz Tamanna Kanta, Photographer, London:

“Inequality and violence against women are everyday incidences, even today! But why do we still need to have this Women’s Day? Is every day a day after the agitation of violence? Women’s Day is like a tag or hashtag. It is easy to see the issue of women's rights and awareness is created among men. An opportunity to wrap up the movements throughout the year is the focus of Women's Day.”

Being global concepts, feminism and gender have different ways of being understood. These concepts may or may not be understood the same within other parts of the world, as they are in a Western, perhaps even European context.

Significant differences may appear due to things being lost in translation, or due to current social issues or political climates. Therefore International Women’s Day covers the entire spectrum of women’s needs and rights, malleable to whichever definition suits it best. 

However, it does not sound very suitable to have this separate day to highlight women’s rights and achievements in a 21st century society. Women should be recognised every day, not just on one day in the calendar. This should be a continuous process. 

Even ‘progressive’ organisations such as the BBC are now coming under fire for their treatment of women, with Samira Ahmed having to go to a tribunal to establish her rights. Not every woman is capable of this. 

The fact that this process is even necessary is despicable. A modern society should be at the stage where everyone is recognised and heard, but this is not the case. Ironically, this is also the reason as to why International Women’s Day exists: to promote social justice and move us to the stage where equality is the norm, not the outlier.

A gender equal world can be wealthier and beneficial to all. In the end, let’s get back to that first event. What prompted Bertha to demonstrate such vandalism over a century ago? What would you do in the event that you are denied the right to practise your liberties? 

Let’s be #EachforEqual.

* This article was written by Morshed Akhtar, who is training as a citizen journalist with Migrant Voice and MiFriendly Cities’ ‘Media Lab’ initiative. The project is co-financed by the European Regional Development Fund through the Urban Innovative Actions Initiative.

TOP IMAGE: Top row (l-r): Ameena Tabassum, Dr Sanchita Chowdhury, Janette Taylor; bottom row (l-r): Niaz Tamanna Kanta, Ava Nasrin Nipa

It’s a rainy Saturday morning and COVID-19 is headline news. Everyone is trying to avoid coming out and mingling with others. But here I am, ready and excited to go with my friend to attend the International Women’s Day event in the Scottish Parliament debating chambers.

The theme of this year is Women and Democracy. Scotland has been a pioneer in the advancement of women's rights. The Scottish government has done tremendous work in moving things forward to ensure that there is equal opportunity for men and women. For example, they have implemented the Partnership for Change: 50:50 by 2020 (aiming for gender-balanced boards) and committed to reducing the gender pay gap.

But there is still a lot of work that needs to be done. Women still make up less than 50% of regulated public bodies' boards, and they are less likely to enter senior management positions.

Organisations and employers in the public and private sector must be more open and willing to hire women and invest in them. This will also increase their opportunities to expand and stabilise their businesses.

The Scottish government recently announced that sanitary products will be widely available for free across the country. It’s a brave move that will cost money, but one that will provide dignity to women, especially those who can’t afford to buy such products. It seems amazing that this is the 21^st century, yet we are still addressing this simply problem. So many countries have budgets for big submarines, fighter jets, and other destructive devices, but can’t seem to provide free sanitary products.

Ensuring the dignity of each individual is a vital aspect of every community. Offering simple ways to make people feel dignified can have a positive impact in their lives, encouraging them to be more involved, growing their confidence and helping them become a stronger member of their community.

Scotland needs to lead the way in making this positive impact. It is a country that has set high standards for change and for moving policies forward. It is a country that can open doors for women to get involved, hear their voices, address inequality and be a channel for democracy. Scotland has achieved some changes, but it can do more. It can mobilise more policies that can change lives and create a positive global impact.

TOP IMAGE: First Minister - Action on gender inequalities, Scottish Government, 8 March 2019 (Flickr, CC BY-NC 2.0)

It’s a rainy Saturday morning and COVID-19 is headline news. Everyone is trying to avoid coming out and mingling with others. But here I am, ready and excited to go with my friend to attend the International Women’s Day event in the Scottish Parliament debating chambers.

The theme of this year is Women and Democracy. Scotland has been a pioneer in the advancement of women's rights. The Scottish government has done tremendous work in moving things forward to ensure that there is equal opportunity for men and women. For example, they have implemented the Partnership for Change: 50:50 by 2020 (aiming for gender-balanced boards) and committed to reducing the gender pay gap.

But there is still a lot of work that needs to be done. Women still make up less than 50% of regulated public bodies' boards, and they are less likely to enter senior management positions.

Organisations and employers in the public and private sector must be more open and willing to hire women and invest in them. This will also increase their opportunities to expand and stabilise their businesses.

The Scottish government recently announced that sanitary products will be widely available for free across the country. It’s a brave move that will cost money, but one that will provide dignity to women, especially those who can’t afford to buy such products. It seems amazing that this is the 21^st century, yet we are still addressing this simply problem. So many countries have budgets for big submarines, fighter jets, and other destructive devices, but can’t seem to provide free sanitary products.

Ensuring the dignity of each individual is a vital aspect of every community. Offering simple ways to make people feel dignified can have a positive impact in their lives, encouraging them to be more involved, growing their confidence and helping them become a stronger member of their community.

Scotland needs to lead the way in making this positive impact. It is a country that has set high standards for change and for moving policies forward. It is a country that can open doors for women to get involved, hear their voices, address inequality and be a channel for democracy. Scotland has achieved some changes, but it can do more. It can mobilise more policies that can change lives and create a positive global impact.

TOP IMAGE: First Minister - Action on gender inequalities, Scottish Government, 8 March 2019 (Flickr, CC BY-NC 2.0)

Over the last few months, I’ve been reading and watching and engaging with the stories of migrants, told through many different media.

In that time, it’s the story of Judy that moved me the most. In November 2019 I went to a performance by Ice & Fire – an organisation that explores human rights stories through performance – at Westminster University. I was really astounded and moved by the actor who performed the life story of Judy, an asylum seeker from Uganda. I could feel the pain and cruelty that she went through throughout her life. The way she was raped and wasn’t allowed to see her daughter Kiya, but she did not lose hope and managed to escape to Europe. She claimed asylum, but her claim was rejected by the Home Office. However, she appealed and was later granted refugee status. Now she’s getting on with rebuilding her life and living peacefully.

All the actors were good, but with Judy’s story, it felt like we were hearing from her directly, not from an actor. I was able to empathize with her and have sympathy for her, while with some of the other performances, it felt like the actors were just reading the stories. It was therefore harder to engage with those stories emotionally.

Nowadays every individual enjoys watching television, but life is very stressful so the audience wants something that is entertaining as well as informative. There was a comedy show on Channel 4 last spring, created and written by Rufus Jones. ‘Home’ tells us how a war in an individual’s country can force them to take a dangerous step – in this case, climbing into the boot of a tourist’s car - without knowing the consequences. This show portrays Sami, a Syrian asylum seeker, in a funny way while not shying away from the sad and difficult aspects of his personal life, such as being separated from his wife and son, who are in Germany. The audience might come to the programme with different stereotypes that they attach to Sami, but at the end I was emotionally attached to his character, as he was funny yet broken at the same time, hiding the pain behind his smile.

The photographic exhibition that I went to was by Adiam Yemane, a refugee from Eritrea. It took place at Conway Hall in central London. It shared the stories of people who after spending ten or more years in the UK are making a positive contribution to communities across London. I learned about Adiam herself – how she escaped war in Eritrea and arrived in London where she came to know that photography was what she liked and it became her career.

I feel that wherever you go you cannot leave your culture behind – and this could be clearly seen in the photographs – in what the subjects were wearing and how they decorated their rooms. But at the same time, the photographs couldn’t tell me what each individual had gone through and what they’re doing now. For that, I needed the text alongside each photograph, which told their story. The photographs on their own had little impact on me. A refugee seeing these photographs might be able to easily relate to them because they have gone through something similar, but it’s difficult for other people. It’s also the case that only a very specific kind of person might visit this exhibition – someone who likes photography and is sympathetic to refugees – so these images might not reach the wider population. We therefore need different ways to engage and inform people.

From a Low and Quiet Sea is a novel by Donal Ryan, an Irish writer, that tells us the stories of three people with one thing in common – each of them experiences loss and sadness. I liked the story of Farouk, who is a doctor living with his wife and daughter in Syria. War was rising in the country so he was told to go to Europe, just because he was not an observant Muslim and his daughter was Westernised. They set out for Europe in a boat, but Farouk gets separated from his wife and daughter and doesn’t see them again. While it was sad at times, it was a positive book. It tells us that nobody has a perfect life. Every human being has their own faults and difficulties that they face. And since two of the stories are about Irish people, the book shows how it’s not only migrants who struggle – every human being is in some sort of unfavourable situation.

In general, it’s good to have lots of different portrayals of migrants’ lives as everyone has individual preferences. Some might enjoy watching television while others would love to go to exhibitions. I was entertained by the comedy show ‘Home’ as I was tired that day and wanted to watch something funny and peaceful at the same time. But on a different day of the week when I had some spare time I preferred reading a book.

I feel that showing migrants’ achievements in life and showing how they prosper after lots of bad days can have a positive impact on the lives of others, especially other migrants who might think that there is no hope or who have lost hope. These stories will motivate them that all these hardships are temporary and one day they will also achieve what they want. These stories can also break the stereotypes and grudges that people hold against migrants and encourage them to treat migrants as normal human beings.

Alexandre Gondim is an artist and a life coach. But he’s not just that. It’s easy to identify others by their profession, or name, or who they represent in a certain situation. If we focus on his profession, Alexandre is an artist. Someone who has been helped with their life issues may see Alexandre as a life coach. Others may see him as a migrant.

Well, Alexandre is all these things – and much more. He is a man with an innate curiosity and need for answers – and a man who has dedicated a big portion of his life to art. Since his youth, art was Alexandre’s way to express himself. At one point he decided to leave his city Salvador to move to Sao Paolo, becoming the director of the company he had been working for. He was “climbing the mountain” of his career, he tells me.

But, although he was reaching the top, he soon decided to go back home and dedicate himself to art again. Alexandre was feeling confused, facing a life crisis. He recalls how his mind was like “a table full of pieces of Lego” that he had to reorganise to make some order in his life.

“Art was a way to take my emotions out, to express myself,” he says. “I was reborn from the ashes and I decided to paint abstract art to focus my energy in creating something rather than destroying myself.”

In this time of deep confusion, Alexandre made the first and most important of ten canvases, which he called ‘the eye of the phoenix’ to describe the process of rebuilding himself.

After a few years, he moved again, this time to settle in London, where the new company he was working for as a designer offered him a job.

“I fell in love with the city,” he recalls. “I got used to the rhythm of the city.”

London offered plenty of opportunity too. It took “a long while”, he remembers, but in 2016 Alexandre started exhibiting his work on a regular basis and he has since participated in 15 shows, three of them solo. He embraced the new culture in which he found himself, not forgetting his Brazilian roots, but doing his best to integrate.

veloso, by Alexandre Gondim

Alexandre is a man who challenges himself – and a man who has the courage to investigate his own soul and find answers for himself and for others. He has used this to help people find their purpose in life.

“At a certain point of my life I understood that I had answers that not everyone has,” he says. “I have this enquiring nature and I feel there is something else out there that needs to be discovered.”

A turning point was realising the importance of dialogue, particularly with oneself. Alexandre made a decision to stop being so harsh on himself – to “get rid of the dictator who was in him to hire a diplomat instead”, he tells me.

Alexandre is a man who wrote a book in a language that is not his, in a country that is not his homeland, and for people that may not have the same background as his. Alexandre is much more than an artist or a life coach or a migrant. Alexandre is an example: he is a courageous, resourceful man who has spent his life challenging himself, always seeking improvement – not only professionally as an artist or coach, but emotionally and as a person.

He is a man who realises that no change comes without effort. His strength and enthusiasm emerge through his art: colours and brightness in his paintings, passion and enthusiasm in his book.

Alexandre is a man of a thousand facets. He is the perfect example of a person who, although facing difficulties and obstacles, never gives up and recreates himself constantly. His purpose in life is to push people out of their comfort zone, to seek change and betterment. And he sets a good example – both in his art, and in his courage in life.

“Everyone should get out of their comfort zone, which makes us conforming and stops you taking actions to improve yourself,” he says. “Everyone should try to get to the stretch zone, an intermediate zone between the comfort zone and the excellence zone.”

Like Alexandre, we should seek to overcome our mental obstacles and allow our strength and capacities to bloom, shedding ourselves of constricting labels and setting ourselves on a path to that zone of excellence.

Visit Alexandre's website here. Read Alexandre's book here.

Teka is a loving and engaging woman who has been fostering in London for 15 years, transforming the lives of more than a dozen children in that time.

Winning multiple awards, including ‘Foster Carer of the Year’ in 2014 (awarded by Lambeth Council), she has worked hard and passionately to improve the lives of the children and young people that have come into her care. Amongst them, many have been refugees and asylum seekers – an experience she can relate to, as she was herself a refugee when she arrived in London 29 years ago.

Having left Eritrea to escape the war, Teka arrived in London an alone and overwhelmed 24-year-old. She reminisces about her difficulty in trying to get to her cousin’s house after first arriving in the UK.

“I only had the address and I showed the black cab guy and he took me to the place,” she explains. “I didn’t speak any English, I didn’t have anything, so it was difficult to talk, to go places.”

She describes her experience of seeking asylum and her first impressions of London as “weird”, with life in the UK being entirely different to life in Eritrea.

“In Eritrea, we all know each other’s families and your door is always open, you can play outside,” she says, adding that in London “you always have to be careful.

“Back home we have freedom and you’re not scared of anything.”

It was also a new experience to be surrounded by a variety of people from multiple backgrounds and cultures, many of which were very different to her own. She had to adjust to this in order to create and maintain a life here.    

In 2004, Teka began fostering, initially working with a private agency for seven years. She holds one particular memory close to her heart from that time, of two young Afghanis who had recently arrived in the UK.

“I didn’t know their language and they didn’t speak English at all,” says Teka, describing how she would take them to a nearby shop where there was a friend of hers who could speak their language.

The feeling of being in a new country and unable to communicate was an all too familiar one for Teka: “I remember myself at the time. When I came to London, I was in the same position, and had the same problem.”

Since then, she has looked after a range of young people from many backgrounds and cultures, many of whom stay in contact with her long after leaving her care. She gleefully mentions that “one of them lives in France but still we are in touch. He keeps in contact with me – ‘mum’, he says.”

Teka is no stranger to providing help and giving back where she can, as she is also an active member of the Eritrean community in London. When she first arrived, the community was central in helping her become accustomed to the new environment and improving her English, through acts like translating documents for her. Now she participates in various ways, such as organising and making food for festivals such as the Independence Day and Martyrs Day celebrations that the community hosts every year.

Whilst maintaining strong ties to her Eritrean roots, Teka also feels integrated in London, regarding herself as “one of the people” here.

She finds being a foster carer challenging at times, but also highly rewarding. Simply knowing that she is making a difference in a person’s life satisfies her profoundly.

“I came as a refugee, and I see so many difficult situations, and minors. They need a place, a warm house, so I try my best to help anyone who has difficulties, as I did.”

“As an urban ethnographer and photographer my camera is the lens through which I see the city. The camera helps me pause and reflect. In a context of growing ultra-nationalism and populism in which racism, fear and othering are not only toxic and divisive but also dangerous, my commitment is to show that people do get on together, people can share the same place and have shared experiences, despite the apparent differences.”

This is how Manal, a Palestinian photographer who moved from Jerusalem to London more than ten years ago, sees her work.

“I come from a place where racial hierarchy is the norm and the law,” she continues. “It’s so beautiful to see the mixture of different backgrounds and cultures in London, and how enriching that can be! I want to celebrate this.”

Manal came to the UK with a studentship from the British Council to do a Masters degree in Human Rights at the London School of Economics and later continued her studies there with a PhD in Urban Sociology. She wanted to study at an institution that is multicultural but also wanted to explore new places and to experience life in a cosmopolitan city.

Manal has an interdisciplinary academic background (with a previous BA in Sociology and a Masters in Middle Eastern and European Studies from Israel) and a strong commitment to social and environmental justice.

Her work is focused on urban issues and the daily life of people in their spaces. Her PhD thesis, under the supervision of Professor Paul Gilroy, investigates the Palestinian city in Israel and looks into the relationship between space, power exclusionary-exclusive politics and (post)colonial governmentality.

In London she was a co-founder of “Focus E15”, a housing campaign that started in 2013 and soon gained national and international recognition. The campaigners were young single mothers all below 25 who were served with eviction notices by a housing association in Stratford, East London, and whom Newham Council wanted to re-house in cities such as Manchester, Birmingham and Hastings. The creative and vibrant campaign had a strong presence in the streets of Newham and was successful in that the mothers were re-housed in London.

Manal’s photography projects are based on her passions and look into processes such as gentrification, inequality, housing, play, and urban health.

Many projects are based in Hackney, where Manal lives, and document different aspects of social life in this area that is one of the most multi-ethnic in London. One of her ongoing projects is about a primary school – A School in Hackney – and is a portrait of the school’s families.

“Children, especially at a young age, are not corrupted by racism and class. They don’t see ‘apparent’ differences as something divisive,” explains Manal. “They just want to have fun, they want to play and form friendships, and don’t care whether your parents come from Africa, the Middle East, the Caribbean, Eastern Europe or Bedfordshire.

“We are all human beings and this is what we need to celebrate. I’m impressed and reassured by the culture of inclusivity that the school promotes. I’m so happy that my children go to a school that is multicultural and inclusive.”

Another project is based around the Hackney Playbus, a converted double-decker bus that is driven around the most deprived housing estates in Hackney offering a chance for the local community to come together and enjoy various activities. Taking her children to the Playbus sessions was the inspiration for Manal to start the project.

Manal’s photography projects also stress the importance of the environment and educating children to experience, know, and love nature.

“It’s important to remember that nature can and should be accessible in urban environments,” she says. “London is one of those cities which is generous with its accessible amazing parks, marshes, little woods, allotments. Simple Pleasures is a series of photographs that highlights the pleasure children can get from simply being out in nature with friends, playing, getting messy and muddy.

“In a world of social atomisation and hyper consumerism, it is important to make children have interest in the simplest things and allow them just to be kids and play. Nuture/Nurtured, a project about a forest school in a Hackney nursery, is another project that highlights the same themes.”  

Much of Manal’s work is published on her website, but this is in itself still a new project and more work from past and ongoing projects will be added to make it even richer.

TOP IMAGE: Manal

When refugees or asylum seekers live together with Brits, the experience can change the lives of both for the better.

Areej knows this first hand. She’s a Sudanese refugee who came to the UK in 2015 and, after obtaining refugee status, was hosted by a young couple. It wasn’t long before they became friends and then official flatmates as the couple introduced her to their landlord and Areej rented a room in their home. She’s still there and is very happy with the situation.

“These people helped me a lot,” she says. “It’s from them that I learned the lifestyle of the UK – when to have your meals (which is completely different from what we are used to in Sudan) and many other little things.

“They introduced me to their friends, so I had people to chat with and developed new friendships. They were very caring – it was not only hosting, it was much more! I know that many hosts do the same with their guests, trying to help refugees as much as they can.”

Areej found her accommodation through Refugees at Home, a small charity that helps refugees and asylum seekers to find free temporary accommodation as guests of local people who offer them shelter and help them to settle in their new country.

For Areej, as for many of the guests, it was after being recognised as a refugee that she suddenly found herself in need of somewhere to live. In the UK, new refugees are given just 28 days to leave the accommodation they were entitled to as asylum seekers, but for most people, that isn’t enough time to find a job and somewhere to live. Charities including the Red Cross, the Refugee Council and NACCOM have been campaigning for the so-called “move-on period” to be extended and new refugees to be given more support during this time.

When Areej became homeless, she was volunteering at Westminster Council. Luckily, someone there knew about Refugees at Home and suggested that Areej contact them.

She did, and the rest is history. Soon after moving in with her hosts, she also started volunteering with the charity and later got a job there. She’s still there, working as a placement coordinator, which she loves.

“I match people in need of a place with someone having a spare room,” Areej explains. “Hosts are lovely and generous people wishing to offer a spare room to someone rather than leaving them on the street. Generally they are middle-class British, but it’s quite varied. Last week, for example, one of our first guests applied to become a host and we were all very happy about this.”

Refugees at Home was founded in Surrey in 2016 by Nine Kaye and Timothy Nathan whose children had left home to go to university and who decided to offer their spare room to refugees. The charity they founded has grown rapidly and now has dozens of hosts across England, Scotland and Wales.  

Areej has witnessed so many positive changes for both the hosts and the guests involved, many of whom stay in touch with each other long after the guest has moved out and found more permanent accommodation.  

“Living together, they often cook for each other, have dinner together, sometimes go to the theatre,” says Areej “Sometimes this experience can even lead to significant changes of opinion on some important issues.

“A story I particularly love is that of one of our guests who had never been in contact with gay people and wasn’t open minded on this issue. He was hosted by a gay couple, they got on very well together and he completely changed his mind. He said, ‘I have never seen loving each other that much and I enjoyed the love atmosphere in the house. That really warmed my heart!’”

It can be an equally positive experience for hosts, Areej explains. “It’s an experience that opens their minds,” she says. “They absolutely love it – once they start, they keep going.”

Despite her experiences with Refugees at Home, as a guest, a volunteer and now an employee, Areej does sometimes still feel like a stranger in the UK. She explains that it’s because of the result of the EU referendum in 2016.

“With Brexit you feel not welcome here, you feel considered as an outsider, despite you live here, work here, pay your taxes,” she says.

It has left her uncertain of her identity, uncertain if she belongs to the city that has become her home.

“I still feel a Londoner, but nowadays I have to think about it. Three years ago I had no doubts about it.”

The BBC series, 'Who should get to stay in the UK?', told the stories of some of the people trying desperately to stay in the UK, and the lawyers are helping them. The three episodes, broadcast on BBC 2 in June, are now available on BBC iPlayer.

Each episode focuses on the lives of different migrants. Some of them came to Britain on a student visa, like Valeriya from Russia and Rashed from Bangladesh. Dillian had fled to the UK from Trinidad and Tobago, while Nancy has lived here since she was six years old and the programme showed the problems that she faces in trying to stay.

The series shows how lawyers are successful in helping some migrants and gives us information that isn’t widely known about what the Home Office expects of people who are seeking asylum. For example, I didn’t know that in asylum cases the applicant needs to be perfectly consistent in everything they say to the Home Office, and that they are meant to claim asylum as soon as they come into the country or as soon as they know that they’re in danger.

What the programme also shows is how a wrong decision made by the Home Office can have life changing consequences for these people. For example, Nancy was brought to Britain as a young child and later had her own children here, but then lost her Gambian passport that had a stamp of British citizenship. The Home Office didn’t believe her when she said she was a British citizen and tried to deport her. It was only with the help of one lawyer that she was able to stay.

For others, circumstances can change dramatically, which the Home Office often doesn’t take into consideration. For example, with Rashed who came to Britain on a student visa but unfortunately was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease for which there is no treatment in Bangladesh. Was Rashed given the right to stay on humanitarian grounds? Watch to the end of Episode 1 to find out.

In conclusion it is a good programme as it succeeds into giving us an insight into how the UK immigration system works. I also found myself forming an emotional attachment to some of the migrants, especially Nancy and her family, who all believed themselves to be British and settled in the UK, but then were suddenly told they would be deported and didn’t know how to continue life here.

I was left thinking that it’s so unfair that asylum seekers aren’t allowed to work and have to survive on less than £40 per week, and that so many migrants spend years waiting for a positive response from the Home Office.

So much energy and enthusiasm bubbles out of Tanzila Zaman that you are not surprised to learn that one of her ambitions is to inspire more than 250 million immigrants around the world “who have made huge contributions towards their native countries and host countries”.

Her route to achieving that ambition is through a book published this year, Mind Your Mother Tongue: “It’s crucial to be proud of one’s own native language and culture.”

Tanzila’s native language is Bangla, or Bengali, the most widely spoken language in her home country, Bangladesh. It has a special place in the country’s existence, because from the independence of the Indian subcontinent in 1948 the Bengali language movement pressed for status as an official language of Pakistan and was a crucial factor in the political protests that led to the creation of Bangladesh in 1971. The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization later followed up a Bangladeshi initiative and declared an International Mother Language Day. Last year, when Britain’s House of Lords marked the day, 21 February, Tanzila was a guest speaker.

“Whatever the reason behind immigration, it is very hard to survive and achieve success when settling down in a new country,” Tanzila has written. “It is likely that first and second generations are strong regarding their mother tongue and culture but third or fourth generations hardly know or understand the value. It’s so pathetic, but realistic, too!”

That understanding – partly based on the experience of her own move to Britain in 2008, initially for further education, and the birth here of her son, now eight years old – led to her recent book, but also to five years of educational activity and empowerment training through Bank of Ideas, her community interest company (CIC, an enterprise that uses its profits for the public good).

Her target is migrants, especially mothers and parents struggling to make a new life in east London. She started in her sitting room but now uses libraries, childcare centres and other venues. She also makes home visits – which has given her an insight to various problems, particularly domestic abuse

She reckons that she has helped up to 500 clients in five years. “I have a gift from God,” she says, but admits she needs help herself because few of her clients can afford to pay: “They have no money but they give me flowers, and tea. It’s nice to give flowers”, she insists, with her irrepressible positivity.

Now, however, she is changing tack, and has decided to seek funding from corporations, instead of relying on fees.

“No pay, no clients,” she quips. “I’ll be strict.”

As every non-government organisation knows, fundraising can be so time-consuming that you spend your life seeking financial support rather than providing services. But Tanzila sweeps negative thoughts aside: “I’m an optimistic person. One day somebody will knock on my door: 1,000 doors are closed, but then there’s number 1001.”

There are other plans on the drawing board, including a joint venture to develop a skills app (“a revolution for the education industry”), and for herself a PhD (“Topic? Something to help migrant women”).

She intends to focus her work on coaching and mentoring, and media production.

This year she’s already won the Charity and Social Enterprise Award for migrant entrepreneurs, awarded by High Profile Club, and was an Excellent Yummy Mummy Award finalist. So don’t be surprised if she keeps moving closer to that 250 million target.

Triumph in the midst of adversity – that was a key sentence in the biography of Kate Iroegbu, a woman who faced many difficulties since leaving Nigeria in 2006. Now it’s also the title of her new book and the name of her company, which offers advice and coaching to people facing adversity.

“I share my story and the strategy I used to overcome difficulties in the book,” says Kate. “It’s a self-development book, where I redefine adversity as an occasion for new opportunities. People must learn that in any situation, no matter how difficult it is, there’s always something you can do to help yourself.”

Kate comes across as a dynamic and energetic person, but her life as an migrant, first in Ireland then in the UK, “wasn’t a bed of roses”.

In 2006, she moved from Nigeria to Ireland with her family and lived there eight years but “never felt welcome,” she says. She had a Bachelor degree in Microbiology and an MBA – both from Nigerian universities - and had had several years’ experience as senior cabin crew in Nigeria, but she could not find any job in Ireland, despite her best efforts.

In order to improve her employment opportunities, she undertook a second Bachelor degree in Microbiology from University College Dublin, but this did not help and her only work experience in Ireland was as a sales and customer service adviser for a few months.

“It was so frustrating!” Kate recalls. “I went to the university, took a lot of courses, but there was no way. Everybody knows Nigerians are hard-working and ambitious people. The Irish government supported immigrants and we wanted to give something back to the system but it was difficult for immigrants to find a job and every attempt I made failed.

“I wanted to work as a microbiologist, was very enthusiastic, put so much energy in my job search, but with no results. When I spoke to people their body language seemed to say ‘we don’t have a place for you’. Then, in 2014, I moved to London, where there are more opportunities and people don’t look at me as a foreigner.”

But initially, life for Kate was not easy in London either. She had temporary jobs while facing serious family problems, particularly in the first year. She has four children, including a daughter with special needs, who required a great deal of care at the time.

Later on, her daughter’s condition improved – although she still requires lot of care with her special needs – and Kate started wishing she could help other people facing difficulties. With that goal in mind, she gradually moved towards her new carrier as a coach, international speaker and strategic consultant.

While was working as a medical operational assistant in various hospitals, she took courses and training and in 2016 founded her charity Kate O Iroegbu, launching a YouTube channel where she posted videos and offered suggestions and encouragement to people facing adversity. Two years later she launched her business “Triumph in the midst of adversity”.

The idea for this business came to her in 2017, she explains. “I was tired of temporary contracts and was looking for a permanent position as a medical assistant  when I asked myself, ‘if you get this job, is it really what you want to do?’ My honest answer was ‘no’. People should do the thing they are passionate about and what I really wanted to do was help other people to overcome adversity and fulfil their potential. It took me some time to plan the business but in August 2018 I launched my company.”

Kate offers her customers two possible programmes, both of which include coaching sessions, email consultation, and access to training events that Kate periodically offers in London. They may also include some business help if needed too. Kate currently has customers living in the UK, Germany and Nigeria.

She loves her new job and her life in London, partly because of the multiculturalism of the city.

“I never felt a stranger here,” she says, “I have always felt London was another home away from home.”

Jamad Abdi is a very active and dynamic woman, passionate about helping young people and families to improve their lives.

She moved to London 25 years ago, when she was very young, escaping from the war in Somalia. Despite initial difficulties, she managed not only to rebuild her life in the UK but also to help many other people in the UK and in Somalia.

“I arrived alone, after a very long trip, with no English and no knowledge of this country,” says Jamad. “It was hard! I immediately enrolled in ESOL (English language) classes, and once I had learnt the language, I took several vocational courses including child care, teaching assistant and health advocacy.”

In 2002 Jamad started working in a charity, helping Somali people, and in 2008 she was hired by Islington Council as a bilingual family support worker. Last year, she became a family engagement worker, giving families with children information about child development and helping them access services.

In her role at Islington Council Jamad helps any family (Britons as well as immigrants and refugees) living in the area. She also maintains a special commitment to helping Somali people. In 2014 she founded the Galbur Foundation, a charity operating in Islington and in Somalia.

The name of the charity comes from the union of two Somali words: gal, which means a small puddle of rainwater, and bur, which means mountain.

“The first word evokes something precious, because rain is quite rare in Somalia”, explains Jamad. “The second word evokes something concrete. The two words together transmit a sense of hope, something concrete and precious like the help we offer to young people and families.”

The Galbur Foundation fights poverty and lack of education in Somalia and helps youths from disadvantage groups in Islington to reach their potential through art, education, sport and culture.

In Somalia the charity runs a school for disabled children, providing them with lunch, not only because they need the food but also as a strategy to convince families to send children to school, as food and not education is often their first priority. In Islington the charity carries out many different activities, inspired by ideas from the young people themselves and the help they provide as volunteers at the Galbur Foundation.

Many of the activities of the Galbur Foundation in Islington are focused on mental health and crime, two problems that are closely related. According to Jamad, in Islington, mental health disorders are most prevalent in black children and young people, 15 per cent of whom suffer from mental health problems. She adds that the area has the highest prevalence of mental health issues in London.

Working at Islington Council, Jamad realised that while there are a lot of services offered to young people, ethnic minorities are less likely to access them. She works to bridge this gap, as well as the cultural gap dividing migrant parents and their children. While youths like joining the art industry, for example, their parents often don’t consider an education in the arts to be valuable.

One of the first initiatives of Galbur Foundation was “Promoting Mental Health Through Art”, a four- week programme with workshops led by the artist Anab Eided, attended by 20 participants aged 10 to 16.

“Every session we discussed different topics, such as emotions, identity and safety,” explains Jamad. “In the last session we involved families and invited the police to speak about how to be safe in the neighbourhood. We had very positive feedback.”

In partnership with the Council, the Galbur Foundation is organising a youth conference on mental health in February 2019.

“Ethnic minorities find it difficult talking about this topic, for cultural and religion reasons,” says Jamad. “They don’t know how the available services work and where they are, while service providers have a lack of understanding of the culture these groups come from. We’ll help them to learn from each other.”

Sport is also a field of action of this charity, again with projects that aim to bridge the gap between migrant parents and their children.

After a football fun day last April, the foundation is now organising a girls’ football club with a professional coach.

“Our target is 25 girls, but I believe we’ll have a waiting list!” Jamad said.

Jamad’s six children help her to organise all these initiatives and she loves helping everyone. At Christmas she spent 12 hours serving food to homeless people in a church.

“It’s all about humanity,” she says. “Immigrants and refugees don’t come to this country just to look for support. They want to work, live their lives and help others. I believe the UK would not be one of the greatest countries in the world without their contribution.”

‘What is your ethnic group? Tick one box to best describe your ethnic group or background.’

That is the question that millions of UK residents face daily – when trying to complete job or higher education applications, nationwide censuses and other government-related paperwork.

According to the Office for National Statistics, ethnicity-related questions were developed with the aim of enabling organisations to monitor equal opportunities and anti-discrimination policies, and to allocate government resources more effectively in order to assist minority groups. The question first appeared on the census in 1991.

But instead of bringing clarity, these questions only generate confusion about the meaning of ethnicity and national identity in today’s United Kingdom, and remind millions of people – myself included – of their own ‘otherness’. 

Since moving to Scotland two years ago, every time I encounter an ethnicity-related question, I am left dumbfounded. I feel as if none of the options available reflect my own ethnicity, for I am not just from one place – I have Argentinian and Polish passports, but these are only two pieces of a bigger puzzle.

My roots stretch far and wide – from the Middle East, to Russia and Eastern Europe, to Latin America – and my ancestors’ journeys have weaved a vibrant patchwork that I carry with me every day. I am my great-grandparents’ Jewish religion, I am my grandmother’s Polish nationality, I am my parents’ mother tongue of Argentine Spanish.

And I am the stories and hardships of the ancestors I never got to meet, the ones who prayed at the Wailing Wall, the ones who survived harsh winters in a little house on the shtetl, the ones who sailed across the ocean to begin a new life in warmer lands.

But there is no ‘It’s complicated, let me explain’ box that I can tick when I see that ethnicity question. To me, all that question does – whether it’s on a census or a job application – is to muddle the concept of ethnicity (is it to do with language? culture? nationality?) and bundle all those of mixed backgrounds into a mass of nondescript ‘Others’.

‘My identities are not, and should not be, invisible’

I first came across an ethnicity-related question when applying for Master’s degrees at British universities. Along with my grade transcript, letters of recommendation, and a personal statement, I was asked for my ethnicity, in a set of questions that mirrored the ethnicity questions presented in the UK’s 2011 nationwide census.

I remember being extremely confused by what exactly ‘ethnicity’ meant. The options available ranged from skin colour – ‘White’ or ‘Black’ – to nationality – ‘Irish’ or ‘Pakistani’ – to continents or geographic regions – ‘African’, ‘Caribbean’. It even included ‘G*psy’, a word considered by many Irish Travellers and Romani peoples as a slur.

Nevertheless, I wanted to answer the question correctly, and tried to find an option that felt suitable. I was born in Argentina, which makes me ethnically Latin American, correct? That seemed fairly easy. Except that, while ‘Asian’ and ‘African’ were provided as options, ‘South American’ or ‘Latin American’ were not.

I tried to think of another answer. Since my skin colour is white, I could be considered ethnically white, correct? Well, upon closer inspection of the first section, ‘White’, I realized that it did not refer to actual skin colour, but to nationalities and cultural groups - for the possible options were either ‘British’, ‘Irish’, ‘G*psy’ or ‘Irish Traveller’, or ‘Other’.

I was not sure whether Argentina or Poland can be considered ‘White’ nations; the very thought of a ‘white nationality’ sounds alarming and, quite frankly, ridiculous, for a diversity of skin colours can be found in Argentina, Poland, and the UK. Indeed, equating skin colour with nationality seems like a harmful way of classifying ethnicity, so I decided to find another option.

Street art in cities across the UK often takes cultural or ethnic diversity as its theme. (Darren Tennant/Flickr)

I landed on the section titled ‘Mixed/multiple ethnic backgrounds’, thinking that perhaps this would be more suitable. But my hopes were futile. I am certain that I am not ‘White and Black Caribbean’, or ‘White and Black African’, or ‘White and Asian’. White and Latin American, maybe? But writing this felt silly, as many Latin Americans are of white skin colour, including myself.

The last section: ‘E – Other ethnic group’. I glanced at the two options provided in this section. The first, ‘Arab’, confused me, given that Arab is a language as well as a cultural group; in my own case, although a Spanish person and I speak the same language, I believe we have vastly different identities.

The second, ‘Other – Write in’, puts me back where I started. I am confronted once again with being the eternal ‘Other’. But I refuse to be another number in a faceless mass of undefinable individuals. My identities are not, and should not be, invisible.

At last, I tick ‘Any other ethnic group’, and write in: ‘Argentinian, Polish, Jewish, in no particular order’.

‘I like to think of ethnicity as a little box that you carry with yourself’

My experience is not unusual. “I never know how to answer the ethnicity question,” say friends of mine who came to the UK to work or study, or who were born in the UK but have parents or grandparents from elsewhere.

In the 21^st century, and particularly in a country as diverse as the UK, defining ethnicity in the form of skin colour or nationality seems awfully near-sighted. Because ethnicity is not an ascribed and stable identity; it is a social construction and therefore subjective.

Additionally, by using the concepts of ethnicity, race, and nationality interchangeably, the question generates a fragmentation in British identity, by differentiating between the concepts of British ethnicity and British nationality.

When, for example, a fourth-generation British citizen whose great-grandparents are Iraqi, possesses British nationality but is not ‘ethnically’ British, it leaves them vulnerable to not being considered ‘truly’ British – and opens the door to ostracization and racial discrimination.

Michelle likes to think of her ethnicity as a box of keepsakes. (Linda/Flickr)

In Argentina, we have a saying ‘no aclares que oscurece’, literally ‘do not illuminate because it will obscure’, meaning that the more someone tries to clarify a certain concept or situation, the more confusing it becomes.When I moved to Britain, it was precisely because of the UK’s diversity and tolerance compared to Argentina; I saw a dynamic and vibrant country, where the diversity of its people created fascinating art, ground-breaking research and incredible music.

The ethnicity-related questions in the UK’s census and other official documents fall foul of that. By seeking to refine and explain a concept that is socially constructed, subjective, and dependent on individuals’ choices, the question muddles the meanings of ethnicity and fragments the concept of British identity.

Measures should be undertaken to more accurately define what ‘ethnicity’ means in a manner that truly reflects the UK’s diversity and the hybrid nature of ethnicity. Until then, ethnicity-related questions should not be mandatory; for ethnicity should not be defined and ascribed by others.

I like to think of ethnicity as a little box that you carry with yourself, full of keepsakes from your ancestors, as well as souvenirs from the places you discover and the people you surround yourself with.

Along with my Jewish, Polish and Argentinian keepsakes, I have already placed some Scottish knickknacks, for this is the country I have embraced as my home. Your box is yours, and yours only; it is up to you what mementos you decide to keep and to whom you decide to share them with.

TOP IMAGE: Street art by Liliwenn / Bom-K in London, December 2012 (duncan c/Flickr)

When Mohamad Alo and his family arrived in Birmingham after escaping from Syria in 2011, they knew no one and spoke no English at all.

Six years on and Mohamad will soon become a fully qualified lawyer. He is probably the first Syrian refugee to achieve this goal in Birmingham, and likely one of very few in the country. Migration and asylum are one of his specialist areas.

“We left our country because of the war conflict and starting our life here was very hard,” Mohamad says. “I had to find the correct way to start my life. I needed to learn the language, find a job, enrol my children at school… And I didn’t know anyone.”

That’s why he decided to start volunteering, he explains, to help others in the same situation.

“I learned from my own experience and wanted to use my experience to help others. The same day I was granted my leave to remain I went to the Birmingham Asylum Seekers Centre and applied to volunteer at the Refugee Council.”

Mohamad volunteered there for three years, then, in 2015, he started volunteering at ASIRT (Asylum Support and Immigration Resource Team) and later at another couple of charities, helping refugees, asylum seekers and local communities.

In Syria he graduated in law and worked as a solicitor for 13 years; his wife studied philosophy and later worked as a teacher. They were happy and had a good life there before the war, but they lost everything, Mohamad says.

Despite his degree and long professional experience in Syria, Mohamed was not allowed to work as a lawyer in the UK. He had to re-qualify within the British system. He first did a Masters degree in Law at Roehampton University and, after first working as an Arabic teacher in a school, he started a job in a law firm in Birmingham under the supervision of fully qualified British lawyers.

“I can only work under supervision, because my Masters degree isn’t enough,” he explains. “I also need to take a Legal Practice Course to be fully retrained as a solicitor in the UK.”

Mohamad is currently attending that course and will complete it this year.

Since he arrived in the UK, Mohamad has been juggling his studies, work and volunteering. He is acquiring a lot of experience through his paid and unpaid work and helps as many refugees as he can.

“Many of them are from Syria as I have lots of connections with them,” Mohamad says. “But I’m working for everyone, as every refugee needs help. They face lots of difficulties: sometimes families are divided and it’s hard for them to be reunited because they don’t have enough documents or their children are already 18 years old or over and are not entitled to family reunification. I try my best to help them.”

Mohamad still has brothers and sisters in Syria and he’s worried for them. Leaving the country is not easy and they aren’t currently able to move to a safer place.

His family in the UK, however, has been able to create a good life. His wife recently completed a Masters degree in Health and Social Care and is now looking for a job in this sector, while working as a part time Arabic interpreter.

Their children are finding success too – their oldest daughter is an undergraduate student in Biomedical Sciences at Oxford University and the youngest daughter, who is only 10 years old, has been recognised as the best student in English at her school.

“Isn’t it amazing that she is the best student in English, which is not her mother tongue? I’m so proud of her!” Mohamad says. “Everything is going well now, and we also have a lot of friends – refugees and immigrants like us and British people. We are happy with how we have improved our lives.”

Irina Bormotova's advice to refugees and asylum seekers is, “Do not limit yourself”.

One of her clients, a qualified accountant, reported being told by the Job Centre that he must do cleaning jobs because his English isn't good.

“I say ‘So what? We are going to register you on an English and accounting course. Dream beyond your situation. Don’t accept something if you think you deserve better.'”

Irina also came to Britain with poor English and without a specific career plan. John, her husband, had applied to study in London and she came with him from Moscow, Russia in 1996, pregnant with her second child. Once here – and finding she was unable to complete her Cambridge advanced English classes because of the lack of childcare support – she spent her time raising her children.

Living in her husband’s Ghanaian community in London she was introduced to volunteering.

“One day I was feeding my child. Heard a knock on the door and standing there was this exotically dressed beautiful black lady. She looked like an actress from an African movie.”

The woman, a community recruiter, helped Irina sign up for free training in business administration, which came with the support of childcare facilities. 

This unexpected opportunity led to full-time employment and a Bachelor of Science in Career Guidance.

Now it seems her career, though not planned, has come full circle. Today she works with Groundwork Elevate, which offers free specialist advice to refugees preparing to work in the UK and supports businesses to employ refugees.

Theirs is a holistic care approach to supporting refugees. Most have issues with housing, accessing support from local authorities, opening a bank account, registering with a doctor and accessing English classes.

Irina’s role is sourcing and providing work experience, volunteering, training and employment opportunities for those interested.

She works not only with refugees but also people with discretionary leave to remain (DLR) and asylum seekers who have applied for permission to work.

She explains that even though asylum seekers have that option if they have been waiting for a decision for the Home Office for more than a year, they can only apply for jobs that are on a restrictive list and it’s very difficult to secure employment based on that list.

“There are so many things they have to go through before they are job ready,” says Irina.

“I think it is degrading that asylum seekers don’t have the right to work because they are keen on doing something. This affects them mentally. It’s very difficult to stay in a state of limbo doing absolutely nothing. It’s degrading. They have skills, they have education.

“Refugees suffer with mental health not only because of what they have been through in their past but also because of the Home Office process. They get stuck in a situation like being homeless. There are so many barriers they face before they can have access to employment or self-employment.”

But, she says, mental health problems do not have to limit a person. She recalls a client who was a successful businessman in Egypt before fleeing to the UK where he started struggling because of mental health difficulties. She supported him in finding his first paid job and referred him to an entrepreneurial network for refugees. Now he runs his own business.

Another success story is of an Eritrean woman wanting to work in tourism and travel. A work experience placement was arranged with a luxury travel agency and the woman was eventually offered the opportunity of being an independent travel advisor to the company.

“Her only issue is childcare,” says Irina. “It is difficult for women to move into successful self-employment because of childcare.”

Irina’s work ethic and determination seem to have rubbed off on her daughters. Her eldest works in property investment, her second for a bank in Manchester, and her third is in medical school. The youngest, at eight, is doing well in school.

Of her daughters’ mixed Ghanaian, Russian, British heritage, she says: “I think my children enjoy all cultures. My first three girls knew my parents before they passed away. They speak Russian – some more than others – Ghanaian and English. We are a diverse family and we are interested in different cultures.”

Though she has lived in the UK for over 20 years she is not confused about her identity: “I am Russian and I embrace British values. I like the tolerance of the society. I like the opportunities – you can do virtually anything here. If you work hard you can be really successful. UK is my home now.”

One day, she says, “I would love to manage the Elevate project and set up a social enterprise for refugees.”

A Labour member of the London Assembly has added his voice to the campaign for a memorial to the 140,000-strong Chinese Labour Corps recruited by Britain and France in World War One.

His reminder of the "long forgotten but tremendous contribution to the allies’ cause on the Western Front" came ahead of the 100th anniversary of the 11 November Armistice Day that ended fighting in the war between the Allies and their opponent, Germany.

Addressing the London Assembly in early November Andrew Dismore said the conditions in which the Chinese worked was "virtual slavery" but that without their contribution "we might not have succeeded".

Afterwards he commented, "Most people have not even heard of the Chinese Labour Corps. These men deserve better and our nation’s promise never to forget should apply to them as to any other. That is why I support the campaign for a national memorial to these men from China who gave so much."

He said that designs for a permanent memorial were "under construction" in China, "so I hope before long we will see the monument erected in Chinatown in London.”

The campaign for a memorial is also being boosted by Forgotten, a play showing at the Arcola Theatre in London.

In the play's programme, Karen Soo, who lives in London and is the granddaughter of a French-recruited Labour Corps member, Soo Yuen Yi, writes: "As a member of the British-Chinese community I feel that this hidden history is immensely important in connecting our community to British and European history.

"It gives us a a place in that history where we can feel proud that our ancestors contribution made a difference."

Last year Soo and her late grandfather unveiled the first-ever commemorative plaque of the Labour Corps contribution at the China Exchange in London's Chinatown.

The boost to the campaign for a Chinese Labour Corps memorial came in the same week as the unveiling of a bronze statue of a Sikh soldier in the West Midlands town of Smethwick honouring the more than one million Indian soldiers who fought with the Allies against Nazi Germany in World War Two.

+ 6-7 November, photo exhibition on the Chinese Labour Corps, China Exchange, 31a Gerrard Street, W1. Info: http://chinaexchange.uk/contact/

In an article published on 22 November as a part of a larger interview with Hillary Clinton, Tony Blair and Matteo Renzi, Clinton boldly asserts that “Europe needs to get a handle on migration because that is what lit the flame (of right-wing populism).” 

She asserts that Angela Merkel has been kind and generous but that Europe cannot continue to welcome refugees and migrants because that will “roil the body politic”. What she means is that continuing to offer refuge can destroy liberal democracy in Europe. These sentiments are largely present within the arguments of Blair and Renzi (former Italian Prime Minister) as well.

The claims are two-fold:

1. Immigration is the issue of our time.

2. For liberal democracy to thrive, we must get a handle on it.

But these claims are paradoxical and here’s why.

The first problem relates to strategy. It may be that immigration is the issue of our time, but as Blair well knows, within liberal democracy you win office not by reacting to the issues that others have established, but, as American cognitive linguist George Lakoff explained, by controlling the issues that are talked about and by framing the parameters for the space in which an issue is talked about.

The age of the spin doctor, whose job this was, emerged exactly with those people who now claim that we must work within the parameters created by the far right, within a space defined by the phrase, “immigration is a problem”.

To think that this approach will lead to electoral victory is naïve. And if Clinton, Blair and Renzi were to listen to their younger selves, they would know it.

The second problem relates to the relationship between principles and politics. These politicians claim that for liberal democracy to survive, centrists must get a grip on immigration.

While liberalism does not have a founding doctrine, it does rely on a few core tenets. These include individualism, universalism and reason. From those principles emerged valuable fields such as humanism and various branches of ethics.

When Kant outlined his categorical imperative – that we must treat others like we would want to be treated ourselves – the other was universal: all human beings were of equal worth. Kant called this a fact of reason.

It was this basic notion that was present in the democratic revolutions that still flavour every constitution or basic laws of every supposedly liberal democracy. Governance must always be done in the name of the people – and “the people” is never qualified. The people are brown or white, rich or poor, old or young, men or women. The people are not qualified exactly because of the equality between them. Liberalism asserted that.

It was also liberalism that asserted that, on the basis of our equality, we all have freedoms as individuals. These freedoms were enshrined in rights and they were bestowed to all. For if they were not, there would be no equality.

As such, to advocate for a liberal democracy to clamp down on immigration in the manner that is suggested by Clinton, Blair and Renzi amounts to a betrayal of the core liberal tenets of equality and freedom.

With their suggestions they qualify “the people”: the people become white, not brown, rich, not poor. And decidedly not Muslim.

On the basis of this, the people who lose their equality also lose their freedom. No longer are they free from persecution. Now, they are only free to die, to which the dissolving bodies in the Mediterranean attest. The strategy endorsed by Clinton would only add to that body count. So liberal democracy will not be saved be curbing migration. It will be destroyed by it.

The third problem relates to the way in which we conceive of politics in terms of Left and Right. Renzi, Clinton and Blair claim to be proud, moderate centrists, decrying the right and the left for their populism, their simplifications and their irrationality. Yet, they are mistaken when they equate the centre with liberalism.

While liberalism has intrinsic meaning, the centre only has meaning in relation to left and right. And that means the centre moves. While true liberals have always insisted that we all have equal rights, centrists are guided on the question of equality (as all other questions) by the current state of left and right.

And as the spectrum has shifted rightwards with the rise of the far right across much of Europe, so the centre has shifted that way too. Clinton, Blair, Renzi and others have enabled that shift by allowing the nationalist far right to frame the issues. And with the centre moving to the right, it is now impossible to be both centrists and liberals, as those politicians claim to be.

Torn between the two, they have chosen centrism and renounced liberal principles. And that will only delight the repressive and xenophobic powers within our society.

TOP IMAGE: Migrants and refugees register with authorities after arriving in Serbia, August 2015 (Stephen Ryan/IFRC)

Peter is a student and a migrant.

In an article published on 22 November as a part of a larger interview with Hillary Clinton, Tony Blair and Matteo Renzi, Clinton boldly asserts that “Europe needs to get a handle on migration because that is what lit the flame (of right-wing populism).” 

She asserts that Angela Merkel has been kind and generous but that Europe cannot continue to welcome refugees and migrants because that will “roil the body politic”. What she means is that continuing to offer refuge can destroy liberal democracy in Europe. These sentiments are largely present within the arguments of Blair and Renzi (former Italian Prime Minister) as well.

The claims are two-fold:

1. Immigration is the issue of our time.

2. For liberal democracy to thrive, we must get a handle on it.

But these claims are paradoxical and here’s why.

The first problem relates to strategy. It may be that immigration is the issue of our time, but as Blair well knows, within liberal democracy you win office not by reacting to the issues that others have established, but, as American cognitive linguist George Lakoff explained, by controlling the issues that are talked about and by framing the parameters for the space in which an issue is talked about.

The age of the spin doctor, whose job this was, emerged exactly with those people who now claim that we must work within the parameters created by the far right, within a space defined by the phrase, “immigration is a problem”.

To think that this approach will lead to electoral victory is naïve. And if Clinton, Blair and Renzi were to listen to their younger selves, they would know it.

The second problem relates to the relationship between principles and politics. These politicians claim that for liberal democracy to survive, centrists must get a grip on immigration.

While liberalism does not have a founding doctrine, it does rely on a few core tenets. These include individualism, universalism and reason. From those principles emerged valuable fields such as humanism and various branches of ethics.

When Kant outlined his categorical imperative – that we must treat others like we would want to be treated ourselves – the other was universal: all human beings were of equal worth. Kant called this a fact of reason.

It was this basic notion that was present in the democratic revolutions that still flavour every constitution or basic laws of every supposedly liberal democracy. Governance must always be done in the name of the people – and “the people” is never qualified. The people are brown or white, rich or poor, old or young, men or women. The people are not qualified exactly because of the equality between them. Liberalism asserted that.

It was also liberalism that asserted that, on the basis of our equality, we all have freedoms as individuals. These freedoms were enshrined in rights and they were bestowed to all. For if they were not, there would be no equality.

As such, to advocate for a liberal democracy to clamp down on immigration in the manner that is suggested by Clinton, Blair and Renzi amounts to a betrayal of the core liberal tenets of equality and freedom.

With their suggestions they qualify “the people”: the people become white, not brown, rich, not poor. And decidedly not Muslim.

On the basis of this, the people who lose their equality also lose their freedom. No longer are they free from persecution. Now, they are only free to die, to which the dissolving bodies in the Mediterranean attest. The strategy endorsed by Clinton would only add to that body count. So liberal democracy will not be saved be curbing migration. It will be destroyed by it.

The third problem relates to the way in which we conceive of politics in terms of Left and Right. Renzi, Clinton and Blair claim to be proud, moderate centrists, decrying the right and the left for their populism, their simplifications and their irrationality. Yet, they are mistaken when they equate the centre with liberalism.

While liberalism has intrinsic meaning, the centre only has meaning in relation to left and right. And that means the centre moves. While true liberals have always insisted that we all have equal rights, centrists are guided on the question of equality (as all other questions) by the current state of left and right.

And as the spectrum has shifted rightwards with the rise of the far right across much of Europe, so the centre has shifted that way too. Clinton, Blair, Renzi and others have enabled that shift by allowing the nationalist far right to frame the issues. And with the centre moving to the right, it is now impossible to be both centrists and liberals, as those politicians claim to be.

Torn between the two, they have chosen centrism and renounced liberal principles. And that will only delight the repressive and xenophobic powers within our society.

TOP IMAGE: Migrants and refugees register with authorities after arriving in Serbia, August 2015 (Stephen Ryan/IFRC)

Peter is a student and a migrant.

Amna Mahmoud, a cosmopolitan woman who was born in Sudan, wrote in her book: “I am concerned that the culture in some parts of the world were undermined until they were re-discovered by the influential nations, then the same practices become highly appreciated, fashionable, glorified and accepted as the norm.”

Amna studied medicine and specialized while in Russia. She lived in different countries and worked in many places including international organisations, before moving to the UK more than twenty years ago.

Here she worked as a policy officer in regional government, managed a charity centre in London and was then appointed as an assistant service manager across two of the city’s boroughs. She also worked as a coordinator for a charity that supports migrants and refugees.

Amna was a writer and a poet since she was a schoolgirl but never published her work. Five years ago she decided to join a writers’ group and in 2017 she published her first book in English, “The Roots that Gave Birth to Magical Blossoms” (TSL Publications).

Initially she just wanted to test her ability to write in English and did not think about writing a book, but she was encouraged by the group.

“I felt valorised by these people,” she says. “They gave me the confidence, the perseverance to go on. Without this group my book would not be here. For twenty years or more I didn’t write anything, now I have this!

“Initially I was terrified and when we did exercises in the group, writing on some assigned topic, I was so surprised I was able to do it. I did so many changes to the book to make sure it is relevant. My friends and my publisher also strongly supported me.”

Amna’s book is a collection of short stories, or “reflections” as she prefers to call them, on “human suffering in the global world”. All of them are inspired by real people, but only one refers to a specific person: Fatima Ahmed Ibrahim, Amna’s aunt.

It is just one short page that commemorates this great Sudanese feminist and political activist, who was the first woman to be elected as a member of parliament in Sudan (in 1965) after participating in a democratic movement that removed military rule.

Fatima co-founded, and later became the president, of the Sudanese Women’s Union (SWU), successfully fought for women rights (on education, the right to vote and to work in any field with equal pay, maternity leave, pensions, etc.), was persecuted and imprisoned several times but never stopped standing up for her beliefs.

In 1990 she sought asylum in the UK, where she started a London branch of the SWU, and was elected president of the Women’s International Democratic Federation. In 1993 she received a UN award for outstanding achievements in the field of human rights, and the Ibn Rushd Prize for Freedom of Thought in 2006.

Amna also reminds us about Fatima’s husband, the trade union leader Al-Shafi Ahmed al-Sheikh, who was tortured and executed in 1971, and says of Fatima that her “great legacy for the women of the world and vulnerable people of the earth” will be carried on by her children and grandchildren “like the magical blossoms that keep the roots alive”.

Her book is part of this commitment. All her stories are about adversities, injustice and prejudices that people face in their lives somewhere in the world. Most of the stories are not located in a specific country – Amna avoids mentioning where her characters are, or uses expressions such as “a small village in the heart of Africa” or “a village somewhere in the bleeding heart of the world.” And when her characters move to Europe to escape from war the reader does not know which country they have fled to.

Amna thinks that the place is not important. She takes everything from a global point of view, believing that problems are the same everywhere but present themselves in different ways. Women, and everybody who is “different”, face discrimination all over the world, and fighting for equality and justice has always been a mission for Amna’s transnational family.

“All the members of my family, who are spread over many different countries have always stood against injustice since they were very young,” says Amna. “What unites us is our humanity, principles, selflessness, courage, honesty and passion. Everybody deserves to be happy, to live, to learn, have freedom of religion. For me it is all about humanity, peace and helping one another.”

She believes that “it is your responsibility as an individual to help people. For example, if somebody needs help and support, we will provide it if we can, because this is how we grew up, this is what our religion, Islam, is about.”

One of the things that Amna most likes in the UK is the charity sector as it is very strong and helps people in many different ways. She worked and volunteered for a long time in the sector.

Nowadays she carries on her humanitarian mission through writing and invites others to tell their stories.

“People need opportunities and one of these is writing what you think without fear,” she says. “I really appreciate Migrant Voice because they are telling people’s stories. It’s all about people and their stories.”

Amna is currently preparing a new book that will be published in a few months’ time. It will be a second collection of short stories/reflections with the aim of showcasing different cultures and bringing them into the global arena.

Fuad Alakbarov’s latest project was inspired by “Humans of New York”, a photographic census of New York City by photographer and blogger Brandon Stanton.

“I called it ‘World Submarine’ because a submarine can go everywhere, has access to all roads,” Fuad said.

Fuad, originally from Azerbaijan and now living in Scotland, is a political commentator, human rights activist and photojournalist.

Photography has always been a great passion, he explains, first as an amateur, then as a professional. His Facebook page is full of his photos, including a preview of “World Submarine”.

He’s interviewed 40 people so far from very different backgrounds for this most recent project: from high fliers such as the Scottish Cabinet Secretary for Justice Humza Yousaf and the human rights lawyer Aamer Anwar, to more ordinary people, such as students, street artists and men and women from all walks of life. They include both Britons and migrants from a variety of countries – Croatia, Mexico, Spain, the Caribbean, Greece, Ireland, Azerbaijan and the US, to name a few. Most are friends of his.

“I just want to interview interesting people,” he says. “The more diverse they are, the best it is for me. I want to discover diversity in human beings. Everyone has an inner world and I want to discover and understand it.”

Fuad’s aim is to give people a voice and to listen to what they have to say. He asks very general questions such as, “What’s your message to future generations?”, “What’s your favourite childhood memory?” and “What is it that you don’t like about this society and what needs to be changed?”

“Sometimes people gave funny answers, other times philosophical answers,” says Fuad. “They talked about different topics and showed a general willingness to improve society and never give up on their dreams.”

The format of the project is the same as Stanton’s, with each photo accompanied by a quote from the interview with that person. All of the images are black and white, which Fuad believes makes them “more powerful” for this particular project.

Fuad’s life in Scotland began when he was very young, when he moved with his family from Azerbaijan.

“I don’t forget my roots, but I grew up and spent most of my life in Scotland, Glasgow,” he says. “I’m an Azerbaijani and a Scottish man.”

“I discovered myself through travelling,” he adds. “Azerbaijan taught me how to love humanity. Scotland taught me how to fight for humanity.”

Fuad has worked extensively in human rights advocacy for refugees and in anti-racism and anti-poverty campaigns. In 2015, together with a few activists, he created the “Europe sees Syria” campaign to raise awareness about the European refugee crisis.

He is a strong opponent to the death penalty, and was opposed to the invasion of Iraq, the war in Afghanistan, and the NATO-led military intervention in Libya. From 2014 to 2017 he was an active participant in the “Stop the War Coalition”, “Glasgow Refugee, Asylum and Migration Network” (GRAMNet) and “Glasgow Campaign to Welcome Refugees”. Currently he is a member of a cross-party group on racial equality in the Scottish Parliament.

“I have always had a strong feeling about human rights. I always wanted to get involved,” he says. “That’s why I like Migrant Voice, because it’s an interactive platform for all. That makes its voice unique!”

Fuad got in touch with Migrant Voice some years ago. Recently he participated in the “Changing Lenses: Glasgow Stories of Integration” project and he found its photography workshops “very useful in terms of gaining new skills”.

Fuad hopes to complete the “World Submarine” project by May 2019, after which all of the photos and accompanying quotes will be exhibited in

Vinay Patel calls his play about his grandparents’ life An Adventure, and it’s an adventure for the audience, too, as the story moves from 1950s India, to Kenya and then Britain.

The mood, the couple’s relationship and the story-telling changes with the geography. 

The opening scene as Rasik in borrowed suit courts the young Jyoti – even younger than her suitors realise – is a delight: witty, sharp, sexy.

He lures her, and us, with his openness, sense of adventure and the promise of a foreign land.

But when Jyoti joins her husband in Kenya, she finds that his dream of a multiracial, just, independent country is threatened by the Mau Mau rebellion and the brutal British backlash.

They reject both sides, preferring a liberal, non-violent middle path but choice is forced on them by farming partner and angry rebel David.

The scene is set for a powerful personal and political drama. Unfortunately, the political clash of ideologies forces the personal drama off the stage. The potentially fascinating impact of the uprising on the small settler family (to say nothing of the position of the Asian community in an African country) is lost, in favour of a didactic debate.

And then it’s England, and racism, and demonstrations in support of exploited Asian women workers, and the struggle to dodge the discrimination by working ever harder. And a teenager. Yes, the focus returns to the strains on the family, with the sexiness and romance and light-headedness of the opening scene a faded memory.

And so on to the dramas of Old Age – and two confrontations as Jyoti and Rasik’s adventure runs its course. One of the clashes explains why the play’s Kenya section is given such prominence.

This is a hugely ambitious play, which puts a human and humane spotlight on Britain’s Gujarati community, on Kenya Asians, on British Asians, on migrants, on people.  What an adventure, they’ve been on, what a contribution they’ve made.  Vinay Patel doesn’t quite bring it off, but his characters are worth listening to and he clearly has talent. His adventure continues.

+ post- show discussions:

3 Oct, discuss the show with others, 7.30pm

* An Adventure is at the `Bush Theatre, 7 Uxbridge Road, W12, until 20 October. Info: 8743 5050/ bushtheatre.co.uk

Rafael dos Santos cuts a striking figure with his sharp haircut and colourful attire.

And it’s not long before you realise that his vibrant appearance is matched by a warm and spirited personality.

Rafael, who arrived in the UK from Brazil 17 years ago, has recently launched a new business – the High Profile Club – and is loving his work.

“The idea came during my MBA,” Rafael said. “I realised how much I love working with media and, together with a Colombian entrepreneur, I founded an MPR (Market Public Relations) agency, but we had only very few clients. My business partner left and I decided to turn the agency into the High Profile Club.”

The idea is simple: instead of doing marketing and campaigning for businesspeople and entrepreneurs, Rafael introduces them to journalists for a small monthly fee. He also offers training, workshops and networking opportunities.

“I launched the club at the House of Commons in March 2018 and since then we have already had 48 paying clients, 70 per cent of them being migrants, and 30 per cent British,” he said.

Just a few months into his new role, Rafael is planning a book – “50 High Profile Entrepreneurs and their Success Stories” – to tell the stories of some of his clients. It’s due to be published in January 2019.

His own story should probably be in there too. Arriving in the UK with very little – and having left a good job at Microsoft behind – Rafael spent many years of hard graft building up businesses, developing his skills, writing a book and creating a niche for himself in London’s heady business environment.

In 2016, he was named on the prestigious Sunday Times list, "Top 100 Most Inspiring Entrepreneurs in the UK".

But life in London was tough at the beginning. He spoke no English and had no job or money. He had left Brazil partly because he did not feel accepted as a gay man, but he spent his first months in the UK isolated and lonely.

“The first three months were the worst,” he said. “I was not working, felt isolated, and there were many nights of tears, when I was wondering what I was doing here.”

The language barrier was especially hard to cope with.

“I was clinging to my pocket dictionary at all times. The lack of language knowledge causes isolation and loneliness; it makes you feel as a child in an adult body, and it affects your self-esteem and confidence.”

He met some Brazilians who became his first friends, and soon his English improved enough to find a job and build friendships with Brits.

In 2003, he started a business with a friend, managing and renting rooms in flat shares. A second job as a perfume salesman helped to bring in enough money to pay the bills until the business got going.

Pretty soon, Rafael realised he wanted to use his own experience to help other migrants understand the emotional challenges of moving and living abroad.

“There are a lot of things that happen when you migrate, and you don’t understand why,” Rafael said. “I interviewed 200 people, living in different countries and with different backgrounds, to really understand what happens.”

The result was a book – “Moving Abroad, One Step At A Time” – where he collected their experiences and took a deep dive into the subject of migration, analysing the stages every migrant goes through, from the initial decision to the move itself and the process of adjusting and “upgrading” one’s life.

He later started two other businesses – a social network connecting people planning to move or migrate and a co-working space for migrant entrepreneurs – before enrolling on an MBA (Masters in Business Administration) at the Henley Business School, University of Reading.

That’s what led, in a roundabout way, to the High Profile Club, Rafael’s latest endeavour. He’s come a long way since he arrived in London and now he’s thrilled to have the chance to help others, both migrants and Brits, to find similar success.

NightWorkPod (NWP) documents experiences while working the night shift. NWP is inspired by my research into the sociology of the invisible migrant night shift workers in London. I am Julius-Cezar MacQuarie, and I am an anthropologist. I took up research at night when I learnt that night shift workers were invisible in the scholarly literature (mostly focusing on night life), as well as from public debates. Seven years later, NWP was born.

NWP does not focus on night life in global cities, but it acknowledges that in such cities that never sleep revellers and party-goers enjoy night entertainment which is sustained and maintained night-by-night by those up and working – the nocturnal people. The workers who appear in the NWP are the folks who keep these cities awake, spinning at an incessant speed and consuming round-the-clock, night-in, day-out.

Why a Podcast on Working the Night Shift?

This podcast series seeks to bring out to the diurnal (daytime) and nocturnal listeners alike the inaudible voices of migrants working the night shift in cities, like London, Birmingham or Glasgow. The NWP brings to light the invisible lives of night shift workers and gives voice to those up and working at night. Who are these workers? Why do they do the night shift? How do they experience the city at night when working while the rest of the city enjoys the night life or sleep? What does it mean to their families and households inhabited by night workers? And when do night workers socialise with the rest of the (diurnal) society?

As this series of podcasts uncover the invisible lives of migrants, their precarious working conditions, the battles they fight every night to stay awake and alert while working, we aim to reach to the ear buds of all those curious on all things nightwork and night workers. We hope that you, our listeners and readers, will join the journeys of night workers appearing in these podcasts as we explore the reasons, motivations (individual), and factors (structural) behind the root causes of labour exploitation among migrant night workers.

Episode: 03

Time: 21’45”

Date: Nov 2018

Place: Interview recorded in Sofia, Bulgaria. Produced in London @nightsparkslab

Guest: Marion Roberts, Emeritus Professor in Urban Design, University of Westminster | UK

Synopsis: In this third and last episode of the series called “London the Glocturnal City, and its 'other workers' “our first guest, Marion Roberts, Emeritus Professor in Urban Design at the University of Westminster talks about her invested interest and research that she has carried out on various themes related to the night-time city since 2001. Currently she serves on the board of Data and Research sub-committee of the Greater London Authority, the sub-committee on London's night-time commission.

Roberts and colleagues (2018) have published a report on the scale and importance of London’s Evening and Night Time Economy that was commissioned by the Greater London Authority, April 2016. The authors’ (Roberts et al, 2018) report provides a snapshot of London’s evening and night-time economies. It scrutinises the regulatory policies of licensing and planning, investigates crime and anti-social behaviour and drills down into the economic contribution of night-time activities. 

These outputs helped inform and shape the Greater London Authority’s policy and vision of London as a 24-hour City - 24-hour London – and subsequent publication, From Good Night to Great Night: A Vision For London as a 24-hour City. For full text click: http://bit.ly/LENTE_report2018

Click here to listen to the full podcast episode 

To see a photo grid of some of the night workers, please click here

About the author and this collaboration with MV

Julius-Cezar MacQuarie is the creator of NightWorkPod and founder of N!GHTSPARKS. He graduated in 2018 with a PhD in Sociology and Social Anthropology from the Central European University. As Nightlaboratory collaborator and filmmaker, he co-directed “Invisible Lives” with Tim Marrinan (UK, 2013).  Watch the trailer of his next short film: The Sleepless Bat. To get in touch please tweet: @tweetsfromdrjc // Web Profile: www.nightsparks.london

Migrant Voice and N!GHTSPARKS collaboration began through conversations in a shared kitchen at Ladbroke Grove, West London, over six years ago. We discussed our interests and potential projects to collaborate on. Fast forward to 2018. An exciting opportunity to produce a podcast series arrived. Combined, our work rests upon Migrant’s Voice experience in providing platforms for migrants to speak out and the research rigour behind the doctoral study on bodily precariousness and cooperation among manual labourers in the New Spitalfields market, East London. Our plans for future collaboration are exciting and in-the-making. Stay tuned and watch it as our story unravels.

NightWorkPod (NWP) documents experiences of working the night shift. NWP is inspired by my research into the sociology of the invisible migrant night shift workers in London. I am Julius-Cezar MacQuarie, and I am an anthropologist. I took up research at night when I learnt that night shift workers were invisible in the scholarly literature (mostly focusing on night life), as well as from public debates. Seven years later, NWP was born.

NWP does not focus on night life in global cities, but it acknowledges that in such cities that never sleep revellers and party-goers enjoy night entertainment which is sustained and maintained night-by-night by those up and working – the nocturnal people. The workers who appear in the NWP are the folks who keep these cities awake, spinning at an incessant speed and consuming round-the-clock, night-in, day-out.

In this first podcast series on London’s ‘other workers’, I introduce listeners to a world of work that is invisible to the diurnal (daytime) eye and inaudible to the nocturnal sleeper. The series consists of three episodes. In episode one, a bus driver and an outreach worker share their stories and encounters during their night shift. 

Episode:1
Time:17’58”
Date: May 2018
Place: Interviews recorded in London. Produced at Central European University, Centre for Media, Data and Society
Guests: Prof. Dr Ger Duijzings, Regensburg University, Germany; Jeff (night bus driver), London; ANON (outreach worker), London
Synopsis: In this episode, Julius-Cezar introduces the listeners to a world of work that is invisible to the diurnal eye and inaudible to the nocturnal sleeper. Julius-Cezar is joined by Ger Duijzings, Professor for Social Anthropology with a focus on Southeastern and Eastern Europe talk about his Nightlaboratory project. Two guests, Jeff (a London night bus driver), and an anonymous outreach worker with sex workers in East London give their views and experiences of working at night. 
 
Vignette #1
Anon outreach worker 
London is very active tonight. Roads are very busy with cars, restaurants, it’s a very different dynamic during the night, but still very busy. This city is always awake. At first, it seemed very odd to me to go to work when the rest of the house goes to sleep. Some people work the whole night. I go home before I do the outreach, I change and have dinner. I always dress in black and wear something comfortable, in case I have to run or… I never had an incident, but the streets are quite dangerous at night and you never know… You learn to leave with things that would frighten other people, but for me they become the ordinary …  

Click here to listen to the full episode
For a full transcript click here 

To see a photo grid of some of the night workers, please click here

About the author and this collaboration with MV

Julius-Cezar MacQuarie is the creator of NightWorkPod and founder of N!GHTSPARKS. He graduated in 2018 with a PhD in Sociology and Social Anthropology from the Central European University. As Nightlaboratory collaborator and filmmaker, he co-directed “Invisible Lives” with Tim Marrinan (UK, 2013).  Watch the trailer of his next short film: The Sleepless Bat. To get in touch please tweet: @tweetsfromdrjc // Web Profile: www.nightsparks.london

Migrant Voice and N!GHTSPARKS collaboration began through conversations in a shared kitchen at Ladbroke Grove, West London, over six years ago. We discussed our interests and potential projects to collaborate on. Fast forward to 2018. An exciting opportunity to produce a podcast series arrived. Combined, our work rests upon Migrant’s Voice experience in providing platforms for migrants to speak out and the research rigour behind the doctoral study on bodily precariousness and cooperation among manual labourers in the New Spitalfields market, East London. Our plans for future collaboration are exciting and in-the-making. Stay tuned and watch it as our story unravels.

NightWorkPod (NWP) documents experiences while working the night shift. NWP is inspired by my research into the sociology of the invisible migrant night shift workers in London. I am Julius-Cezar MacQuarie, and I am an anthropologist. I took up research at night when I learnt that night shift workers were invisible in the scholarly literature (mostly focusing on night life), as well as from public debates. Seven years later, NWP was born.

NWP does not focus on night life in global cities, but it acknowledges that in such cities that never sleep revellers and party-goers enjoy night entertainment which is sustained and maintained night-by-night by those up and working – the nocturnal people. The workers who appear in the NWP are the folks who keep these cities awake, spinning at an incessant speed and consuming round-the-clock, night-in, day-out.

Episode two highlights experiences of two professionals and long-term London residents, a public health practitioner and a fire fighter. They share how night shift work impacts on their bodily, physiological rhythms, and the challenges that each face according to the nature of the jobs they have been doing over the years. Two important sectors of work: health and emergency services part of the firefighting industry rely on professionals working the night shift through rotation. George and Phil are the two nocturnals whose voices are heard in episode two. Please beware that this episode may contain disturbing content, which is narrated by a Romanian artist, Natalia Carata, herself a London resident.

Episode: 2
Time: 36’19”
Date: August 2018
Place: Interviews recorded in London. Produced at Central European University, Centre for Media, Data and Society, Budapest, Hungary
Guests: Georgina Perry, Public Health Practitioner, London; Phil Horsley, Fire Fighter - First Respondent, London 
Voice Over: Natalia Carata, Actress, UK

Synopsis: In this second episode, two professionals and long-term London residents, a public health practitioner and a fire fighter, share how night shift work impacts on their circadian rhythms, and the challenges that each face according to the nature of the job that they have performed over the years.  Two important sectors of work, health and emergency services part of the firefighting industry rely on professionals working the night shift through rotation.

Vignette #2

Georgina Perry

"I tried in London, to redress the harshness of this city by being a human being, and offer human support, and I think that’s the only way I could be in this city and keep my sanity, really…"

Click here to listen to the full episode

For a full transcript click here

To see a photo grid of some of the night workers, please click here

About the author and this collaboration with MV

Julius-Cezar MacQuarie is the creator of NightWorkPod and founder of N!GHTSPARKS. He graduated in 2018 with a PhD in Sociology and Social Anthropology from the Central European University. As Nightlaboratory collaborator and filmmaker, he co-directed “Invisible Lives” with Tim Marrinan (UK, 2013).  Watch the trailer of his next short film: The Sleepless Bat. To get in touch please tweet: @tweetsfromdrjc // Web Profile: www.nightsparks.london

Migrant Voice and N!GHTSPARKS collaboration began through conversations in a shared kitchen at Ladbroke Grove, West London, over six years ago. We discussed our interests and potential projects to collaborate on. Fast forward to 2018. An exciting opportunity to produce a podcast series arrived. Combined, our work rests upon Migrant’s Voice experience in providing platforms for migrants to speak out and the research rigour behind the doctoral study on bodily precariousness and cooperation among manual labourers in the New Spitalfields market, East London. Our plans for future collaboration are exciting and in-the-making. Stay tuned and watch it as our story unravels.

A Labour member of the London Assembly has added his voice to the campaign for a memorial to the 140,000-strong Chinese Labour Corps recruited by Britain and France in World War One.

His reminder of the "long forgotten but tremendous contribution to the allies’ cause on the Western Front" came ahead of the 100th anniversary of the 11 November Armistice Day that ended fighting in the war between the Allies and their opponent, Germany.

Addressing the London Assembly in early November Andrew Dismore said the conditions in which the Chinese worked was "virtual slavery" but that without their contribution "we might not have succeeded".

Afterwards he commented, "Most people have not even heard of the Chinese Labour Corps. These men deserve better and our nation’s promise never to forget should apply to them as to any other. That is why I support the campaign for a national memorial to these men from China who gave so much."

He said that designs for a permanent memorial were "under construction" in China, "so I hope before long we will see the monument erected in Chinatown in London.”

The campaign for a memorial is also being boosted by Forgotten, a play showing at the Arcola Theatre in London.

In the play's programme, Karen Soo, who lives in London and is the granddaughter of a French-recruited Labour Corps member, Soo Yuen Yi, writes: "As a member of the British-Chinese community I feel that this hidden history is immensely important in connecting our community to British and European history.

"It gives us a a place in that history where we can feel proud that our ancestors contribution made a difference."

Last year Soo and her late grandfather unveiled the first-ever commemorative plaque of the Labour Corps contribution at the China Exchange in London's Chinatown.

The boost to the campaign for a Chinese Labour Corps memorial came in the same week as the unveiling of a bronze statue of a Sikh soldier in the West Midlands town of Smethwick honouring the more than one million Indian soldiers who fought with the Allies against Nazi Germany in World War Two.

+ 6-7 November, photo exhibition on the Chinese Labour Corps, China Exchange, 31a Gerrard Street, W1. Info: http://chinaexchange.uk/contact/

Vinay Patel calls his play about his grandparents’ life An Adventure, and it’s an adventure for the audience, too, as the story moves from 1950s India, to Kenya and then Britain.

The mood, the couple’s relationship and the story-telling changes with the geography. 

The opening scene as Rasik in borrowed suit courts the young Jyoti – even younger than her suitors realise – is a delight: witty, sharp, sexy.

He lures her, and us, with his openness, sense of adventure and the promise of a foreign land.

But when Jyoti joins her husband in Kenya, she finds that his dream of a multiracial, just, independent country is threatened by the Mau Mau rebellion and the brutal British backlash.

They reject both sides, preferring a liberal, non-violent middle path but choice is forced on them by farming partner and angry rebel David.

The scene is set for a powerful personal and political drama. Unfortunately, the political clash of ideologies forces the personal drama off the stage. The potentially fascinating impact of the uprising on the small settler family (to say nothing of the position of the Asian community in an African country) is lost, in favour of a didactic debate.

And then it’s England, and racism, and demonstrations in support of exploited Asian women workers, and the struggle to dodge the discrimination by working ever harder. And a teenager. Yes, the focus returns to the strains on the family, with the sexiness and romance and light-headedness of the opening scene a faded memory.

And so on to the dramas of Old Age – and two confrontations as Jyoti and Rasik’s adventure runs its course. One of the clashes explains why the play’s Kenya section is given such prominence.

This is a hugely ambitious play, which puts a human and humane spotlight on Britain’s Gujarati community, on Kenya Asians, on British Asians, on migrants, on people.  What an adventure, they’ve been on, what a contribution they’ve made.  Vinay Patel doesn’t quite bring it off, but his characters are worth listening to and he clearly has talent. His adventure continues.

+ post- show discussions:

3 Oct, discuss the show with others, 7.30pm

* An Adventure is at the `Bush Theatre, 7 Uxbridge Road, W12, until 20 October. Info: 8743 5050/ bushtheatre.co.uk

Migrants to England are all too aware of a loss of identity and an absence of recognition for their efforts and contributions. One of the burdens of a migrant’s life is the difficulty of making it predictable. As Migrant Voice has observed, migrants are ignored in nearly 90% of debates about migration.

Seeking to rectify our ignorance of the 1.5 million African porters who were among the two million Africans who served in the British, French and German military during the First World War, the South African artist William Kentridge has created, with his collaborators, a theatrical work entitled The Head & the Load about amnesia in history.

The first shots of the war were fired in 1914, not on the Western Front but in Togoland, a German colony in Africa. In this extraordinary processional/cabaret performance, Kentridge sets about rectifying our lack of knowledge about – and commemorating – the thousands of expendable African porters/carriers who transported arms and equipment across Africa for the European armies.

The Head & the Load was commissioned to run in the Turbine Hall of the Tate Modern from July 11 to 15, 2018, by 14-18-NOW, the First World War centenary arts programme. Kentridge collaborated with the South African composer Philip Miller, with whom he has worked since 1994, and with the composer Thuthuka Sibisi and the dancer/choreographer Gregory Maqoma. The original music of Miller and Sibisi was combined with African songs and with elements of such modernist European composers as Maurice Ravel, Paul Hindemith and Arnold Schoenberg, who introduced a different, atonal sound into the classical Romantic tradition.

At a press conference on Saturday, July 15, Kentridge explained that the starting point for The Head & the Load had been the processional frieze of Roman history, Triumphs and Laments, which he created in 2016 along 500 feet of the banks of the Tiber River. His view was that “everyone’s triumph is someone else’s disaster.” The formal inspiration behind The Head & the Load had to do with space and music, with “ignorance” as the third element. “It was about amnesia,” Kendrick has said.

The spatial dynamics of the performance in Rome was also brought together with a psychological subject, characterised by the Georg Büchner play Woyzeck, about how a soldier is driven mad by the pressures of the military establishment. Kentridge saw this play as “a premonition of the First World War”, and spoke of how he wanted to “smash two things together” – Büchner’s play and the processional staging of Roman history. He said he was “looking for idiosyncratic moments” in the theatre rather than a play filled with facts and statistics.

The Africans’ expectations of serving in the war were that “they would be given more rights.” But instead of being given their own countries they were presented with “greatcoats and bicycles.” The war, which had initially been “a parade of all people”, of people and costumes, steadily “became more monochrome.” Africans were even excluded from the victory parades after the war. For Kentridge, “There was a deliberate shutting down of that history” as the war went on. “European poets have drowned out African voices.” The war remains “an open wound in Africa” because “the process of remembering has been excluded.”

Kentridge defined The Head & the Load as “not an opera, not a musical…it’s a drawing in performance, but it began with music.” For Philip Miller it was “a walking opera”, and he and Kentridge talked about a new art form being created. The other musician, Thuthuka Sibisi, spoke more about the importance of sound. He said that recordings had been made of approximately 60 African languages from the Africans who became prisoners of the Germans and were held in a camp outside Berlin. An attempt was even made to reproduce in the music score the sound quality of these recordings on wax cylinders.

The challenge for Philip Miller was “How do you ‘contemporise’ archive sounds, recreating and reimagining the archive…how didactic should the piece be?” Kentridge wanted to hold back from giving a lecture. He wanted to depict “history as a collage.” Also, “one needs to find an illogic” to express the madness of war. They were “making a piece about incomprehension” so the “madness of Dada” became one reference point.

This was “a kind of ethnographic drama,” and what it also incorporated was a division in the attitude of the Africans who took part in the war, a split between those who wanted to go, to become part of the Empire, and those who didn’t. This was incorporated in the choreography, and is expressed in the rendition of the national anthem, “God Save the King,” which gradually breaks down. A national anthem is about stripping people of their individuality, and the sense here is of people, who have their own queen, talking back to Europe. “They start claiming back a space, each singer coming in on a different tempo…coming back home on waves, on a wave-like movement” of song.

Kentridge skilfully uses a combination of clear and discordant sound with movement across the Turbine Hall to illustrate the profound ignorance and disrespect shown by the Europeans who tried to dominate pre-existing cultures which had their own language and traditions. One symbol of indigenous communication was the West African koro, a harp-like instrument that serves as a graphic reminder on stage of African culture that predated the European incursion and World War I. This imposing decorative instrument is made of a calabash cut in half covered with cow skin to make it resonant. It is a reminder that artful African music and instruments were ignored, misinterpreted or drowned out by the Europeans.

The enormous Turbine Hall adds another dimension of visible industrial structures to Kentridge’s complex fusion of film projection, dance, music, shadow play and the sounds of multiple European and African languages. The action takes place across a very long raised platform, with the audience confronted with diverse performances impossible to take in altogether. As Kentridge said, “You’re partly constructing which performance you’re seeing.” Sound overlaps or stands alone, a cacophony of competing, impossible to interpret sounds.

Live performers occupy the stage as lone players, as clusters of musicians inside movable enclosures, or on ladder-towers reflecting the hierarchy that enabled the large-scale recruitment of African porter/carriers. During the war, the English Committee for the Welfare of Africans was sufficiently aware of the native population to send them gramophones, banjos, harmonicas, and the ubiquitous hymn books.  Familiar Kentridge elements such as megaphones are used to symbolise how the discordant sound is magnified, rendering meaning absurd.

The libretto is a collage of performers and projected images. It is made up of fragments of Frantz Fanon translated into siSwati, and Tristan Tzara into isiZulu. Wilfred Owen is translated into French and into what Kentridge refers to as “dog-barking.” Kentridge uses parts of Kurt Schwitter’s Ursonate, Setswana proverbs, Aime Cesaire, and phrases from a handbook of military drills. The industrial construction of the Turbine Hall is an appropriate container for this resonant and often discordant orchestration. The hall and the staging render more memorable a soulful African singer who communicates a quiet solo melody of regret and grief for the plight of over a million Africans.

There is a persistent contrast between detail and shadow: the actors to the front of the stage whom we see in detail, plus large poignant projections of individuals to the rear. These detailed representations of individual actors and of enormous projections are part of Kentridge’s familiar use of shadows and silhouettes that obliterate detail into mass. Kentridge refers to Plato’s myth of the cave, and how what we take for reality may just be the shadows of objects passing in front of a fire.

The representations also remind the audience of the universality of these individual humans, and of how the endless supply of Africans could be reduced to repetitive movements, obscuring the individuals and indicating how the African was useful, indispensable, but nameless and infinitely replaceable. This commemoration of the forgotten porters/carriers is often projected on to lists of names on the rear screen, combined with the silhouettes of the carriers and their burdens.

The continual procession of carriers symbolises the vast number and anonymity of the Africans. The silhouettes projected on to the rear of the stage are enormous, thus enlarging the movement of these actors but obliterating their individual faces. Often on stage there are staccato sounds that might be weaponry, or breaking bones, marking the destruction of the carriers who worked without recognition and died without commemoration, discarded across the landscape that was once their home and was now occupied by strangers.

Kentridge spectacularly depicts how the wajungu, the white stranger, forced interminable burdens on the indigenous Africans who were regarded as replaceable. They perish without names, grave markers or commemoration. Through artwork that is familiar to international audiences (and which is currently on view at the Stephen Friedman Gallery, featuring Kentridge and other African artists), Kentridge fills the stage with processions of privileged European rulers, transported with the paraphernalia and heavy weapons of war from which the Africans will not gain and which will bring about their death in multitudes.

An exhausted porter is carried across the stage by another porter who cannot revive his burden, until the latter is bent into the shape of a cart. The African singer at the front of the stage sings a haunting melody while enlarged images are presented at the back showing Kentridge’s intricate paintings of birds. The mourning sound of the performer persists as these symbolic images of fragility are blasted apart one by one.

The relentless destruction of something intact and alive into an unidentifiable entity reflects the destruction of Africa itself, the breaking apart of borders by the Europeans who afterwards treated the continent as the spoils of war, dividing it between themselves. The once German colony of Tanganyika became part of British East Africa, with the French and Belgians also claiming their share of African land and dominance over the people.

The Head & the Load would reward more than a single viewing, in order to take in the multiple details, the complex interplay of graphic art, dance, animation and live music. At the press conference, Kentridge mentioned that there was a “utopian moment” some 50 years after the war when African leaders like Patrice Lumumba and Julius Nyerere came to the fore, and how we might now reflect – a further 50 years later – on what became of that utopian moment. Kentridge intended that The Head & the Load would help us to “recognise and record,” and we might now acknowledge and explore, and even alleviate, the contemporary parallels to these unrecognised burdens.

The Head & the Load will be shown at Park Avenue Armory in New York from 4-15 December 2018. More information can be found here

These podcasts were created as part of our ‘Changing Lenses, London stories of integration’ project which brought communities together to explore integration and create shared messages to build stronger communities.

From August 29th – September 21st 2018 we exhibit  a selection of photos from the project at the Guardian, Kings Place, 90 York Way, London N1 9GU. The full collection of photos, writing and podcasts are available on our website.

This project saw participants from 13 countries - including the UK - come together to build skills in photography and creative writing and use these to create better understanding amongst the public of migrants’ experiences of integration.

Scroll down to listen to the podcast. They are a reflection of some of our experiences and views of integration.

To listen to Anna Marsden's podcast click here:

To listen to Areej Osman's podcast click here:

To listen to Danmore Sithole's podcast click here:

To listen to Hassan Hussein's podcast click here:

To listen to Jamal's podcast click here:

To listen to Louise Sweet's podcast click here:

To listen to Marisa Aranda's podcast click here:

To listen to Marta Aparicio's podcast click here:

To listen to Michelle Fuller's podcast click here:

To listen to Naaz Rashid's podcast click here:

To listen to Nez's podcast click here:

To listen to Paulina Tamborrel's podcast click here:

To listen to Sara Davidson's podcast click here:

To listen to Tamya Bustamante's podcast click here:

To listen to Yemane Kassa's podcast click here:

Aplicar

Immigrants from the same place like to congregate together. That can be seen as a threat by hosting countries but in many cases migrant communities from the same place act as a catalyst to integration. When I first moved to the UK, compatriots were the first ones that embraced me and made me feel part of a community, a community of people from the same country that had already been through the same journey/experience. It can sound naïve but to learn from a fellow citizen about cultural differences, values, traditions or simply how to use the public transport or ask politely for a pint in a pub makes things much easier.

“Aplicar” is the most memorable word from that initial stage of my integration process. It would be the translation to Spanish of the verb to apply – if that word existed in Spanish. I learnt how to “aplicar” for jobs or volunteering roles whilst having a chat in a pub.

Language is the first barrier to overcome and work on for migrants. Living in a place where your first language is not the official one makes things hard. You want to understand everybody and make sure that your message arrives to others but that requires a big effort and it’s hard. It is a learning process where new vocabulary, use of the language and your confidence grow together. I don’t remember how I learn my first language but I can picture in most cases how, where and when I learnt English words or expressions.
Scorchio - apparently invented in the 90’s at The Fast Show- is one of them. It’s not an indispensable one –in fact you can’t even find it in the Oxford dictionary- but I remember the feeling, I knew it wouldn’t save my life but it makes me laugh and I felt a bit more part of this new place being able to enjoy and share non vital words.  I’m still learning and I don’t think I will stop but it wouldn’t have been able without access to English classes. It is an enriching and powerful process and host countries need to support migrants to learn the language and need to know that it is essential for a successful integration.

Volunteering facilitates social integration among other positive qualities. I started volunteering doing brokerage in my local volunteer centre. Brokerage, another word that I had never heard of. Suddenly I was interacting with a lot of new people and intermediating between potential volunteers and volunteering roles in my local community. It was a bit scary at the beginning but volunteering and supporting others makes you feel part of the new place and makes you feel stronger. I’m grateful to all the volunteers that I work with and all the people I met in the sector. Society and government need to know about the crucial role of the voluntary sector to migrants’ integration.   

Work. Once you start working you feel like a part of the system. You pay your taxes, you contribute to the society, and you feel more connected to the place that you started calling home. Being paid for your skills it is an acknowledgement and acceptance by your host country. My memorable word in my work environment is away day (a day that you don’t work, different than holiday –word that I already knew). For me it represents freedom, fun, getting to know my colleagues better. I was able to get a job after going through my first stages of the integration journey and, of course, because of my legal status as an EU citizen entitled me to.       

Poroto
Poroto is a word in Spanish, my first language, which I wasn’t aware of because it comes from a different Spanish speaking country. The translation of this word – bean (like the food) — is irrelevant. The importance lies in what it means for me. I learnt it in London. It reminds me of my long conversations with my Chilean friend Armando about politics, about society, about understanding other people’s views and of course about his own journey of integration. His experience and that of all the people from different nationalities that I met here who shared their experiences with me influenced and helped to shape who I am now.

Society shouldn’t be afraid of diversity. Diversity and experiencing people from different backgrounds is enriching and helps us to overtake fear of the unknown.

The people in my photos represent everyone that helped me to integrate in to the UK, English and from lots of different nationalities. “Aplicar”, Scorchio, Brokerage, Away day and “Poroto” became part of my journey. All these words and people are a portrait of my personal integration path. All those stages: hanging out with migrant communities from my same country, volunteering, learning the language, working and enjoying diversity helped me to feel part of a something, a community and developed a strong sense of belonging. It hasn’t been an easy journey but I think integration is a two-way path and both migrants and the host country need to make a big effort in order to enhance this process.

Guy Fawkes
Traditions come from the past but they are also a social construction that change and evolve with time. Living in London allowed me to take part in and learn about traditions that are new to me, for example, Guy Fawkes night surrounded by thousands of people from all over the world! In a way feeling that I help shape the values of the tradition, enjoy the moment and feel part of something, is making me feel a bit more integrated. It feels like home.

These photos and accompanying writing were made as part of the Changing Lenses; London stories of Integration project. You can listen to my podcast for the project here:

Airport, leaving home for UK

HOME is family, the foremost tie to a new country is a husband of this country

New country, new training in law affording new viewpoints

Challenges in new country

New country permits protest and dissent

New country permits options and encourages new outlook
 

These photos and accompanying writing were made as part of the Changing Lenses; London stories of Integration project. You can listen to my podcast for the project here:

Changing Lenses

Integration is not about losing, dividing or letting go. Rather I feel it’s about opening our hearts and minds to something/someone new. It could be creating a space to sit side by side with another person who identifies as different to you and you to them, and engaging in a conversation about life on the blue/green planet.

In a way it’s sharing life’s recipes of love, laughter, sadness, music, food, joy, sorrow, glory, suffering and so on. As we all share the same basic needs and feel the same emotions, perhaps integration is more about remembering how similar we are and honouring our right to express and live out this right in our different ways.

Rather than coming from the perspective of: be like me, we could turn that around into a more inquisitive question of how am I like you, what similarities do we share? What differences can we teach each other? How can we open our minds to new worlds through listening to each other?

Integration, represents universal truth that everything in life changes, it all evolves.

Integration at its core perhaps is the practice of acceptance and compassion. About allowing co-existence without force. Integration as a fluid concept that changes rather than another rigid law enforced by the dominant group as a means to gain power, control and submission over the minority group.

I saw this as I was staring at the floor on the way to work. I did a double-look and thought it was a good first base representation. The yellow paint has sunk into the ridges beneath and is not only a line, but raised by the surface below.
It also makes you look at the circles beneath the yellow paint on the drain lid.

Somehow the drain and the yellow paint are brought together and it works. The drain continues to be there and do its job and so does the new paint.

My Bolivian jumpers

This is one of my Bolivian jumpers. For me, it is a symbol of my integration of my Bolivian culture into my British culture. It’s about representing the beauty, talent, skills, traditions of Bolivia and bringing them to life here. It’s also about the usefulness of the Bolivian jumper. It is from Bolivia, from the Southern hemisphere, but look it works here too.

It's also interesting, I think, to see real representations of South American dress, not just Western designers representing what they think is Latin American in their designs.

People sometimes ask me about my jumper. The wider public may see something different like a statement - I wonder if it’s like wearing a tourist item - oh I’ve DONE south America - I can wipe that off my bucket list.

But I hope that by wearing it - it symbolises that there are other worlds to discover and not just the Western - or the Western interpretation of it. The wool, the fabric, the design - it is pure south American, Bolivian.

What helps integration?
One of the earliest things I can remember that helped me integrate (into) both my cultures are of the Bolivian parties my family used to go to in London. There, they had Bolivian music which involved bands with big drums, trumpets and live singers. The food was amazing and everybody was speaking Spanish. People were so welcoming. Some were dressed in traditional Bolivian clothes. Most of all it was seeing the way they interacted, the way they were with children, the way the old were integrated as part of the party. The way people danced together in two lines.

What helps integration is the sharing, enjoyment and celebration of cultural activities.

The photo here hows a gathering of Jackfruit. A tropical fruit, grown in an English country garden. Kew gardens to be exact. I love how the tropical family of fruit is gathered there enjoying the last of the summer sunshine, but nestled in the autumn leaves of a British woodland. This picture is a gathering of juxtapositions, which I feel represents integration.

Ana - Brazilian volunteer at the Latin American Women’s Rights Service
What helps integration? I believe it is mostly people. Being with people who are themselves and who are identified with their specific set of cultural values, but who are open to being a part of the new and different culture they live in. They incorporate parts of the culture that work for them in their lives and at the same time, still remain in their hearts the way they want to identify with - for example sharing.

People who share stories about their life back in another country and who want to share and learn about yours.

People who are themselves, wherever in the world they are - they just are the place they identify with.

This goes for those who say they are a child of the world - having lived in many cultures, they enjoy adapting into different ways of living.

"Culture belongs to people."

Photo of the exhibition: ‘Soul of a Nation’ at the Tate Gallery

What hinders integration? Fear. Fear of the unknown. It is a common state that humans - when they don’t know the truth in something - they tend to make it up, they make up what they think the realness of a situation is - in other words they make an assumption until truth comes to light.

This doesn’t always have a negative outcome, however, many times it can mean that they are neutral, neither particularly interested in something or not. Other times it can have very negative effects, where it cuts off people from the truth of a situation and even causes them to react in a negative way towards something or someone else.

This can cause the public to be hostile and disrespectful towards other people whose identity they perceive to be different from them. The hostility breeds fear and fear creates barriers. Emotional barriers bring physical ones just like these ones here. This was a huge piece hanging down from a wall and it deeply spoke to me about the depth of fear and how it can isolate us from our brothers and sisters, from other mothers and fathers.

Howver, I believe exhibitions such as “Soul of a Nation”, brings hope in education and bringing people together. We mourn the losses of life caused by fear and hate and instead bring compassion, kindness and the belief in the need for change.

Turtles

I took this picture as I liked how it seemed as if the animal world was deciding fate rather than humans. Wise old tortoises mulling over life, time and universal concepts, that perhaps only ancient beings have lived long enough to possess the qualities to explore.

Reflecting on the impact of cultural values on integration I find that in our culture we live behind the mask of capitalism, which states we are all living in free and equal societies, that if you work hard enough anyone can rise up out of poverty and make a successful fulfilling life.

So we believe this is the only right way. There is a belief that now that a person lives in the West coming from another country they must think that this place is better than their home, so they should also aspire to become like the culture here. They must assimilate.

Applying cultural values to a concept like integration leads to stereotypical representations, narrow understanding, a dismissal of cultural difference and a de-valuing of that difference.  It leads to the westerner assuming that they understand a whole part of something through seeing it through the Western looking glass.

Rather than open up when they are wrong and inquire, many people fight for their limiting beliefs; they fight to stay ignorant (which fuels their fear) rather than letting go into openness and peace.



Tate
Welcoming, diverse, spatially accepting spaces facilitate integration. Art galleries make me feel integrated and feel like I belong to the place where they are. Art in this form has no words and I find galleries like the Tate are inclusive in their work. Spatially, the Tate is fantastic - it’s like there is room for everyone in there. It’s not necessarily the grandest building, but that is what I love about it, it is not pretentious or bourgeois - it is made real and raw by the exhibitions that they host. In attending an exhibition at the Tate, hanging out there, or working in the open spaces at the Tate - I feel at home. Photo from the Tate Gallery, London 2017

What do we need to build strong and resilient communities?

Human beings are social beings. It is part of our nature to need to be around others, connected and able to share life together. It is one of our basic needs and has become fractured in communities, resulting in people, especially migrants feeling isolated in London, despite it being an overcrowded city.

A way to address isolation is providing safe and affordable (if not free) spaces for communities to gather. Elephant and Castle, possibly soon to be named the Latin Quarter of South London, is a diverse space hosting a large portion the Latin American culture in London. In and around the shopping centre are cafes, bars, restaurants, shops, money exchange, hairdressers selling Latino styles, culture and bringing together the community. Whilst  the area is being slowly gentrified - the shopping centre remains still an affordable and welcoming space for the Latin American community to gather.

Let the alley draw you in.

This little alley is home to tasty Latino eateries, tucked away opposite Elephant and Castle shopping centre. Eagle’s Yard offers little coves of friendly  places to eat, drink and speak Spanish and Portuguese. Again, affordable prices, authentic food and a feeling of being with like people or experiencing a taste of a different culture for a first time.

It is a street well worth the visit and yet so easily missed. Like true nuggets of gold that you have to dig for, else you miss out. To build stronger communities we need places like this that allow the welcoming space to make visible different communities and where British people can also come and appreciate, learn and benefit from the spaces and what the other cultures have to offer.

Self portrait
This self-portrait is an exploration of my own personal journey of integration. The self-portrait is taken in my room, a space where I feel most parts of myself are integrated. Here I express my mix of cultures, Bolivian, British, German, and the mix of cultures that I have loved exploring, Chinese, Japanese, native American and Indian to name a few. Then I include elements from the cultures of sports, spiritual practice, personal development, creativity, art and philosophy which are meaningful to me.

Integration: a journey to feel comfortable within the community around me and on a more personal level, how do I represent my identity to others?, or perhaps an even deeper question, what is my identity?

A big part of the integration journey has been first asking this last question, many, many times. In fact, sometimes I feel I am still answering it. Though perhaps now the difference is I am defining my different interests and beliefs, rather than core representations of the self.

Also I feel the older I get, the more I feel I am able to integrate both my cultures in a way that works for me, and so the process changes again, rather than forced assimilation, it is integration through inquiry and choice.


Double Dutch
I am part of the double dutch community in West London, which is an amazing way to integrate the community. Sports like this bring people together. We have supported elderly people to jump in the ropes, children as young as 3, people who don’t ‘do’ sports and people of all shapes and sizes from all communities.

On a recent trip to Paris with the ‘Jump LDN’ team, we got held up in Calais for 7 hours. And to kill the time in the queue, we got out of the car and started up the double dutch in the car lanes and felt completely at home doing so.

Our group is completely diverse with people from all over the world. We all feel completely integrated and at home with each other, and in the ropes.

Perhaps this is what I want to say about integration, that it is about making people feel at home. Wherever they are. British tourists will rave about going travelling and how people from other countries welcomed them in their homes and to meet their families, shared with them if they had a little or a lot, showed them around. This is how we should think about integration. Home, welcome, compassion, curiosity, kindness. In the spirit of Ubuntu. Creating communities without borders - integration is an opportunity for connection and solutions, not assimilation, annihilation of the other.

Consider how you would want to integrate in moving to another culture and treat people in that way.

Final message: think before you act, person to person, community minded and politically minded. Do you know this person’s history? Do you know their current situation - economically or how they are living? Chances are that you don’t, so how can you judge/ point the finger at them and blame them?

It is as Chimananda Ngozi Adichie said that the problems with stereotypes of immigrants and of whole countries, or even continents (for example people describe Africa as a country) is that it only tells one story and not the whole.
I live in hope that we will create and build a more compassionate and less ignorant world.

These photos and accompanying writing were made as part of the Changing Lenses; London stories of Integration project. You can listen to my podcast for the project here:

Greetings, Londoners!
‘Ey up mi duck’ is East Midlands dialect. It means Hello and, like much English, is from the language of Vikings who settled here more than a thousand years ago.

Integration means many things

Battle of Cable Street, London, October 1936
The British Union of Fascists, led by Oswald Mosely, planned to celebrate its fourth birthday by marching  through Stepney, the centre of the Jewish East End, on 4 October, 1936.
Resistance by Jewish protesters, my family among them, was supported by Irish dockers, railway workers and the Communist Party. Protesters barricaded Cable Street and stopped the marchers.  The BUF was banned in 1940.

Mural at St George’s Town Hall, Cable Street, Tower Hamlets, completed 1987
Cable Street, London, November 2017

Bristol Bus Boycott, 1963
When the government-owned Bristol Omnibus Company refused to employ black bus drivers or conductors, Prince Brown, Owen Henry, Paul Stephenson, Guy Bailey and Roy Hackett led a successful four-month boycott.
Ragbir Singh became the first black conductor and the boycott leaders later received honours from the Queen.
The Race Relations Acts of 1965 and 1968 made the colour bar illegal.

Memorial plaque, Bristol bus station, Marlborough Street, unveiled 2014
Grunwick strike, London  1976-78
Immigrants continued to face housing and jobs discrimination in the 1970s.
Jayaben Desai led the long strike against low pay and poor working conditions at the Grunwick Film Processing Laboratory in  North London.
Workers in other sectors came out in direct support of the mostly female migrant workforce.  One of the longest strikes in British history, its anniversary is commemorated in 2018.

The Grunwick Mural in Chapter Road,
Willesden, unveiled 2017

Convoy to Calais, June 2016
The French government banned a convoy of vehicles from Britain from crossing the Channel to Calais. The vehicles contained essential goods. They had been donated for people living in a makeshift camp on the French side of the Channel, themselves refused permission to cross to Britain to have their asylum and immigration claims heard.
Convoy to Calais, Dover, June 2016 (photo of police)
British police enforced the ban.
In protest, the convoy demonstrated at the port of Dover and at the French embassy in London. The camp in Calais was later destroyed but the people remain, assisted by volunteers.

Credit: reprinted by permission. Ey Up Mi Duck! Scollins & Titford, Ilkeston (1979) Cover design by Richard Scollins

Wordcloud:  Borislav Marinic / Alamy Stock Vector

The way ahead
We come to this country with dreams, and ambitions. For so long I hoped to live here, that I didn’t realise that getting here is only but the beginning of the journey.
For so long I waited for a visa, status, papers. I forgot that permission to be here is only step one of having a life here.

One thought on intimacy and one on walking away
One second I want to settle in and the next I’m finding ways to go back home. One day Peckham feels like home, but the next I remind myself I am Mexican not British. At times I think I understand what British values are, just to realise that I cannot replace my culture with theirs. And so I try to integrate, to belong, to adopt, to understand. But deep down, every other second I resist, I remember and I hold on to the migrant inside me. A woman whose home is in Peckham one second and Mexico City the next, who regrets when she starts thinking in English and not Spanish, who hesitates when spending money on something other than tickets home. A Mexican woman who questions what sacrifice comes when choosing to belong.

Home
At first sight the city feels cold. Busy. Imposing. Dense. Something about it makes me feel isolated. Consumed by the rush, the shifts, the opportunities, the expositions. Running for that bus, competing for that job, catching that new show, prepping for that meeting. Somehow we all coexist, bushing shoulders all the time, so closely together and yet so far apart. The more opportunities to meet people, the less bothered we are to do so.
So many walls, so many fences, so many stereotypes, so many faces.

Inside these walls, beyond the stereotypes, past the fences and behind the faces we find ourselves. Deep inside the city we find warmth, stories, homes, people: people who dream, love and make room for us; not in their city, but in their lives.
It’s the people that lie behind the high walls and staggering schedules that make a space for us to find a place for ourselves. A home far away from home.

Ioanna
We come across people that remind us to be brave.
When I left home to live in a foreign country, to speak in a foreign language – and in all senses be a foreigner, I felt brave. But courage gives in as we get stuck in in life, work and the rush of keeping up with London.
Ioanna reminds me of what we are looking for, why I crossed an ocean to be here. How on top of all our initial dreams, suddenly belonging rises as a vital need I was never aware I had. And now I’m not just looking for a career, friendship and stability. Now I’m looking for something much deeper London made me realise I needed and was unable to grasp: a sense that I belong.

Links
Sometimes it takes something as primary as food to remind us that we all come from the same place. The same nature. That we are all but human. That we think, speak, cook, dance, dream, love, differently. But we don’t. We have more in common than we think, as we strip down to basics it becomes obvious. And once we realise that we are all linked together by being migrants, or women, or simply human; we don’t need to speak the same language, be the same age or have the same past to connect and coexist. Not only by surviving next to each other, but by actually living with each other.

These photos and accompanying writing were made as part of the Changing Lenses; London stories of Integration project. You can listen to my podcast for the project here:

These photos and accompanying writing were made as part of the Changing Lenses; London stories of Integration project. You can listen to my podcast for the project here:

Historic places are the identity and memories of cities.

These photos are from my home town. In 2015-2016 people had to flee from the historical city centre  - a UNESCO world heritage site. The thousand year old city's historic texture was destroyed or seriously damaged.

Now people are like immigrants in their own country. Many people are unemployed and homeless. They are not allowed to speak in their mother tongue and to protect their cultural values.

When people's reasons for living such as their memories, their cities, their history, their values are destroyed or prohibited, they choose to go abroad - particularly those who are educated. This brain drain reduces the quality of education within the country. Now the historical places are empty, ruined and banned with all the memories inside...

Children suffer the most in any conflict. What is destroyed is their future. But history will not be erased from their memories. It will always live with them. At the same time, children are beacons of hope in these dark days. They will bloom in the future. 

Yes, it is hard for immigrants to hold onto life and there are many obstacles for integration but it is not impossible because the sky is always there and it is still blue.

2.History will not be erased from our memories even if places are physically destroyed. 4413

3. The biggest witnesses of history are children. Because what is destroyed is their future. History will always live in their memories. Image 4411

4. Children are the sellers of hope in dark days. 4336

5. A long hopeful journey blooms with children. 4620

6.Enligtenment embraces you at the end of darkness. 3527 or 2372 ask Nez

7. The window of peace and hope smiles to the world. 3527 or 2372 ask Nez

These photos and accompanying writing were made as part of the Changing Lenses; London stories of Integration project. You can listen to my podcast for the project here:

“…not a flattening process…”
The definition of integration has changed beyond recognition from when it was first used. It is worth revisiting the term and its original meaning.  In 1966, Roy Jenkins said:
“I do not regard [integration] as meaning the loss, by immigrants, of their own national characteristics and culture. I do not think that we need in this country a ‘melting pot’, which will turn everybody out in a common mould, as one of a series of carbon copies of someone’s misplaced vision of the stereotyped Englishman…  I define integration, therefore, not as a flattening process of assimilation but as equal opportunity, accompanied by cultural diversity, in an atmosphere of mutual tolerance.”

Your move
Integration is a game of chess; never knowing what the other side is thinking but always having to second guess their next move before taking your next step. The recent uncertainty of Brexit and the ongoing precariousness of contract work means never being able to plan. How can we ‘integrate’ when there is no certainty? Why care about ‘belonging’ when people’s employment rights aren’t being respected and people live in ghettos?

Waiting for a Visa
We share a love of photography and met while we were both doing our PhDs. She is from Toronto, Canada and her parents hail from Syria and India originally. Despite our commonalities, our citizenship statuses separate us; she is between a student visa and a one year post doc visa and is currently in limbo, waiting for her passport to be marked by the appropriate stamp. She is unable to visit her family in Canada to celebrate her recent viva success.

Learning to integrate
A picture of my Wednesday morning class who I teach News Power & Politics – they interact and maybe ‘integrate’ through learning together and engaging in discussions about the media. In this class alone there are representatives from the Netherlands, Malaysia, Hong Kong, Taiwan and the UK. My only regret as I record their attendance is that international students’ visas are contingent on their attendance and by keeping the register I am their border guard as well as their teacher.

Final Resting Place
This is a picture of the Trent Park multi-faith cemetery in Cockfosters in north London. It is where I buried my father almost five years ago. By the time he died at the age of 82 he had lived just over half his life in the UK.  Even though there is a family burial plot in our village in Bangladesh, given that his only child lives in London he decided he wanted to be buried here. Besides, the country he left behind, to which he had once dreamed of returning, was no longer recognisable to him.

Paddington Station
This is my idea of integration. Everyone going about their merry business in this spectacular building, fusing old and new. Nobody is bothering anyone else but is free to interact should they wish to do so. No coercion, no obligation, a free open space of interaction and exchange or solitude.

Home Sweet Home
Home, a place of warmth and light where the beauty also emerges from the shadows. My migrant heritage and love of travel are reflected in all the nick knacks and bright colours. These mementoes of my travels and gifts from friends from far off places paradoxically make me feel more at home.

These photos and accompanying writing were made as part of the Changing Lenses; London stories of Integration project. You can listen to my podcast for the project here:

‘Self’ we are either forced or choose to move to another country or community. How does this unfamiliar environment with its mindsets about us, affect our opinions about ourselves and our ability to integrate - does our ‘self-talk’ change over time?  
Choosing the positive ‘self-talk’ rather than the negative.

Me
Intelligent
Gifted
Resilient
A Human Being
Native to earth
Tremendous

#M.I.G.R.A.N.T. – This label captures only a finite idea of who I know I am.

Part of and clearly identifiable – When drawn/pulled into our new environment, becoming part of it – are we expected to lose our culture, religion, language our whole self to be accepted? Would it make any difference if we did or would we still be treated as ‘them people’ because of the colour of our skin, the tone of our voice or whatever difference tickles the fancy of the prejudice?  

What I say to myself when I am blamed, targeted and freeze out because I am a migrant?
I could hide in the deepest darkest part of my soul and climb into the little cage they want me to build for myself.  But I choose not to. I walk into the light because I find friendship and support there. Then I sit looking up at the sky, remembering who I am - not who I was told I am.  Oh yes! I am remarkably and wonderfully made.

 
Targeted:  creating a malignant culture that intentionally erects barriers to prevent integration on one level or another.

  The ‘Hostile Environment’ – the inhumane barriers constructed to debilitate and scar individuals – blocking integration.

‘Community’

There are churches, charities, social groups – People who will stand with us, protest for us and support us when we are at our lowest and most desperate.  

A glimpse of humanity - Hate shouts loudest.  Love, Compassion and Support is always in abundance and it can come from the most unexpected people, places and communities.  This picture represents that humanity which should be found in a Christian country such as the UK.  But is it only found in the pockets of community and not the corridors of power?
(This picture is of a statue at St Martins in the Fields which was created by Chaim Stephenson - to remember all victims of injustice and violence in South Africa during the years of apartheid - dedicated by Archbishop Desmond Tutu in 1994.)

Volunteers  
Sunday ‘International Group’ a time of sharing a hot meal with individuals facing a challenging time of destitution and homelessness in London.  Providing access to laundry and showers, all made possible by the Connections at St Martins in the Fields.

‘Abstract’

Blurred vision: look closely… what do you see?
Is there a clear vision of what integration looks like for all involved? There are many ideas and opinions which make up the picture of what we imagine, but it’s not yet clear.

Under the street light one Sunday at dawn I saw - The Moon.  And you?  
“The moon does not fight. It attacks no one. It does not worry. It does not try to crush others. It keeps to its course, but by its very nature, it gently influences. What other body could pull an entire ocean from shore to shore? The moon is faithful to its nature and its power is never diminished.” - Ming-Dao Deng

These photos and accompanying writing were made as part of the Changing Lenses; London stories of Integration project. You can listen to my podcast for the project here:

What helps integration?

Human Rights – it is necessary for integration that we all have these basic rights, protection and freedoms.  As outlined in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and international covenants every individual should have these rights protected: including equality in law and in employment, and the right to vote.
Equality is ensuring individuals or groups of individuals are not treated differently or less favorably, on the basis of their specific protected characteristics, including areas of race, gender, disability, religion or belief, sexual orientation and age.

What helps integration?

Focus on kids and Mothers: Perhaps one of the most important areas to invest in is in our children and their future. People have a right to life and security, to a sustainable livelihood, to work, to be heard, to have an identity, to be able to join their family members and to have access to basic social services.

English language learning: English ability is possibly the most important indicator of level of immigrant integration, opening up job opportunities and allowing for engagement with education, healthcare and giving an overall sense of belonging. It is therefore essential that migrants have the possibility (access to ESOL, Library, time, money) to access English language learning.

Being allowed to study and having qualifications recognised at schools and Universities: Academic qualification is an essential requirement of a progressive and developing career which provides many opportunities to get promotions and effectively build one’s career. Moreover, academic qualifications could guarantee a prosperous and successful life by securing a good job and attractive salary packages. Therefore academic qualifications are of great importance to get ahead in the race of life.

Working together, NGOs and Volunteering: As a society we are a confederation of affiliates, seeking maximum impact by building on our respective strengths. By working together, we enhance our collective impact and cost effectiveness, and contribute to a just world without poverty.

Legal status and push for immigration reform: Government must play a critical role in debates on immigration reform. Living in the shadows without legal immigration status is one of the biggest barriers to integration. The fear of deportation, lack of ability to negotiate fair wages, or lack of access to services can squash any other integration efforts.

These photos and accompanying writing were made as part of the Changing Lenses; London stories of Integration project. You can listen to my podcast for the project here:

The airplane is a migration route for many immigrants from many nationalities. Every day they arrive at Heathrow airport near where I work. Each time when you see the airplane you remember where you come from and you see the clouds and dream of being back home. You remember the day you came.

Mo Farah is doing something for the community and he empowers the community. Migrants come with talents. Mo Farah shows by example that migrants can succeed, that migrants contribute in the country. He is Somali and grew up in Hounslow, where this image is from and where I work. He is a role model for youth in the area, but he speaks to all migrants not just the Somali community.

Migrants are contributing money and talents. If you say you don't need immigrants you miss what we also bring to this country.
Some migrants believe that there is no opportunity to invest and stay here. They may get their education and leave again. But I believe there is much to contribute and to gain by staying here.
My community from British Somaliland came to the UK as early as 1884. The first community were seamen but others came later to join the army and fought in WW1 and WW2. When they finished the war they went back home. If they had stayed and invested here it would have created more wealth.

At the organisation I am part of – Ilays – we held a mental health awareness meeting. We are learning how to do counselling for migrant communities – for those who have trauma, addiction, etc. There is a cultural mistrust of counselling and we are finding ways to learn how to show the benefit of it for the community we work with -especially migrants from East Africa. On this day the counsellor was visiting to check how we are doing.

This photo is inside the UK parliament. My colleague was presenting a petition for welcoming migrants to the UK. She also works as an outreach worker for Ilays and doing advocacy for the community. It is important for migrants to reach policy makers. They need advocacy but they don’t always reach the policy makers so politicians don’t see what are our needs are  including all kinds of issues other citizens also face such as better systems for day care, schools, etc.

This photo has two messages for me. The reflection of the sky that day reminded me of the sky back home which I miss. It is a clear sky with the same kinds of clouds like in Africa. The reflection looks like water. It is a special day where the weather looks like Africa.
Inside Sainsburys they have a food section for global foods -  lots of canned food and drinks from all over the world which many  go to buy because they have a good selection of foods from our countries.

Art from East Africa – handmade from wood with natural colours. When you see this you remember your country. It is a traditional African art which is made in several countries.

On 13 November 2017, Somaliland held its third presidential election whose electoral procedures were observed by an international election observation mission.
I was one of the Electoral observers. We were 60 people from the international community. We took an exam and test to become observers. It was important for me to take part because I want to give awareness of what is the meaning of democracy. We come from a dictatorship but we are starting new democracies and it is important to help it thrive. The election took place without election fraud. It was the first election in Africa where they checked  biometric ID.
If we start to have peaceful elections in Africa with no fraud it would lead to less conflicts and war.

Grenfell Tower: People who died here, most of them are migrants.
The way they built that building it is not a safe place, they didn’t have sprinklers and safe exits when you compare to Canada where I lived before.
The children, the families, so many people died. There is a great sadness.
The people in there complained before and no one listened.
As a community we contributed water, food and volunteered there. But there are still people in the area who feel trauma. I volunteered there and we did broadcasts in our community language to let them know what was happening.
Two people from our community lived there and only one of them survived.

The light – a sign of the beauty at the beginning of new life.
When you move to another place then you start a new life.
When you leave from a war for example and you start a new life you feel the new life is bright. You have hope.

These photos and accompanying writing were made as part of the Changing Lenses; London stories of Integration project. You can listen to my podcast for the project here:

Bridging the barriers in a global village
Integration converts barriers into opportunities that maximise and harmonise diverse people.
The passengers on the train, the bus, the drivers of these and the cars, all have different lives and experiences
but all enjoy the benefit of the bridge (integration) to their satisfaction at the same time.

 “Football creates the Team of the World”
The British premier league is the richest and most popular in the world. Footballers and supporters come from all over the world thus creating a form of global identity. Football brings people together, promoting communication and breaking the ice.

Barriers on London Bridge
These barriers, erected after the terrorist attack in 2017, stand as symbols of ideologies that hinder integration. Hence the need for everyone to be vigilant against divisive ideologies.

Rule of law as a value that promotes integration
Aluko - being a solicitor by profession besides being a professional footballer - used the legal system to fight the negative comments about her Nigerian heritage made about her by the powerful national women football team coach. Her knowledge of the system was very important since some of her team mates seem not to be on her side.

Institutions that support integration
Churches and other similar institutions promote integration as they provide one with a sense of belonging and a form of identity. Such institutions also provide space for “recuperating” for victims of exclusion.

Use of smile as a universal language
A smile is a two way interaction mechanism which even babies can use and understand. Sarah Menzies,  formerly of the Evelyn Oldfield Unit (EOU),  enabled me to “unfreeze” my  skills by endorsing  them, and  enabled me to acquire new skills and increase my social capital through applying my skills such as joining the Board of EOU. A welcoming gesture like a smile by a compassionate person like Sarah enables one to interact meaningfully with institutions in the receiving society.

Change is possible and can be immortalised
The Mandela statue reminds us that change is possible. He became a hero for spending 27 years in jail fighting for racial justice. He transformed himself - from being labelled a terrorist to a Nobel Peace Prize winner. Therefore with time we can all award ourselves Nobel prizes for our fight for integration.

These photos and accompanying writing were made as part of the Changing Lenses; London stories of Integration project. You can listen to my podcast for the project here:

Areej Osman
1.    What belongings do you bring & what do you leave behind?  (with photo of Scarf shadow)
2.    Mirror, glasses: Do you stay put inside the ‘migrant’ frame or you dare to be outside? Who draws the frame’s boarders’?
3.    Community is sharing the space, services and activities. Each person in a community has rights and obligations. (photos 3)
4.    Accessory maker from Peru!! Couldn’t decide between them!! 4b
5.    Migrants work hard and exchange experiences, knowledge & laughter Photo of 2 women (integration 5)
6.    How do you see yourself in the community and do you reflect on how others see you? 6b
7.    Spider web: Building up new relations/connections in your new home (photo 7)
Let's see the bright side of our different identities Shirt photo:
With love yet uneasiness from Peckham Integration 1 (Vietnamese lady)

'The Changing Lenses - London stories of integration' project ran 9 hands-on workshops where migrants, refugees, asylum seekers, and Britons explored the possibilities of photography, writing and podcasts to tell stories of integration from our perspectives. The 9 sessions aimed to:
 
·         Encourage creative expression through photography;
·         Develop practical introductory photography and writing skills;
·         Work on how to put words and images together to create a powerful message.
 
The workshops explored the subject of integration from many angles including what it means to us, what helps and hinder the process, the impact of negative debate and hate crime, and what creates a sense of belonging.

The project culminated in an exhibition of the produced work at The Guardian headquarters in London.

Anna Marsden

Listen to the full podcast here 

Two African migrants are in the dock after an incident on a bus.  They were picked up by the police on the basis of a description by the driver. But were they recognised by their faces – or by their ubiquitous T-shirts? Is it another example of that well-known crime: sitting in a park while black? Amanda Cooney unpicks the misconceptions, short cuts, misunderstandings and prejudices that can inexorably, agonisingly, turn flimsy shards of evidence into a life-wrecking prison sentence.  The drama is played out in an Italian courtroom but it could be France, Britain or any country where politicians are using migrants as universal scapegoats in an attempt to play on public frustrations and insecurities as a path to power.

Everyone is equal before the law - aren’t they?
A crucifix hangs on the wall. The courtroom is full of people coming and going, a blur of gowns, casual clothes, smart suits, plunging necklines. Clothes will be of key importance in this hearing. Those present – the handful of people in the public gallery, the local reporter, the witnesses in the dock, the judge and the accused – will hear plenty of polite-but-not-exactly-pressing questions about yellow T-shirts, blue shirts, Juventus tops, trainers, Colmar backpacks and other outfits. At times I find it difficult to follow. My eyes scan the room and rest on the inscription behind the judge’s chair: “La legge è uguale per tutti” (‘The law is equal for all’).  The crucifix makes me think of those old American films set in mid-west law courts where everyone swears on the bible. In God we trust. La giustizia bendata. And I fervently hope that Justice will be blind for a Muslim Gambian in this hot, provincial town rocked by recent events. 

Two bus drivers were attacked at 8.30pm on 5 June 2018 by a group of extracomunitari (code for black African immigrants and people of colour) / uomini di colore [black men] who apparently refused to show one of the drivers their tickets. Because, of course, everybody knows that in this Italy it is the extracomunitari who never buy bus tickets and think it is their God-given right to use public transport free of charge. Often this is true. Many don’t pay. And many Italians are exasperated. The law is the law. Especially when it comes to foreigners – the law is doubly the law then. This aggression by a group of black immigrants is seized on by the local and then the national press and the newly-installed Minister of the Interior, Matteo Salvini. 

Salvini, who in the past has said that he would turn the guns on migrant boats in the Mediterranean and would dump all migrants on the beach with a handful of nuts. He visits Como, and is snapped smiling warmly in solidarietà with, and hugging, the two injured bus conductors. He promises he will personally accompany one of the accused Gambians (who has a pending drug-pushing court case in Genoa) back on a plane to The Gambia.
 
The Gambian Muslim
Yusupha introduced me to the African version of Bob Marley. I, in turn (one good turn deserves another), thought I’d introduce him to Ed Sheeran, ‘cos I’m presumptuous like that. But, of course, he already knew Sheeran’s songs and would sing along as we mopped the floor after the migrants had eaten in the Caritas soup kitchen. He said he couldn’t live without music. Music was the one thing that kept him going, and like me, he was constantly plugged into his music. It helped him fall asleep. He came alive when he spoke about his child being cared for by his mother in The Gambia after the death of his young wife. Yusupha had earned the nickname ‘UK’ back home. I reckon he must have been hoping to get to the UK all his life with a nickname like that. During our voluntary work he would often speak with passion about the previous night’s football game and the matches he played with his fellow African migrants here in Como. Giorgia, a volunteer who knows him well describes him as un buonaccione (a gentle giant, who wouldn’t raise his hand to anybody). He’s a big, ebony-skinned, muscly guy. Just the kind who inspires fear among many in this sleepy town which has been predominantly white for just about forever, and looks back nostalgically to its rich, white past as a silk-producing powerhouse, and  times has a hostile stare for anything or anyone perceived as being different -  non ‘uno di noi’ (not ‘one of us’). Today at the trial, Yusupha’s wearing a yellow T-shirt.
 
The trial - 9am on 21 June 2018 
The witnesses for the prosecution:  the two bus drivers, the two arresting police officers and one bar owner who has CCTV footage of some black men on the bus where the aggression took place. The first bus driver, Pietro Lombardo, is questioned by the prosecution. He talks of a big group of extracomunitari who get on the bus, refuse to show him their ticket when he asks politely and go to the back of the bus. He refuses to drive until they show him their tickets – insults, swearwords, threatening physical behaviour. He calls the police. At this point they attack him physically – kicking and punching him to the ground. His colleague on another bus witnesses the scene and comes to the rescue, and is physically attacked in turn. As the police arrive, the Africans run off in the direction of the law court. By the court, the police immediately arrest two, who are identified by the bus drivers. Then, armed with a description of two other Africans, police squads go looking in i giardini al lago (the park by the lake) for the other assailants. The park is the African migrants’ abode – some push drugs, some gather in groups there because there is safety in numbers, and we all like what we know, and Como can be a hostile place for a black African man walking down the street. It is their meeting place. Their very presence scares a sizeable number of Comaschi who see in any black African a potential rapist, thief, drug pusher and your all-round average criminal. And many locals are finding it hard to deal with this influx of black migrants, who invariably are labelled clandestini by the more ardent and vocal Salvini & co supporters. The local right-wing government has promised to ‘clean’ the giardini al lago, and they are not referring to rubbish or litter. People – people have to disappear.  Police and carabinieri vans and cars patrol the giardini on a daily basis. Their presence is supposed to provide reassurance for il popolo. It fills me with unease. Local newspapers run articles with clickbait headlines such as ‘A way to get them out of Italy’ and ‘The situation ai giardini is improving - most of the migrants have disappeared.’ Whenever I go on my daily run or bike ride by the lake and see a black migrant I feel like taking a photo, posting it on social media and saying ‘Hey ... you missed a bit’ in some kind of cultural wink at a Ken Loach film where a mother taunts her street-cleaner daughter when she fails to pick up a piece of rubbish on the street. But that is such an obscure cultural reference that it would go over most people’s heads. The point is, people (clandestini, political asylum seekers, refugees, economic migrants and the rest of the human flotsam currently on the list of ‘undesirables’ in Italy) don’t just disappear – unless, of course, you want them to, and you make them disappear. But we’ve already been there in history, haven’t we? We’re not going back there again ...  are we?

More witnesses for the prosecution: The second policeman to take the witness stand states that he and his colleague were provided with a (less-than-detailed ... ) description of two African men: one with a yellow T-shirt and the other with a grey baseball cap. They walk towards a group of black men sitting on a bench by the replica locomotive train ai giardini. The group shows no signs of being agitated or flustered - Sono tranquilli. When the undercover police officer and his uniformed colleague (walking some distance away, apparently) approach the group, none of them tries to escape. The officers arrest Yusupha because he fits the description – as in, a black man wearing a yellow T-shirt – and his Gambian friend, Camara, who again fits the description – as in, black man wearing a grey hat. Well, sure they fit the bill, don’t they? Only problem is, the grey-hatted Gambian friend currently sitting in the dock alongside Yusupha had a bicycle with him. The bus driver recognises all four of the defendants as his aggressors. He turns round and with conviction clearly states that he recognises all four. When Yusupha’s defence lawyer asks if he recognises her client in particular, he says yes and that he was definitely the black man in the yellow T-shirt in the CCTV images. The lawyer then tries to ask the politically uncomfortable (let’s forget ‘incorrect’) question which is at the heart of this trial – ‘Lei riesce a riconoscere le......... fattenza.......?’ (‘Are you able to recognise the features......?’). Her voice trails off. She says the word ‘features’ delicately, almost inaudibly. In a whisper. The judge interrupts with a loud and decisive: ‘Non ammetto la domanda!’ (‘The question is not allowed’). Post-trial, the lawyer admits to me that even she would find it difficult to distinguish one black man from another. And I admit to myself that, at times, I do too. 
To cut a long and at times tedious legal story short, the witnesses for the prosecution all lend weight to the idea that the four accused were present at the aggression, took an active part, ran off, were clearly recognised and subsequently identified by the two victims. The air in the court suddenly becomes heavy and irrespirabile – (as though you can’t breathe).

The witnesses for the defence: 
Witness No.1: a priest – Alessandro Zanti, in charge of a casa famiglia which hosts Salifa Camara, the other Gambian in the dock. During examination by the defence, it comes out that Camara always travelled by bicycle, and the African guests at la casa were given tickets by the casa if they ever needed to take the bus. Camara did not come home in time on 5 June for the weekly meeting in the casa famiglia. The prosecuting lawyer seizes upon this as if it were a vitally important piece of condemning evidence. And I think to myself, Is it a crime for a young Muslim to want to be with his friends in Como at 8.30pm on a Tuesday during Ramadan rather than at a Catholic meeting in Blevio?      

Witness No.2  for the defence:  Marco Nardini, an unemployed guest at the casa famiglia in Blevio, states that he saw Salifa Camara in the casa until 4.30pm when the defendant left on his bike. His bike.  Bike. A two-wheeled mode of transport. Not often used in conjunction with a bus. Again the prosecuting lawyer tries to make an issue out of the fact that Camara did not return at 7.30pm for the meeting. Nardini points out that guests are under no obligation to attend such meetings. The lawyer insists and seizes on the fact that the accused did not let anyone know he would not be coming back until late. Yeah. Like every single 20-odd- year-old I know. The defence lawyer makes the meek observation that it was Ramadan at the time. Again, the judge intervenes with another ‘Non ammetto la domanda!'  Ramadan, when Muslim brothers and sisters (there are few sisters here for the sub-Saharan African Muslims) meet to eat at sunset after a whole day of fasting. Sunset 5 June 2018 – 9.08pm. Non ammissibile.

Witness No.3: Laura Brombin, a volunteer with Como Accoglie. On the night of 5 June Brombin leaves Rebbio to go to the main local train station, Stazione San Giovanni. She arrives at 8.45pm. She knows the precise time because she gets a call from her partner and notices what time the call ends: 8.47pm. She turns around and sees Yusupha, who she knows well because of her voluntary work. 

‘Ciao Yusupha, cosa fai in bici?’ (‘Hi Yusupha, what are you doing with a bike?’)

‘è di mio amico.’ (‘It’s my friend’s’) 

The conversation carries on. Laura asks if he has eaten yet, seeing as it’s Ramadan. Yusupha explains that he is going to buy some food and meet up with his friends to eat in the park.  Laura and Yusupha then part ways.

Witness No.4 for the defence: a 25-year-old Gambian who speaks little Italian. The interpreter is called. She has had an easy job so far this morning, seeing as she has not translated one single word as the four defendants have all stated (when asked) that they are able to follow the trial in Italian. I'm not so sure this is true - legalese is difficult enough in your own language and downright impossible to follow in a language you are not yet fluent in. After several stumbling, misunderstood attempts at relaying the judge’s questions, the Gambian decides to take matters into his own hands and answers the questions in his basic Italian. The interpreter’s translating skills are no longer needed. When questioned, he states that he knows the two Gambians in the dock well, that they were all together at the lake to celebrate Ramadan, that the police arrived at around 9pm, and previous to that they had bought food at Carrefour by the lake.

Colpo di scena (A dramatic turn of events)
One of the two Nigerian defendants raises his hand.  He wants to make a statement. He goes to the witness stand and in his basic Italian states that Yusupha was not the man in the yellow T-shirt, that ‘non ha spaccato Yusupha.’ (‘Yusupha did not beat up the bus drivers’).  He gives the name of the real culprit: His words are almost indecipherable – It was ‘Jus / Chuse / Jazz’.    

The air becomes less heavy. I begin to breathe.

Next hearing - 2 July.  The modern newfangled handcuffs go back on. Yusupha makes it in time to raise his hand in a salute and smiles in our direction.  Francesca – another volunteer who knows Yusupha well - starts to cry. ‘Don’t cry, Francesca. Don’t cry.’ Tears aren’t going to help right now. Yusupha doesn’t need tears. He needs justice.

The hearing – 2 July - The Judge’s Decision: The Verdict       
In nome della Repubblica Italiana the judge finds all four defendants guilty as charged.  The Nigerian defendant who asked for il rito abbreviato (‘shortened proceedings’) receives a 14-month prison sentence, while the other three accused are found guilty with ‘aggravanti’ (aggravating factors) (including interrupting a public bus service, and resisting arrest) and receive 21-month sentences.  The judge orders an investigation into the two witnesses for the defence, who are charged with false testimony. The newfangled handcuffs go back on and Yusupha and Salifa are quickly led away to be bundled into the police vans and taken back to prison.  
During the hearing, an unidentified man walks confidently around the courtroom, chatting in familiar and friendly terms to the prosecutor and the defence team. He boasts of serving more than 20 years in the police force in Como. The day after the verdict, the local newspaper reports that the Minister Salvini, was being constantly updated about the proceedings by both the Procura and the Questura (the local police).  Members of the local government (the right-wing mayor, Landriscina, and the Lega MP and deputy mayor, Alessandra Locatelli) express their satisfaction with the outcome of the trial. Locatelli gives a statement to the local newspaper, La Provincia di Como:  ’Meno male, sono molto contenta che la giustizia abbia fatto il suo percorso’ (‘Thank Goodness. I am so happy that justice has been done’),  and talks of the need for further exemplary punishments as an effective deterrent, and hopes all illegal immigrants will be deported as soon as possible. Local Facebook is awash with the usual vitriol against immigrants:
‘I hope they throw away the key. They should rot in prison in their own country’
‘Well done, Salvini. Carry on like this.’
‘Not in prison but out of Italy, a casa loro. They’re living the high life in our Italian prisons – bed and board, wages, lights, gas, no rent to pay .... a casa loro!’    
During the trial, one of the defence lawyers politely and rather meekly suggests that there might have been anomalies in the police methods used to identify the aggressors that could, under more normal circumstances, be considered contaminated evidence. The victims were shown photos of six African immigrants, including two of the Nigerians already in police custody. This meant that identification of the other two assailants was based on just four photos of African males: one of Yusupha in a yellow T-shirt, and one of Salifa wearing his grey hat, and two photos of African men dressed in a completely different way to the men who took part in the physical attack on the bus drivers.  Salifa’s lawyer suggests this might have led the victims to identify the T-shirts and not the faces of the aggressors. Yet such anomalies fade into the background and get lost in the overwhelmingly triumphant applause for a verdict which seems to please many and bother very few.   
The night of the verdict I go for a walk near the lake. Temperatures have soared into the mid-30s. Humidity levels are up and the mosquitoes feast on my sweating, damp skin. The air has become heavy again. Heavy and irrespirabile.  I’m finding it hard to breathe. When Francesca hears the news, she cries down the phone. I have no words of comfort or hope for her this time. Unlike Locatelli, non credo che la giustizia abbia fatto il suo percorso (I don't believe justice has been done) and I have some serious doubts that la giustizia è bendata (justice is blind) for a black asylum seeker in Como, Italy in 2018.                                        

Postscript / update:
The day after the verdict, I posted a ‘protest’ post in Italian and English on Facebook which I would go on to post every single day for 56 days:
e.g.: Facebook post 23 July 2018 
……Day 48 in prison.
For being black and wearing a yellow t-shirt.
Reminder: Lady Justice should be blindfolded.
‘All are equal before the law and are entitled without any discrimination to equal protection of the law.’ (Article 7 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights)
“The rule of law should be upheld above all for your enemy so that should it ever be the case, you can be sure the same rule of law will be applied for you. If we do not uphold the rule of law, what will happen to you if you are the accused.” (Quote from Roberto Rallo – lawyer and ex-member of centre-right local govt in Como. Taken from an interview by local journalist Paolo Moretti in La Provincia di Como 4 July 2018)       ……
56 days are the number of days Yusupha was held in prison.

On the 56th day of his incarceration, a week after Salifu Camera, he was finally released and put under house arrest. In the eyes of Italian law, he is still considered guilty of affray and will still have to complete a 21 month sentence despite the lack of any real evidence that he was on the bus or took part in the physical assault on the bus drivers. 

His lawyer is taking his case to il corto d’appello (the court of appeal) in Milan, and is hopeful that he will be found innocent. Many involved in this case admit that the motives behind the verdict are clearly political – two black African immigrants were wearing the wrong colour clothes, on the wrong day, in the wrong political climate. Very few are prepared to openly voice this privately held opinion. The reasons given by the judge for her decision were released on 25 July and outlined in the local newspaper, La Provincia, and are as follows:
-‘Il fatto che non si vede il Ceesay non esclude certamente la sua presenza sul bus’ (The fact that Ceesay cannot be seen in the CCTV film coverage in no way excludes the fact that he could have been on the bus.)
-‘Non si comprende come la teste faccia a ricordare esattamente la tempistica dell’incontro e della telefonata’ (It is impossibile to understand how the witness for the defence can remember the exact timing of her meeting with Yusupha and her phone call).   
            
It is interesting to note that no reference was made in the judge’s written report to the Gambian witness' version of events or to the Nigerian defendant’s spontaneous admission during the trial of 21 June that Yusupha was not on the bus.  The judge also used a legal technicality – recommending the two witnesses for the defence be investigated for perjury rather than declaring their witness accounts unreliable. By so doing, these two fundamental and key witness accounts for the defence most probably cannot be used in the corto d’appello trial in Milan as appeal judges usually consider such evidence ‘contaminate’ (contaminated).    

The day before Yusupha’s release from prison, a local charity group called ComoAccoglie (Como Welcomes) which works with the homeless, held a protest in one of the main piazzas in town. Around 30 like-minded people wore yellow tee-shirts and wrote messages of support and solidarity for Yusupha on yellow postcards.  A couple of days later, a local far-right group called ‘Como per i Comaschi’  (Como for the Comaschi) suggested we should all be imprisoned for instigation to commit a crime. Local FB again was awash with the usual vitriol but this time against, ‘i radical chic’ bleeding hearted do-gooders. In response to a comment I posted, I received strongly offensive comments targeting me directly.

I will admit to feeling a bit isolated during this whole Yusupha ‘case’. I tried to get numerous local journalists, social media influencers etc on board but was usually met with a polite ‘thanks but no thanks’ or complete silence. Not once, however, did I ever feel as isolated as Yusupha must have felt. 
And the good news is there are some really good people out there who worked extremely hard to get Yusupha and Salifu out of prison – from the local watchdog for migrants’ rights group to their legal teams to local charity groups who work with migrants. And despite the vitriol and the social media and real life disapproval we met with – especially from the local establishment whose feathers were decidedly ruffled, I feel that it was all worth it. however much of a price there is to pay for standing up social justice or human rights, it is a price worth paying.  I answer to no-one but my conscience. What counts is getting justice for Yusupha.               

Newspaper article in La Provincia the day Yusupha was released from prison and placed under house arrest - https://www.laprovinciadicomo.it/stories/como-citta/comonon-era-sul-bus-dellaggressioneil-giudice-concede-i-domiciliari_1285969_11/    

On 7 June 2018, Migrant Voice presented a selection of photographs by 28 Glasgow-based participants from 25 countries, charting the newcomers' and host communities' experiences of settling into Glasgow life.

This exhibition was the culmination of our ‘Changing Lenses, Glasgow stories of integration’ project which brought communities together to explore integration and created shared messages to build stronger communities.

The 28 participants shared their diverse experiences as refugees, asylum seekers, workers, international students and host community members, working together to contribute a huge range of skills and talents that culminated in this exhibition of many different perspectives, views and voices.

'When I first heard I was being moved to Glasgow I was sad and worried - people told me that Scotland was very cold and not a good place to move to. But when I arrived in Glasgow I knew it was fantastic. The first person I met was a cab driver at Central Station - he was a really nice guy, with lots of passion’ Solomon Bright Adebayo

'My family has been chased away by adversity in different parts of the world… Somewhere along the line I wound up bearing a strongly Scottish-originating family name, so my present situation here in Scotland could be seen as, why not, the destined completion of a loop. Glasgow is the home of a family that hosted my great grandfather as a refugee' Ella Campbell

Migrant Voice Director Nazek Ramadan said: “It is always encouraging to hear from the highest political level in Scotland that migrants are welcome and play an important role in the future of Scotland. This makes a real difference to migrants making Scotland their home and feeling part of the community. This was reflected in the relationships built throughout our project, which brought Glaswegians new and old together.”

Watch the video from the launch event here 

Continued from..  A diary of a Migrant…Part 1  and Part 2

…. Days went by without any kind of tensions or unpleasantness, while I was still staying with my first host family. My work experience continued to go well and my French was also improving considerably. I was certainly getting confident in interacting with others. Somehow, I felt I was becoming part of this family now. However, it seemed almost inevitable to avoid individual who created a hostile situation. 

One particular lady in that family seemed to be on my back most of the time. In a way I felt undermined, it created a threat – not physically of course but mentally. She reminded me of some of those formidable characters I have known in life, whether some of my own family members or previous work colleagues and bosses, who seemed to despise whatever I did. This lady kindled those unpleasant memories and situations which had made me struggle throughout my childhood and adulthood life. 

As a result, she made me feel uncomfortable and hopeless in spite of other’s reassurances not to take any notice of her actions. Without those individuals in the family who respected and accepted me as I was, the journey would have been arduous indeed. Their support and understanding gave me courage to continue and remain strong. I was relieved that it was not only me, who thought of her as cruel.  

I was often asked to help out in tasks around the house, and for this particular lady my efforts were not commended. I wondered if I was doing something wrong, or if it was merely because I was a foreigner! Looking for an answer occupied my mind. “Were these mind games an essential part of my stay, or was it perhaps a challenge to help make me more resilient in dealing with other people or situations?” I asked myself.

I do analyse things way too much, which often makes me miserable. Disappointment, or rather seeing the true side of illusions, often becomes fairly evident when one reflects and analyses matters in detail. This tendency towards reflection might be considered a strength by others, yet it contributed but to my own unhappiness. 

Moreover, I felt lonely and it was hard to make friends similar to my age or at least closer to my way of thinking. Although I often met relatives and friends of that family, we didn’t share many things in common. Nonetheless it was a good practice for my French. 

One day I made up my mind and started searching online for another host family. I wanted to have a second go or perhaps give myself the opportunity of experiencing a different environment or a different mentality. “Perhaps I will be happier with the other family - they will be more accepting and I won’t need to experience any further nastiness” I thought. A few days later, I received a reply from one family who happened to live in a nearby town. The invitation was to spend a week with them at first to see how things went and then take it from there. The offer seemed fair enough for both parties. However, I couldn’t possibly tell the family I was staying with of my motives – I didn’t want to lose my place and myself on the street, in case this new adventure didn’t work out. 

Due to my financial restrictions having a bad choice was better than none! Hence, I made up a story that I needed a short break to relax and also to visit an old friend. I only took the most essential stuff that I needed for a week and took off …

There are many ways to become an “undocumented migrant” in the UK and their exact number is unclear. Studies have guesstimated the total at between 417,000 and 863,000.

Their status makes them vulnerable to exploitation by bosses, landlords and money-lenders, and to sexual exploitation.

A variety of circumstances can cause people to fall into the undocumented category.

Because people fleeing their country in search of asylum often find there are no legal routes to safe countries, they may enter the UK illegally, even though it is legal to claim asylum.

Others arrive on a valid visa but overstay or find they cannot continue their immigration status legally - sometimes due to bureaucracy or circumstances beyond their control.

Then there are students whose colleges shut down and who do not have enough money to secure admission to another college in time and so become over-stayers.

Victims of trafficking may become over-stayers because they are given bad advice by solicitors.

Though the undocumented face a daily struggle for survival they do not stand up for their rights for fear that their employers will retaliate by calling the police or immigration officers to detain or deport them. It’s the same if they are victims of crime.

This well-founded nervousness heightens their sense of helplessness and vulnerability. They are trapped, and can easily become overwhelmed by frustration, anxiety and depression.

They are often subjected to abuse and exploitation by people motived by racism, prejudice and bigotry. Sadly,they may be exploited by people from their country of origin - and even by other undocumented people who see an opportunity for blackmail.

The commonest form of exploitation is in the workplace where they face lower pay than documented colleagues, unsafe working conditions, dismissal without wages and pressure to work longer hours for little additional money. They have no choice but to work for less pay and cannot raise grievances with their employers because they are frightened of losing their meagre income or being sent back to their home country after spending time, without a time-limit, in a detention centre.

* Take Choudhry: he entered the UK on student visa on 1 January 2005 and completed a computer science diploma in 2007. Two years later he passed some of the exams needed to become an accountant but returned to Pakistan to look after his ailing mother. She died in 2010, after which he came back to UK.
He completed an MBA in 2012 and was allowed to stay until 2015. His subsequent application for indefinite leave to remain was refused.

He is now a visa over-stayer and is undocumented, and is struggling to regularise his status. His chances are not high because he spent a few months out of the country when his mother was ill and he was the only son who could care for her. Since he was unable to maintain the continuity of immigration status, he could not come back to UK within the stipulated period. He lives a hand-to-mouth existence, working through different agents on a low rate of pay. *

The principle of safeguarding decent and fair working conditions for all workers, including domestic and undocumented workers, is well-established in international law. The principle needs to be fully implemented so that undocumented migrants do not face inequity, unfairness and injustice.

 Resources and links

Your options if you're in the UK illegally
Housing rights information for people who are destitute 
Undocumented migrants: maternity rights and benefits
Irregular Migration in the UK
How to improve support and services for destitute migrants 
'Pregnant women without legal status 'too afraid to seek NHS care'

Sometimes you are struck by inspirational acts by individuals and it makes you see what’s possible.

Last weekend I came out to cheer the 11 individuals running in the Hackney Half marathon in London to raise funds for medical supplies for hospitals in Afrin and other Kurdish parts of Syria (Rojava). 

They group of mainly Kurdish migrants from Turkey ran in solidarity with other Kurds and to support Re-build, an organisation working to help victims of conflict and natural disasters by assisting with the reconstruction of infrastructure and rebuilding of livelihoods.

Approximately 20,000 people took part in the marathon for various charities.  

It was amazing to see the great support from the Hackney community with thousands of people on the streets applauding and cheering for the runners. This enthusiasm added to make it a very meaningful event, and accompanied by the warm weather it was a great day out.

Those who ran for the Re-build team raised £10,000. The money will be used specifically to buy orthopaedic equipment to treat the wounds of people who were injured during the war in north Syria. 

The runners showed that no matter where you are there is always something everyone can do to support war victims and raise awareness on this issue. 

I want to give thanks to Re-build for this solidarity campaign that is a door of hope for peace, freedom and humanity.

The future will be enlightened by good people like those who ran for the great cause including Evin Zengin, Esra Turk, Zeynep Kurban, Aladdin Sinayic, Kemal Kocadag, Veronica Okten, Peymen Heydarian, Rojda Sipan, Sanya Karakas, Serkan Poyraz, and Anita Candogan.

This is part one of a diary of a migrant – written by a migrant to the UK about his time living abroad in France and Germany. We will regularly publish new instalments of the diary. 

It was almost 8pm when I looked at my watch, and as I boarded the Stansted Express heading back to central London, moments of serenity and peace prevailed for the first time in months. 
After spending some time in France doing work experience, I once again felt that sense of security that London offered. It seemed funny but it was almost like a feeling when a little child is embraced by his mother feeling the warmth and security. 

As the train made its way to London, I silently watched the racing trees and houses through the window. Memories of my recent experience flashed back in a form of photo slides, recalling the various situations where I felt uncomfortable or rather amused by the French mentality, the culture or the people in general.

I always go with the rule of “never generalise”, yet often in life this rule does not apply or if it does it has a limit. In fact, staying in France was an eye-opening experience. It was not merely a culture shock for me but it was sometimes challenging for me to witness the differences in attitude, behaviour or way of thinking in a country that lies just across the English Channel. 

One experience I had in France was with a fellow train passenger, as we exchanged a few words after he enquired about the time. He was from Marseille but lived in Paris and was on his way to visit his daughter, who happened to live in the South of France. “I have never been to Marseille, is it nice” I said, to which he replied “It’s beautiful but there is a lot of Arabs there; I am not racist, it’s cool showing his thumbs up; I have no problem but there is a lot of them there” he added. This was the first hint I got of how some if not most French people I met perceive migrants or ethnic minorities living in France especially if they were Muslims. Migrants with such a background were frowned upon and were considered unworthy. Their attitudes almost seemed to me like the thinking behind the Indian Caste System, but in fact we are in Europe.

Behind this man’s cool statement, I sensed deep layers of racism, discrimination, inequality and not accepting the other. Obviously, I didn’t comment on what he had said, and after a moment of pondering it, I did not want to give him the privilege of having an inflamed debate. I simply was not here to impose my ideas let alone implement them although I had the right to express them. However, in certain situations, where racial discrimination is involved, the consequences of such debates could get quite dire indeed. In this scenario, silence is an act of wisdom as fools are not meant to be argued with. 

The journey back to London went on and I looked at my watch again. Time seemed to move forward like a snail. I admired the magnificent sceneries of the French countryside that went by; at least that was something to give me solace… 
to be continued….

1. I will arise
Even if the welcome is awkward and cushioned in curses
I will not succumb to the thorns that owns no authority
From the noise that is mere nonsense to the air that carries nothing
I will not be swallowed by the media that fail to feed its fat cats
I will still arise against all odds as an odourless asylum seeker
 
From the beacon of Calais to the Mediterranean Sea
I will not be washed by the man made sea-weeds
From the barbaric barbed wires that wash sanity
To the boundaries that give birth to them and us
I will not bow to the barriers that never bury insanity
I will still rise in the midst of ashes that are not ashamed
 
From the undigested Geneva Convention
To the asylum policy that alarm police
I will not resist the insistence to seek sanctuary
I will cling under the curtain of protection
Fixing my eyes and hope that miscarriage of justice
Is not within the proximity of Geneva Convention
Still I will arise even if I am rejected again and again.
 
 
2. Freedom
Freedom, you are so dear to me
Even my appetite see your dead vision
You are so far from my sofa
Whereas miscarriages of justice sit next to me
 
Common sense stand no more chances
As no more chances stand in my way
I am frequently reaching out your umbilical chords
Yet I am soaked in injections of injustice
 
My movements are no more free steps
As each step is an inch of torture upon persecutions
Where arbitrary arrests reside in permanent residence
Which only proves that chains of slavery are still alive

Until very recently, Turkish nationals had the right to start a business in the UK with the ability to settle after four years of continuous residence. Visa holders were initially granted a one-year visa. They could then apply for a three-year extension, at the end of which they were eligible for settlement.

On 16 March 2018 the Home Office announced that it will no longer accept settlement applications made under this category, with immediate effect. The changes apply to those already in the category — there's no cut-off date and no transitional arrangements have been made.

This has been a huge shock to the roughly 12,500 Turkish migrants currently in this category, including myself. We all made huge life changes to come here. People sold their houses, interrupted their children’s education and moved their businesses with the expectation that they could be settled in four years’ time. We even have official letters from the Home Office confirming the date we’re eligible to apply for settlement. But the rules have been changed overnight with no notice, and settlement applications are no longer being accepted. Unlike other visa categories, there’s no transition period. We are now in a state of limbo. 

Up until the morning of 16 March I was planning on applying for settlement in May this year. Having lived in the UK on various temporary visas for almost 10 years, I was looking forward to finally setting down roots, for everything being more permanent, less transient. I was thinking about expanding my business, diversifying my work, maybe getting a mortgage and adopting a cat. All of these plans have now been postponed indefinitely. 

When my current visa expires in May, I’ll have to apply for another three-year extension — whether or not I’ll ever be able to settle permanently, and when, remains a mystery. Any trust I had in the system is gone. 

I believe that applying these changes retrospectively to existing visa holders is extremely unfair. So I started a solidarity group for the people affected. Within two weeks, over 500 people joined. 

There’s a wide range of members from all sorts of backgrounds, and together we are raising awareness of what’s happened and trying to challenge it. We have contacted MPs. We have written to media outlets. We got in touch with NGOs and other migrant groups. We are very aware that many different migrant communities’ issues are all interconnected and we must speak out together.

This week we launched a crowdfunder to help us challenge these unfair changes. In just two days, we managed to hit 90 per cent of our target. The support from our community has been amazing, and we’ve even had donations from complete strangers who just wanted to add their voice to our cause. This crowdfunder is only the first step and we will need to raise a huge amount of money at the next stage, but we’re confident we’ll get there. 

These changes have revived our community and brought people together in a spirit of solidarity like never before.

You too can stand with us by emailing your MP and asking them to raise this – let’s tell the Home Office we will not stand for unfair immigration policies.  

It is 100 years since British women won the right to vote. Few know that members and leaders of campaign groups included women and men of migrant heritage, from Germany to the USA, from Guyana to Australia.

When plans to deliver a petition to Parliament on women’s suffrage were drawn up in 1866, signatures were collected at Aubrey House, a centre of radical thought in London. The signatories included Harriet Martineau, a descendant of Huguenot refugees from France whose popular writings condemned slavery and the inequality of women. 

Another signatory was Sarah Parker Remond, a free African-American from Massachusetts, who made her first speech on abolition at the age of 16. Sent on a speaking tour of Britain by the American Anti-Slavery Society, she addressed large audiences on emancipation and women’s inequality. She studied in London and became a British citizen before leaving to become a doctor in Italy.

The young Emmeline Pankhurst, leader of the Suffragettes, whose mother was from the Isle of Man, was inspired when she heard another visitor to Aubrey House, Lydia Becker, speaking in Manchester. Becker was the granddaughter of a German textile manufacturer. She was a botanist and corresponded with Charles Darwin yet, as a woman, was excluded from joining or speaking at meetings of scientific organisations.  Becker founded the Manchester National Society for Women’s Suffrage in 1867. Her speeches in the Isle of Man led to the Tynwald becoming in 1881 the world’s first national parliament to give women the right to vote in a general election.

Pankhurst was succeeded as president of the Committee of the Suffragette Fellowship by Princess Sophia Duleep Singh, a daughter of the last Maharajah of Punjab and his German-Abyssinian wife. Her godmother was Queen Victoria, an opponent of women’s suffrage.  Singh became increasingly radical after seeing colonial rule in India and meeting leaders of the Independence movement. In November 1910 she was part of a deputation to the Prime Minister on so-called Black Friday when many women assaulted by the police.  

Like many suffragettes, Singh was also an active member of the Women’s Tax-Resistance League (“No Vote No Tax”) and saw her property seized and sold. The League was the idea of Dora Montefiore, an Anglo-Australian who became a suffragette after her husband’s death when told she had no automatic right to be guardian to her own children. In an era before air travel, she became a suffrage campaigner on two continents. She hosted the first meeting of the Womanhood Suffrage League of New South Wales in Sydney in 1891 and was a cofounder of the first London branch of the Women’s Social and Political Union in 1903.  

Another Australian, Muriel Matters was, according to the blue plaque on her home in Hastings, the first woman to speak in the House of Commons. Matters was an actor and journalist from South Australia where women had won the vote in 1894. In 1908 she chained herself to the cage in front of the Ladies’ Gallery in Parliament and made a loud speech critical of MPs. After her chains were filed off, Matters was imprisoned for again demonstrating outside Parliament. The following year she made world headlines when she flew over London, leafleting from an airship emblazoned ‘Votes for Women.’

Suffragettes in prison were not treated as political prisoners.  In protest, many went on hunger strike.  The government decreed they should be force-fed in a process that was tantamount to torture, leaving some with permanent injuries and damage to physical or mental health. By the time she left prison in 1914, music hall artiste Kitty Marion had been force-fed 232 times. Born Katherine Marie Schäfer, Marion had fled Germany and a violent home only to find herself the victim of sexual harassment by theatrical agents and managers in London.

She campaigned for theatrical agents to be licensed and helped set up the Actresses’ Franchise League. She smashed windows in the West End and burned down the home of an MP and the grandstand at Hurst Park racecourse. When the First World War broke out, Marion was falsely accused of being a German spy. She emigrated again, this time to New York. There she campaigned for birth control, helped open the first contraceptive clinic – and was again imprisoned for her activism. 

After her time in prison, Emmeline Pankhurst was nursed back to health at the house of Hertha Ayrton, another Black Friday delegate. Ayrton was born Phoebe Sara Marks. Her father, a Jewish clockmaker, had fled Tsarist persecution in Poland. Ayrton’s widowed mother Alice was poor but she and her sister, a teacher, were determined Ayrton would receive an education. Ayrton read maths at Girton College, Cambridge and became a physicist and inventor. She was the first female member of the Institution of Electrical Engineers though, as a married woman, was refused membership by the Royal Society. In 1914 Ayrton helped form the United Suffragists of which she and her daughter Barbara, later a London MP, were officers.

The Irish Constance Markiewicz became the first woman MP in 1918 but, like other Sinn Féin members, refused to take her seat at Westminster. United States-born Nancy Astor was the first woman MP in 1919. Ironically, Astor had not supported the women’s suffrage campaign unlike Britain’s first – male – Indian MP, Dadabhai Naoroji, a council member of the Women’s Franchise League.

Another male supporter, Prussian political refugee Dr Louis Borchardt, hosted the Manchester meeting where Lydia Becker had inspired Emmeline Pankhurst. Israel Zangwill, son of immigrants from Latvia and Poland and author of the play The Melting Pot, married Hertha Ayrton’s stepdaughter Edith.  They became members of the Jewish League for Woman Suffrage.

Donald Adolphus Brown, a foreman at the Royal Arsenal in Woolwich and son of a freed slave from Guyana, was married to Adelaide Knight, a prominent London suffragette imprisoned after Black Friday. The couple were socialists and joined the Adult Suffrage League where they continued to campaign for suffrage for all adults, an aim finally achieved in 1928. 
 

There are many ways to become an “undocumented migrant” in the UK and their exact number is unclear. Studies have guesstimated the total at between 417,000 and 863,000.

Their status makes them vulnerable to exploitation by bosses, landlords and money-lenders, and to sexual exploitation.

A variety of circumstances can cause people to fall into the undocumented category.

Because people fleeing their country in search of asylum often find there are no legal routes to safe countries, they may enter the UK illegally, even though it is legal to claim asylum.

Others arrive on a valid visa but overstay or find they cannot continue their immigration status legally - sometimes due to bureaucracy or circumstances beyond their control.

Then there are students whose colleges shut down and who do not have enough money to secure admission to another college in time and so become over-stayers.

Victims of trafficking may become over-stayers because they are given bad advice by solicitors.

Though the undocumented face a daily struggle for survival they do not stand up for their rights for fear that their employers will retaliate by calling the police or immigration officers to detain or deport them. It’s the same if they are victims of crime.

This well-founded nervousness heightens their sense of helplessness and vulnerability. They are trapped, and can easily become overwhelmed by frustration, anxiety and depression.

They are often subjected to abuse and exploitation by people motived by racism, prejudice and bigotry. Sadly,they may be exploited by people from their country of origin - and even by other undocumented people who see an opportunity for blackmail.

The commonest form of exploitation is in the workplace where they face lower pay than documented colleagues, unsafe working conditions, dismissal without wages and pressure to work longer hours for little additional money. They have no choice but to work for less pay and cannot raise grievances with their employers because they are frightened of losing their meagre income or being sent back to their home country after spending time, without a time-limit, in a detention centre.

* Take Choudhry: he entered the UK on student visa on 1 January 2005 and completed a computer science diploma in 2007. Two years later he passed some of the exams needed to become an accountant but returned to Pakistan to look after his ailing mother. She died in 2010, after which he came back to UK.
He completed an MBA in 2012 and was allowed to stay until 2015. His subsequent application for indefinite leave to remain was refused.

He is now a visa over-stayer and is undocumented, and is struggling to regularise his status. His chances are not high because he spent a few months out of the country when his mother was ill and he was the only son who could care for her. Since he was unable to maintain the continuity of immigration status, he could not come back to UK within the stipulated period. He lives a hand-to-mouth existence, working through different agents on a low rate of pay. *

The principle of safeguarding decent and fair working conditions for all workers, including domestic and undocumented workers, is well-established in international law. The principle needs to be fully implemented so that undocumented migrants do not face inequity, unfairness and injustice.

 Resources and links

• Your options if you're in the UK illegally
• Housing rights information for people who are destitute 
• Undocumented migrants: maternity rights and benefits
• Irregular Migration in the UK
• How to improve support and services for destitute migrants 
• 'Pregnant women without legal status 'too afraid to seek NHS care'

Migration is a necessity not a luxury, says Joyce Ong, a Singaporean-born businesswoman who has lived and worked in London for 13 years.

“For a city like London to thrive,” she explains, “you need sensible migration policies to bring the best and brightest to the country - but at the same time recognising that UK has a long record in helping migrants and refugees from certain parts of the world to have better life in this country”. 

“The reason UK does that is because it is a basic right for every human being to have a shelter on their head, food and education. It is a responsibility of developed countries, not only UK, and I think they should continue to do so.”

Joyce is a post-graduate with MBA from of the University of Strathclyde, Glasgow and a Bachelor of Science from the National University of Singapore.

After working for several years in banking in Singapore and Switzerland, she moved to London under the Highly Skilled Migrants visa programme.  She set up her own business, while raising a family; her partner is British and her 10 year old daughter was born and raised here. She is positive about the capital “I love London. It’s a place I have always felt comfortable in.”

Nevertheless, she knows hard work is needed to get established: “I had to start from scratch in many ways and find out who can help and slowly build my network.”

The first three priorities, she says, are researching where to get the information you need, finding out about which services can help you, and networking with relevant people.

She owns a business of building cool, clever apps, helping small companies and start-ups in London to grow; her clients include gyms, beauty salons and the organic pet food industry. She is also a licenced partner of a Leicester-based company that specialises in building apps for small businesses. 

Joyce also gives regular talks on mobile marketing. Audiences have included the Institute of Directors, City Business Library, Idea Store Whitechapel and Kingston University Women's Enterprise Network. 

Her ambition is to expand the business and develop different product ranges. By mid-2018, she hopes to introduce video courses on mobile marketing for small businesses and start-ups in addition to face to face workshops.

Joyce describes herself as a mother and a businesswoman and emphasises the importance of businesswomen and career-women as role models for their children, especially girls. 

Moving from West Africa to Britain at the age of nine was hard enough for Kelly, but 10 years later staying here proved an even bigger crisis, when she was told she might not be able to stay in the country she considered home.

As a child arriving in the UK with her family Kelly was the youngest of the children and spoke very poor English. Her diplomat father was advised by a colleague to place the children in public schools, so they could adapt quicker to the new culture.

Kelly recalls her first weeks of starting school, “Everything was different. Seeing the Caucasian people and the kid’s Barbie doll hair, I had to hold myself back from touching it. I was observing everything, it felt like I was dreaming. 

"I remember calling my teachers auntie and uncle rather than miss and sir. Those little things were new to me…Life here was brand new I was re-learning everything.”

In those early days English was the barrier for Kelly, “I couldn’t understand what people were saying and I was bullied at first because of my accent. But it didn’t stop me from socialising and making friends.” 

In 2005 her dad returned to Nigeria leaving the family behind. What she found out later was that her parents had separated at this point. She describes herself then as, “going to school and living life as normal.”

Several years on and half-way through year-one at university the then 19 year-old’s normal life erupted into chaos. She was told by her mother they were meeting with a lawyer to be briefed for an upcoming court case. This was the first Kelly was aware of a problem and that the family could be forced to leave the UK.

At the meeting she found out her mother had applied for Indefinite Leave to Remain (Permanent Residency) in the UK for herself and her two daughters as they had been living here for 10 years. 

The Home Office turned down the application.  

“This was when I woke up from a normal life into a nightmare” recalls 26-year-old Kelly. “As a result, student finance couldn’t fund my tuition fee.  I had to drop out of University at the end of year one. I was not allowed to complete my social work degree.

"I cannot begin to express the mental stress this has caused - being made stagnant and not knowing whether you’re coming or going.”

The court ruled that Kelly qualified for permanent residency as she lived in the UK for more than half her life. However, she was refused because it was a family application and the court did not want to separate the family.

At this point Kelly decided to apply for permanent residency on her own, a  decision that led to a fall-out with her mum and being told to leave the house, “Before this happened, it was really tense and turning physical in the house because of all the stress. I left only with the clothes I was wearing.” 

After several years back and forth with the Home Office her mother and sister eventually took the case to the Upper Tribunal without her and in 2016 they were granted a two-and-a-half year visa.

By this time Kelly was 22 and had been homeless for two years, moving between friends as she awaited a reply from the Home Office to her 2015 application.  She was also required by the Home Office to report to London Bridge Enforcement every two weeks.

Kelly recalls, “I was questioned on three to four different occasions in 2016 when I went to report at London Bridge. They took my phone so I couldn’t call anyone and took me to a room in the back. They said I didn’t have any application pending on their system.

"Thankfully I always carry a copy of the application with me when I go there and I had the receipt of when it was posted by recorded delivery. If I didn’t have copies with me I would have probably been sent to detention.”

Another year passed without a reply from the Home Office. Told by London Bridge Enforcement that her application was not on their system she became scared and approached her solicitor. She was advised to chase the Home Office herself because the fee to write a letter on her behalf was £400. 

She phoned Home Office many times and was always told her application was pending.  In early 2017 she approached her solicitor again and was advised to make a new permanent residency application.  Through the help of friends and church she raised the solicitor’s fee of £1,800 and the Home Office application fee of almost £1,000.

In June 2017 her MP wrote to the Home Office on her behalf. Kelly received a reply two weeks later, saying that both applications, made in 2015 and 2017, were refused and that she could appeal. 

Though in 2011 the court had said that Kelly qualified for permanent residency, in 2017 the Home Office refused her application on the grounds that she did not qualify under the 10 years continuous lawful residence rule. The Home Office argued that her passport shows a stamp in 2006-2007 indicating she was out of the country for a year when she was 13 to 14 years old.

To prove that she did not leave the country Kelly provided the Home Office with letters from teachers and school registers. 

Kelly says, the Home Office wants her to take responsibility for the stamps in her passport, which she refused to do because she provided evidence that she never left the UK. She claims that from the time she came to the UK until she was 19 her parents had handled matters with the Home Office.

Kelly refers to her situation with the Home Office as a six year battle. “It’s been a rollercoaster and a well of emotions. Some days are bearable. Other days it’s like the end of the world.”

Since her most recent refusal - and as she waits to attend her hearing in June - she has been unable to stay with friends and is being provided accommodation by a charity. She also has a new solicitor.  

To stay positive and “maintain my sanity…  I try to be around positive people and volunteer as a mentor in church to support the young people.

“Now that I have stable accommodation, a court date and a new solicitor I can see an end result, a future.  I think about going back to finish my social work degree, whereas before I was just waiting for whenever to get a reply from the HO…It could have been another 10 years.

“This situation is not my bus stop. I am not there yet, but I am not where I was. I have a future, I am going somewhere.”

• Names have been changed to protect the identity of individuals mentioned in this article

Helpful links and information:
Not enough attention to the needs of young people in UK immigration detention 

The Children’s Society

Hackney Migrant Centre (Free Advice for Asylum Seekers, Refugees and Recent Migrants)

Praxis Community Projects (Advice and information e.g. Housing & Immigration)

Marwan has benefitted from a hatful of publicity for his hotel and his businesses in general and has been the subject of positive profiles in the Coventry Telegraph, Liverpool Echo and Daily Mail.

A Story in a Poem is an innovative project that brought young migrants and non-migrants together to tell their stories in poetic form, and is presented here as an open-access multimedia education resource.

Migrant Voice organised this project in Glasgow over several months, and encouraged people to use the medium of poetry to discuss their own journeys and lives. The project aimed to ensure new voices are heard on the issue of migration and to strengthen relations between migrants and non-migrants in Glasgow.

You can read the poems and listen to the podcasts below, and watch a short film about the project here. They are unique snapshots of life in one of Britain’s most diverse cities, and the journeys that brought people there.

In Sounds and Silence

By Abigale 

In sounds and silence, Glasgow sings and breaks and sings and breaks
Clouds muffle the harmony of the sun, the rhythm of steps keep the beat
go to work, work and work, now go home
break, pain…
tip – tap, tippa tappa tap
dancing feet, bagpipes
ayes! And freedom all around.

Listen to the podcast: soundcloud.com/migrant-voice/in-sounds-and-silence

Dennistoun

By Stephan 

To visit my friend, to have a jam, to catch up about life.
All the way from West-end via Botanic Gardens and Kelvin Walkway through Most quiet streets,
Cycling with no helmet but at least a working break.
People walking dogs or jogging with headphones, holding hands and smartphones.
I felt free as at times when you don’t pedal and just move,
Whole wind is blowing your sweat and thoughts out, I felt like living in a moment,
Which now is just a memory, as writing now will become a memory.
A memory of writing the feeling of letting out of your head
At least a bit, as how can you express yourself truly, fully?
Perhaps by running naked in the fields.
Why do you need to express yourself?
Feel free to share how you feel though.

Listen to the podcast: soundcloud.com/migrant-voice/dennistoun

Sounds of Glasgow

By Claudia 

Running the gauntlet of Sauchiehall Street on a Saturday, bagpipes, karaoke, buskers, a sea of sound
People selling, begging, advertising, fighting, singing, joking, calling out 'Big Issue! buy a Big issue!'
Spare some change? Hi do you have a minute? 
Your donation could make all the difference
What phone provider do you use?
Join the Destiny church and never be lonely again!'
Cheap phones for sale!
Not interested thanks. 
Nae bother, have a nice day anyway

Listen to the podcast: soundcloud.com/migrant-voice/sounds-of-glasgow

The city within 

By Jarrod

As we arrive, the city is dark
Tenement flats, shutters and witches hats
Lock—us—out. A drab shroud, illuminated by neon signs and red lights
Raucous jeering spilling out, pub fights ….I have doubt 
Then we explore, out the door and on to Sauchiehall
Under the trees, the dark trodden leaves
To river roar.
The sun embraces Glaswegian arms and faces where
Everyone is out for a piece and there is plenty to share

A few smiles later, a shake of the hand
The quickness to joke and banter. I understand, ahhhh.
There is a brightness to the people that despite this
Rainy grey and the rubbish clogging the drain
It lights us
It provides us with festivals, friendships and laughter
Trips to mountains for climbs and once down, everyone’s
Bright eyes after. 
It gives us a family in the local community, an opportunity 
A different road travelled by each, yet the same wish, the wish
To be free. 

And Glasgow, the magical city, freely grants these. 
No wait, the city is just the lamp, the people are the
Real genies. 
Glasgow itself is just the city with witches hats and flats to be let
But the Glasgow that we won’t forget, is the warmth that’s within the
People we met. 

Listen to the podcast: soundcloud.com/migrant-voice/the-city-within

My life in Abroad

By Awet

I’m going to explain about my life abroad. 
It’s really difficult to live in abroad for me, because I separated from my family, my friends and my culture in my country. 
And I don't have any right to visit my family because I don't have any paper or passport.
I can't go to any country just in the UK.

When I came to the UK I had lots of problem
For example, when I was in Calais, I was in jungle.
The life, the roads, Very bad.
There wasn't home, bed or any important things. 
It was in the winter time, the weather was horrible and most of the time it was rainy and cold.
If we got cold we couldn't change, because we didn't have enough clothes 
So life in abroad in very difficult for me

Listen to the podcast: soundcloud.com/migrant-voice/my-life-in-abroad

Life

By Elias 

Life is a beautiful journey,
Not only about making money.
It’s about adventure,
To have a joy of nature,
A spirit nurture.
Make your life attractive petal,
Your soul will then be immortal

Listen to the podcast: soundcloud.com/migrant-voice/enjoy-life-by-elias

Majority Minority

By Alexis 

Is there really a thing such as a minority and a majority?
Because if you think about it every single person is unique
And hence every single person is a minority
Perhaps it's because minority is not an actual fact
But merely a perception 
You are only in a minority if you are made to feel so
But with love among us we are all A MAJORITY

Listen to the podcast: soundcloud.com/migrant-voice/poem-number-one

My Innocence will prevail

By Anastasia

You crushed my innocence, filled me with fear and pain. 

Silenced with the terror you controlled me. My voice, my being. Thoughts of love tarnished,

Innocence stolen. I had no control over what you did for me. 

But now that choice is mine, my spirit was broken, crushed but not extinguished.

For you will never put out that flame and although at times it is just a flicker.

It fuels the fire which nurtures my soul. Inside me is a passion, a love to be fulfilled. 

A love of life, its beauty and all its wonder and with that thought,

I am an innocent child again.
                                   
Listen to the podcast: soundcloud.com/migrant-voice/a-personal-journey

She

By Ekin 

She paused. Hesitated for a moment; a moment of disbelief - ‘it’s not happening, is it?’
She felt small. Felt ‘not an iota’.
She held her breath. Felt the tears stuck in her eyes.
She paused and stood still in front of those men as if it was a ‘car showroom’.
She paused, felt the state of being stateless.
She, a 20-year-old Yazidi woman, tattooed her dad’s name on her arm once, was bought and sold eight times over 16 months.
She paused for a moment, closed her eyes, held her breath and counted these days of her slavery…
And asked herself, -‘will I ever be set free?’

This poem is inspired by a true story of Yazidi woman
Listen to the podcast: soundcloud.com/migrant-voice/she

Peaceful land

By Jenny

There was a lady in Scotland.
She wanted a peaceful land, she thought in her mind.
But she couldn’t find.
She left her country because she wanted peace, she wonder everywhere,
But she can't find it, now she thought, there the peace is inside her heart
If the heart feels it, it is then happy.

Listen to the podcast: soundcloud.com/migrant-voice/peaceful-land

Read more poems here. 

In Sounds and Silence
By Abigale 

In sounds and silence

Glasgow sings and breaks

and sings and breaks

Clouds muffle the harmony of the sun

the rhythm of steps keep the beat

go to work

work and work

now go home

break

pain…

tip – tap

tippa tappa tap

dancing feet

bagpipes

ayes!

And freedom all around.

Listen to the poem: soundcloud.com/migrant-voice/in-sounds-and-silence

Dennistoun
By Stephan 

To visit my friend,

to have a jam,

To catch up about life.

All the way from West-end via Botanic Gardens and Kelvin Walkway

Through Most quiet streets,

cycling with no helmet

but at least a working break.

People walking dogs or jogging with headphones,

holding hands and smartphones.

I felt free as at times when you don’t pedal and just move,

Whole wind is blowing your sweat and thoughts out,

I felt like living in a moment,

Which now is just a memory,

as writing now will become a memory.

A memory of writing the feeling of letting out of your head

at least a bit,

as how can you express yourself truly,

fully?

Perhaps by running naked in the fields.

Why do you need to express yourself?

Feel free to share how you feel though.

Kiran was born in a southern Asian country where being gay is a criminal offence and condemns him to being labelled a paedophile and mentally ill.

It’s a country where custom dictates the disowning of family members because of their sexuality and where newspapers carry stories of homes being set ablaze because someone has been ‘found out’ and they and their family become targets for abuse.

By the time he applied for asylum in the UK he had been in a relationship with his British partner, David, for four years.

David found out about Kiran’s asylum application only when asked to write a supporting letter. He says he never sensed that Kiran was experiencing a problem with his immigration status because he was always a happy person. And writing the letter made David realise the depth of his feelings for the man he would eventually ask to marry him.

“I’d got to the stage where I’d almost given up on the idea of serious relationships – I wanted one but it just never seemed to happen,” David recalls. “I realise now that while you’re dreaming about the relationship you want, you imagine somebody in your mind, but that person is limited to what you can imagine. Actually, the person who you really want to marry is somebody so wonderful you can’t even imagine what they will be like. That’s what I didn’t think would happen.  

Looking back at all the people I thought I loved, that’s not what I feel for Kiran at all. It’s something quite different. I don’t think I knew what it was that I didn’t have because I never experienced it. For me, [meeting Kiran] was like meeting a fairy-tale prince.” 

Kiran says before meeting David he dreamt of marriage but for many reasons, including his immigration status he didn’t think it would ever happen.

 “When I began having immigration difficulties I didn’t tell him because I was afraid he would reject me,” Says Kiran. “I thought he might say ‘Don’t come near me. You are illegal I don’t want to see you.’ I didn’t feel it was something he needed to know in the beginning because having an irregular immigration status here can make you feel like a criminal. But as our relationship grew more serious I had to let him know.”

During the preparation for the asylum application Kiran and David knew they would marry but Kiran wanted to wait until his asylum status had been resolved.

David describes the tone of Kiran’s asylum refusal letter as aggressive and its language as almost homophobic. He says the Home Office accused Kiran of lying and that the department seems to be trying to frighten people with its language.

After their lawyer made representations to the Home Office following the refusal letter, says David, “their reply was basically an attack.”

“Someone in the Home Office has absolutely no understanding of the things that happen to you as a gay man, especially coming from the part of the world that Kiran came from. You’re trying to explain crucial details to them and all you get back is this barrage of legal, aggressive stuff.”

The Home Office letter implied that since Kiran had said he prefers domestic family life with his partner to going to gay clubs, he could just stay at home and never go out when he returned to his country.

“The whole idea is that you shouldn’t have to hide your lifestyle”, adds David. “So the fact that they can say, ‘It’s fine, you can just stay at home’ goes against the spirit of what human rights are meant to be about.”

The Home Office accepted Kiran was gay and living with David, but said it could not give leave to remain on the basis of a right to family life because they weren’t married and had not lived together for more than two years.  He was told his country was more or less safe for gay people (based on Home Office “country guidance” that has since changed to acknowledge that this is not the case), and that he could relocate to another village or go elsewhere in the world and live independently.

Though Kiran had the right to appeal the Home Office decision, his lawyer suggested that if he planned to marry David anyway, doing so now would enable him to return to his home country briefly in order to apply for a spouse visa, and withdraw the appeal.  

For the appeal to be withdrawn, Kiran had to submit proof that he had married and left the UK.  There was now a race against time to get his passport back from the Home Office in order to register for the civil partnership. This usually requires 28 full days. They phoned, faxed and emailed the Home Office and were sent from one department to the next.

Even when their lawyer joined the passport chase there was confusion and delays. After three months of hard work by the couple, things were sorted out only one day before the couple was due to ‘give notice.’

Of his wedding day, Kiran says: “It was one of my dreams to get married to my life partner so it was a big day for me. [Even though] I didn’t have my family I have my friends, who love me as their family.”

After the wedding, the couple bought air tickets and submitted copies to the Home Office to confirm Kiran was leaving the UK.  David says the Home Office said it would accept any flight on any airline except the one on which they had booked.  No explanation was given. They rebooked, losing £400 in the process.

Kiran recalls, “The morning of leaving the UK I felt like a lamb being sent to slaughter” but at least David was accompanying him for a couple weeks before returning to the UK for work.

David remembers, “Once Kiran landed in Asia, his demeanour changed, his tone of voice became more macho, his body language changed. He changed as a way of protecting himself.”

Applying to return to Britain took months, a period Kiran describes as so traumatising that he contemplated suicide.  

He recalls submitting his documents at the local UK Visa Immigration (UKVI) centre for a spouse visa under civil partnership – a category that does not exist in his country of origin where homosexuality is illegal – and being treated with scorn as a gay man. “When I handed over my documents, the two people attending to me began nudging each other with their elbows, pointing at certain information on my documents and repeatedly looking at the documents, then at me.

There was an open desk where people were collecting their documents and one of the employees just opened up all my documents which had 12 pages of photos of my relationship with David and information about my health, exposing all my confidential details.”

Kiran’s visa was refused after almost three months on the grounds that he had previously made a ‘Frivolous application for asylum’, with no explanation of what ‘frivolous’ meant in this instance.

David says the refusal decision had not considered Kiran’s civil partnership or his relationship: “Although the Home Office acknowledged Kiran was gay and in a relationship, his application was still dismissed as ‘frivolous’.”

Kiran recalls that what followed was, “one of the worst times in my life, having to spend almost five months in hiding while waiting for a decision. When I received the refusal I just wanted to die. I never thought I would have to turn back to living a double life.”

The couple’s London-based lawyer was stunned by the way the case had been handled, and made an official complaint.  Later, he would tell Kiran it was one of the worst and most unjust decisions his office had seen in a long time.

A regional UK Visa Immigration manager subsequently asked Kiran to re-submit all his documents. A few days later Kiran was informed that after a comprehensive review the original decision had been overturned and he should submit his passport to the local centre.  The UKVI thanked the lawyer for bringing the error to their attention and offered an apology to Kiran.

Five months after having to leave the UK, Kiran returned to London. By then he was taking medication for high blood pressure, which he says worsened with the stress of dealing with the Home Office.

He returned to a life he thought was impossible, in which he is finally free to be himself and to live the way he desires, “the kind of life I always dreamed about with a partner I only imagined.”

• Names have been changed to protect the identity of individuals mentioned in this article

Helpful links and information:

Aderonke Apata story:

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/aug/14/nigerian-gay-rights-activist-aderonke-apata-wins-uk-asylum-claim-13-year-battle

UK Lesbian & Gay Immigration Group (UKLGIG):

https://uklgig.org.uk/

Peter Tatchell Foundation:

http://www.petertatchellfoundation.org/

testing from boss

When I was young, I used to look at the sky and say “What is the feeling of going up there?” I really didn't expect I'm going to go to another country. Being the only daughter – the youngest – I never dreamed of going away from my parents.

My mum she was a midwife. When I was in primary school my Dad decided to go to Saudi Arabia because the expenses were getting harder and harder. Back home you have to pay everything: if you don't have money you won't go anywhere. One time my dad had to have an operation I had to ask my cousins for money. I decided it should not be like this; my father spent most of his life away from us.

Before I left my mum was not happy - she never supported me applying to go away, just my Grandma. I secretly asked her to give money for a placement. I said to her: this is my chance, just let me go and I'll prove that I'm right. At that time the UK was having a massive recruitment of nurses in our country (the Philippines) so I said “I have to go.” I've got nothing to lose. 

I was scared when I first came, because what can happen to me if I get ill, if I'm in trouble?  But in Wales they were so supportive. The Nurse Manager there showed me around the small town where I was going to live. They brought us to the Catholic Church and then they gave us the name of Filipino people I could contact. 

I miss what we call 'halo-halo'. It's with ice mainly and then some different kind of fruit in the tin, maybe it's a fruit cocktail? Put it there with nata de coco and milk on it and sugar and then you just stir. Those are the things that I miss a lot: here it's too cold to have it. 

When I applied to work here I had a different boyfriend.  When I managed to come over I supposed it was a bit too late, he would find somebody else; that was the bad part. My co-workers really helped me out. I don't think it's a good idea to be alone in the countryside.... It was very quiet. All you can hear is seagulls and the wind and the river, nothing else - it's too depressing. I was living beside a bridge. I said - one day I'm going to jump of off there. My manager was so nice: she said, oh don't be silly! My sister-in-law's sister invited me to Birmingham and I liked it. 

When you start with a family, it's hard to decide whether you're going to be separated from your child or not. We tried not to send our first child back home; we tried seven months for him to stay with us, but we did struggle – we're paying the rent, my husband had to stop working to look after the baby. I was the only one working, we were also sending money back home for our parents and it was not enough. [So eventually we had to send the children back home]. When they came back my son was four, my daughter was three.

Being here: it might be that I can be myself. I don't know; I think I'm different with my family. When I'm with my friends, I can be wild, in a nice way, I can be chatty. With the family you have to be cautious of what you're going to say because the thing that you say might hurt them, because they know that you are hurt. 

And I suppose I could give my kids a better life, a better education. I could give them - not what they want: what they need. But it's sad. For instance, my grandma - because I grew up with her - when she was dying I went back home with my youngest daughter for two weeks. I was in a hospital. I said – hmm – this never changed – still on duty. It's so sad that we're working in a hospital, we look after all these patients and then, if our own family is the one who needs it, then we're not there.  

View Vilma Corpuz's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GS5a5IwEwSM

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I am from Turkey and grew up in Ankara, the capital city. I came to the UK to learn English in 1996 and met my husband in 1998 and stayed. I now live in Birmingham where I teach dance, English and Turkish. 

My love for dance came at a young age. I practiced dance from Primary School, throughout High School and University. While I lived in Turkey I performed in many cities across the country. I got my dancing qualification in 1996 and when I moved to the UK I was asked to teach dance classes, so I did.

Dance is still a part of my life. I teach Oriental Dance (belly dance) to women from many different backgrounds, and I have danced all over the UK. I lead my own group in Sutton Coldfield and also make dance costumes. 

Turkish Oriental Dance has many styles such as Kars, Kara, Kafcas, Kasik, Chiftetelli, Dogan Halay, Cukurova Hay, Adana, Atabari, or Ankara, named after capital. The influences are from Kurdish, Azerbaijan and from Mediterranean folk dances but in the UK people from all backgrounds are dancing it. It is very good for body and mind.

I also used to teach Mediterranean cookery for the Adult Education Service. As well as teaching Turkish and doing the occasional interpreting, I am proud to say I now teach English in England. 

View Ozlem Green's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yFaOxMFVoEs

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I am originally from Sudan and I have a degree in economics and social studies from there but I left in 1999 to join my husband who was living in The Netherlands. I had a baby there. 

In 2003 I came to England for the first time to learn English and I continued to do a Degree in Human Resource Management at Coventry University. After achieving my Bachelors’ Degree I went on to do a Masters’ Degree in International Human Resources Management. 

The time at University was challenging because the English language was difficult for me. But I heard that if you want success you have to imagine yourself in success. I put this in my mind and I start to take the first step. 

The strong Sudanese community also made me feel welcome and made it easier to settle, but overall Birmingham is a welcoming city. After University I volunteered for around six months for a company as a HR person. However, I was not able to find paid work my field yet. While studying at Coventry University I worked with adults with special needs to help pay for my studies. I have now returned to work as a support worker in a residential setting for adults with learning difficulties and mental health issues in Birmingham. I practice Islam every day, I pray five times a day, I fast at Ramadan, I try to tell my daughter how to practice Islam.

Birmingham is a multicultural city with many religions living together, and I have many Christian friends and went with them to the cathedral or church, which gives you the opportunity to love everyone. I feel at home in the city. You can see different faces around that make you comfortable and not feel alone or home sick.

I like to eat in the Arabic and Indian restaurants around Birmingham. Life is nice when you are gathered with friends around a table of food, discussing books or events. I like writing and I like to read poems and novels. I am also part of a book club. I like doors and door art around the world. Doors mean a lot in my culture, it means open heart and welcoming everyone, and I link it all with cathedral doors. They are always open. In the Mosque or the church the door symbolises for me that it opens people to the perfect soul.

The great achievement in my life is studying. I am very proud that I completed my degrees at Coventry University at a time that was challenging for me in terms of family and a new language.  My future plan is to start studying for a PhD and also to work with my organisation which was set up in honour of my mother’s memory: ‘the Fatima Educational Organisation.’ 

View Hiba's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7vO0PxPKvnI

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I am 26 years old and was born in Madrid in Spain from Argentinian parents, but now live in Birmingham city centre. I came to the UK in 2014 because I wanted to learn English and try to become a more independent person. The economic situation in Spain is very poor even for someone who has a Degree in Economics.  

I came to Birmingham to work as an Au Pair.  After three weeks I left the family I was working for due to bad working conditions. Luckily, I found another job looking after children and after this I found work in a café. I am currently studying English and Media at South and City College. I really like studying here.

In Birmingham there is a lot of diversity, a lot of foreign people, so people are used to speaking with people with difficulty with the language, people are really open, it is a really welcoming city. A city where you can develop yourself. A country with a lot of opportunities. That is why I chose the UK.

Over the last year I have made many friends through work and college. I am also involved in a church that supports the LGBT community. I recently participated in the Birmingham Opera Company’s production of Michael Tippet’s ‘The Ice break’ where I acted two parts. I really enjoyed this experience.

Here there is room for everyone, Christians, homosexuals, in Spain this is impossible. Here it is like a dream. You cannot be rejected. It is open, that is why my plan is to stay here long term.

At Digbeth Coach Station there is a sign that says “welcome to the city of a thousand welcomes.” When I go back to Madrid after a week I start to miss Birmingham.

Birmingham is my home town now.

View Nuria Tissera's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Bdd0VW6ejs

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I am 46 years old and from the Philippines but now live in Birmingham. I came to the UK as a missionary through the missionary society. They gave me orientation and input and immersion into various places where I could meet the people we would join and help – the asylum seekers and refugees. 
This place was totally new to me so without the help of other people who showed us around and gave us orientation on how to integrate of course it wouldn't have been easy, but we received orientation and updates on what the current situation in the country is. It helped us to be sensitive also because here there are people from different backgrounds, cultures and faiths so that helped me integrate into the community.
What is of interest to me is our ministry which crosses boundaries of race, culture, etc. We work by helping the poor or marginalised people and in the UK usually that is the migrants and asylum seekers.
There are some aspects of Birmingham that I enjoy but there are also aspects of the Philippines that are not here that I also enjoy, so it is just a matter of trying to live where you are.
What I enjoy the most is being intercultural and interfaith. You can sit down in a place for a meal and people are from all over, bringing their food. It is really very interesting because you can taste food from different places. In a way it is like also travelling to their country through their stories. It enriched me as a person.
I have contributed my time and presence. I go to different charities and help with different activities, cooking, meetings, take time to chat. I think that is my contribution. Whatever talents or abilities I have I try to contribute it.
Compared to before, I would say that UK is home to me now because anywhere that I go I always see or meet someone on the road that I know. Things started to become familiar to me now and I know my place. I have a lot of friends here and everywhere I go people recognise me, even the nearby shop.
The weather was a struggle for me in the beginning because I didn't know how to protect myself, to wear a hat, scarf, but I learned I have to wear several layers of clothes, several layers of socks.
I sometimes feel that they migrants are portrayed as a burden. But most of the time you can see that immigrants are contributing so much to the society. Most of the time they are the ones who are willing to do the jobs which the local people don't want to do.

View Gertrudes' video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FH_kEam4Mqw

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I am an asylum seeker from Pakistan. Before I retired, I was a Civil Servant working in local government and rural affairs based in Lahore. I came to the UK in 2011 after having my life threatened. Unfortunately, law enforcement and the judicial system in my country offered me no protection. Therefore, I have looked for safety and sanctuary in Great Britain.

I appreciate the help my wife and I have received whilst living as asylum seekers. We live very frugally. We have no cash – we survive by using a card [the Azure card some asylum seekers get] which enables us to buy food. However, this card can only be used in large supermarkets (Tesco, Asda, Morrison’s’ etc.) It is not accepted in local Asian stores so sometimes it is difficult to find food that would be cheaper in smaller shops.

I do not have enough money to buy a bus pass so I generally walk to the mosque and to appointments. I feel welcome in any a mosque in the city. I also like to visit St Chad’s Centre which is a place that provides a welcome space for asylum seekers in Birmingham City Centre.

I am fortunate that I have a son now living in Birmingham who visits me to look after my welfare, health and well-being.

I am a member of Birmingham Asylum and Refugee Association (BARA) which was formed to provide fellowship and support to those people in my situation living in Birmingham. I attend meetings and training sessions at BARA. I have also helped distribute copies of the Migrant Voice newspaper on the streets in Birmingham. I want to continue to do more voluntary work. 

View Nawazish Pervaiz’s video here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80T21dpMTgo

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

All the changes - political, social, cultural - started to happen after 1989. I went from black and white film into colour. So many opportunities started to open. 

Before 1989, we had very little knowledge about what's going on outside the Russian bloc. When the Berlin wall broke down I was 15. Before, I didn't feel that we were lacking anything; it was a very nice simple comfortable life. We were not thinking about going to the UK, not thinking in terms of “it's not allowed” - it was just a non-existent thing. Then in 2004 when Poland joined the European Union, so many people came to UK: they wanted to come finding new job experience. 

My cousin was doing her degree in English Language so she started to come to the UK in the summer and work in pubs. My boss then was closing whole company down, so I thought – oh, maybe I can go to the UK for a year, year and a half, see how it is. Within two months I found myself in the UK. 

At first it wasn't as perfect as I thought it would be, there were a few hiccups. I went through a language shock purely because of the accent of the North, so I watched all the soap operas. Later, thinking about that period of time, I think I sorted everything very calmly, very methodically, I wasn't really stressing though I had to change accommodation and jobs. I started attending English evening classes in Sheffield. It was intense but very amiable, very funny. It was the most amazing class, it gave me so much confidence. Within the group were diverse students having the same problems: we could help each other with other aspects - accommodation, documentation, applications. 

I worked within the Care Home environment, but I was a qualified dietitian from Poland and I wanted to pursue my career. At first I was not able to because you need to be registered with the Health Care Professionals Council. That was the next step. I came to Birmingham and started as a dietetic assistant and after couple of years I became Assistant Practitioner. Finally I became registered so now I am in a position to look for dietetic jobs. 

In Poland dietetics was purely about catering, creating menus but UK dietetics is more clinical, it's much more developed and professional. It's versatile, interesting - it's what I love to do and I want to develop. I would like to work within diabetes and weight management, those are the jobs where you can be close to the communities, close to the patients, helping them to manage their condition, to see options that they've got - you help them to make their own care plan. Also I'm very interested in eating disorders so it involves coaching as well. 

The hardest thing is isolation. If you don't have friends then sometimes you can get very, very low, so it's important to create your own network of contacts. It's also important to be in touch with your friends in Poland and your family, just to keep you going. Ultimately you have to think about your goal: why you are here. Your heart may tell you you want to be here – and also that you want to be with your family - but you can only be in one place at a time. 

The other thing that was particularly difficult for me was the bad press the Polish people had. Because of your accent you will be asked “oh, where are you from?” - even from my patients. You are so fearful to say that you are Polish, because you don't know what that person's perception of Polish people would be. You may get “oh, that's nice, oh I've got friends from Poland, yes, my son got married 5 months ago to a Polish girl, how lovely” - but you are still afraid that there will be something not really nice. I value the diversity of Birmingham especially. Recently there was a project on getting food recipes from different cultures. Seeing someone from the Polish community giving a recipe for their favourite foods alongside an Indian lady – it is very nice if you see all these different cultures valued together.

View Magdalena Kot's? video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qw1_7HMqbr0

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I was born in Egypt in 1976, one of eight children. In March 1999 I got married and now have four children.  The same year I got my Bachelor’s degree in ancient European civilization. After achieving my degree I migrated to the UK aiming to start a new life, my ambitions were great.

Although I had studied English in Egypt, when I first arrived to the UK, I found it a bit challenging to understand and speak the English accent and comprehend the way of life. However, I learned rapidly, picking up new things every day. I was fascinated listening to the radio, and this helped me to develop my knowledge and understanding about the UK. Only a year later I managed to find a job, which helped me to further improve my language and widened my experience.

In 2006 I undertook a teaching assistant course and did a voluntary placement in a local Catholic school. After this I did child-minding training, and started my own child-minding business. I continued my study while working and in 2010 I achieved my level 6 qualification, Early Years Professional Status. The business grew and I currently employ two assistants which subsequently enables me to offer the community better facilities and outstanding services.

I have been rated as outstanding by Ofsted, which make me really happy but also puts more responsibility on me to keep at that level. I work with the Birmingham city council, I offer early years education, and I offer lots of help to newly qualified child minders and I am proud to help and support them.

Being a child-minder gave me the opportunity to meet and work with many people from different backgrounds for instance, British, Pakistani, Polish, Algerian, Yemeni, Zimbabwean, etc. This helped me to understand and learn about the diversity of our society.  It is rewarding and enjoyable to learn more about people in our society. It taught me not to stereotype people. Meeting and understanding people can change ideas, what you used to believe. It changed me a lot and made me a better person.

What I don’t like is being judged for wearing a headscarf. People sometimes treat me as a lady who sits at home seeking benefits, but when I start to talk to them introduce myself and say who I am, then they change their view. I think we should be respecting each other regardless of how we look. I think everyone deserves being respected. I believe that I am lucky to be in the UK and particularly in Birmingham; it is a lively city where you can meet and learn about different cultures. In Birmingham I learnt about the Indian Diwali, the Chinese New Year, the Jewish Hanukah, the Christian Christmas, the Muslim Eid...

In Birmingham I tasted some of the most delicious food: Indian curry, English fish and chips, Italian pizza, American burger, Arabic couscous, Egyptian (Mahshi), Sudanese (Mulah) and other mouth-watering dishes from all over the world. In Birmingham you will see the most colourful clothes shining with brightness, the Pakistani suits, Indian saris, Arabic Abayahs, Sudanese thoub, Nigerian dresses, Chinese clothes and other elegant traditional clothes and accessories from around the world.

Here I feel I am a member of a great big family; this is the most diverse family, where there are no boundaries of skin colour, language, religion, age etc. It is the Brummie family.When I first left Egypt, I felt that I left my home, but now I proudly feel Birmingham is my home, its people are my family and its land is my home. It is Birmingham… my city. 
 
View Enayat’s video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cAp65Z_OK7s

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I am 26 years old and live in Kingstanding, Birmingham where I am a full time mum. 

I was born in Canberra, Australia but I came to the UK in 2004 when I was 15 years old as my mother came to England to work as a Social Worker. At first we lived in Canterbury in Kent where I attended school. 

It wasn’t too bad coming to an English speaking country although it took me a while to get used to the different words English people used as different to Australians. Especially English slang words. My school mates in Kent did pull a few tricks on me because I was not familiar with English terminology.

In 2008 our family moved to Birmingham because we had relatives living in the city. Since coming to Birmingham I have got married and had children. 

There are differences between living in England and Australia. Obviously the weather is warmer in Australia and Australia is more “laid back” than the UK. In the UK people live more indoors where as in Australia more activity goes on outdoors – sport, the beach and so on.

View Leila Khan’s Video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=810ihy1Tiuw

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I came to the U.K. from Russia in 2006 and am now settled in Birmingham. Since moving here I have learnt English, completed postgraduate study, worked in several companies and I now run a charity assisting migrants from Central and Eastern Europe living in the UK. 

England is such a nice country. The people are so warm and welcoming. I'm very proud to be a member of the congregation in Aston Parish Church in Birmingham. My friends in church were so keen to listen to me even though at first we did not have a common language. They spoke slowly and clearly to me, it really helped me to learn English. 

Many members of our congregation came to the UK from all over the world. We have people from Jamaica, St Kitts, Iran, India, Syria, Russia, Thailand, China, and Togo to name just a few.

Western culture is very different to what I am accustomed to, but I was lucky to find friends over here and receive enormous support and encouragement. This has given me the confidence to progress and now I am able to help other people who, like me, have come to the UK and would like a helping hand to guide them.

What I enjoy most of all is traveling around the UK. I have seen so many amazing places and events - medieval battles or stock car or boat racing. It seems that having fun is very important here!

I would tell any migrant coming to the UK to look at everything, try everything, and not be shy to speak to people. Life here is so interesting and gives many opportunities to explore a different culture. 

I believe that migration is good for everyone. It makes us more confident, sociable and gives an excellent life experience. 

The other good feature about the UK is that it is much warmer in winter than in my country! 

View Elena's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZSPC-0hiE1M

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

Laurentis: We sell all kinds of products, cheese, olive oil, barley, noodles, pasta with different flavours - pasta with squid ink is very popular - halva, which is traditional to eat for lent, baklava.

All the products come from Greece. People mainly buy things for home cooking; we get all kinds of people, family people, and students. It is not only Greeks, it is the English, Welsh. English people have been buying baklava for over a thousand years now. Don’t forget the Greeks came here a long time ago.

You have to [get used to this climate].  Yes I would like to have a little bit more sun, it plays a big role in our mood, when we see the sun we are happy; you are more energetic. When we came from Greece we had to change our lifestyle. It was very difficult for us to find products we are familiar with, it was one of the reasons we opened the shop. 

We set up the shop a year and a half ago.  Every day we get new clients, it spreads by word of mouth, so every day we have people coming in. We are not ready for wholesale yet, we want to set up the shop first, then to consider the restaurants.

Eating in Greece is not for actually eating the food, it is for socialising. We eat meals with friends and family and chat to relax after a long day or week, it is a way for us to get rid of the stress and the tiredness. If we stay inside the house it is not the same, you are going to watch a little bit of TV, and then go to sleep and tomorrow the next thing.  And we don’t like routine so much we like to do different things.

That is the problem - [in the UK] people are going very fast and also in countries like Germany, Scandinavian countries, the lifestyle is very fast. We have been here for a year and a half and some people pass by every day and only just notice the shop now. 

In Greece we always had time to go to the gym, the swimming pool, the sea, but here I don’t have time, the rhythms of life are different.

Lianna: My children are here, I am with my family, but in Greece I have a different life, my friends, my relatives… I could go out for a coffee for a walk there, on the beach. Here I don’t have that luxury. I don’t have a lot of friends here. I work, I don’t have time to meet people. I miss my house in Greece, I miss Greece.

View Laurentis And Lianna Konstantinidou's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xNQ0-BIk4A

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I am 35 years old, I come from Iran and I was married three years ago. My husband is studying at Aston University, doing his PhD in Electronic Engineering and because of him I'm here in Birmingham now. 

For an Iranian getting a visa for the UK is hard but we were so lucky because before here we lived in Italy for seven months and we applied from there. Recently the British embassy in Iran closed down because of political issues.

I'm an artist, a sculptor.  At first when I came to the UK I was a little upset because in Iran I had a good career, I was in a good situation, I had an exhibition and I sold my sculptures. When I came to the UK I had to start from the first step, I had to find connections. I started working on my collections and thought naturally I would find connections here. I am completely positive about the situation.

During my childhood my parents supported me to go to a painting course but when I became older and chose to be a professional artist my parents didn't agree with it because they were concerned that I wouldn't earn any money. But I insisted and I was the person who decided about my future.

I graduated from University of Tehran in Sculpture and then in Illustration. For two years I worked with publishers in Iran. I went to a private institute and I was taught a Russian style in figurative sculpture. 

I think artists in society try to challenge boundaries and limitations. They try to make new questions that will make people think. It’s so important for me that I can try to do that. As an artist you should have a critical mind even about many common things. I think about all sorts of things all the time. I even have dialogues with myself. Nothing is obvious for me. I don't make assumptions of what things are, I look beyond the surface.

In some cases there are lots of differences between Iran and the UK. But when you live between people and communicate, you can see that people from all over the world have lots of common behavior and ways of thinking. Maybe for the first month you think there are lots of differences but now I am really comfortable and can have communication with people.

I can't really divide these two concepts [art and life], no artist works in isolation, they work within the discourse that they live in. They reflect society and also they create a situation to influence society. We can't separate it. 

View Azadeh's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eDBcd9AIvwk

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I am a PhD student at Malmö University, Sweden and came to Birmingham for six months to do research among undocumented migrants and destitute asylum seeking families. In Sweden I am actively involved in refugee rights. I am married and will become a father in the autumn of 2015.

In Birmingham it has been easiest to integrate with other migrants; you share being an outsider. But I have also made contacts through the university. It is important to have a context to integrate through, that makes it easier.

Sweden and England are quite similar so I thought things would be the same as in Sweden, but there are small differences which over time made a huge difference. You feel like you don't always understand what is happening or that you fit in. Over time those kinds of small differences can be harder to handle than big differences because they are not so clear. 

Since my research is about Birmingham that is going to feed into the discussion about what it is like to be a migrant here. I try to combine my research with volunteering in a youth group on Wednesdays in Coventry.

If you are a migrant planning to move to Birmingham I would give the following advice:

I was afraid in the beginning, wasn't sure what it was going to be like, what people would think of me, if they would be welcoming or not, but I decided I am just going to go for it and reach out and try and see. And everyone I met has been really welcoming and friendly. 

The most important thing you can do for yourself is to have that courage and try and go against your fear, still try and reach out to people even though you are scared. Go to places and start volunteering or start getting engaged in different activities. Because as soon as you get to know one person, then you get to know that person's friends and it is snowballing from there. 

Video Jacob Lind's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BtWQRs0r_Fo 

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I came to the UK in 2002 from Sudan, fleeing persecution and now live here with my partner and child. 

In Sudan I studied Economics and Political Science, but I studied further in the UK and did a Master's Degree in International Business at Coventry University graduating in 2009. 

After completing my degree I worked for several companies including for Tesco’s as a customer services worker in Solihull and as a marketing consultant for an accounting firm.

I then worked for a private College in Walsall in their marketing Department promoting their courses in the Middle East and the Asian subcontinent, until they were taken over by another college.

I worked in Wolverhampton as an operations manager and controller and then joined Euro car parts in Tamworth, a company founded by another migrant who started it with £5000. The company now has assets over £550 million. I simultaneously work as a Business development Manager at Ruhaan and Co Accountants in Birmingham where we give advice on setting up your own business.

We are immigrants, coming as entrepreneurs and we have a lot to offer to the communities here. We use our experience and knowledge in order to better life here as well. It is beneficial for us and for the country. It is a successful story.

I am grateful because without the British people we would never have had the opportunity for a successful life.

I came here as a human rights activist and have also joined many Sudanese community groups here. We work to better ourselves and also to combat all the differences and introduce a better unity so we can take that back home to establish a stable future.

We would never have been able to become real voices for our people back home without the support, passion and open arms we met from the British people here. 

View Abdel Aziz Musa's video here:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hp3qUKH_xJs

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

At a discussion organised jointly by Migrant Voice and Maryhill Integration Network on 31 March 2016, a number of Syrians discussed their experiences of arriving and living in Scotland.

The individuals who have lived in the UK for various periods ranging from four months to three years, included professionals such as a solicitor, a recently graduated doctor, a carpenter, a nurse, and a man who had been a political prisoner for 15 years since he was a student. Two children aged 9 and 12 joined their parents and also took part in the meeting. Some of the Syrians have been reunited with their families while others were still waiting to bring their families to the UK.

The meeting was a unique opportunity for Syrians to freely discuss their concerns about what challenges they, and/or other Syrians they know and work with, have faced since arriving in the UK. Similar to our findings from our discussions with Syrians in London, the most striking point made consistently throughout the discussion was that Syrian refugees want to integrate into UK society but feel they need more support to do so successfully.

This document has been produced by Migrant Voice to inform policy makers and NGOs in order to assist in developing more effective integration strategies. Here is a summary of the participants’ key responses, concerns and recommendations:

What has worked well?

The positives in their new city
•    Syrians in Glasgow feel that there are many positives and things they value in their new homes, from security to education. One person said: “It is peaceful, there is security, people are very nice, I feel treated well. Services are good, education and law and order.”  Another said: “the social services are good. Adult education is good, everyone can go to college here.”
•    Children emphasised that being in Scotland meant they had safety and the kind of everyday comforts others take for granted: A boy of 12 said the best things were: “Electricity, no rationing, and the internet.” A girl of 9 said: “the best is that at Tesco, there are lots of things, and many toys and games.” And she thought the Barbie's dresses were very pretty

Positive treatment and support
•    There was particular emphasis on how well the Syrians felt treated: “People – including the job centre, and other service providers treat you well.” In particular they emphasised the generosity and support of community groups and integration networks that help people when they arrive including with food, clothing and transport costs. They appreciated the events organised by some organisations to allow them to meet other Syrians as well as other communities. “It is good that organisations like Maryhill Integration Network give help and clothing, furniture etc., which is given by people who care and want to support. People here go out of their way to be supportive.” And “We don't usually get together to talk about issues that are important for us. So the last week meeting [organised by Maryhill Integration Network] was helpful”
•    The Syrians felt that the understanding of diversity in Glasgow made the society more welcoming and that there was understanding of the situation for Syrians. “Because of the media coverage of the conflict, people understand the situation for Syrians and they help.” And “Glasgow is used to seeing people from all nationalities and backgrounds, so they do not discriminate against you. Scottish people have developed their capacity to welcome people.” 

Support getting back to work
•    People in certain professions e.g. the medical field, had found it helpful that there were projects to help them transition into work (Refugee Doctors' project)

What have been the challenges?

Challenges for resettled refugees
•    The Syrians who had been here the longest and worked with more recent arrivals told us that they saw a difference for those who arrived before and now. Those who came over the first few years of the war on their own found it easier to settle and bring their families than those who came as part of the resettlement schemes. The latter group came together in a larger group and so it has been harder for them.

Facing racism
•    Some spoke of racism but said that they hadn't experienced it themselves, or that  “maybe there are rare cases but it doesn't tarnish the whole population.” And “There are a few cases of racism I faced but only from junkies and drunk people. It is not a general problem. Everyone is happy to help if you ask.”
•    But it was clear that in some areas of the city individuals did experience racism, especially women with headscarves. One woman had faced racism both against her children and herself. She had felt it from the caseworker, the interpreter and the doctor. She had faced it walking on the road, when people would spit on her and yell at her and say 'No Islam.' Sometimes the bus won't stop for her and a bus conductor told her off for saying ‘please’ instead of ‘thank you’ (she had just arrived and didn’t speak English yet). She had also had whisky poured over her. She is afraid to go out now, because she doesn't feel treated well. She has only been in the UK 3 months, but says she would rather go back to Syria. She is also concerned for her children; her son is excluded by the other children and comes home crying.
•    Having heard the experience of racism raised by the woman and her family, a couple of other participants said that they are had also felt discriminated.
•    One participant was very concerned that one should not complain about these incidents, as he said “people in Scotland are already so much nicer to us than in Jordan and Lebanon. We shouldn't complain” (this was said by the former political prisoner). He was very keen to show appreciation and wanted all other Syrians to show appreciation and not complain about smaller incidents, as he saw them. But he also said that people don't understand why we are here and was keen for the public to understand.

Seeing a doctor, meeting with interpreters
•    Some had experienced long waits to see a GP. Although one child was very ill, the parents had to wait two weeks for an appointment. Another person has shrapnel in his body and they still wont treat him.
•    For the new families arriving through the resettlement scheme the issue is the interpreting. Some interpreters are not professional and at other times a personal relationship develop between the interpreter and the client which impact negatively on families. E.g. the interpreters start telling people what to do or not to do, acting like solicitors.

Language
•    Language was seen as a challenge. All the Syrians said it was so important to learn. “Once you learn you can find a job. You need language for all aspects, including helping your children at school, etc. Once you have this, all other barriers can be removed.” Many felt that they wanted to study more, that it was not enough to have classes only a couple of hours a week, they wanted to learn English faster. They were concerned that all the classes are full. “If you want to register for a course there is a long waiting list. It you can learn English only for 2 hours and you have to pay for transport to do so it is not worth it. It is not the same as a long term course.”

The journey, the asylum process and immigration policies
•    Syrians expressed that the biggest challenge is getting to the UK, and all the challenges and fears along the journey. 
•    There was also concern about the process of claiming asylum and about family reunification. It was felt that there wasn’t a consistent process. The Syrians said that "The Home Office rules change and you are not guaranteed status. Some people I have met have been refused because of the misspelling. Or you refuse family reunifications for these kinds of reasons.” Also they found it difficult to bring their families and going through the process e.g. having to pay lots of money for DNA tests when challenged and requested by the Home Office to prove family links. Not being able to be reunited with your family was a huge issue for everyone. They felt unable to really get started in their new lives: “you feel you can’t settle till your family is here”.
•    Dispersal is an issue. Syrians are worried about being sent to a small village and have found from their contacts that it is a barrier to integration when you are asked to settle in a small place where there are fewer community groups to support you. “I met a guy placed in a small village with only 3 refugee families there and there is no chance to learn English there.” 
•    The waiting times before you get a decision on your asylum case was raised as an issue. In particular the impact this has on mental health as it leads to depression and worry. “It took me a year to get my status. I could only learn English 2 hours a day sometimes, there was not enough to do.”

Transportation costs
•    The cost of transportation is making it difficult to access education and other services for those only receiving asylum support. Some are dispersed to areas where there are few English classes or community groups so they need to travel far. One family had travelled 1 hour and 50 minutes to get to our meeting on three buses. One person said that where he was living he had to walk one and a half hours just to get food shopping. “As an asylum seeker you have 5 pounds a day so you can't get a bus and food. So either you stay where you are and learn nothing or you take transport.” To help with transportation some people are able to get bus passes from their college. 

Lack of information for integration
•    Syrians would like more central guidance on how to integrate and what to know about their new country. There was a sense that there was information, but in many different forms and places and it was difficult to access or know where to start. Some had tried Migrant Helpline but found it difficult to get information there. “There is no specific website or a manual to understand how to live over here. There is no one to tell you 'okay you need to take these three steps.” 

Impact on mental health
•    Depression was seen as an issue. It was recommended that the people who work with Syrians need to remember the mental health issues. It is particularly an issue while you are waiting for a decision and waiting to find work.

What would work – suggestions to facilitate integration
•    Regarding dispersal, the Syrians suggested that people need to be dispersed to places where there are groups and networks to help. Or that it would be better to prepare people for integration in larger cities first, before you could disperse them to other places.
•    It was suggested to create a multilingual website for migrants to advise them on their first arrival. Some suggested there could be online communities inside this. “People are good at using new technology, that's how they made their journey to Europe.”
•    Participants expressed the need to find work fast to help them integrate and that what would enable them to re-enter work faster is to learn English skills ‘on the job’ while learning the specific phrases needed for their professions. “We met with a Minister before to explain that what would help is instead of each of us learning general English for maybe 2-3 hours per week we would learn faster if we could learn the words for our own profession. What you need is to learn the specific language that helps you find a job. For doctors they have set up a special project but not for other professions e.g. catering, business, food, carpentry – we need specific language. Things need to go in parallel. Not to stop learning English, but to teach them special words to find work faster and then to learn more English alongside work.”
•    Projects helping with providing bikes for asylum seekers (such as the Govan community bike workshop) was seen as a big help towards transportation costs, but the projects are small and have a long waiting list so we need more of these.
•    Overall the two most important things mentioned to help with integration was to find work as well as family reunification as both helps people settle. “You need to speed up this process [family reunification], you can't relax until this[has happened].”
•    It was suggested to organise ’integration tours’ of the city to allow for new arrivals to learn where to find everything and to know more about their new city."
•    It was important to the Syrians for the public to know and understand their situation more accurately. “What we want is to get the message out to the public that we didn't come for the welfare etc. We were rich in our country we only came because of the war.”

About 5.6 million Britons now live abroad permanently, with another 500,000 living abroad for part of the year, according to the Foreign Office.

The vast majority, are young working people, in the 25-44 age group, says Tim Finch, co-author of a report, Global Brit: Making the most of the British diaspora.

The next biggest group are in the 45-59 age bracket.

“Very few are going out to do nothing,” points out Finch, communications director at the Institute for Public Policy Research, the think-tank which published the report. Do they integrate with the societies in which they find themselves? “Pensioners are the least-integrated migrant community,” he says.

In Anglophone countries, “integration is very good ... it’s hardly worth talking about. “We’re bad at speaking other languages, we only speak English ... it is easier to integrate in English speaking countries.”

The Global Brit study found that emigrants integrated better in Bulgaria and the US than in Spain and Dubai, while the result for India was mixed. Why?

“Bulgaria was a nascent community, cheap property, nice environment ... it was advertised as a nice home,” Finch explains. “If you can’t afford France or Spain, then it made sense. In Bulgaria you have to integrate as they don’t speak English and you need to learn a bit of Bulgarian.”

There is now a big increase in Britons going to China, where opportunities didn’t exist 10 years ago, a shift that Finch says might increase to economically developing countries such as India or Brazil.

A recent survey by currency dealer Moneycorp found that nine out of ten British expats said that they would continue to live abroad, with a quarter of respondents saying that they would rather move to another country than consider moving back to the UK.

For Dr. Natalia Paszkiewicz, London – where she initially came to do fieldwork for her Polish Masters in Anthropology in 2003 - represents freedom and liberation: “If London was a separate country, that would be where my loyalty would lie.

“I fell in love with London the first time I saw it,” she says.

But moving here from Poland, which she sees as a more religious and conservative country, wasn’t always easy.

The first few years in London were as difficult as for anyone who moves away, she recalls. At one point she had three jobs, and feels her biggest achievement was merely surviving. But she always knew, from her first visit in 1995, that London was where she wanted to be.

She says she lives life here to the full, as though she was going to die next week: “I’m just trying to do as much as possible.”

Work is her life, she admits. “Everything I do is work-related. I go to a lot of events and they are all related to politics or culture.”

And much of that work is about migrants and refugees. 

Paszkiewicz describes herself as primarily an anthropologist, and has now been working with refugees for more than a decade. She is motivated by morality, solidarity and the concept of hospitality. In her second Masters’ degree in Refugee Studies, she focussed on Iranian asylum seekers in the UK and their lived experience of NASS (National Asylum Support Service). She spent over a year in Malta helping asylum-seekers, and her job with the London-based IARS International Institute continues to take her there and to Calais. The aim of the organisation is promote a safer, fairer and more inclusive society.

Her interest in refugees is not based on hand-wringing pathos: “I’m not going there with a tissue, like ‘Oh it’s so sad!’”, she explains. “It is indeed sad”, she adds, “but in a way that makes you angry, and at the same time when you talk to the people on the move, they’re just extremely interesting people who have amazing life experiences … it’s fascinating to see what people can go through and how strong they can be.

“The fact that I’m interested in difference comes down to curiosity … I haven’t lost it and it’s what keeps me going.”

London is an expensive city and her refugee friends often advise her to move the private sector: –“If you try to save someone who is drowning, you have to be able to swim yourself.” But she sticks with the NGO world because she believes it has a real impact on people.

She thinks her next move will be to head outside Europe and do similar work there: “I think that would give me a fuller understanding of the migration experience.”

One thing is clear though, wherever Natalia Paszkiewicz finds herself in the next phase of her life, we believe she will make a positive impact. As she herself remarked, “There is some integrity in everything I do”.

When people hear you’re headed for London, they will warn you about two things; bland food and freezing weather. With these disclaimers set forth, they will then go on to gush about the greatness of the rest of the city, sometimes even dubbing it “the best in the world”. But the factor no one mentioned- and what I have come to appreciate most about living here- is the diversity this city thrives on.

In a typical day, I get up and head to my favorite coffee shop to get some morning caffeine. Depending on who is working, I will interact with staff who are French, British, or American.

Coffee in hand, I head to Migrant Voice to start a day of volunteering. Here, I work alongside volunteers from Pakistan, Germany, and other areas of England, writing articles and discussing current events pertaining to migration. The staff I work for here come from Lebanon, Denmark, and New Zealand.

During my time with this organization I have had the privilege to meet people from all over the world who have come to London for their own reasons. Two standout cases of this have been Hassan and Jamima, individuals who arrived as political asylum seekers to London and who were kind enough to share with me their stories. Hassan, who is originally from Iraq, discussed with me his accomplishments in photography and electrical engineering, and how the city has provided for him a home in which to teach and explore. Jamima, who is originally from the Philippines, shared with me her work with the charity Kanlungan and how London has helped her feel empowered to speak her mind. More on these stories can be read here and here 

With the morning complete at Migrant Voice, I head to class. Here, I learn alongside American students and am taught by a German professor. He tells us of his marriage to an Italian woman, and raising British children here in England.

After class, I need to pick up some school supplies. I head to the small stationary shop around the corner from my flat, which is owned by an Indian family, and purchase a new notebook before heading home for the day.  

And that is just who I interact with directly- let alone the conversations and accents that pass me on the street, tube, grocery store, or pretty much anywhere else in this city.

As my time in London now comes to a close, long gone is the vision of having to live off roasted meat and potatoes, while it rains constantly and the Beatles play on repeat. While strong in its British tradition, present day London is a city of culture from all over the world, made up of people who want to share what this amazing city has to offer and contribute in return. There has not been a single day in this city where I have not come into contact with people from at least three different countries, something I cannot come close to being able to say of my home back in California.

This change is an experience of diversity I am extremely grateful for. I find it to be such a special thing because of how normal it is here to be from a different place, speak a different language, or be rooted in a different culture. This is not to say that London is perfect or that discrimination and prejudice don’t exist here. Of course they do, and there is always room for improvement in these areas. But the diversity I believe to be embedded creates a city that is overall more tolerant and encouraging of different types of people and the positive contributions to culture and society we all have the potential to bring.  

While I have come to disprove the original warning that the city does not have good food (just visit Brick Lane on a Sunday), it is true that by mid-December London has become very cold. If you don't mind throwing on a jacket however, it might just be the most interesting and wonderful city in the world, a place in which people from across the globe can call a home.

I. No event has had a bigger impact in my life than leaving my country early into the 2000s. Leaving would configure everything that happened afterwards, from careers to relationships, my everyday moods, my whole life, everything. When you leave – in the knowledge that you are not leaving for a holiday – something changes in you. The possibility of not returning many times becomes a stubborn resistance to a possible return. This happened to me at least.

When I left, Argentina was deeply immersed in an economic crisis; many of my generation had no other choice but packing their stuff and heading somewhere else. This was almost 14 years ago – the words "lost" and "generation" were uttered a lot back then, just like today. Argentina's crisis anticipated many crises to come. I am sympathetic to Spanish, Portuguese, Greek, and Italian people: I know how it feels to see your whole life crashing from one day to the next; I experienced high unemployment, surreal inflation, violence, and political apathy. I know what it is to leave everything behind to search for a new future. Not seeing the way out. I don't envy anyone in that position, in the same way that I don't envy anyone who spends his/her whole life in the same place. For some people the ideal situation is spending some years somewhere to then return. These are the only people I envy. 

I wish I could do that. I can't. It would mean another self-exile, a new set of effects left behind. I learned to find a home in displacement. I learned to know that this is the only form of home I'll ever experience. It is a double state of homelessness. And still an enriching state.

II. The following words are generally attributed to philosopher Miguel de Unamuno: "Fascism is cured by reading, racism by traveling". I don't know whether he really said this or not, but I do agree with these words. Being able to experience other cultures has opened my mind, made me a more generous and tolerant person. 

These words take an even bigger presence in my life today. The UK has slowly become a more intolerant and ignorant place. More and more people are in serious need of reading and traveling. Sadly, I don't think we will see that happening. If only it was so easy as prescribing books and trips to cure what is nothing more and nothing less than the fear of "the other". 

It is an uncomfortable moment to be an immigrant in the UK. Immigrants have become the scapegoat of many problems that have nothing whatsoever to do with the movement of people. This is not only the making of parties the likes of UKIP, BNP, EDL, etc. Mainstream political parties have also – and cynically – taken on the anti-migrant rhetoric. 

It would be pointless here to insist on the benefits brought by immigration, or on the lack of hard data when it comes to this or that other aspect of immigrant life in the UK, or on the fact that Brits living abroad are hardly ever mentioned when discussing migration in the UK. There is a human side of the equation that both right and centre-left constantly efface from the arguments around migration: people move to look for better lives, be this a better economic situation or better weather. The discussions around numbers and figures can't capture this; how could this be quantified, turned into a utilitarian statistic?  

Xenophobes concerned about the loss of a "national purity" (whatever that is) won't listen. And if they did they wouldn't be fussed about it. That doesn't mean that we should stop reminding them. We must remind people that leaving is never a decision taken lightly. 

III. Immigrants had a hard time in my country too when I was there. The crisis and unemployment was also blamed on them. Look back in history and see that anti-migrant sentiment is as old as the wheel. Scapegoating is rarely innovative, and yet it is hard to fight back against it. 

Immigrants don't have as many mouthpieces as those at UKIP and BNP, etc. We have little or no representation in "mainstream" media. Due to many reasons – from language skills to cultural specificities – we are at a disadvantage when it comes to fighting the Farages/Griffins, for a spot in the limelight. There are few voices to compensate for the bashing unleashed by the right wing. Few in politics, and few in media. 

That is the reason why movements such as Migrant Voice are important. It is all about generating a dialogue between a plurality of voices, opening up the spectrum of what is represented and representable. Maybe many won't listen. But we will become stronger and more comfortable in the knowledge that we are not alone. And that we aren't going anywhere.  

Fernando Sdrigotti is a bilingual writer. Born in Rosario, Argentina, he now lives in London. He tweets at @f_sd

For Daniel Debessai the journey from Eritrea to the UK didn’t end at the border, he has had to work hard to navigate a life for himself in the UK. Olivia Blair spoke to Daniel about his journey so far.

Daniel arrived in the UK in 2008, leaving behind a job as a statistician. He then undertook a second degree (he already held one in Statistics and Demography from Eritrea). He embarked upon a Mathematics and Statistics degree at Kingston University, London and graduated in 2012.

However after graduating, despite having two degrees, Daniel found it difficult to get a graduate job and was unemployed for about six months. He believes that there was a lack of professional help from the job centre and that employers often lacked knowledge about refugee status; that being that individuals with this status have full right to work in the UK without immigration restrictions.

This was until a friend, also from Eritrea, put him in touch with Sheila Heard. Sheila is the managing director of Transitions-London, a not-for-profit careers and employment organisation who specialise in placing highly-skilled refugees into work. Transitions’ clients include the national grid, crossrail, KPMG and British Red Cross. Daniel says Transitions helped him by providing services such as help with writing tailored-CVs, assisting with application forms and conducting mock interviews.

Daniel finally found employment as a graduate trainee at the FDM group, an IT consultancy company and has been there for 11 months. Daniel enjoys his job: “I’m very busy Monday to Friday but I like to be busy, I know what it’s like to be unemployed and I wouldn’t want to feel like that again,” he said.

How does working in Eritrea compare to the UK? “It is completely different”, Daniel says, “At first it was very difficult [to adjust] but not any more, all of the people [at work] have been very helpful so there are no problems… I’m really enjoying living and working in the UK.”

Daniel praises Transitions for their “excellent work” adding that in his opinion “they are the only social enterprise who understand professional refugees’ problems”. Daniel advises other refugees who may be finding it hard to get work to “keep their morale high and work harder and they will definitely get there”.

For more information on Transitions work, visit their website.

Choi Joong-ha greets us in the small head office of a Korean supermarket in New Malden on a sunny afternoon. “Annyeong haseyo,” he says, bowing slightly. He leads us to an even smaller room at the back and gestures for us to sit. There is a whiteboard in the room with the words “The government’s lies are all bullshit” scribbled across it.

“I don’t really have any spare time,” he tells me, through an interpreter. “All my time is taken up by the community work I do.”

Choi is president of the North Korean Residents’ Society, which helps defectors integrate with life in the UK and helps them tell their stories. About 600 North Koreans have settled in New Malden. He has lived here for seven years with his wife and three children. He is the stock manager of Korea Foods supermarket. Choi used to serve in the North Korean military, where he worked for more than 10 years before the famine.

His childhood in North Korea was “very controlled”. From the minute they are born, North Koreans are fed pro-government propaganda and not much else. “They use hunger to brainwash you,” Choi says.

“Even baby food is rationed, you aren’t allowed to feed your baby more than the allocated amount a day. So from birth you are hungry – and hungry people cannot think of anything other than their hunger. In school and at work, you have entire lessons on how great the Kim dynasty is. That’s how they brainwash you.”

Because of this conditioning many defectors are still afraid to tell their stories.

“I was torn between loyalty and fear,” he says – loyalty to his great leaders, to whom he was expected to be grateful for having life itself, and fear they would torture and kill him and his family if they ever found them.

After defecting and working for four years in China, Choi saved up enough to pay a Chinese broker to take him and his family further away. They were given a choice of South Korea, the US or the UK. America and South Korea were known to Choi as hostile countries – “the enemy. That’s what we were taught.” So he chose UK, where the government sent them to Newcastle.

“The hardest part about coming to the UK is that I had no other skills than those I had in the military,” he recalls. “I had no other job experience either. It was very hard to pick up new skills and get another job here. English is also a barrier: I just don’t have time for classes.”

After hearing about a Korean community in New Malden, Choi decided to settle there. Some people thought he was mad for wanting to uproot his family again. “As a refugee, you just follow your survival instincts,” he says. “Your gut knows how to keep you alive.”

#MigrantsContribute is a grassroots campaign led by a coalition of 67 migrant-led organisations. It aims to demonstrate the positive contribution that migrant communities make to British life and to counteract the negative stereotyping of migrant communities that is frequently seen in public debates.

Ingrid Guyon is a member. This is her story.

“Where are you from?” resonates in my head.

After my 14 years in London, this is still the first question that people ask, as no one can ever guess correctly.

I am a citizen of the world. I am a migrant and proud to be a migrant. I live with migrants and work with migrants. If you look at history, we are all migrants. Why do we need to be labelled and judged depending on where we are from or even what we do?

Although I come from a neighbour, southern France, people forget I am a migrant. Like most of us, I have left my home country, my culture, my language, my family and friends and sunny Mediterranean coast and good food to start a new life in London.

I would not be able to live in a single-culture country. Multi-culturalism has taught me more about tolerance, understanding, respect, history, human rights, traditions, migration, politics, cultures, love and values than any school would ever be able to do.

I came to London in 2001 to look for a new life and independence and to practise my English, which I was studying at university in France and always dreamt of travelling and saving the world! But what I really wanted since I was a child was to travel, study visual anthropology to work and preserve the traditions and wisdom of Native Indians from Latin America.

At the time, finding a job and accommodation in London was easy and affordable. I worked as a waitress and met amazing people from all around the world and decided to stay. I travelled a lot with my new friends and developed an interest in photography while living in the small village of Uvero Alto in the Dominican Republic. Since then I have never stopped taking pictures and living and working with Latin Americans. While living in squats and juggling with crazy jobs, I graduated in photography at the London College of Communication and in social anthropology.

I found a home within New Generation, a collective of Latin American artists from refugee backgrounds who gave me the trust, space and inspiration that makes me who I am now. I worked as an immigration adviser for the Latin American community for five years and have been photographing the Latin American and migrant communities and cultures ever since.

My approach to photography and to representations of cultures, to news and to my career has radically shifted in the wake of my studies in social anthropology. In 2009 I established Fotosynthesis, a non-profit organisation that encourages social inclusion, self-development, participation and advocacy through photography.

I am also collaborating on a long-term project with Latin Elephant, a small charity that aims to involve the Latin American retailers in the regeneration of south London’s Elephant and Castle area, and promoting the contributions that we migrants make to the British economy, and to diversity and culture.

I am really grateful for all that Britain has made possible in my life and in the life of millions of migrants but I believe that each individual has a voice and rights and should be heard, listened to and valued equally.

We all contribute to British society by paying taxes, working, volunteering, and by bringing knowledge, skills and culture. What would London look like without migrant communities? Can you picture it? I can’t.

www.ingridguyon.com

http://www.fotosynthesiscommunity.org.uk

Nishit is a former intern at Migrant Voice with a passion for journalism on an international scale. Having lived in London for a few years, Nishit sat down with us to talk about his experiences studying and working, and to describe his hopes for the future.

As we spoke, Nishit looked confident, as if ready for anything the world was about to bring him, even if unsure what exactly that is. He looks forward to a future in journalism, but that future no longer involves staying in the UK. With his work visa soon to expire, Nishit has no choice but to leave the country. Despite this, Nishit is not sad to go. He has aspirations to travel and to work as a journalist in North and West Africa, places that he says don’t traditionally get a lot of news coverage.

Born and raised in Bombay, India, Nishit studied journalism for his undergraduate degree. He always knew he wanted to be a journalist because he loves writing, and he is particularly interested in conflict journalism and foreign news. That may be why, at the age of 20, he decided to head abroad and get his 1st Master’s degree in international journalism at London’s City University. “India is insulated in terms of news, and the UK is a better place for international journalism than most places.”

Another Master’s and a couple of internships later, Nishit found himself working at SKY news as a text producer. His duties includee looking at the news agenda and what’s being covered, and prepping and getting relevant information on screen, such as breaking news and updates. Typical days would run from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m., with night shifts being 2 p.m. to 11 p.m. Nishit enjoys his work, which was possible because of a two-year work visa after his graduation. He emphasized that his was the last year of students to receive such visas upon graduation, and he is unhappy to see the changed situation for international students. Nishit believes that due to the ending of the visas, students today are “less likely” to come study, especially in journalism, because they can’t get experience immediately after graduating.

His time in London has given Nishit his own unique views of London. London is accepting and open and easy to get used to, but not as easy to integrate into as cities such as Singapore or Hong Kong. “As an immigrant in London, you will always feel like an immigrant.” Nishit does believe that London is a diverse city that embraces other cultures, but he doesn’t feel that it is a true “international city.” He feels London maintains a sense of British identity that can serve to alienate foreigners not used to it.

Despite this, he walks away with a lot of positives on his time here. “London is an exhilarating city with so much to offer intellectually and culturally. There are many other cities that aren’t as diverse, where you hit a ceiling with what you can get.” The opportunities afforded to him by this city provide him with a base with which to move forward, and he intends to do just that.

I came to this country in 2002 when I was 12 years old. I couldn’t speak a word of English and tried my best to learn as much as I could in high school.  After I arrived here, I thought I was safe, however instead of the horrors that I faced in my own country; the UKBA became the face of my nightmares.

It was a normal day when I heard that one of my best friends had been detained. I was in an English class at the time. My teacher told me that Agnesa had been detained by the UKBA and she and her family where in a detention centre waiting to be deported. There was one question going through my head: Why?

She was an Asylum seeker, who did not have her papers to stay.

I want you to put yourself in my position. Think about how you would feel, if your best friend had been snatched away. No goodbyes, no more school, nothing. How would that make you feel?

I was angry, but I was also afraid. Like Agnesa, my family and I did not have our papers either. Were they coming for me too? When was it going to be my turn for the knock at the door in the early morning?

It was the fear and the anger that helped me and my remaining friends find the strength to fight back. The injustice of the situation that we were in drew others to our cause. They were other people from our area – asylum seekers, Scottish people, even former refugees came together and we formed a community. A community that campaigned for social justice. The Media called us ‘The Glasgow Girls’.

We ran a successful campaign and challenged the status quo. We won some and lost some. Against all odds, us girls from secondary school in Drumchapel High managed to stop the UKBA from detaining children, who should be at school, in prison-like detention centres. We shone a light on the sinister things that were happening to those who had already fled from terror and intimidation and raised awareness of the horrors of dawn raids.

Yet some experiences never leave you. The fear that you live in, waiting for the knock at the door. Waiting to be told that you can’t stay and that you have to go back to a country where your family is in mortal danger affects me even today. It leaves its mark. Even though I have my papers now, I guess a part of me is still waiting to be told I have to leave.

The Westminster Government and the British Media don’t help to allay these fears.  They seem to encourage society to hate and fear those that are seeking asylum. People have become desensitised to what this means. They forget it means seeking sanctuary from people who are trying to kill you and your family.

Not long ago, there was a student called Yashika Bageerathi. She is 19 years old and until very recently was studying for her A-levels. She was deported last year – separated from her mother. Sent back to a country which she fled, fearing for her life.

People say that she shouldn’t have been allowed to start studying; she shouldn’t have come over here at all. Some people say that ‘it’s a good thing that she’s been sent back; one less asylum seeker to claim benefits and drain the NHS’. How would they feel if it was their daughter? Or their sister? Or their friend?

Take me for example.

I was born in Iraq. I am a Kurdish Iraqi but don’t consider Iraq to be my home. I wasn’t safe there. Members of my family were executed, by firing squad. They were taken away, blindfolded and shot. Does that happen in your home?

You might be wondering what their crime was. They spoke out against the regime. They put themselves at risk to try to make the country a little better. Do you think they should have been shot for that? Do you think I should have waited there until they came for me too?

Can you imagine the police coming to your home, rounding up your family members and executing them without a trial? Can you understand what it feels like to have actually lived in that situation? That’s not a home.

Glasgow is my home. Here I feel safe and I can make a difference. Like my family before me, I can speak out to make our country a little better for those who live here; but unlike my family before me, I don’t have to do so in fear.

But there is still a lot to do.

Since the Glasgow Girls, I have campaigned for equal access to education for those seeking asylum. After I came to this country, I had to wait for 8 years before I was allowed to stay. During that time I attended school and achieved high standards. But when I finished school, there was no place I could go. I wasn’t eligible for a student loan like my school friends. I wasn’t allowed to work and I didn’t have the independent financial means required to fund a University degree.

Education is very important. It’s a vehicle for progress for the individual and for society.  Nelson Mandela was right to say that “Education is the most powerful weapon you can use to change the world” .

In Scotland, some asylum seekers are eligible to have their tuition fees paid for by the state – like Scottish Students. But they remain ineligible for vital Student Award Agency for Scotland loans and grants. They are barred from employment and as a result, higher education is inaccessible to those without independent financial means.

This is why I get out of bed every morning to campaign for the rights of migrants. I want to make the UK a better, more accessible and welcoming place for asylum seekers as well as international students to come and study, so that we do not lose the students who bring so much to our country.  I am not campaigning for migrants to be granted more rights than our native friends, but simply to be treated equally and as human beings. Is that so much to ask?

I graduated with an honours degree in law and politics in 2013. I am currently the Vice-President Diversity and Advocacy at the University of Strathclyde Students’ Association. I am one of the original Glasgow Girls - the group which campaigned across the UK to stop deportations of vulnerable asylum seekers. I recently got elected to NUS UK International students committee and Trustee Board.

Five years of living in the United Kingdom has changed Odi’s life immensely after experiencing years of religious persecution and political unrest in his home country, Iran. Even though he has lived all over the UK, London takes first prize in places he loves. Despite a long, difficult journey from Iran to Istanbul to London as a refugee, away from his wife and son, Odi continues to maintain an optimistic view about life, as well as a love and appreciation for the British people he has made friends with.

Speaking to Odi, it is a surprise when he explains that his fluent English is not the result of taking an English class but that he actually learned the language from speaking to people in the park. In his opinion, "the best way to know a place is to go to the park," which he did upon arrival in the UK after seeking asylum five years ago. The journey to the UK included months of interchanging periods of fearful waiting and constant travel. Though the trip itself took several months, the impetus for his wish to leave began many years ago in his birthplace of Tehran, Iran. He grew up in a very religious family where he felt forced to take part in practices that he did not quite understand. His questions always went unanswered.

After attending university to study computer science in the field of computer networking, he worked as a teacher and later, a computer manager. Odi continued to ask questions about both the religious and, also later on, political situation in Iran. As a result, he was imprisoned for three months.  His father helped him get released for two days for permission to get a medical check-up on his heart problem. From here Odi’s escape from Iran commenced. A taxi drove him to a town bordering Afghanistan and Pakistan where he ran to a border village and spent two weeks in Karachi, Pakistan, until he was able to get a fake passport. After a flight to Istanbul, Odi spent seven months there because his body was in a poor condition from health issues and life in prison. Rather than risk travelling by plane, he rode in the back of a lorry from Istanbul to London. After living off dates, cheese and water for 28 days, the driver finally opened the gates to the door and said, "you can go now," and when Odi asked, "where are we," the driver said, "England, you are safe now."

At first, Odi struggled with the Home Office who refused his case. They thought he was lying because a truck trip from Istanbul to London should only take two weeks but it took him 28 days due to stopping for multiple days at a time. For four years he was homeless and had no support. Now he has a fresh claim and gets basic support for food each week on Azure cards which do not allow him to get money for travel and many other essential items. His Home Office identity card reads ‘Forbidden from taking employment.’ Currently he waits for a response to his fresh claim, but this restriction does not stop him from filling up his days and engaging in the British community.

Volunteering is a crucial part of Odi’s life, and his experiences include a year and a half as a mentor in a project at the Migrant and Refugee Communities Forum (MRCF) and doing IT Work at Migrant Voice. "I’m happy about my volunteer time," he said as he described helping his mentee overcome his fear of communicating with English speaking people. He believes in the importance of being an active member in the community. A typical day for Odi is spent all over the city. He often goes to the library to read, spends time at the MRCF or with friends and walks around the park to meet and converse with people. Often, he catches many by surprise with his story and they enjoy talking to him, "because they don’t know any refugees."

After living in London for the past year, Odi naturally has found his favourite places to go and things to do. He loves Westminster Abbey and Uxbridge and he would like to be able to go see a production at a theatre or an opera. Observing and speaking with people are two things he really enjoys doing. He particularly strives to talk to as many people as possible who are also in his position. Sadly, "many refugees think that the English hate them," and he works to change their minds by sharing his positive experiences with them. "People here are so lovely," he says, and they encourage him not to give up.

Despite facing so many obstacles, including homelessness, his friends help keep him grounded on multiple levels. The people of London and the friends he has made from all over the world cause this to be the city he loves. "London is beautiful because many people from other countries are here and bring their cultures here." If he gets his status, Odi hopes to bring his wife and son, who are still in Iran, to London. His dreams include attending university to study psychology after he becomes a more native English speaker. While he waits to hear from the Home Office, he continues to be optimistic and make the most of his life in London.

Article by Tara Higgins 

London Eye photo by: Mike Peel

My Story

My name is Muriel (you need to pronounce it MuriEL, not MEWriel, just so you know). I used to live in Paris and, when my husband found a job in London, I had two options: change husband or change job. I chose the latter, and the whole family moved to London as a result. I really wished I had changed my name to Julia when we moved here. No, honestly. Because every time I say that my name is Muriel, here is the reaction I get:

" Oh really? My great-great-grandmother used to be a Muriel too. She had a sister called Mildred who remained a spinster all her life. They lived together after the death of my great-great-grandfather. They both died in 1925, a week apart. Can you believe it?"

Great. You have just made my day.

But I digress.

I quickly found a new job, and a school for my daughters but struggled to understand the rules of the game on this side of the Channel. To make matters even worse, I wasn't taken seriously, probably because of my French accent. Because just by crossing the Channel, I had apparently become some sort of mysterious creature that was almost too beautiful to have a brain of her own. I remember presenting a new business case when one of the Directors asked me whether he knew me from somewhere. He didn't.

In the meantime, my daughters were thriving in the British system. They were all about show-and-tells and having bangers and mash for dinners. What was going on?

It was time for a change. I started writing a blog called French Yummy Mummy when I left the Corporate world in 2011 to set up my own business, spend more time with my children, and get back in touch with my more creative side. I had reached a stage where I couldn't see what was next for me. I was tired of always being considered as 'the sexy French lady' and wanted to debunk the myths on French women by making fun of them. I also wanted to help women of all nationalities, shapes, colours and ages to see the funny side of things, and feel happier about themselves. Because if I am the 'sexy one', warts and all, anyone can be.

The success of my blog took everybody by surprise (including me). I started writing for newspapers and magazines, and was interviewed by most major media companies. I also started modelling for photoshoots and commercials at the ripe age of 42. My business is doing well, and my daughters are getting more British by the day. The younger one wants to join a cricket team, and the older one is already playing in her school's netball team. It doesn't get any more British than this, right?

Ten years down the line and we all have British passports now. Moving to the UK has given us the push we needed to get out of comfort zone, and achieve a lot more than we would have in our home country.

My name is Muriel and I am a happy migrant.

Cleaners employed through ISS to clean at SOAS University in London went on strike on the 4th and 5th of March 2014.

The strike was part of their campaign to be employed directly by SOAS on the same sick pay, holidays and pensions as others working for the university, rather than the work being outsourced. Here is the story of one of the cleaners and why he decided to go on strike:

My name is Lenin Escudero, I am 37 years old. I come from Ecuador and have been living in London since 2000. Back home I was a professional footballer until I got an injury at 21 and had to stop playing. I also have a degree in teaching Physical Education. I came to the UK to find a better life because at home, all doors were closed. I saw the UK as country of opportunities and equal rights.

I work 15 hours a day as a cleaner, including for SOAS University where I have been working since 2003. I used to work even more, 7 days a week, 16-18 hours a day, now I don't work weekends any more. Monday-Friday I start working at three in the morning. I clean offices in central London from 3am to 5:45am, then start at SOAS University from 6am to 4:30 pm where I do clean-up work of classrooms, bathrooms and communal areas and move furniture. In the evening I work at the HSBC bank as a cleaner from 5:30pm to 8:30pm. It has been very hard.

One of the weakest points in my life is the lack of time I could spend with my family. By the time I arrive at home at 8pm, my kids have to go to bed. It has affected me a lot that I have spent so little time communicating with them. It is not because I don't want to, it is because the lack of time. At the end of the day we try to manage to continue living because we don't have any other option. I am the only one working, as my wife looks after our three kids. I don't work these long hours to save up money, I just work to survive, to feed my family.

I would like to cut the hours, but I can't because the income is very important for my family and also we have family back home that I am supporting: my parents and my wife's parents. But the few moments I have, I try to spend a lot of time with the children and my wife. When the children were little, they would ask me, 'why do you not spend more time at home with us? Why do you work too much? Why do you not find another job? Why can't you be a footballer?'

They questioned why I work as a cleaner. So I have explained to them about that. I would have liked to work in my field (physical education) but I would need to study again to re-qualify and I can't take time off to study again to do that when I have to make a living. I have also brought the children with me sometimes to another cleaning job and showed them what I did. And I explained to them, 'I do cleaning now, but I don't want you to do this job, I want you to do something better. I want you to study hard.' It is not a bad profession, but it is not well paid.

The children know about the campaign I have been involved in with the other cleaners at SOAS. They know what we are fighting for. I don't feel we have fair pay and conditions. At the beginning I thought we had equal conditions, but then I would met other staff from the university, and when they were sick they would be able to take the time off they needed. But when got an injury I had a risk to lose my flat because of the low sick pay. It was in 2003.

I had an accident: chairs fell on my feet and I lost three of my toenails. I was unable to work for three weeks, and only received Statutory Sick Pay of £84 pounds per week, which was not enough to pay my rent and to make ends meet. I could not provide food for my family and I was even at risk to be evicted from my house because I couldn’t pay my rent. I had to take a loan from the bank to cover my expenses. It was very stressful for me and my family. The doctor had given me a full month for Disability, but I had to return to work while still not been fully recovered from the accident.

If I had the same sick pay as other workers at SOAS, I could have taken the time off I needed to fully recover and I would not suffer from economic difficulties such as struggling to pay my expenses. Thank God that I haven’t had any other accident since then. I would not want to go through that bad experience again, because with the Statutory Sick Pay no one can survive.

At one point we went 3 months without pay for some of our work. This was while working for the previous company the cleaning was outsourced to. So what happened is that out of 30 cleaners, 12 cleaners left and that's what they wanted it seemed, because as soon as they left the vacancies weren't filled. The people who were left had no other option but to seek advice. That is why we went to Unison. We told them about the situation and they organised a meeting. There were 30 cleaners with the same situation between the two SOAS campuses. We asked them for help to get the 3 month’s salary but then this led to them explaining to us about the London living wage, so in 2006 we started to campaign for this and for union recognition and also to be brought back in house.

I come from a background where all my family are politically involved. My mother was in the top of the party, she was involved with. Around the time when I was born, she had to hide because of her political involvement. But I was the only one never involved in any political things in Ecuador. I only liked football. So I grew up with this, but I didn't know how to do it myself. It just started here because they wanted to cut my hours. I worked 8 hours and they wanted to cut them to 5 and a half. So I went to seek advice from the union and I was told that they couldn't just do that.

I started to challenge the situation, without knowing the law. And then we started to organise. The people appointed me as a union representative and I have been one for almost 7 years. I took a lot of courses as a union rep and I have a lot of experience in the campaign now, speak publicly about these issues and feel more confident. I speak publicly about these issues.

The campaign was eventually successful in achieving the living wage and union recognition, but not being brought in house and we are still fighting for this and for dignified treatment. Here is another example why: In 2012, I was working with my co-worker in the bathrooms on the first floor when my manager called me and asked us to go to the first floor to clean the male bathrooms. He gave us the order that from the next day, I would have to begin to clean tops, around toilets and walls and floors.

I expressed my concerns regarding why we had to do a job that we have never done before. We have never done 'deep cleaning'. I have not been trained to do 'deep cleaning' so I was not able to do it. The issue was that the person normally doing this job was on holiday and had not been replaced, so the job was not done. Moreover, those toilets had not been cleaned properly for a long time, so the bathrooms were shabby. Despite this, my manger wanted us to clean them properly.

This difficult work was added on top of our other daily duties.  But I was not going to receive any pay for the extra work. My manager said that he saw no problem for me to do what I was asked to do, but I told him I wouldn't do it because it didn't not seem reasonable that he was increasing my workload when the issue was that the cleaner, who was on holiday should have been replaced.

The next day I was suspended on the grounds that I didn’t want to follow reasonable instructions from my manager. At this time we had raised a grievance against the Company, because they were not following the agreements made between Unison and the company. They knew I was one of the people behind the grievance. I think that is why they came here and asked me to do the extra job cleaning the bathroom etc. They knew I was going to say no, so they could say you didn't follow instructions, and could suspend me. I was suspended for two months, but they didn't expect that people were behind me.

Unison organised a demonstration together with the student union (UCU) and the union for the academics and because of the pressure, I got my job back. So instead of getting me to stop, I am more determined to continue the campaign because I know people are behind me. At the beginning the other staff and students didn't understand about the campaign because they saw our work conditions as legal. And it is legal to outsource the work. But if you are outsourced, you only get the statutory sick pay, holidays and pension. And we don't think it is fair that we don't have the conditions of the other SOAS employees, especially because we are working for an educational institution that is teaching every day about equality and human rights.

They say that 'At SOAS everyone is treated equally and with dignity' and that is not true because the cleaners are not treated equally. So we started to raise our voice and people started to understand it. Because in the beginning some of them thought, 'well you work for an external company, why are you complaining to SOAS?'

SOAS is the main boss, it is still their responsibility. If they want to hire a cleaning company, they should hire one with equal work conditions because otherwise it doesn't make sense that their policies say that there is equality for everyone who work under the same roof. We do an important job so why should we be treated differently, we are human beings. We have more risk of getting sick than anyone.

Because we work moving furniture, we work with chemicals, we work in contact with bacteria every single day, so why we don't have the right to get sick pay? Over Christmas they turned off the heating in the building while we had to clean. We had to work in below ten degree temperature. And when we get old after working 20 or 30 years in this job, there is only statutory pension and how can you survive on that?

I also believe it is important for the outside world to know about this. Because this is not only a problem here, it is a problem everywhere people are working for outsourced cleaning companies. Maybe you don't hear about it in other places because they are like us in 2006 when we didn't know yet how to organise and they are afraid to speak out. Because as soon as you start to speak out you are victimised by the cleaning company. They don't victimise you directly, no they say 'no, this is still dirty' or if you are sitting down, they tell you ‘no, you can’t sit down.’ And at the end of the day you get scared. But we have to continue fighting.

The campaign is fair because we are fighting for equality and for justice. And we believe that everyone at this University needs to be treated with the same terms and conditions.  We don't believe in second class workers, especially not at this university. These are some of the reasons why I am going on strike for equal sick pay, holidays, pension, and for dignity and respect.

Cleaners currently employed through ISS to clean at SOAS University in London went on strike on the 4th and 5th of March 2014.

The strike is part of their campaign to be employed directly by SOAS on the same sick pay, holidays and pensions as others working for the university, rather than the work being outsourced. Here is the story of one of the cleaners who went on strike:

My name is Luis Armando. I am from Ecuador and have been living in London for 18 years. I started working for SOAS very soon after arriving - it would be 17 years that I have worked there now. In Ecuador, I studied 5 years at the university and got a mechanical engineering degree. But I couldn’t find a job because in those days corruption and bad governance were everywhere. I needed to go abroad. I came to the UK with my wife. We had to leave Ecuador, because like everyone else we wanted to live well. We were poverty exiles.

When I arrived in London the first barrier I encountered was the language. We could not communicate so we did not know our rights. Cleaners were invisible. Communication was the first problem because we couldn’t express what we felt. Nobody asked about us. In that time, here at SOAS the companies paid in cash, they didn’t ask for documents when they hired you. I never had a pay or holiday problem but some of my colleagues got problems: they would work and when they had to collect their pay, they would be asked for documents… some of them wouldn’t be paid for 3 months.

Eight years ago, we started to claim our rights. It was hard because some of us were scared. We needed the job; we could not speak proper English. But we started talking with some students who could speak Spanish. We told them what was going on. We started to get organised with one union, and then we joined UNISON. We learnt more about our rights in this country. And we started our campaigns.

The first step was to get recognition between the cleaning company and UNISON. Getting this gave us the power to talk with our colleagues about the union, about their rights. Then we started a campaign for the London living wage. UNISON helped, and so did professors, students and other workers. It lasted nearly two years but we were successful. We used to be paid £7.40/h, now we’re getting £8.80/h. We also protested when they did an immigration raid.

And around two years ago, we started a new campaign to ask SOAS University to bring the cleaners in-house. We have only a statutory sick pay of £85 per week and we only qualify when we work full time. The pension we have is also very basic. And we have only 20 days of holidays while SOAS employees have more than 30. We do a lot of hard work here.

We bring our knowledge, our physical labour. At work, I also painted classrooms or fixed things when they were broken. They did not have to pay someone else to do it. But SOAS doesn’t want to employ us directly. I don’t think it is fair. We do not ask for anything free. We work here, we pay taxes, we give our knowledge, we help this country.

We ask for basic rights: for our sick pay, pension, and holidays to be the same as the ones of the people who work at SOAS. We did a few demonstrations, we sent letters to MPs, embassies, students. In July 2013, SOAS created a commission to investigate the best option for them. They said it would be to create their own cleaning company and to share it with other colleges. But nothing has happened since July last year.

This is why we decided to start the strike. We organised it step by step. It is legal, we don’t want anyone to be fired. I am optimistic about it. We have a lot of supporters. Sometimes I ask myself “why does SOAS say no to bringing us ‘in house’?” We feel discriminated because at SOAS, you’re supposed to find dignity and equal rights but in reality it’s not true. And it is the same for all the contractors (security, catering, maintenance etc). However, we the cleaners are the most organised. We have learnt with time.

I used to live in the Democratic Republic of Congo. In 1998 I graduated from the Catholic University in Kinsasha, Congo. After graduation I ran a family haulage business and also set up a “Bureau d’etude” / Consulting Office in Management of Development Projects. I became involved in the opposition to the Government and as a consequence of this I left DRC and travelled to the UK seeking sanctuary as a political refugee. When I came to the UK I was sent to Peterborough where I spent almost three years as an asylum seeker. As I could hardly speak English, having been born in a French speaking country, I accessed ESOL (English for Speakers of Other Languages) from Intermediate Level at Peterborough Regional College.

In 2004 I became the first ESOL student to receive the award at the college. As well as learning English I volunteered with the British Red Cross and took an active part to set up a community association for African refugees and asylum seekers called “Peterborough African Community Organisation” (PACO). After having been granted Refugee status I moved to the West Midlands and continued my English Course at City College in Handsworth, Birmingham. Having been granted refugee status I was able to attend a variety of job training opportunities. My first paid work was working as a general labourer in warehouses through employment agencies. I eventually found work in the care industry and was employed as a Support Worker by Midland Mencap supporting adults with learning difficulties. I worked for this organisation for 6 years from June 2006 till February 2013. During my time at MENCAP, thanks to my managers, I completed NVQ Level 2 and 3 in Health and Social Care at Josiah Mason College in Birmingham. My wife, Mrs. Zizina Matensi-Kubanza, came from Congo and started working after just 3 months of her arrival. She has also supported numerous fellow members of the community to access the job market.

In 2009, I stopped working on full time basis and started studying for a University degree in Social Care and Social Policy at the University of Wolverhampton. In September 2012 I successfully completed my degree after three years and obtained the BA (Hons) in Social Care and Social Policy. In February 2013, I secured a job with Swanswell Charitable Trust as Supporting People Worker. Swanswell is a national charity that supports people to become free from problem alcohol and drug use. My current role consists of providing support, advice and information to service users. I assist service users apply for the right benefits; access independent accommodation obtain household items; budget their money and pay bills; keep their house safe and in good repair; attend appointments; get into voluntary or paid work and develop leisure interests and attend peer support groups for recovery.

I have been actively involved in community development since moving to the UK. I started volunteering with the British Red Cross in Peterborough. I was involved in helping to set up a community association for African refugees and asylum seekers called “Peterborough African Community Organisation” (PACO). When I moved to the West Midlands, I joined a group of friends from Africa and set up another community association called MACHO (Eye for help community association). In 2010, MACHO became “African French Speaking Community Support” (AFSCS). In February 2012 we managed to secure charity registration. The AFSCS is based in Smethwick, Sandwell. The AFSCS provides one-to-one support to migrants whose first language is not English and is also very active within the local community in Smethwick. Trustees and volunteers assist clients with a range of activities such as: interpretations and translation in many language (French, Swahili, Lingala, Portuguese, Spanish, Kikongo, Kinwaranda and Kirundi), job search & coaching, interview preparation, befriending, companionship, campaign for awareness raising, the organisation of public events, youth activities, guidance and signposting, counselling,  advice and helping to complete a variety of application forms. We are currently providing a range of activities, for instance: Sport activities for young people a young people; Zumba dance for women; we host an After school club/Saturday Homework club attended by 43 children and young people; Dance for young people; a Saturday Befriending club attended by families. We also provide coaching for jobs, advice, and benefit check on one-to-one basis. We are currently providing a range of activities, for instance: Sport activities attended by 46 young people; Zumba dance attended by 16 women; After school club/Saturday Homework club attended by 43 children and young people; Dance attended by 18 young people; Saturday Befriending club attended by 12 families (36 people). I am currently the elected Chair of the AFSCS part of a Management Committee consisting of 8 members. My remits as the Chair consist of: making sure that the charity complies with the laws and Charity Commission’s requirements; making applications for funding; I represent the charity and network with other organisations. We are most grateful to all our funders (including BBC Children in Need, People Health Trust).

Life in the UK is very different from my home country. People in the UK are more helpful and committed to support vulnerable people living in the community. More support is available through volunteers and some members of the community are dedicated to give their free time for the benefit of the whole community. This is case of members from Soho and Victoria Ward in Smethwick who have set up a Community Interest Company called “Friends & Neighbours Soho & Victoria CIC”. There is more freedom, including freedom of speech in this than in my home country. There are many voluntary organisations helping vulnerable people in the community. Members of the community always give their money for the benefit of vulnerable people of the community event for supporting projects in the third world.

Simone spoke with us about living and working in the UK, as well as her aspirations for the future.

Simone is a proud Brazilian who loves London and the blend of cultures that it has to offer. She spent the first 25 years of her life in Brazil and still has a strong connection to the country. She worked as a journalist while living there, writing about topics ranging from shopping to education in cities.

Simone came to the UK to study and to seek a new type of life. She studied English at Metropole College upon her arrival, and began the daunting task of adjusting to life in a new city. It was during this time that Simone met her husband Maciej, a migrant from Poland. The two met through Maciej’s sister-in-law, who was taking English classes with Simone at the time.

Her marriage and subsequent experiences have played a key part in Simone’s positive transition to life in London. Now 10 years after from her journey to the UK, Simone has grown to embrace London as her home away from home. Residing in North London, her favourite parts of the city are the parks and Southbank. Hobbies include dancing, meeting friends, and going to concerts.

She feels that the multicultural aspects of the city reflect her values as a migrant. “I like the diversity, it’s a dynamic city. “ I can identify with London”. 

Currently, Simone works as an immigration advisor for the Brazilian migrant group ABRAS (Associação Brasileira no Reino Unido). This organization provides support for Brazilian community services and Brazilians living in the UK as a whole. Within ABRAS, Simone is involved in public relations and provides support for migrants looking to renew their visas or for advice on other immigration matters. This usually involves helping with the application process, contacting the Home Office, and serving as a representative for individual migrants. Simone enjoys helping others through her work, especially since she knows how hard it is to stay on your feet in this environment.

She believes that life in the UK is increasingly difficult for those who are not high earners. She also notices that many people are unwelcoming to migrants. “I like it here, it’s my home, but sometimes people make me feel like I don’t belong.” These kinds of challenges do of course make an impact on Simone’s views on life in London. After living in the UK for years, Simone plans to return home with her husband and ‘do something on her own’. What this is remains to be seen, but whatever change it may bring she will be ready.

Cleaners employed through ISS to clean at SOAS University in London were going on strike on the 4th and 5th of March 2014.

The strike is part of their campaign to be employed directly by SOAS on the same sick pay, holidays and pensions as others working for the university, rather than the work being outsourced. Here is the story of one of the cleaners and why she is going on strike:

My name is Consuelo Moreno. I am Colombian and I arrived in London in January of 2002. I came to the UK with my husband and my daughter. I wanted to work to be able to support my family and I was looking for better opportunities for my daughter.  Back home, I started studying law but didn’t have the chance to finish my degree.

I am currently working for three different cleaning companies, in three different places. I have to do so in order to survive. I wake up at 2.50 in the morning. I work from 4am to 9am in my first job, from 11 to 1pm in my second job. Then I go home, clean my own house and do some cooking. From 3 pm to 5 pm I see my husband. My daughter comes home at 4.45 but then I have to leave at 5 pm to do another job from 6 pm to 8 am. Then I go back home and we all eat together. When I have time, I like watching movies, going on the seaside, dance salsa.

This is my experience working as outsourced cleaner at SOAS. In January 2004 I began working at SOAS as a cleaner for 5 hours per day. In August of 2005, another company took of over the cleaning services at SOAS and it was at that time when all the problems began. The new management wanted to reduce my working hours by 2 hours per day. I refused to accept this reduction and then I began to be victim of workplace harassment and intimidation. I felt deeply stressed and began to feel fear every day I went to work. It was like a living nightmare.

A friend of mine who knew about my situation advised me to go and talk with UNISON. I went to see the SOAS UNISON representative and he helped me to initiate a grievance procedure against my manager for his attempt to unilaterally reduce my salary and workplace harassment. It was a success. They did not reduce my working hours and they stopped harassing me. However, new problems emerged. We began to have problems with payment to the extent that some colleagues did not receive any pay for 3 months. UNISON once again intervened and the company paid the salaries very quickly.

In 2006, I was elected as worker representative and I began, with my co-representatives, to actively organise our workplace. We formed the Justice for Cleaners SOAS’ campaign. We started to demand union recognition, the London Living Wage, and equal pension, holiday and sick pay to those working directly for the university. In 2008, we achieved 2 of the demands, union recognition and the London Living Wage.

Despite winning the London Living Wage and union recognition, this represented only a partial gain since we were still working under inferior and less favourable conditions than those are employed directly by the university. Moreover, we still suffer from injustice and exploitation. We were continually working to improve our working conditions. In 2009, immigration officers raided SOAS and nine of our colleagues were deported due to their immigration status, including pregnant women. These are only a few of the many problems that we face here at SOAS.

Despite this, I would like to express that I am proud of being with my co-workers fighting for dignity and respect. Since 2011, we began to demand to be brought in-house. I am proud of leading the Justice for Cleaners Campaign alongside my co-workers to bring to an end the two tier workforce, to stop being treated differently from those working directly for the university, to stop being outsourced workers. During this time, we have planned demonstration, meetings, forums, referendums and finally we began the legal procedure to go on strike. The ballot result is possibly one of the most important in British trade unionism with 100% voting YES for strike action.  

I would like to tell you as a result of my experience as a cleaner and UNISON representative, I am going to strike to receive the same equal working conditions as those working directly for the University. We clean at a public institution, but still our working conditions are not fair. We are not directly employed by the university and our rights are different from the ones of people who work directly for SOAS. They have more holidays, a better pension and sick pay. There is also a lot of injustice and favouritism, especially when holidays are assigned.

We want to be respected for your job because we do it with respect and honesty. I am going to strike because I believe that it is inhumane to do not receive a decent sick pay. We are being forced to work while being ill or psychically injured.  Three years ago, I injured my ankle. Since then, I went through several treatments and my doctors advised me that the only way to recover from the injury was to undergo surgery.  However, this would require me to take 5 months off work and I would only receive statutory sick pay which would only be £87.70 a week. I would be unable to provide for my family. I therefore continued working and my condition worsened. But there is nothing I can do at the moment apart from taking more painkillers to bear with the pain.

I am really proud of the way we were able to get organised. I am also proud of the support we get from students, staff and academics at SOAS. We are not afraid any more. I am going to strike to receive a decent pension because after working for so many years, and very long shifts, we deserve to receive a decent pension when we retired and not live below the poverty line.

I am going to strike for dignity and respect for of all outsourced and vulnerable workers. I think that migrants bring a lot to the UK society. Our contribution is positive. We pay taxes, we bring money to the capital of this country, we do jobs that are important for the economy. For the future, I hope that all workers will be organised and able to fight for equality and justice because everyone deserves to be respected. We should all have equal rights and dignity.                        

Today, on International Migrants Day, I wanted to share a story of one of the many migrants who has had a pleasant experience of migration and integration into British culture. Here is Toufik’s story:

My name is Toufik – I am from Syria; I initially came to the UK some 20 odd years ago to do a Master's Degree in English Literature. As a young student back then, I had always dreamt of continuing my studies in England. I had never been abroad before and I was excited at the prospect, yet I did anticipate some ups and downs in my new adventure. I had hopes that I could continue my studies and would have a better prospect when I go back to Syria; but I also predicted the disappointments I would have if I’d find it hard to settle in my new temporary home, miss my home country or simply couldn’t find a job.

I was the youngest of three sisters and one brother; all married and settled with kids and jobs. My parents were elderly enough that they didn’t oppose my travel abroad; after all why should they?! They always believed in encouragement and being assiduous. Bidding my family farewell back then keeps ringing in my ears to this day, “don’t you worry – I will be back next year.”

But fate took a different course. Life was so different in the UK. When I arrived in London back in the nineties, I had little money on me – fortunately my scholarship was sorted, including my accommodation. However, a part time job was required to keep me going. One day, as I was having my morning walk in Greenwich Park, I got to chat briefly to a friendly woman walking her dog about what I did and where I came from. She advised that they were always look for temps in day centres and hostels for homeless men and women.

The same day after I finished my lecture, I popped in to the day centre the woman had mentioned. I walked through the door into a hallway filled with people – some looked very sad while others seemed cheerful. I got seen to by the manager called Tom, and he offered me a temporary job in the adjacent hostel. He was very pleasant and I am grateful for he has helped me tremendously throughout that period and for many years.

I started working as a cleaner, which I didn’t mind. Then I started helping in the kitchen, washing up and peeling vegetables. It was heart-breaking to see some members of the hostel ruining their lives by drinking themselves to death. I befriended most of them, especially the hostile ones. I tried to listen attentively to their struggles and stories of addictions; some were trying their best to form a better life, yet reversion was inevitable. I found a glint in their eyes; a catalyst to help others and those in need. It gave me some kind of reward and satisfaction, which reminded me how much goodness is missing in human lives.

My degree studies soon ended and I was proud to achieve a first class, as was my family. My visa was also about to run out, but my emotional attachment to this place was so great that I actually didn’t want to leave. Tom, the Day Centre Manager where I worked, was also sad to see me leaving, especially after having had forged a great rapport with his clients and staff. “I must think of a way to make you stay here,” he commented.

A month before I was due to leave for Syria, he called me into his office and offered me a work permit for five years. I was over the moon. During that period, I continued studying towards a degree in psychology and social work, which I thought was very much needed for that type of work. I had never pursued a career in English teaching as intended when I first came to the UK – instead, I remained in the social sector – helping others to form their lives and personalities. I became fully integrated in British society and I felt proud of being part of my new home.

Ladies and Gentlemen, last week, I was deported to Switzerland from Helsinki and I would like to tell you my story.

My name is Marae Atallah. I wrote this letter as a result of despair, frustration and being in a poor psychological state. I have been suffering for three years while seeking asylum and have crossed seven states to do so.  Today, I am putting my fate into your hands with the hope that you will help me retrieve my humanity.

I have suffered in my Palestine in general and in Gaza City, in particular, which is my hometown. I have seen my children murdered in an attempt from the Hamas’ armed factions to kill me because I was advocating for a life of peace and harmony between us and the Jewish people, pleading that killings and wars do not and will not do any good, and that, as Christians and Jews, we have our right to live in the land of Palestine.

God is my witness, I did my best  in order to try to prevent war and murders on both  sides. I went back to Gaza in 1996 after College. For about 3 years, together with friends, I thought about a way to stop the war between us and Israel. We were 8 who set up an organisation together.

We started being very active in 2001. We started talking with the Hamas and the Fatah organisations. We wanted to create peace between us first before trying to make peace with the Israelis. I met so many persons, leader, chiefs, army leaders, including people from Egypt or Jordan. We talked a lot. There were many people from the Israeli side who were working with us on the same principles and towards the same goal, but unfortunately we, the Palestinians are the weakest link between these movements.

At that time, I had a job, I had created my small company, I was married, everything was normal. We started talking with Israel in 2008, when our group counted about 40 individuals. Because of our activities, eight people from my group were killed, my children were murdered and my house destroyed. Armed factions also exposed me to various forms of torture.

I had to escape and try to survive with the rest of my family, trying to find freedom outside Gaza. I sold some parts of my company and left, first to Egypt, then, Syria and Turkey. After 8 months and a long journey, I ended up in Switzerland where I claimed asylum. I had imagined that my arrival in Europe would have ended my suffering and that my family and I would find some comfort and peace. But after more than 3 years in Switzerland, I am still surprised at the inhumane treatments given to asylum seekers.

For my first interview, I was interviewed for 6 hours by 5 officers. They wanted to know everything about how my children were killed. They wanted to know if they had died at home or at hospital and the time of their death. But it was not their main focus. Most of all, they wanted to know where the Hamas keeps their weapons. How can I know? They kept asking me military questions, again and again. So I thought that I wouldn't answer military questions because I'm not military and I don’t know everything.

I asked to go to the toilet, they said no. I asked if I could smoke a cigarette, they said we needed to finish the interview first. After I refused to answer questions and the interview finished, the interpret told me: “you are a very brave man but you won’t get any papers”. They invited me to other interviews. One of them was through computers, there was no person in the room. They asked me about Hamas, about Fatah, about who I was with. I tried to explain I wasn't with anyone. After 3 hours, they sent me away.

They called me to another interview, this time in Zurich. The interviewer came in the room, put his kippa on and asked me: “do you know who I am? Do you know what that means? This means I am Jewish, do you have any problem with this?”. I said I didn't have any problem with it. I said that I am a Palestinian man claiming asylum and asked him if it would be possible for him to grant me a status. He said no. And then he started asking me about Gaza, about Jordan, Syria, Egypt, my opinion on Iran or Saudi Arabia. I didn't refuse to discuss these topics because I thought that it was general politics.

Then he asked me if I liked the place I was living in in Switzerland. I said no. And the interview was over, he sent me to live in this place underground, a bunker. We were about 100 people inside and there was only one door. It was under a football stadium. Every minute, every second, the police came for controls. It was like a jail, there was a place to sleep but no kitchen, nothing.

They refused my application, they said I had 5 days to leave Switzerland. I tried to appeal within the five working days legally allowed, but let me tell you what happened. They notified me on a Tuesday at .:00 pm, so the first day was gone. Wednesday and Thursday, no lawyer was working. I went to the office on Friday, they took the case and told me they needed an extra day to go through it. On Monday I went back to the office but they told me “we are sorry, we cannot do anything for you, you have to pay 1600 francs to us now”. I told her that I don’t have fingerprints and that it was my last day to appeal.

She said that if I didn't pay, she couldn't do anything for me. She told me I would never get papers anyway: “You’re Palestinian, Switzerland doesn't give asylum to Palestinian people. You might stay in Switzerland but you will not have papers. If the police catch you, you will go to prison for 3 months because you don’t have documents and you have to leave Switzerland”. Indeed they refused my appeal. They said that my stay in Switzerland is illegal and I should leave immediately.

Several times I was forced to sign papers asking me to leave Switzerland or to face detention and I saw people around me being sent back to their home countries. Three of my acquaintances from Gaza were sent back to Gaza via Egypt, they were deported to Egypt and Egypt delivered them at the Rafah crossing to the Hamas, after awful imprisonment and interrogation by the Egyptian military.

I waited for a couple of days and left to Belgium. I tried to take a bus to London but I was stopped by the border police in France because I didn't have a passport. I wanted to claim asylum but they did not let me do it. I found myself in Calais with nothing for 4 months. Once, the police caught me and sent me back to Switzerland. I went through the asylum procedure a second time. They rejected my request and my appeal a second time. The Swiss police emailed me to tell me that I would be taken back to Gaza and this is what prompted me to go to Finland for safety and protection.

But the story repeated itself; after about 40 days, I was denied asylum and asked to leave Finland and return to Switzerland. I tried to appeal but once again, appeal was not effective. I was deported back, even though Switzerland had refused my request three times, put me in jail several times and I am under the threat of being returned to Gaza even if my life is at threat there. I was deported back to Switzerland from Finland, even if it meant that I would face one and a half year in detention in Switzerland or a deportation to Gaza that is synonymous with death.

When I arrived in Switzerland, to punish me, they sent me to a camp for a week. Now I am being diagnosed with a lung condition and I'm still in a camp. How long will this suffering continue?

Ladies and gentlemen, I appeal to you, to your humanity and to your moral and humanitarian conscience to help me to stop this suffering. My family and I would welcome an opportunity to live a peaceful and dignified life. Please stop sending me back to Switzerland and be aware that when I will be granted a leave to remain somewhere, I will be a faithful contributor to the community, a hard worker and an example of discipline, law and order.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have given you some record of what I have suffered. I am now 44 years old and have been in Europe for 3 years. I hope that you will kindly accept this complaint and consider my case. I thank you very much for your consideration. ]

Please accept my thanks and respect,

Marae Atallah  

Karola Formella is quite literally one of the most colourful characters to be found on the streets of Brighton. An integral element of anarchist social centre, The Cowley Club, she consigns her daily life to the community cause and what she calls, “giving oil to the engine of good stuff”.

I met Karola at the Cowley, on what felt like the first real day of 2014 spring. We sat in the back yard while her chocolate, coconut, cardamom and lemon cake baked in the oven, alongside a few other equally unique concoctions. The cakes are just one example of her self-defining aversion to conformity, in which she pushes the dress code, helps the homeless into squats and prefers bikes to people.

Karola describes The Cowley Club as a voluntarily run, not-for-profit social centre.  It was set up in 2002 as a space for groups and individuals to meet, organise and practice a DIY ethos. There is no hierarchy, with equality and inclusion at the top of the agenda. Karola is at the club most days, cooking and baking for the café, cleaning, working on the bar, ordering stock, inducting others, doing general admin and organising DJ events - all on a voluntary basis.

She first noticed the club whilst on holiday from her native Poland in 2007, and as a result that holiday still hasn't ended. “I thought it looked cool, but I didn't really know what it was,” she told me. “I didn't even know it was a café, it just looked like some weird place.  They were looking for volunteers so I put my name down.  The next day I was volunteering and after that I never stopped.”

The club appealed to her because participation was entirely her choice rather than the will of any outside pressure. She said, “I was drawn into it because I hate conforming and I hate being told what to do.” This much is clear just by looking at her.  She is a mass of layer upon layer of sparkle and colour; of strikingly bright dresses, tights, tops, shoes and braces, covered with broaches, badges, tassels and ribbons.  It's a hyper-real, almost jarring display of femininity that she pulls off with confidence.

She insisted she has no fashion influences; that it's just a way of keeping herself 'entertained' every morning. Her style spawned from a childhood obsession to look different by buying expensive and often designer clothes. Now she has retained the ethos to be different but rejected the consumer characteristic that went with it, shopping instead at jumble sales, flea markets, charity shops and clothes swaps, where the items would otherwise be thrown away.

She described how in Poland her look attracted bullying and intimidation. “It's not that people didn't like the style, it's the fact that I stood out that was the problem. They found it really disturbing that someone had the guts to look different.” In Brighton it's the opposite; enthusiastic onlookers stop her in the street for pictures and ask her to take part in vintage fashion shows.  

Either way, she's adamant she doesn't do it to provoke, but rather for the simple pleasure of doing things differently: “We should do as many different things as possible so the world is an exciting place to be,” she said. Her activities with The Cowley Club are by no means the full extent of her community services. She also cooks food to give to the homeless and even took part in a project that supported homeless people to squat a building and set up a housing cooperative.

Mostly though, she serves the community through her love of push bikes. She participates in various local primary school bike clubs, teaching children how to fix bikes and ride safely.  On top of that, she plays bike polo, organises bike festivals and has taken part in the naked bike ride and the 'critical mass' bike events where cyclists ‘reclaim the streets’.

She took me to Cranks, one of the two DIY bike-fixing workshops she volunteers with, where she directed me in replacing my rear brake.  “I used to do loads of stuff with people, but I've shifted more towards bikes,” she told me. “I prefer bikes to people because they are simple and uncomplicated.” The contradiction is obvious, since Karola gives so much of her time to socialising and helping others. But whether it's bikes or people she will work with next, there's no doubt she will continue to make the world a more exciting place to be.

Article by Emilio Casalicchio

Photo by Nathan Gregg

Mariko's story: There is something new to learn every day

My name is Mariko Hayashi. I am 25. I was born in a small town in south of Japan. I currently live in Peckham, South East London. I came to the UK almost 7 years ago to study at university. I love being in London because it always make me feel connected to the whole world. I enjoy meeting people from all over the world and finding out about their country, culture and lives. There is something new to learn every day. I am now working as an administrator for a company which runs international schools, and my office is based at Surrey University in Guildford. I also work in London 2 days a week. I am actively involved with working with migrants. I set up an action group for migrants, refugees and asylum seekers in Walthamstow in East London with other local volunteers in the area. We are working to help migrants build better integration with wider communities. Although I was hoping to stay in the UK for longer, I have decided to return to Japan at the end of this year as I have experienced difficulties extending my visa. I have not many plans after I return to Japan yet, but I am looking forward to spending time with my family which I haven't done much in the last 7 years. I also want to get involved with work for migrants in Japan to learn about migration matters there. I have been very concerned about the UK government's recent anti-immigration campaign including 'go-home' vans and stop and search checks, which sends very negative message not only to migrants but also British people who have built strong relationship with migrants. I have built very strong connections with British people and I do feel part of the community, but the increasingly negative messages sent by the government and media make me feel less welcome here.

Efat Mahbaz was born in 1958 in the city of Langerood in Iran. Langerood, near the Caspian Sea, is famous for two staple items of a Persian's diet - rice and tea, and alongside other northern cities in Iran, it has more equality between men and women. Efat spent a predominant part of her childhood in this city which has a beautiful river flowing through it. Her love for being near water comes from this time in her life.

As a child, she says "I was treated as an equal to my brothers", she comes from an open minded and culturally open family who in her own words were "more similar to Europeans". Efat's roots are modest, her father was a men's tailor and her mother worked in agriculture. The family went on to own a rice farm and become financially well off. Efat confesses that "as a child, I was wild, I loved nature and flowers and my hobbies were going to the river where I went fishing", laughing she recalls that she often caught frogs but never any fish. Now, far away from that time and that river, Efat spends much time reading and writing. She does however go back to nature and finds tranquillity in planting flowers, herbs and vegetables in her garden, especially of the wild variety. 

At 14 years of age, Efat was arrested along with her father. She was interrogated for two days because of what she had been found to be reading and writing. "This experience influenced me" she says, "this was during the Shah's regime where we had enjoyed some freedom, but as for speech, reading and writing as a young woman I did not know what rights we had". At 14 being arrested for things she had written, she was warned through threats that she would be imprisoned like her brother who was tortured in imprisonment for 2 years.

This experience as a young girl shaped and moulded the way in which she sees society to this day; "We did not have a model of good practice for democratic institutions to learn from".

Shortly after the 1979 Iranian revolution Efat met her husband Shapoor at a meeting of political activists; it was love at first sight; "I was first to tell him that I loved him, after 8 months of knowing each other". The changing political climate forced Efat and Shapoor into hiding after fearing for their lives. It felt like living in the Middle Ages for the couple who were under threat of persecution not because they had committed a violent act, but because of their ideas. They were both members of the ‘Fadaian Majority’, which was launched around 1970 originally modelled itself on Che Guevara’s paramilitaries, but later renounced its earlier aim in favour of social democracy and initiating change through education and peaceful means explains Efat.

However, Efat and Shapoor were spotted and arrested a day after the Iranian New Year’(Nowrooz)  on March 21st 1983. They were separated, interrogated and tortured. Efat was to spend the next 7 years in the notorious Evin prison and for Shapour to be executed after 5 years imprisonment.

While in prison, Efat vowed that is she were to survive her ordeal, she would write about what happened to her and others and tell the world about the atrocities committed by the regime in Iran against political prisoners. And so she did. ‘Forget-me-not’ is Efat’ memoir of the detailed, painful account from the day she and her husband are arrested to her escape to Germany. The book is written in Persian, but Efat’s plan is to translate it into other English and languages.

In ‘Forget-me-not’ Efat describes her experiences and the incidents she witnessed during her time in Evin, one of which was to count the prisoners who were going for interrogations in the mornings, to see how they return with horrific injuries as a result of torture. She weeps for those who never returned. She witnessed a mother and her playful and happy son of 2-3 years old going towards the interrogation room in the morning returning in the evening – the mother limping, barely able to walk, and the child completely demoralized screaming and crying. The boy had lost his childhood that day.

After being in prison for 18 months, Efat is taken to court to stand trial where she is charged with supporting a counter revolutionary organisation plotting to overthrow the regime. The trial constituted of a brief question and answer period of 5 to 8 minutes without a lawyer. She was sentenced to a five year prison term not counting the 18 months she had already spent in prison. Her appeal was never accepted.

Efat also recalls in her book other prisoners who suffered and survived incredible brutality. She refers to a prisoner called Sara who lost her mind under torture and attacked other prisoners. The guards took her and chained her to the central heating pipes in the corridor where she would cry, laugh, weep and urinate; another prisoner named Elham, had three children with her in prison one of whom was six years old; Fariba, a young woman whose prison term had come to an end a few months earlier without being released and slashed her artery.

During the first five years in prison, Efat saw her husband a few times only. It is where she says her final goodbye to Shapour behind a small pane of glass, through a phone connecting the two, shortly before he is executed in 1988. “I did not want the meeting to end” said Efat who told her husband how much she loved him and he reciprocated her feelings. “We touched our hands together against the glass, and then someone took me away. I had to put my blindfold back on. Later a guard gave me two pictures passed on from my husband, I knew it meant goodbye. I cried behind my blindfold. Three days later I received a letter from my husband (prisoners were only allowed to write five lines). He spoke about our love and our last meeting and told me how brave I was. He told me in the letter that he appreciated seeing me for the last time and asked me to say goodbye to everyone we knew.”

Efat spends another two years at Evin enduring solitary confinement and ruthless torture, whipped five times daily for refusing to pray while on a dry hunger strike until she succumbs to her torturers and sign an agreement in which she promises to pray. She was left with little choice but to leave Iran after she was released from Prison "I was not allowed to go back to university - after 2 and a half years I travelled to Germany". To Efat's mind, Germany is the best model for democracy in the west that she has experienced. "People are kind and I have learnt a lot from German people", she respects and admires the freedom of speech, the makings of democracy and the feminist rhetoric of writers such as Alice Schwizer.

Since leaving Iran 18 years ago, she has not returned and only managed to see her family again in Turkey 2 years ago. "My feelings for them were the same as they were 18 years ago as well as their feelings for me". Meeting her family again for the first time in many years was very emotional not least because they had lost her father before she managed to see them again; her mother had passed away when she was 18 years old. Efat is one of five sisters and has three brothers, one of whom was killed. Her siblings travelled to see her.

After graduating University in Germany Efat came to the UK to learn English, "I settled in the UK because London is reflective of a more multi-cultural society". Since migrating to the UK Efat has continued to be politically and socially active. She set up Mourning Mothers in 2009 further to the demonstrations in Iran following the movement "where is my vote". At this time many people were killed by the regime similar to the story of "Neda Sohrab". After the death of so many young people, their mothers set up Mourning Mothers in Iran; this is when Efat decided to set up a branch in the UK in solidarity with those in Iran. When reflecting on what the world she would like to see would look like she says "I wish my country would change one day and have some democracy - during my life time - my people deserve this. I wish for the women in Iran to become stronger and equal as they all deserve this.

When looking back over the past 34 years of social development in Iran, Efat believes that all the effort to improve the lives of women have not been successful; "I wish I could live in Iran one day" laughing she then says "but maybe I can't because the culture is very different now". Looking to the future Efat's dream is to become a full-time writer on the topic of the lives of women in Iran, "I wish that my book, Forget Me Not, could be translated into English so that the whole world can know why I am where.

Efat has now set up Sharzad, a project aimed at supporting Persian speaking Iranian and other migrant deaf men and women and enabling them to know their rights and to have a voice. She supports them to learn English, gain access to services and information to assist with their integration into British society.

Efat has become like an ambassador for the human rights of Iranian women and political prisoners. She travels and speaks at Universities and other events in many cities across the world, including Canada, the USA, at the United Nations in Geneva, Sweden, France, Holland and Brussels. Efat's strength of character and perseverance of spirit has supported her through many atrocious acts carried out against her, "I will forgive the people who tortured me if they would say sorry to me" for her it would mean that the perpetrators would demonstrate that they can change and this for her is the change that brings about a better world. Her passion for nature and in particular flowers is evident by the sparkle ignited in her when she talks about them. Her courage and perseverance to support others comes from her understanding that there are many people who have suffered in this world and still fight for what they believe in, Nelson Mandela being a case in point for her as a role model in life.

Article by: Nazek Ramadan

Maybe the recent crisis in Lampedusa, Italy and the drowning of hundreds of migrants from Ethiopia and Somali will force the world to confront the terrible tragedy and complicated issues, including those both legal and humanitarian, that the refugee question presents.  This is a matter of national and international legislation, and one that affects us all.  The floating bodies in Italy in October brings the subject to the surface again and this crisis is spreading all over the world.  Who is migrating? Where do they come from and where are they going?   All those bodies who floated without identity, without a goodbye kiss from their families - how many of them were hoping to end their journey in the United Kingdom?

I have seen children under ten years old, their faces looking old and their feet swollen.  By day they walk for miles to complete the daunting journey without any clue as to how it might end; at night, they sleep amongst landmines left over from a war.   I have seen children from Eritrea who escaped from their country and fled to Sudan’s border.  They are standing in the office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, but they can’t say a word. They are too petrified to speak.  At that moment I ask myself: how much fear are these children trying to hold in? So much that they must search for a way to live between landmines of death and bullets from border guards.  It was then that I realised how much thousands of migrants are prepared to risk in order to find safety, including tearing their heart away from the world and family they know and love. I also remember the story of hundreds of Eritrean asylum seekers who decided to escape from Shagarab refugee camp in East Sudan at night.  They tried to cross a small river but all drowned.  

Sadly, there are hundreds of stories like this which I heard whilst accompanying the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, Antonio Cortese, on his visit in June 2011 to Ethiopian and Eritrean refugee camps in Sudan.  His visit coincided with the United Nations celebration for world refugee day.  I noticed the eyes of the Commissioner staring at the children.  Maybe he was wondering not about their living conditions, but about their fate, and how hard the future would be for them. I remembered all these details whilst sitting in front of an immigration officer in one of my many meetings with them in the UK.  It didn’t occur to me all those years before, despite my work with refugees and collaborating with the UN High Commissioner for Refugees, that I will face only one choice – the choice of hope.

Soon enough I came to understand the problems for those who find themselves a refugee.  I am not talking here about immigration laws in the United Kingdom or their procedure and how to negotiate them.  The only thing I focus on is the humanitarian side.  The lesson here is not the failure of the statute or the performance of immigration officers.  The heart of the matter is the window of opportunity for hundreds of thousands whose countries let them down due to injustice, war, authoritarian rule or dire humanitarian conditions. All these people are just another name on the list of victims of repression, but today they can and do make a difference to their newly adopted countries and people.

Exile for me has been a forcible uprooting of my foundations and a time to sow seeds in another land.  Since being here, I have seen how the laws of the United Kingdom provide an infrastructure.  I see how many faces and agencies are here to facilitate my transition, from government regulations, legal procedures, through to the civil community.  It became clear to me that these national organizations provide emotional, humanitarian, and legal support to allow those roots to settle in this new land.  I see how I can start a new life which respects human dignity and provides asylum seekers who fled from their countries with a sense of hope, peace and security. Anwar El Samani is currently seeking sanctuary in the UK. These are his experiences.   Article by: Anwar El Samani Photo: Cuban refugees. By U.S. Department of Homeland Security [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Map of the Mediterranean.

A shocking and extraordinary telephone conversation with two kidnapped hostages in Egypt’s Sinai desert has given me evidence of what the UN has called “one of the most unreported humanitarian crises in the world”.

Thousands of refugees from Eritrea, Somalia and Sudan are captured by criminal gangs and held for ransom. They are subject to appalling brutality. About 4,000 of 7,000 victims have died in the last four years, according to some estimates. The kidnappers use Sinai because swathes of it have become lawless since the 1979 Egypt-Israel Peace treaty stipulated that only limited numbers of Egyptian forces could go there.

In an effort to learn more about these atrocities and to help draw them to public attention, I contacted an Eritrean activist who has been trying to help victims. She and I managed to talk to a kidnapper, Abdallah (A), on the phone. In the transcription of the conversation, the activist is indicated by M and N is for Nazek (I am presented as a teacher from Scotland called Sara):

A -I swear by god, I swear by god that I am only losing money on them. Our agreement was until Thursday; this conversation does not help, believe me; listen to me.

M -Please if you may; give me a bit more time. I have a lady who wants to help. Can you speak with her? I called her to help but she does not trust me. She wants to check first that what I am telling her is true…

A-Who is she? Where is she from?

M-Her name is Sara, she is a teacher from Scotland. Do you want to speak to her?

A-Arabic only

M-She can speak some Arabic as well. Speak with her. We need to raise the money, we need her to help…

A-$15000 by Thursday.

M-Yes, I know. We need to raise the $15000, but please you need to give me more time to raise the money. Can you give me few more days?

A-When will you pay? Friday?

M-No, please, we need until Monday.

A -OK, Monday 8am.

M-8 am will be too early. It is 6am in Scotland. The banks and other institutions will not be open by then. We need until at least midday.

A-The money must arrive to Israel by 12noon on Monday. I am doing this as a favour.

M-Thank you for understanding and for your help. I am grateful for what you are doing. God will award you. But please be kind to the boys, don’t beat them. They are no good to us if they are injured and cannot walk.

A-I gave them medication; we are like brothers. You can speak with them but you need to respect your word.

At this point I joined the conversation:

N -Hello. Good afternoon. Who am I talking to?

A -Abdallah

N -Hello Abdallah. M told me about the situation. Can I check with you what is happening? What is the situation and what is required?

A -What is required is the money. You pay the money and they go free…

N- Can you tell me about the boys; are they ok?

Then the phone went dead.

Later I managed to talk to 24-year-old Nasir Abdul Fadel. He was kidnapped in Sudan and taken to Sinai, where he has been held for six months. Nasir said that there was one other person with him in the house where he was a prisoner and ten others in houses around them.

“We cannot survive here. We get one meal a day: a loaf of bread and a glass of water. I cannot eat food; I cannot open my mouth because of my wounds. My body is in a very bad condition."

“We have only until Monday to pay $15,000 otherwise … they will beat [us] until [we] die. They say if they get the money they will release us to either Cairo or Israel. Half the people who were kidnapped here before were sent to Cairo and half were killed. Five people died here and seven were freed."

“There were eight people in the house when I arrived from Sudan; 25 of us came together but I cannot see them any more..."

“They [kidnappers] say to us regularly that we have to get the money – and then they rape and beat us. They sometimes rape us with a bottle as well."

“We are in a very bad condition. We can’t survive like this for more than two weeks. We have lots of injuries from the beating. If we stay here we will die. Please help us...” I

n another conversation, 14-year-old Haftoum told me he was seized nine months ago with his 15-year-old cousin, who has since died from torture. At first Haftoum didn’t want to talk. He said he had been beaten so badly that he is in severe pain. He has not had a single bath since his kidnapping. He cannot go to the toilet on his own: he has to be carried there. Haftoum said that he has a hole in his backside; the kidnappers are using him for sex and they insert bottles into his rectum; his injuries are infected and covered with insects; he has never been given medication.

“I can’t eat. We get bread and salt, not good food. If you do not help me in 2-3 days, I will die. I want to go to the doctor, my body is all damaged. I can’t sleep; I can’t sit down ...” He has only one contact, a friend of his mother who is in Israel. She is the only one who is in touch with him. He said they were about 20 minutes by car from Israel. “I am scared to die. It is too much. I cannot handle it. It is too long till Monday. I need to get free from this place… Can you get for me money?” he pleaded tearfully.

As this newspaper went to press, the boys were still in captivity. We heard relatives were still trying to raise the money and negotiations with the kidnappers were continuing. Just before uploading the story on the Migrant Voice website (two weeks later) I contacted the activist for an update. She told me that they had managed to get a two week extension from the kidnappers (until Monday 9 September) but the price for this was that they (the two boys) would be beaten daily. However, the remaining requested amount was not raised (the kidnappers already received $20.000). There were no calls from the boys this week.

These conversations and the situation for the two boys affected me deeply. I wanted to try and help. I contacted a number of prominent Arab journalists to seek their help. One of them was an Egyptian journalist from Sinai who has covered the issue of African migrants in this part of the world. He confirmed the widespread kidnapping, torture and killing of African migrants in the Sinai desert. He also explained that the criminal act of kidnapping people in exchange for ransom is not confined to African migrants. The organised criminals also kidnap Egyptian citizens including high ranking officers in the Egyptian Army. The officers’ families also have to raise the ransom to free their sons. I asked the journalist if he could report the kidnapping of the two young Eritreans to the authorities, and gave him the names of two kidnappers with their telephone numbers. I also mentioned that the two African migrants were held about 20 minutes by car from the Israeli border. He came back to me the next day to confirm what he has already told me on the phone earlier.

With the escalation in the tension and the security situation in Egypt, African migrants are not currently a priority for the Egyptian authorities. Even if they wanted to help, it would have been impossible to locate the position of the victims along the very long and treacherous border. The kidnappers use Israeli telephone numbers to make it harder to trace them. This is also a very rough terrain, only the kidnappers know their way around the area. Even the army comes under regular attacks from kidnappers in this lawless part of the country. The army there can protect itself only. Although they come from the area’s tribes, the kidnappers operate outside the local tribes who have a completely different way of life and values. The local tribes have assisted many of the fleeing or released migrants and helped them to safety.

Feven Hadera, founder of the UK-based African Women Empowerment Information Centre, who has visited refugee camps in Ethiopia and met freed hostages and heard their stories, said that she is kept awake at night worrying about the victims. “But the problem is, people have to stop paying kidnappers or they won’t stop seizing people.” It’s an impossible choice, she added. “The kidnappers are very organised and have agents in both Cairo and Israel to collect the money from distraught families. Those who tried to trick them paid the heavy price with their loved ones lives”.

Petros Tesfagherghis, coordinator of the UK Eritrean Refugee Support Association, said that outside Eritrean local media outlets, the news about the traumatic experiences of the 2000 people, mostly the youth, leaving Eritrea every month, receives little coverage. On most occasions, they cross the border to Sudan, Ethiopia, Djibouti and Yemen where they face imprisonment and untold abuses, he added. “The level of torture they face at the hands of human traffickers in Sinai, Egypt is the most harrowing. Those who fail to pay ransom are often murdered in cold blood and their organs sold to collect lucrative profits. Their bodies are thrown in refuse dumps”.

Amnesty International reported in April: “Many people held captive in Sinai have been subjected to extreme violence and brutality while waiting for ransoms to be paid by families. Including beatings with metal chains, sticks and whips; burning with cigarette butts or heated rubber and metal objects; suspension from the ceiling; pouring gasoline over the body and setting it on fire … being urinated on and having finger nails pulled out. Rape of men and women, and other forms of sexual violence have been frequently reported.”

I ended my telephone conversation with the two young Eritreans by saying: “thank you for sharing all this information with us. Try to be strong. We are thinking of you and praying for you. We will do out best to help you”. The memory of this conversation will no doubt remain with me for very long time, especially the voice and words of the 14 years old child. The child who went on what he thought was an adventure of a lifetime, little aware of the cruel world out there. He trusted me to help free him and end his suffering and to tell the whole world what was happening to him. I could only do the latter.  

Photo information: A 'lucky' 13-year-old who managed to flee from the kidnappers. Feven Hadera helped him get to a refugee camp in Ethiopia.    

Angelina is a 37-year-old Syrian mother with three children who lived with her family in Damascus. Her life was turned upside down when her husband went missing, the civil war escalated and Angelina felt she had to seek safety for her children.

She had only enough money to fund her journey for herself and her four-year-old son. She left the other children with her cousin in the hope that they would join her later.

She made her way to Lebanon, where she caught a boat to the Turkish town of Mersin. Unable to find a boat to Italy she got to Istanbul, spent a week in Aksaray Square and met an Arab agent, or smuggler, Nimr (‘Tiger’), who offered to take her to Greece. This attempt proved unsuccessful so she had to find another helper.

After two more unsuccessful attempts she and 48 other Syrians crammed into a rubber boat arrived in Greece. They were detained for four days before being moved to a refugee camp for 10 days, and then to another camp in Athens.

Angelina looked for smugglers to help her get to another European country, but negotiations were complicated because the smugglers wanted to transport her son separately, which she of course rejected.

Finally, another smuggler drove them to Bulgaria. Arriving at midnight, she had to scramble over barbed wire to cross to Romania. Bleeding, and with a flat cellphone battery, she was cold, hungry and in pain, alone with her son, in the open. That day she wished she had died.

At 7am she found a hotel and contacted the smuggler who returned to take them through Romania to the border with Hungary. The smuggler instructed her to wait until it got dark and then walk across the border. She did, but was arrested. The police took them to a refugee camp and took their passports. Next morning the police booked them train tickets to a refugee camp in Budapest.

Instead, Angelina contacted the smuggler again. He picked them up and drove them to the Netherlands. She applied for asylum as her brother and a cousin were living there in another camp.

She felt safe and wanted to end her journey there and start building her life - but was raped in the camp in front of her son. This horrific experience messed up her life again. She felt she could not report the rape for fear that if her relatives found out they would kill her for bringing shame on the family.

She fled the camp and contacted the smuggler again. He drove her and her son to Calais.

A family saw her sleeping rough with her son and offered them shelter and food for five weeks. She travelled from Calais in a refrigerated food truck, arriving in the UK.

Her 3,764 kilometre journey from Damascus to London had taken five months.

I am 29 years old. I fled Eritrea after a jail sentence for leaving my military service. My journey to the UK took six months and cost $4,500.

I first went to Sudan. The really difficult journey started when I left Sudan with a group of traffickers.

We started in a lorry from Khartoum. We were 150 people. The Sudanese traffickers took us into the Sahara desert. It took six-to-seven days, far longer than we had been told. Our food and drink ran out after three days. We asked the traffickers for more, but they refused. They wanted to use all the space to fit in more people.

Some people started drinking their own urine. People were worried that they were close to death. Somehow most of us made it. The traffickers left us in the desert and we were picked up by Libyan traffickers.

In Libya we were held in a big building for two months, at least 1,000 of us. We were given bread and water once a day. Anyone who tried to leave the building was shot. Some women were raped by the guards.

Eventually we were taken to a small inflatable boat. It sank quickly and we were picked up by the Libyans. They took money and made us stay a week in Libya before telling us go our own way.

There was fighting in Libya and no way to go to Sudan again or back to Eritrea. I knew I might die on the journey, but I had to take the chance on another boat. There were 500 people, but only 14 gallons of water – which we kept for the 60 or 70 women – and no food for the three-day voyage. Some people tried to drink sea water. I can’t talk about it. It was too awful.

The boat’s engine failed, but we were picked up by the Italian coast guard. I stayed on the streets for three months, because I didn’t want to give my fingerprints. Then I managed to go to France by train. When I saw the living conditions in Calais I asked why people don’t apply for asylum in France. I was told that it took months to get an appointment to make a claim and you end up living on the street, so it was better to try to go to the UK.

I ask your help to get the information out. We need to bring democracy to Eritrea. We need to be able to go back to our homeland.

Two years ago, Sami, made a long arduous and thought out decision to leaving the streets where he played and grew up, to escape the tragedies and suffering that come from an endless war and venture into the unknown to risk his life in hope of finding a safer life. The success or failure of which would come down to effective or ineffective planning.

The key element in Sami’s journey and life line was his phone. He scoured Google, mapping the geography of Europe, searched Facebook and Twitter for advice, contacts and routes and checked the news for the latest information on immigration and border controls.

Sami had often travelled abroad as a footballer for the Syrian national team, but always with knowledge of his destination and assurance he would return. However, this trip had no pre-booked flights or guarantees of where he would end up or whether he would survive. Sami was highly educated and successful; but his intelligence and strength had diminished as the wars and deaths increased in his home country.

When asked why he left, his answer was simple.

‘What would you do if your life was filled with screams of dying people and surrounded by gunshots and explosions? Here I am sure to die, but if I leave there is hope I might survive.’

Into his small backpack he put the bare essentials some spare clothes, mediocre savings and the instruments that would be his biggest resource, a fully charged phone and power bank.

His destination was the UK.

‘My fiancé was in the UK,’ he recalls, ‘she was waiting for me. That is where I had to go.’

From searching online, Sami booked a standard day trip ferry from the port of Tripoli in the north-west of Lebanon to the port of Mersin on the southern Mediterranean coast of Turkey. From Mersin it was a bus ride to Izmir in Turkey.  

Once in Izmir, Sami’s first priority was to get online. He bought and topped up a Turkish sim card.

‘I contacted my family immediately using What’s App. It’s our main way to communicate. I told my family I was OK. But I would only tell them key points. I didn’t want them to worry’.

The second and perilous leg of Sami’s journey was the voyage across the Aegean Sea, which separates Turkey and Greece.

‘I downloaded maps and apps about the closest Greek Islands, their names, their proximity to Turkish ports and coastlines, looking for safe routes.  From searching Facebook pages and speaking with other refugees, I was able to get in contact with smugglers.’

Using Google Translate by inputting Arabic into Turkish as the languages choice, Sami was able to communicate effectively with individuals.

‘Google translate asked my questions and answered them back to me. It was a tedious process between individuals, but without it, communications would have been hopeless.’

‘D’ Day finally came, at night. The smugglers gathered all the desperate fleeing passengers on the shore, and gave only two instructions Firstly, get into, the flimsy nine meter rubber boat, and head straight ahead. Secondly, switch off your phones, take out the sim cards and do not switch them back on until you have reached the Greek border. There was no advice on safety procedures, or guidance on how to navigate or what to do if they were caught.

Sami was reluctant to board the boat.

‘I had tried everything possible to find a safer way out of Syria but failed. I had no choice. What choice did any of us have? Who would take this route if they weren’t desperate or had exhausted every other option?’

Half way into their terrifying voyage they ran into problems. In the darkness they could see nothing but blinking lights on distant islands, but neither Sami nor his companion knew whether the islands were Greek or Turkish. They were completely lost.

‘My previous planning was vital, I knew if I was going to make it, I needed to do my research and have this knowledge. I wasn’t going to rely on smugglers.’

In his detailed research he came to understand that coastguards track phone signals and respond immediately to these detections.

‘I downloaded an app that blocks the proxy signal and changes the location of the user, so that it isn’t detected by tracking technology.’ 

Lost at sea, with panicking children and families on a dangerous vessel, Sami used his phone to discover their location, and re-route their path.

‘I opened the GPS and found that we were now in Greek waters. This was all executed within minutes and I quickly switched off my phone and took my sim out as an extra precaution.’

After exhausting and frightening hours at sea German coastguards picked up the boat and attempted to tow them back to Turkish waters by intimidation, gunshot and threats.

‘They tried to tug us back into Turkish waters several times, but we would cut the ropes whenever they tied the boats together. We pleaded and screamed, some of us even jumped over board. We were dead either way, so why not try to swim for it.’

But the desperate passengers endured and taken to Greece. Again, Sami topped up a Greek sim card and began a new plan to get him to the UK. After several failed attempts with smugglers Sami took matters into his own hands. Along with his previous methods of researching and plotting, Sami was also able to rely on other refugees who had fled.

‘If someone went on a specific path, they would take pictures and screen shots of their location on Google maps and text it to friends. Eventually, I gathered a series of locations and routes.’

Sami’s route took him from Greece to Macedonia, Serbia, Hungary, Austria, Germany, Belgium, Calais and eventually the UK. He collected all available data and stored it on his phone, but he could not use his phone at all times; primarily to preserve battery and credit, but also to avoid signal detection, so he searched online about navigating at night 

In his journey to find safety, Sami endured harsh weather, illness, sleeplessness and depression. It took him months and months of trekking, trudging and sleeping in the woods and wilderness, even swimming in freezing rivers to finally reach Germany and then Calais.  

Online research told him that borders controls between Calais and Dover used highly sophisticated technology, such as X-ray scanners, sniffer dogs, infrared heat sensors and ground patrols. 

‘I researched how to avoid detection by scanners. For heat scanners it was holding or hiding my breath, hiding my fingers, closing my eyes. With X-ray scanners you need to mold your body to objects in the lorries and be completely still.’

For the crossing, Sami had to rely on smugglers, He commented on the dangers of this as they are vicious and lack conscience.

It took Sami two attempts to cross into Dover. Once they were clear of the borders, the lorry driver locked them inside and ran off, leaving them in the middle of nowhere.

‘After four hours, of trying to break our way out, I switched on my phone and dialed 999. We had been locked inside the fridge lorry for 14 hours. We were slowly freezing and were not going to survive unless I called the police. Luckily, the police arrived in time.’

There are hundreds of thousands of desperately fleeing refugees, who regrettably do not make it to any destination. Sami’s success depended not only on his determination and intelligence, but on technology, the Web, apps, maps, GPS programmes and Google.

‘This little contraption was key to my success, without it I would have been at the mercy of smugglers, at the mercy of nature, of gangs and robbers, like so many other refugees who did not make it to safety.’

Brendan Montague charts the economic and cultural contributions made by migrants in the uk The Joint Council for the Welfare of Immigrants (JCWI) is launching the “I♥Migrants” campaign to bring together those who understand the huge benefits to the UK which come from people choosing to live and work in this country.

Immigration has already proven to be a hotly contested issue as the election approaches with Labour and Conservatives each telling voters they are making Britain’s borders even tougher. The debate is influenced by the idea the BNP can win votes by attacking migration.

However, Britain has benefited both economically and culturally from the fact people have been allowed to move here to live and work and millions of people recognise and celebrate the contribution migrants have made over generations.

The campaign’s publicity materials will point people to the website iheartmigrants.org which contains 10 key undisputed facts proving immigration has been a huge boon for Britain.

Habib Rahman, chief executive of JCWI, said: “The facts all show that migration is essential to the British economy while the cultural benefits are there for all to see – from our favourite foods to high art.
“We hope that voters and politicians will rely on facts rather than being distracted by scapegoating and fear-mongering during this election. After all, no government could deliver on providing services like schools, universities and hospitals without migrant labour.”

The campaign will be relying on the Royal Geographic Society’s “simple guide” to the “immigration controversy” which examines the facts behind many of the claims about people coming to the UK to live and work.

The guide shows that the UK has a lower proportion of migrants at 9.7 percent than many similar countries, including Australia which has 23.8 percent, Canada at 19.1 percent and even Germany which has 13.1 percent.

Moreover, rather than being a burden on public services and jobs, migrants actually subsidise the UK-born population. Indeed, employment for the UK-born population has been stable at 75 percent over the last decade despite increased migration.

At the same time, 17 percent of economic growth between 2004 and 2005 was as a result of migration – which means job creation – according to the National Institute of Economic and Social Research.
The Home Office has found that migrants paid £2.5 billion in tax in the year to 2000 resulting in a 10 percent net contribution to the public purse above what they had received in benefits. The Institute for Public Policy Research (IPPR) has estimated that total revenue from migrants reached £41.2 billion in 2003-04.

Students arriving through the Points Based System contribute £3.4 billion to universities through fees and costs and generate a further £1billion in GDP by working alongside their studies.
It is also acknowledged that the public sector could not function without migration: a third of doctors and dentists qualified abroad, according to Migration Watch. Almost half (47 percent) of nurses in London are migrants.

Mi-Hub is an exciting, philanthropic initiative devised by Rafael dos Santos. The novel business hub is committed to aiding migrant entrepreneurs navigate London’s tricky business landscape.

Dos Santos believes that many migrants in the UK have skills that are underutilised.

Inspired by the desire to help migrants overcome “a lack of knowledge, skills and funding”, Dos Santos believes it’s about “more than just wealth creation.  When [migrants'] wealth starts to grow, they pay more taxes and create more jobs. The key thing is that they give back.”

Mi-Hub can host up to 150 entrepreneurs, provides a co-working space and support for starting, growing and managing a business. For start-up entrepreneurs, strategies to raise funding through loan or equity finance are also available.   

Entrepreneurs also have the opportunity to take part in the 6 month Migrant Business Accelerator program offered at the hub with the prospect of winning £ 1000. This course offers a blend of finance, marketing and operations training for entrepreneurs looking to either further their skills or learn new ones.  

Although it is for migrants, it is not exclusive to them and it promotes social cohesion by allowing all to use their facilities.  

This co-working space has outstanding facilities such as a modern kitchen, shower room, break out area, a large balcony and meeting rooms at an affordable price. This initiative clearly aims to try and help entrepreneurs ensure that they have the best possible chance of success.   

Located in Whitechapel of trendy east London, entrepreneurs working there will definitely be at the heart of a developing area looking for new business ventures.  

The Piot foundation, which is a registered charity is the first occupant of the migrant friendly working space. The foundation is run by Victorine Piot who aims to improve the livelihood of skilled migrant workers and their families by educating them on what they will need to know when relocating.

By using a combination of experienced counsellors and well-trained volunteers, the foundation provides guidance to members who are in a state of uncertainty about their relocation. They also offer development training and support initiatives, which help families to integrate into new communities and explore their opportunities.

Founder Rafael dos Santos was excited to “welcome the Piot foundation to the Home of Migrant Entrepreneurs”.  

He said that the “Piot Foundation is providing an incredible and much needed service, and we are proud to be part of their growth and look forward to supporting Victorine and the team on their journey." He added that “[his] vision is to help one million migrant entrepreneurs in the next 10 years. We are looking forward to welcoming many more businesses to mi-HUB and growing our global family.”

He concluded by saying that “the more migrant entrepreneurs that are in the media the more exposure they get, and the more we show that migrants give more than they take”.  

Podcast

Baiqu Gonkar remembers being “just another migrant” when her artist father and doctor mother brought her from Tibet to Britain at the age of 10.

“People do not see you as an individual, or recognise your multi-layered identity,” she observes.

It was a struggle: she missed her extended family and couldn’t talk to her schoolfriends, and “had to ignore countless people calling me ‘ching chong’ while stretching out the side of their eyes with their finger. I had to explain that No, I am not Chinese, and that Yes there is a difference. No, I did not live in a tent without electricity. And No we do not eat dog, own a takeaway, or work in a massage parlour.”

Through hard work, higher education, and exposure to an international environment, “I no longer feel like just another migrant but still face the casual racism and subtle, perhaps unconscious prejudice - racism without racists.“

She has founded a gallery, Art Represent, for artists from conflict countries.

The first major show is of Malina Suliman, Afghanistan’s first street artist, whose work on the oppression of women, has made her a Taliban target.

“We can give artists a platform to sell their work, to get their voices to be heard far and wide,” says Gonkar.

www.artrepresent.com

In 2009, Gonul Ekmekci set up Nefes, a traditional Turkish folk music group that aims to keep a strong connection with Turkish culture while integrating the music into British society.

Nefes means ‘breath, soul and self,’ connecting with the group’s strong desire to keep this particular traditional aspect of Turkey’s culture alive.  Gonul’s primary reason for starting this group is her love of folk music.  

She feels that Turkey has changed significantly as a country, particularly in regards to migration onto the main continent of Europe. ‘Being a migrant is about going through some kind of trauma. You leave everything behind, which forms your identity.’ She wishes to maintain close links with her community and believes music is the best way to do it.

‘People carry their music with them and it’s a way of keeping a connection with the homeland alive.’  The group’s sole usage of conventional folk instruments signifies the desire to stay true to traditional Turkish style of music. ‘We want to give a chance to anyone who wants to see what the original music of Turkey is like because we want to stay loyal to it.’

Currently Nefes practices once a week for two hours.  The group performs publicly between five and ten times a year and has showcased their music live with BBC radio 3 twice. Last July they performed at the WOMAD festival, an event that allows audiences to hear and see performances of different cultures from all over the world.

Over the past few years Nefes has evolved immensely and still continues to grow.  At the moment, it runs purely on volunteer efforts in North London, but Gonul hopes that eventually they will have enough financial support to be able to reach out to larger sections of the community. On a personal level Gonul feels that Nefes serves as a ‘good chance to go deeper with the culture and keep a connection.’

She expresses the importance of families raising children in the UK with knowledge of their family’s traditions while also mixing with British culture.  The desire to preserve identity enables future generations to possess a natural connection with Turkish culture while also identifying with British values, habits and traditions. Nefes empowers its members to retain a sense of self, keep a deep connection with Turkish culture alive and share beautiful music with the people of London.

Written by: Tara Higgins and Aaron Cruz

Two years ago, Sami, made a long arduous and thought out decision to leaving the streets where he played and grew up, to escape the tragedies and suffering that come from an endless war and venture into the unknown to risk his life in hope of finding a safer life. The success or failure of which would come down to effective or ineffective planning.

The key element in Sami’s journey and life line was his phone. He scoured Google, mapping the geography of Europe, searched Facebook and Twitter for advice, contacts and routes and checked the news for the latest information on immigration and border controls.

Sami had often travelled abroad as a footballer for the Syrian national team, but always with knowledge of his destination and assurance he would return. However, this trip had no pre-booked flights or guarantees of where he would end up or whether he would survive. Sami was highly educated and successful; but his intelligence and strength had diminished as the wars and deaths increased in his home country.

When asked why he left, his answer was simple.

‘What would you do if your life was filled with screams of dying people and surrounded by gunshots and explosions? Here I am sure to die, but if I leave there is hope I might survive.’

Into his small backpack he put the bare essentials some spare clothes, mediocre savings and the instruments that would be his biggest resource, a fully charged phone and power bank.

His destination was the UK.

‘My fiancé was in the UK,’ he recalls, ‘she was waiting for me. That is where I had to go.’

From searching online, Sami booked a standard day trip ferry from the port of Tripoli in the north-west of Lebanon to the port of Mersin on the southern Mediterranean coast of Turkey. From Mersin it was a bus ride to Izmir in Turkey.  

Once in Izmir, Sami’s first priority was to get online. He bought and topped up a Turkish sim card.

‘I contacted my family immediately using What’s App. It’s our main way to communicate. I told my family I was OK. But I would only tell them key points. I didn’t want them to worry’.

The second and perilous leg of Sami’s journey was the voyage across the Aegean Sea, which separates Turkey and Greece.

‘I downloaded maps and apps about the closest Greek Islands, their names, their proximity to Turkish ports and coastlines, looking for safe routes.  From searching Facebook pages and speaking with other refugees, I was able to get in contact with smugglers.’

Using Google Translate by inputting Arabic into Turkish as the languages choice, Sami was able to communicate effectively with individuals.

‘Google translate asked my questions and answered them back to me. It was a tedious process between individuals, but without it, communications would have been hopeless.’

‘D’ Day finally came, at night. The smugglers gathered all the desperate fleeing passengers on the shore, and gave only two instructions Firstly, get into, the flimsy nine meter rubber boat, and head straight ahead. Secondly, switch off your phones, take out the sim cards and do not switch them back on until you have reached the Greek border. There was no advice on safety procedures, or guidance on how to navigate or what to do if they were caught.

Sami was reluctant to board the boat.

‘I had tried everything possible to find a safer way out of Syria but failed. I had no choice. What choice did any of us have? Who would take this route if they weren’t desperate or had exhausted every other option?’

Half way into their terrifying voyage they ran into problems. In the darkness they could see nothing but blinking lights on distant islands, but neither Sami nor his companion knew whether the islands were Greek or Turkish. They were completely lost.

‘My previous planning was vital, I knew if I was going to make it, I needed to do my research and have this knowledge. I wasn’t going to rely on smugglers.’

In his detailed research he came to understand that coastguards track phone signals and respond immediately to these detections.

‘I downloaded an app that blocks the proxy signal and changes the location of the user, so that it isn’t detected by tracking technology.’ 

Lost at sea, with panicking children and families on a dangerous vessel, Sami used his phone to discover their location, and re-route their path.

‘I opened the GPS and found that we were now in Greek waters. This was all executed within minutes and I quickly switched off my phone and took my sim out as an extra precaution.’

After exhausting and frightening hours at sea German coastguards picked up the boat and attempted to tow them back to Turkish waters by intimidation, gunshot and threats.

‘They tried to tug us back into Turkish waters several times, but we would cut the ropes whenever they tied the boats together. We pleaded and screamed, some of us even jumped over board. We were dead either way, so why not try to swim for it.’

But the desperate passengers endured and taken to Greece. Again, Sami topped up a Greek sim card and began a new plan to get him to the UK. After several failed attempts with smugglers Sami took matters into his own hands. Along with his previous methods of researching and plotting, Sami was also able to rely on other refugees who had fled.

‘If someone went on a specific path, they would take pictures and screen shots of their location on Google maps and text it to friends. Eventually, I gathered a series of locations and routes.’

Sami’s route took him from Greece to Macedonia, Serbia, Hungary, Austria, Germany, Belgium, Calais and eventually the UK. He collected all available data and stored it on his phone, but he could not use his phone at all times; primarily to preserve battery and credit, but also to avoid signal detection, so he searched online about navigating at night 

In his journey to find safety, Sami endured harsh weather, illness, sleeplessness and depression. It took him months and months of trekking, trudging and sleeping in the woods and wilderness, even swimming in freezing rivers to finally reach Germany and then Calais.  

Online research told him that borders controls between Calais and Dover used highly sophisticated technology, such as X-ray scanners, sniffer dogs, infrared heat sensors and ground patrols. 

‘I researched how to avoid detection by scanners. For heat scanners it was holding or hiding my breath, hiding my fingers, closing my eyes. With X-ray scanners you need to mold your body to objects in the lorries and be completely still.’

For the crossing, Sami had to rely on smugglers, He commented on the dangers of this as they are vicious and lack conscience.

It took Sami two attempts to cross into Dover. Once they were clear of the borders, the lorry driver locked them inside and ran off, leaving them in the middle of nowhere.

‘After four hours, of trying to break our way out, I switched on my phone and dialed 999. We had been locked inside the fridge lorry for 14 hours. We were slowly freezing and were not going to survive unless I called the police. Luckily, the police arrived in time.’

There are hundreds of thousands of desperately fleeing refugees, who regrettably do not make it to any destination. Sami’s success depended not only on his determination and intelligence, but on technology, the Web, apps, maps, GPS programmes and Google.

‘This little contraption was key to my success, without it I would have been at the mercy of smugglers, at the mercy of nature, of gangs and robbers, like so many other refugees who did not make it to safety.’

I am 29 years old. I fled Eritrea after a jail sentence for leaving my military service. My journey to the UK took six months and cost $4,500.

I first went to Sudan. The really difficult journey started when I left Sudan with a group of traffickers.

We started in a lorry from Khartoum. We were 150 people. The Sudanese traffickers took us into the Sahara desert. It took six-to-seven days, far longer than we had been told. Our food and drink ran out after three days. We asked the traffickers for more, but they refused. They wanted to use all the space to fit in more people.

Some people started drinking their own urine. People were worried that they were close to death. Somehow most of us made it. The traffickers left us in the desert and we were picked up by Libyan traffickers.

In Libya we were held in a big building for two months, at least 1,000 of us. We were given bread and water once a day. Anyone who tried to leave the building was shot. Some women were raped by the guards.

Eventually we were taken to a small inflatable boat. It sank quickly and we were picked up by the Libyans. They took money and made us stay a week in Libya before telling us go our own way.

There was fighting in Libya and no way to go to Sudan again or back to Eritrea. I knew I might die on the journey, but I had to take the chance on another boat. There were 500 people, but only 14 gallons of water – which we kept for the 60 or 70 women – and no food for the three-day voyage. Some people tried to drink sea water. I can’t talk about it. It was too awful.

The boat’s engine failed, but we were picked up by the Italian coast guard. I stayed on the streets for three months, because I didn’t want to give my fingerprints. Then I managed to go to France by train. When I saw the living conditions in Calais I asked why people don’t apply for asylum in France. I was told that it took months to get an appointment to make a claim and you end up living on the street, so it was better to try to go to the UK.

I ask your help to get the information out. We need to bring democracy to Eritrea. We need to be able to go back to our homeland.

At a discussion organised jointly by Migrant Voice and Maryhill Integration Network on 31 March 2016, a number of Syrians discussed their experiences of arriving and living in Scotland.

The individuals who have lived in the UK for various periods ranging from four months to three years, included professionals such as a solicitor, a recently graduated doctor, a carpenter, a nurse, and a man who had been a political prisoner for 15 years since he was a student. Two children aged 9 and 12 joined their parents and also took part in the meeting. Some of the Syrians have been reunited with their families while others were still waiting to bring their families to the UK.

The meeting was a unique opportunity for Syrians to freely discuss their concerns about what challenges they, and/or other Syrians they know and work with, have faced since arriving in the UK. Similar to our findings from our discussions with Syrians in London, the most striking point made consistently throughout the discussion was that Syrian refugees want to integrate into UK society but feel they need more support to do so successfully.

This document has been produced by Migrant Voice to inform policy makers and NGOs in order to assist in developing more effective integration strategies. Here is a summary of the participants’ key responses, concerns and recommendations:

What has worked well?

The positives in their new city
•    Syrians in Glasgow feel that there are many positives and things they value in their new homes, from security to education. One person said: “It is peaceful, there is security, people are very nice, I feel treated well. Services are good, education and law and order.”  Another said: “the social services are good. Adult education is good, everyone can go to college here.”
•    Children emphasised that being in Scotland meant they had safety and the kind of everyday comforts others take for granted: A boy of 12 said the best things were: “Electricity, no rationing, and the internet.” A girl of 9 said: “the best is that at Tesco, there are lots of things, and many toys and games.” And she thought the Barbie's dresses were very pretty

Positive treatment and support
•    There was particular emphasis on how well the Syrians felt treated: “People – including the job centre, and other service providers treat you well.” In particular they emphasised the generosity and support of community groups and integration networks that help people when they arrive including with food, clothing and transport costs. They appreciated the events organised by some organisations to allow them to meet other Syrians as well as other communities. “It is good that organisations like Maryhill Integration Network give help and clothing, furniture etc., which is given by people who care and want to support. People here go out of their way to be supportive.” And “We don't usually get together to talk about issues that are important for us. So the last week meeting [organised by Maryhill Integration Network] was helpful”
•    The Syrians felt that the understanding of diversity in Glasgow made the society more welcoming and that there was understanding of the situation for Syrians. “Because of the media coverage of the conflict, people understand the situation for Syrians and they help.” And “Glasgow is used to seeing people from all nationalities and backgrounds, so they do not discriminate against you. Scottish people have developed their capacity to welcome people.” 

Support getting back to work
•    People in certain professions e.g. the medical field, had found it helpful that there were projects to help them transition into work (Refugee Doctors' project)

What have been the challenges?

Challenges for resettled refugees
•    The Syrians who had been here the longest and worked with more recent arrivals told us that they saw a difference for those who arrived before and now. Those who came over the first few years of the war on their own found it easier to settle and bring their families than those who came as part of the resettlement schemes. The latter group came together in a larger group and so it has been harder for them.

Facing racism
•    Some spoke of racism but said that they hadn't experienced it themselves, or that  “maybe there are rare cases but it doesn't tarnish the whole population.” And “There are a few cases of racism I faced but only from junkies and drunk people. It is not a general problem. Everyone is happy to help if you ask.”
•    But it was clear that in some areas of the city individuals did experience racism, especially women with headscarves. One woman had faced racism both against her children and herself. She had felt it from the caseworker, the interpreter and the doctor. She had faced it walking on the road, when people would spit on her and yell at her and say 'No Islam.' Sometimes the bus won't stop for her and a bus conductor told her off for saying ‘please’ instead of ‘thank you’ (she had just arrived and didn’t speak English yet). She had also had whisky poured over her. She is afraid to go out now, because she doesn't feel treated well. She has only been in the UK 3 months, but says she would rather go back to Syria. She is also concerned for her children; her son is excluded by the other children and comes home crying.
•    Having heard the experience of racism raised by the woman and her family, a couple of other participants said that they are had also felt discriminated.
•    One participant was very concerned that one should not complain about these incidents, as he said “people in Scotland are already so much nicer to us than in Jordan and Lebanon. We shouldn't complain” (this was said by the former political prisoner). He was very keen to show appreciation and wanted all other Syrians to show appreciation and not complain about smaller incidents, as he saw them. But he also said that people don't understand why we are here and was keen for the public to understand.

Seeing a doctor, meeting with interpreters
•    Some had experienced long waits to see a GP. Although one child was very ill, the parents had to wait two weeks for an appointment. Another person has shrapnel in his body and they still wont treat him.
•    For the new families arriving through the resettlement scheme the issue is the interpreting. Some interpreters are not professional and at other times a personal relationship develop between the interpreter and the client which impact negatively on families. E.g. the interpreters start telling people what to do or not to do, acting like solicitors.

Language
•    Language was seen as a challenge. All the Syrians said it was so important to learn. “Once you learn you can find a job. You need language for all aspects, including helping your children at school, etc. Once you have this, all other barriers can be removed.” Many felt that they wanted to study more, that it was not enough to have classes only a couple of hours a week, they wanted to learn English faster. They were concerned that all the classes are full. “If you want to register for a course there is a long waiting list. It you can learn English only for 2 hours and you have to pay for transport to do so it is not worth it. It is not the same as a long term course.”

The journey, the asylum process and immigration policies
•    Syrians expressed that the biggest challenge is getting to the UK, and all the challenges and fears along the journey. 
•    There was also concern about the process of claiming asylum and about family reunification. It was felt that there wasn’t a consistent process. The Syrians said that "The Home Office rules change and you are not guaranteed status. Some people I have met have been refused because of the misspelling. Or you refuse family reunifications for these kinds of reasons.” Also they found it difficult to bring their families and going through the process e.g. having to pay lots of money for DNA tests when challenged and requested by the Home Office to prove family links. Not being able to be reunited with your family was a huge issue for everyone. They felt unable to really get started in their new lives: “you feel you can’t settle till your family is here”.
•    Dispersal is an issue. Syrians are worried about being sent to a small village and have found from their contacts that it is a barrier to integration when you are asked to settle in a small place where there are fewer community groups to support you. “I met a guy placed in a small village with only 3 refugee families there and there is no chance to learn English there.” 
•    The waiting times before you get a decision on your asylum case was raised as an issue. In particular the impact this has on mental health as it leads to depression and worry. “It took me a year to get my status. I could only learn English 2 hours a day sometimes, there was not enough to do.”

Transportation costs
•    The cost of transportation is making it difficult to access education and other services for those only receiving asylum support. Some are dispersed to areas where there are few English classes or community groups so they need to travel far. One family had travelled 1 hour and 50 minutes to get to our meeting on three buses. One person said that where he was living he had to walk one and a half hours just to get food shopping. “As an asylum seeker you have 5 pounds a day so you can't get a bus and food. So either you stay where you are and learn nothing or you take transport.” To help with transportation some people are able to get bus passes from their college. 

Lack of information for integration
•    Syrians would like more central guidance on how to integrate and what to know about their new country. There was a sense that there was information, but in many different forms and places and it was difficult to access or know where to start. Some had tried Migrant Helpline but found it difficult to get information there. “There is no specific website or a manual to understand how to live over here. There is no one to tell you 'okay you need to take these three steps.” 

Impact on mental health
•    Depression was seen as an issue. It was recommended that the people who work with Syrians need to remember the mental health issues. It is particularly an issue while you are waiting for a decision and waiting to find work.

What would work – suggestions to facilitate integration
•    Regarding dispersal, the Syrians suggested that people need to be dispersed to places where there are groups and networks to help. Or that it would be better to prepare people for integration in larger cities first, before you could disperse them to other places.
•    It was suggested to create a multilingual website for migrants to advise them on their first arrival. Some suggested there could be online communities inside this. “People are good at using new technology, that's how they made their journey to Europe.”
•    Participants expressed the need to find work fast to help them integrate and that what would enable them to re-enter work faster is to learn English skills ‘on the job’ while learning the specific phrases needed for their professions. “We met with a Minister before to explain that what would help is instead of each of us learning general English for maybe 2-3 hours per week we would learn faster if we could learn the words for our own profession. What you need is to learn the specific language that helps you find a job. For doctors they have set up a special project but not for other professions e.g. catering, business, food, carpentry – we need specific language. Things need to go in parallel. Not to stop learning English, but to teach them special words to find work faster and then to learn more English alongside work.”
•    Projects helping with providing bikes for asylum seekers (such as the Govan community bike workshop) was seen as a big help towards transportation costs, but the projects are small and have a long waiting list so we need more of these.
•    Overall the two most important things mentioned to help with integration was to find work as well as family reunification as both helps people settle. “You need to speed up this process [family reunification], you can't relax until this[has happened].”
•    It was suggested to organise ’integration tours’ of the city to allow for new arrivals to learn where to find everything and to know more about their new city."
•    It was important to the Syrians for the public to know and understand their situation more accurately. “What we want is to get the message out to the public that we didn't come for the welfare etc. We were rich in our country we only came because of the war.”

Mi-Hub is an exciting, philanthropic initiative devised by Rafael dos Santos. The novel business hub is committed to aiding migrant entrepreneurs navigate London’s tricky business landscape.

Dos Santos believes that many migrants in the UK have skills that are underutilised.

Inspired by the desire to help migrants overcome “a lack of knowledge, skills and funding”, Dos Santos believes it’s about “more than just wealth creation.  When [migrants'] wealth starts to grow, they pay more taxes and create more jobs. The key thing is that they give back.”

Mi-Hub can host up to 150 entrepreneurs, provides a co-working space and support for starting, growing and managing a business. For start-up entrepreneurs, strategies to raise funding through loan or equity finance are also available.   

Entrepreneurs also have the opportunity to take part in the 6 month Migrant Business Accelerator program offered at the hub with the prospect of winning £ 1000.00. This course offers a blend of finance, marketing and operations training for entrepreneurs looking to either further their skills or learn new ones.  

Although it is for migrants, it is not exclusive to them and it promotes social cohesion by allowing all to use their facilities.  

At an affordable price, this co-working space has outstanding facilities such as a modern kitchen, shower room, break out area, a large balcony and meeting rooms. This initiative clearly aims to try and help entrepreneurs ensure that they have the best possible chance of success.   

Located in Whitechapel of trendy east London entrepreneurs working there will definitely be at the heart of a developing area looking for new business ventures.  

The Piot foundation, which is a registered charity is the first occupant of the migrant friendly working space. The foundation is run by Victorine Piot who aims to improve the livelihood of skilled migrant workers and their families by educating them on what they will need to know when relocating.

By using a combination of experienced counsellors and well-trained volunteers, the foundation provides guidance to members who are in a state of uncertainty about their relocation. They also offer development training and support initiatives, which help families to integrate into new communities and explore their opportunities.

Founder Rafael dos Santos was excited to “welcome the Piot foundation to the Home of Migrant Entrepreneurs”.  

He said that the “Piot Foundation is providing an incredible and much needed service, and we are proud to be part of their growth and look forward to supporting Victorine and the team on their journey. And added that “[his] vision is to help one million migrant entrepreneurs in the next 10 years. We are looking forward to welcoming many more businesses to mi-HUB and growing our global family.”

He concluded by saying that “the more migrant entrepreneurs that are in the media the more exposure they get, and the more we show that migrants give more than they take”.  

For Dr. Natalia Paszkiewicz, London – where she initially came to do fieldwork for her Polish Masters in Anthropology in 2003 - represents freedom and liberation: “If London was a separate country, that would be where my loyalty would lie.

“I fell in love with London the first time I saw it,” she says.

But moving here from Poland, which she sees as a more religious and conservative country, wasn’t always easy.

The first few years in London were as difficult as for anyone who moves away, she recalls. At one point she had three jobs, and feels her biggest achievement was merely surviving. But she always knew, from her first visit in 1995, that London was where she wanted to be.

She says she lives life here to the full, as though she was going to die next week: “I’m just trying to do as much as possible.”

Work is her life, she admits. “Everything I do is work-related. I go to a lot of events and they are all related to politics or culture.”

And much of that work is about migrants and refugees. 

Paszkiewicz describes herself as primarily an anthropologist, and has now been working with refugees for more than a decade. She is motivated by morality, solidarity and the concept of hospitality. In her second Masters’ degree in Refugee Studies, she focussed on Iranian asylum seekers in the UK and their lived experience of NASS (National Asylum Support Service). She spent over a year in Malta helping asylum-seekers, and her job with the London-based IARS International Institute continues to take her there and to Calais. The aim of the organisation is promote a safer, fairer and more inclusive society.

Her interest in refugees is not based on hand-wringing pathos: “I’m not going there with a tissue, like ‘Oh it’s so sad!’”, she explains. “It is indeed sad”, she adds, “but in a way that makes you angry, and at the same time when you talk to the people on the move, they’re just extremely interesting people who have amazing life experiences … it’s fascinating to see what people can go through and how strong they can be.

“The fact that I’m interested in difference comes down to curiosity … I haven’t lost it and it’s what keeps me going.”

London is an expensive city and her refugee friends often advise her to move the private sector: –“If you try to save someone who is drowning, you have to be able to swim yourself.” But she sticks with the NGO world because she believes it has a real impact on people.

She thinks her next move will be to head outside Europe and do similar work there: “I think that would give me a fuller understanding of the migration experience.”

One thing is clear though, wherever Natalia Paszkiewicz finds herself in the next phase of her life, we believe she will make a positive impact. As she herself remarked, “There is some integrity in everything I do”.

When people hear you’re headed for London, they will warn you about two things; bland food and freezing weather. With these disclaimers set forth, they will then go on to gush about the greatness of the rest of the city, sometimes even dubbing it “the best in the world”. But the factor no one mentioned- and what I have come to appreciate most about living here- is the diversity this city thrives on.

In a typical day, I get up and head to my favorite coffee shop to get some morning caffeine. Depending on who is working, I will interact with staff who are French, British, or American.

Coffee in hand, I head to Migrant Voice to start a day of volunteering. Here, I work alongside volunteers from Pakistan, Germany, and other areas of England, writing articles and discussing current events pertaining to migration. The staff I work for here come from Lebanon, Denmark, and New Zealand.

During my time with this organization I have had the privilege to meet people from all over the world who have come to London for their own reasons. Two standout cases of this have been Hassan and Jamima, individuals who arrived as political asylum seekers to London and who were kind enough to share with me their stories. Hassan, who is originally from Iraq, discussed with me his accomplishments in photography and electrical engineering, and how the city has provided for him a home in which to teach and explore. Jamima, who is originally from the Philippines, shared with me her work with the charity Kanlungan and how London has helped her feel empowered to speak her mind. More on these stories can be read here and here 

With the morning complete at Migrant Voice, I head to class. Here, I learn alongside American students and am taught by a German professor. He tells us of his marriage to an Italian woman, and raising British children here in England.

After class, I need to pick up some school supplies. I head to the small stationary shop around the corner from my flat, which is owned by an Indian family, and purchase a new notebook before heading home for the day.  

And that is just who I interact with directly- let alone the conversations and accents that pass me on the street, tube, grocery store, or pretty much anywhere else in this city.

As my time in London now comes to a close, long gone is the vision of having to live off roasted meat and potatoes, while it rains constantly and the Beatles play on repeat. While strong in its British tradition, present day London is a city of culture from all over the world, made up of people who want to share what this amazing city has to offer and contribute in return. There has not been a single day in this city where I have not come into contact with people from at least three different countries, something I cannot come close to being able to say of my home back in California.

This change is an experience of diversity I am extremely grateful for. I find it to be such a special thing because of how normal it is here to be from a different place, speak a different language, or be rooted in a different culture. This is not to say that London is perfect or that discrimination and prejudice don’t exist here. Of course they do, and there is always room for improvement in these areas. But the diversity I believe to be embedded creates a city that is overall more tolerant and encouraging of different types of people and the positive contributions to culture and society we all have the potential to bring.  

While I have come to disprove the original warning that the city does not have good food (just visit Brick Lane on a Sunday), it is true that by mid-December London has become very cold. If you don't mind throwing on a jacket however, it might just be the most interesting and wonderful city in the world, a place in which people from across the globe can call a home.

I was brought up in Suwalki, the coldest place in Poland, situated near the borders with Russia and Lithuania. I studied Geology at the Adam Mickiewicz University of Poznan and later worked at thePoznan University of Technology as an academic teacher and consultant in Geotechnics and Engineering Geology. In 2006, my husband Bartek and I decided to move to Scotland. We now live in Paisley together with our two daughters, Ola (ten) and Natalia (three and a half).

The beginnings weren’t easy. Although I had a good command of English, when I arrived I couldn’t understand anybody. It seemed to me that people spoke with a Scandinavian accent. I felt quite lost. But those difficulties with understanding Glaswegians didn’t put me off. I was a frequent visitor in libraries where I was reading books about Glasgow, and where I had opportunities to talk with people who didn’t speak with such a strong Scottish accent. One day I went with my little daughter to the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and, all of a sudden, we were surrounded by officials and cameras, and announced 2 millionth visitors. It was pure madness. We were featured in the BBC and in all newspapers. Since then we just loved Glasgow.

Just three months after my arrival I found a job at the University of Glasgow working in the Geology Department. When I was finishing this contract I was awarded with a stipend to do a PHD at theUniversity of Paisley, now the University of West of Scotland. I was chosen to do a PhD and conduct research on sandstone decay causes and patterns.

Glasgow has plenty of beautiful buildings, but sometimes they’re not very well maintained. Doing my PhD I’ve been looking at the causes of stone decay, and I came to the conclusion that most of the problems are caused by the lack of maintenance. I think that it is possible for building owners to stop immediate problems without a lot of money just by cleaning the gutters and pipes. If people stop water leaks over the facades it'll stop the deterioration as water won’t penetrate the stone. The results of my research will be applicable to inform future repairs and conservation works on buildings and urban regeneration programmes.

I am really excited that I am specialised in natural building materials analysis. My passion for ecological buildings together with the skills gained during my PhD studies come in really handy nowadays when the world needs low carbon buildings! I am proud that I am able to help prevent deterioration of sandstone buildings that are such important part of the Scottish heritage!

I was born and grew up in New Zealand, in Wellington. I was born in 1953, and left in 1973. Passing the half way mark, when you realise that you’ve been longer in the country you’ve come to than in the country you were born in, is a very significant moment. Then you have those big questions such as what do you call ‘home’. I still refer to Wellington as home. But, of course, home is where my family is, and my family is here, so what you call home is a loaded decision, I think, and it can vary depending on whom you’re speaking to.

When I went to England I was predisposed to love what I found there, because I had read English literature for as long as I could recall. My head was full of descriptions of English landscapes, English art, English buildings, English history. I came to study English literature, and when I was about to leave Oxford, I met the person who later became my husband, who is Scottish, so it was a very fortunate crossover.

In 1999 I saw the advertisement for the position of Director of the Scottish Poetry Library and I thought, that’s an extraordinary job. I won’t have a chance for it but I’ll try. And then I was appointed! I’ve been there ever since. I’m very privileged to be right at the heart of literature, and Scottish creativity in that sphere. I feel passionately that I need to be an advocate for Scottish literature and Scottish poetry.

A poem – for example at weddings or funerals – can say things for us that we can’t articulate for ourselves but that we recognise. It’s immensely consoling to recognise our own emotions or ourselves, we immediately feel that we’re less isolated, less peculiar, less stupid, because our emotions have been shared and expressed by somebody else.

We hate the idea of people who are no longer very mobile, and whose mental faculties are diminishing just sitting in chairs, left alone for most of the day or watching television that they don’t understand. The sessions the Scottish Poetry Library offers to care homes are a combination of storytelling and reminiscence and poetry. People have a lot of poetry buried in their minds. They can still recite a bit of Burns, they can recite a bit of Wordsworth. If your mind is going and I say to you “What’s your name?”, it may be a horrible moment before you remember what it is. But if I say “Here’s a poem by Wordsworth about daffodils and I’ll read it for you”, they’ll say, “Oh, I remember that my mother grew daffodils”, or “I remember that we learnt that poem when I was 7”.

Migrants are always going to be in a difficult position because when times are hard, as they are now, then people look for other people to blame, or say that the country is not big enough to contain them. I was very heartened by the example of the Glasgow Girls who banded together and went to Parliament and said you can’t deport our friend who’s an asylum seeker. When my daughter was in a primary school, which was in a very ethnically mixed area, I was struck by the fact that she never identified somebody by their skin colour, which would not have been the case when I was a child. My mother would ask “Who is your friend?” and I’d say, “She’s an Indian girl called so and so”. I don’t think they do that now, and that seems to me a hugely positive change.

I am a medical doctor with work experience in the Scottish hospitals, with the Scottish government and within Scottish communities. I came from southern Pakistan and graduated there as a doctor of medicine in 2003. After working in hospitals and with communities in Pakistan I decided to get a postgraduate degree in Public Health Medicine. I came to Scotland in 2007 to study at the University of Glasgow.

Inspired by the Scottish public health network, I decided to get work experience in Scotland. After about a dozen interviews, I was selected for the position of Public Health Adviser in the NHS, a job that I really wanted to do. As a public health adviser, I developed policies and intervention working with the Scottish Government and NHS boards on topics like ‘Healthy ageing in Scotland’, ‘Dementia’ and ‘Sexual health’.

After working for about four years in public health, I decided to come back to hospital based work in 2012 with the aim of joining the GP training programme. I like to work in communities and I'm a medic, so this programme was giving me a blend of my experience from public health and medicine. I was selected for GP training; it wasn't easy, but I was lucky. I am working as a specialty trainee at the moment and looking forward to becoming a GP in a few years.

It is sad that some sections of media are hitting hard on immigration recently, forcing authorities to draw policies without considering the long term impacts. Hospitals in the UK are struggling for doctors these days. Where I work just now, we are short of doctors to the extent that my consultants have to do night shifts to cover for vacant middle grade doctors positions. A few months ago I was working in a very critical unit in Glasgow where we had to do several unpaid extra hours as the department never managed to fill doctors’ vacancies.

I also work with Police Scotland as a community adviser. I am an amateur calligrapher and my work has been exhibited in the Glasgow’s Gallery of Modern Arts. As an immigrant to this country, I believe I got opportunities to contribute in diverse areas not only based on my skills, but due to the fact that Scotland has a strong policy of equal opportunities.

I love Scotland because of its rich tradition of tolerance, freedom of expression, generosity and hospitability. I would not like to see any of these qualities going downhill in future. I'd like the communities who are settling down to integrate in the local Scottish landscape. It has to come from both ways.

I left Jamaica in 1955 when I was 14 years old. My mother had 8 or 9 sisters; I can never remember how many they are. They all lived in the same house, managed by my grandaunt. One day in 1948 I was told that my mother was going to London and I was to live with my aunts. In 1955, my mother sent for me. The idea of going to London on my own at 14 years worried me a little bit, but I had to go because my mother wanted me to come to live with her. So my aunts got my passport, a ticket to travel, a suit, and a small suitcase, which I still have. Before I left for the plane, my grandaunt wrapped me in newspaper because she said London was cold. That the trip by plane and ship took nearly two weeks was not considered by her...

The day after I arrived in London, my mother woke me up early and told me to get ready. Fortunately for me, as we were leaving, there was a man at the door asking my mother where she was taking me, and she said “to work”. The man told her, “You can go to work but he can’t, because he’s not 15”. I had to go to school. I was 14 years and 11 months - one month changed my life. My mother was very upset because she had found me a job in a grocery shop. It had cost her £86 to bring me to London and it took her seven years to save that money.

In 1958 Professor Chapman gave me a job as a junior technician at Queen Elizabeth’s College in London. One day he called me into his office and said “I don’t think you’re as stupid as you try to make out. I think you should go to university.” So I went to Leicester University in 1961 to do an Honours degree in Botany. The beginning of my career was a matter of chance and circumstances. What I’ve learnt in life is that no matter how able you are, it is the people you meet that determine what you achieve in the end.

What people need is a cup of kindness. Burns was speaking metaphorically in Auld Lang Syne. Whisky in Scottish culture is just like Russian vodka, or American bourbon, or French wine. When somebody asks you to take a drink with them that is an act of kindness... this drink of kindness does not have to be alcoholic. But how many migrants have been asked to join in such a drink? If somebody is not prepared to eat or drink with you, then you’re not part of the system. I think you get that relationship of kindness in a society if somebody sees you as equal.

In 1707 there were hardly any Scots in Jamaica, by 1800 there were about 300,000 slaves in Jamaica, and about 10,000 Scots, mainly men. Three quarters of the surnames in the Jamaican telephone book are Scottish, so many Jamaicans have some Scottish blood or history in them, whether they like it or not. So as I tell many Scots, your ancestors were not in Jamaica doing missionary service alone! Many Scottish people are fascinated by this history, because their historians never told them. Why should historians hide the truth? It is the truth that sets people free to be fair to all.

I retired in 2005 as Professor of Grain Science in the International Centre for Brewing and Distilling at the Heriot Watt University. I am proud that many of my students have made successful careers in the malting, brewing and distilling industries worldwide. I still do experiments at home in my kitchen! However, I now spend most of my time on the boards of various charitable organisations and give lectures to the community on Scottish/Jamaican/Caribbean history. This history is outlined in my book, The Enlightenment Abolished.

I was born in Malaysia, of Chinese ancestry. I came to the UK in 1973 as an accountancy student studying for ACCA in Birmingham Polytechnic. I felt a lot of excitement and had many expectations on my arrival to this foreign country, especially of seeing real snow. On one of my many trips around the country I met my future husband, Leong, in Glasgow. We have been married for 37 years now and have two grown up children, Han and Ying. We have lived in Kirkintilloch for the last 28 years.

In the late 1980's Linda, a lady in Kirkintilloch, became my first ‘student’ by chance. She fell in love with this slow, gentle exercise which she saw abroad during her holidays. Soon I had a few more ‘students’ who were friends and who wanted to learn this Chinese exercise too. That is how I started my Tai Chi teaching journey.

I was first introduced to Tai Chi when I was 12 and my Dad had a stroke. A relative came to our home to teach him and the whole family joined in. I was not a very healthy child and not at all sporty. But after I started learning Tai Chi, my health improved tremendously and I still continue my learning from teachers from the East.

For me, Tai Chi is not only very enjoyable and interesting but is also very beneficial to my mind and body. Through my years of teaching I am pleased that the students have benefited physically, improving their health, balance and confidence as well as reducing stress and high blood pressure along the way. There is usually a very relaxed atmosphere in class and we often have a good laugh too. I have taught many different groups of students: from children in primary and secondary schools, middle aged adults, retired people (my oldest student is now 91 years old), a deaf and blind group, nursing home day care clients and other health groups. I feel very privileged and honoured to meet so many interesting and amazing people.

Through teaching Tai Chi and Qigong to Scottish students, I impart to them what I know of Chinese social, cultural and historical stories which relate to the names of the movements we do as well as Tai Chi philosophy. I am very pleased that most of my students are interested in the Chinese way of life, our culture and philosophy. Through exchanging our different stories, we learn of each others' culture. And more than this, over time, as I do not have all of my family here, many of my students have become my friends and part of my Scottish family.

Deep inside us, we are all the same and I am very honoured to be accepted by most Scots I meet. I consider myself an East/West Chinese person and have learned to adopt the Scottish humour and friendliness in my everyday life. Overall, I consider myself lucky to live happily in this beautiful and peaceful country.

I’m 25 and I come from a small town in Bulgaria called Kazanlak. I had planned to go and study abroad and the UK seemed very suitable at the time. I picked Glasgow because I wanted to live in a big city and take advantage of the cultural scene and all the events that are on, just everything that a big city has to offer.

My first impressions... it may sound a little anecdotal but, literally, it didn't stop raining for the first three days after I came here, so all preconceptions of Scottish weather and Glasgow came to be true at once.

My university experience was very positive. I studied Psychology. I was working throughout my course, doing part-time catering work to support myself. I also volunteered with a telephone helpline offering emotional support to people in distress and having suicidal thoughts.

Finding permanent work was difficult after graduating, it took me a year and a half. I think knowing a person at the organisation I am now working for helped me in settling into this job. I am a home support worker and I support people with special needs and disabilities in their own homes with practical and emotional aspects of their daily lives. I work around the specific needs of the person. It is a very personalised support to enable individuals to live independently so they can fulfil their potential, follow their goals, and just have happy lives.

When you become part of somebody’s life, it is very rewarding. You develop a personal connection with the person you support, and that’s what keeps motivating you. You can immediately see the results of your work, and the positive difference it makes to somebody’s life. I find myself, even on my days off, still thinking about things at work. You can’t completely shut off. This job makes me feel more part of the community. I'm a lot more involved with the local people and I get to see more of their everyday lives. Because living in the West End, communicating with other foreigners and students here, you can get into a bit of a bubble and not really get to know much about how Scottish people live.

I'm really impressed with how many resources are being invested in Scotland to provide support and I think it makes a huge difference for the people we care for, their families and communities. In Bulgaria these type services are not well developed and most of the state funded support happens in care homes. Most people with special needs would usually be cared for by their family and very little support would be available from specialists. Now that it is necessary to make budget cuts to social services in Scotland, it is important to ensure the admirably high quality of care that has been achieved in this country isn't sacrificed.

My parents are actually from Edinburgh. They migrated to Australia before I was born. In early 1970 there was a strong push from state governments to recruit more teachers from the UK, and my parents are both teachers. They initially went out there just for a couple of years, but they stayed although my dad still has a real longing for Scotland. Throughout my childhood we travelled to Scotland now and then, so being Scottish was part of my identity growing up.

I graduated in Law and Asian Studies degree in Australia, then spent some time in Japan teaching English. I worked as a lawyer for a short time, before moving into the Australian civil service, working for the Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet. My job was focused on issues around women in work and industrial relations.  I realised that I can only work on issues that I believe in - my day to day work has to fit with my personal values.

Having decided to work overseas for a little while, I responded to an advertisement for a post in Blantyre, South Lanarkshire in 2005. I took up the two year post with Oxfam working on issues around gender and poverty, and I wasn't really expecting to stay any longer in Scotland. But then I met my husband...

I then worked in the legal research team at the Scottish Parliament, before moving to my current post with the Glasgow City Council. I work for the Leader of the Council, providing policy support, with a focus on health, social work and communities.

The council has committed to developing an anti-poverty strategy for the city. My job has been to figure out the priorities, make sure the right people are talking to each other and that we involve people with direct experience of poverty to inform us on how to take the work forward.

I think Glasgow’s museums and parks are something to be really proud of, and the fact that they are free is really important. It makes a clear statement that public facilities are for everybody, which is admirable, because most cities don’t do that.

One place I love in Glasgow is Linn Park, just around the corner from me. I’ve taken my two boys there almost every week since they were tiny babies - now they are two and four. We go in every season – to pick brambles, to have snow fights or just to feed the ducks. They can run wild and burn off some of their unrelenting energy!

To be honest, at first, I wasn’t a footballer, I was a hyperactive street fighter boy! I am an only child. My dad passed away when I was very young and my mum brought me up on her own. We weren’t a wealthy family but we had an easy and happy life. My background is in football and in Iran I played at three different levels of national youth team.

I was very lucky to be sent to Glasgow because Glasgow is a city of football. I was looking to find a football club and a man whom I met in a shop told me that he’d introduce me to a semi-professional club. I went there and half an hour later they asked me to join in. Playing and coaching with the Shettleston Juniors FC was very useful for me, as a stranger it helped me to adapt to my new life. I am now very close with that community. Even at Christmas I wear the Santa Claus outfit, and the club invites people with additional needs from the local area and I give them presents. And that makes me happy.

As a foreigner, on my first day playing football here I wanted to cry. Because I couldn’t talk to my teammates, I didn’t know the language. Everybody was shouting at me, and I thought that maybe they didn’t like me. But they liked me. They wanted me. They needed me in the game. But the language was a problem.

When I went to college, I had one good thing – I wasn’t too shy to speak. I didn’t think that people would laugh at my accent or because I didn’t know how to say something. When I finished my intermediate English level my teachers pushed me to enrol into the Football course at The North of Glasgow College, and I’m happy there. I work there. I am a college football coach now, so that’s totally changed my life.

Usually we work in the rough areas. We go there to bring football and other activities to avoid drugs, alcohol and fight. You see, in my job I tell the kids you can’t stop the violence by violence. If the kid shouts and you shout back at him maybe he’ll do something worse than that. I’ve seen a boy who was 19 years old and nobody’s ever cuddled him. He wasn’t a happy person. But in football he could make at least 20 friends.

Kids have a lot of energy, they don’t want to stay in front of the TV and eat chips, and get bigger and bigger. They come and play, and they use their energy, they go back home and they don’t fight. They go to bed. When kids are happy – my job is done.

I’m not from Glasgow but I’m a part of Glasgow. I came here, these people, this government, this country saved my life, and I’ve been respected here. I help the kids and it is the best way I can be useful to this country, because I have to be! And I love my job, and I love my life!

I don’t want to be a saint, I want to be a simple man. I can’t save the world, no. But if every year I can save only one young life from the alcohol and drugs, my job is done.

Scapegoating immigrants is as old as the wheel

Thoughts on being an immigrant in the UK today

I

No event has had a bigger impact in my life than leaving my country early into the 2000s. Leaving would configure everything that happened afterwards, from careers to relationships, my everyday moods, my whole life, everything. When you leave – in the knowledge that you are not leaving for a holiday – something changes in you. The possibility of not returning many times becomes a stubborn resistance to a possible return. This happened to me at least.

When I left, Argentina was deeply immersed in an economic crisis; many of my generation had no other choice but packing their stuff and heading somewhere else. This was almost 14 years ago – the words "lost" and "generation" were uttered a lot back then, just like today. Argentina's crisis anticipated many crises to come. I am sympathetic to Spanish, Portuguese, Greek, and Italian people: I know how it feels to see your whole life crashing from one day to the next; I experienced high unemployment, surreal inflation, violence, and political apathy. I know what it is to leave everything behind to search for a new future. Not seeing the way out. I don't envy anyone in that position, in the same way that I don't envy anyone who spends his/her whole life in the same place. For some people the ideal situation is spending some years somewhere to then return. These are the only people I envy. 

I wish I could do that. I can't. It would mean another self-exile, a new set of effects left behind. I learned to find a home in displacement. I learned to know that this is the only form of home I'll ever experience. It is a double state of homelessness. And still an enriching state.

II

The following words are generally attributed to philosopher Miguel de Unamuno: "Fascism is cured by reading, racism by traveling". I don't know whether he really said this or not, but I do agree with these words. Being able to experience other cultures has opened my mind, made me a more generous and tolerant person. 

These words take an even bigger presence in my life today. The UK has slowly become a more intolerant and ignorant place. More and more people are in serious need of reading and traveling. Sadly, I don't think we will see that happening. If only it was so easy as prescribing books and trips to cure what is nothing more and nothing less than the fear of "the other". 

It is an uncomfortable moment to be an immigrant in the UK. Immigrants have become the scapegoat of many problems that have nothing whatsoever to do with the movement of people. This is not only the making of parties the likes of UKIP, BNP, EDL, etc. Mainstream political parties have also – and cynically – taken on the anti-migrant rhetoric. 

It would be pointless here to insist on the benefits brought by immigration, or on the lack of hard data when it comes to this or that other aspect of immigrant life in the UK, or on the fact that Brits living abroad are hardly ever mentioned when discussing migration in the UK. There is a human side of the equation that both right and centre-left constantly efface from the arguments around migration: people move to look for better lives, be this a better economic situation or better weather. The discussions around numbers and figures can't capture this; how could this be quantified, turned into a utilitarian statistic?  

Xenophobes concerned about the loss of a "national purity" (whatever that is) won't listen. And if they did they wouldn't be fussed about it. That doesn't mean that we should stop reminding them. We must remind people that leaving is never a decision taken lightly. 

III

Immigrants had a hard time in my country too when I was there. The crisis and unemployment was also blamed on them. Look back in history and see that anti-migrant sentiment is as old as the wheel. Scapegoating is rarely innovative, and yet it is hard to fight back against it. 

Immigrants don't have as many mouthpieces as those at UKIP and BNP, etc. We have little or no representation in "mainstream" media. Due to many reasons – from language skills to cultural specificities – we are at a disadvantage when it comes to fighting the Farages/Griffins, for a spot in the limelight. There are few voices to compensate for the bashing unleashed by the right wing. Few in politics, and few in media. 

That is the reason why movements such as Migrant Voice are important. It is all about generating a dialogue between a plurality of voices, opening up the spectrum of what is represented and representable. Maybe many won't listen. But we will become stronger and more comfortable in the knowledge that we are not alone. And that we aren't going anywhere.  

Fernando Sdrigotti is a bilingual writer. Born in Rosario, Argentina, he now lives in London. He tweets at @f_sd

Migrant Voice Director, Nazek Ramadan has been selected for the Independent on Sunday's Happy List 2015. The Happy List highlighted Nazek’s contribution as ‘migrant empowerer’, going on to say: “Having come to Britain as a refugee from Lebanon in the 80s, Nazek launched the New Londoners newspaper in 2007 to publicise migrant and asylum issues. Three years later she founded campaign Migrant Voice to address the lack of migrants in the media, and fought xenophobia in this year's election campaign."

The Independent on Sunday’s eighth annual Happy List, is a collection of 100 inspirational heroes and heroines whose kindness, ingenuity and bravery make Britain a better place to live.

Founded in 2008 as an antidote to the lists that celebrate wealth as an end in itself, the Happy List is based on a different set of values. It honours individuals who give rather than take; the great Britons doing the very best work who go largely unnoticed and unrewarded.

The Happy List relies on the Independent on Sunday’s readers to sing the praises of the otherwise unsung. This year the paper had an extraordinary response, with hundreds more nominations submitted than ever before.

Chair of Migrant Voice, Jason Bergen said: “We are hugely proud of our Director Nazek Ramadan who was selected for the Independent on Sunday’s 2015 ‘Happy List’. She's made a lot of lives happier – even in difficult periods for migrants like the last five years. Congratulations Nazek Ramadan.”

Nazek said that she is “delighted and honoured to be on the Happy List 2015.” But added that “ my work and success are due to the support and encouragement of the world class team of Migrant Voice.”

http://ind.pn/1QBgMgr

Meet Namaa: A microbiologist, political activist, blogger, avid reader and family woman. She’s one of those people you come across once in a while that exudes an energy uncommonly found today for a woman so young. When she talks about her life, her journey and her work, you wonder how there could possibly be enough time in a day to accomplish all that she has.

Namaa was educated in genetics, receiving an MSc in microbiology from Birkbeck University. But today her work is largely focused in the world of political activism and human rights.

It’s possible that it all began in 1996 when Namaa first participated in a student protest in London, marching from Gower Street to Westminster against increasing student fees. Though she would later go on to graduate and work as a Molecular biologist, it was when she returned to her home country, Sudan, to set up a DNA analysis lab with one of the universities in Khartoum, that she seriously began to get her feet wet in the movement for social change.

While in between assignments in Khartoum, a family member asked her to volunteer at a Sudanese non-governmental organisation to write proposals for funding. The task eventually became more complex as she was then responsible for setting up the entire funding system of the organisation in order to expand the scope of the organisation’s work in adult education and development.

Namaa became more active, joining discussion groups, conversing with journalists and networking with the Sudan Tribune—an online newspaper with considerable readership—and Sudanese Online. The matter for discussion: The government’s gross violation of human rights and the abduction, torture and killing of Sudanese people.

So when the Sudan Youth Movement for Change (SPARK) asked for her assistance in mobilising support for protest, Namaa reached out to her media contacts and successfully increased the number of participants. However, after the protest, 168 people were sent to prison, two of which were her relatives and cousins.

In response, Namaa’s sister began gathering the families of those detained to protest for their release. However, in order to protect the families from getting arrested as well, Namaa saw the necessity of providing support:

“While they were participating in the sit-ins, I was getting in touch with the press to provide a cover for them so that they could go out safely and carry out their protest. I also got touch with international foreign offices from different parts of the world, concerned with Sudan.”

Her initiative was successful; half of the detainees were released after the first protest and the rest were released by the next. All of this occurred in less than three weeks.

“[This] is not usual in Sudan. Usually what they do is arrest you for about six months and the norm was that when people form a petition, the petition goes nowhere.

They would not present their petition to an influential group, like the FCO or the UN or the African Union. That’s where I made the difference. I presented the petition to the FCO, I presented it to the UN, and I presented it to the African Union. I pushed it that bit further. It wasn’t people putting their names on a piece of paper and it going nowhere, it became a piece of paper that went somewhere.”

Social media strategies have played a key role in the success of these campaigns Platforms such as Twitter and Facebook provide communication channels, opening up an online portal of dialogue and information on situations in Sudan. Namaa says,

“Targeted, loud protests are more effective. [On social media] you have to tag the right people, tag the right media and get as much media coverage as possible.  Social media has provided a leveling ground for activists around the world we now have the media communication tools we need at our disposal, dictatorships who previously used the cover of media censorship to hide the atrocities they commit against their own people have nowhere to hide.”

Namaa’s ability to think strategically and be undeterred by the relentless nature of dictatorships, even, has brought little victories to those willing to fight for human rights.

Her deep involvement in political movements in Sudan has become the work that demands most of her time and attention. Now she no longer works as a molecular biologist, but continues to partner with the Arab and Sudanese media and international Human Rights organisations to raise awareness and fight for the human rights of the Sudanese people. She writes in her regular blog, which has gained many followers over the years and hopes to utilise her skills locally by focusing her attention on working with diaspora groups in London.

When not engaging in advocacy, Namaa enjoys reading. Her favourite place in London is the British Museum because, “there is so much to learn, something new to see every visit. It’s amazing what people have achieved so far.” One can say the same about Namaa, a woman working tirelessly to continue advancing human rights, one campaign at a time. 

For Daniel Debessai the journey from Eritrea to the UK didn’t end at the border, he has had to work hard to navigate a life for himself in the UK. Olivia Blair spoke to Daniel about his journey so far.

Daniel arrived in the UK in 2008, leaving behind a job as a statistician. He then undertook a second degree (he already held one in Statistics and Demography from Eritrea). He embarked upon a Mathematics and Statistics degree at Kingston University, London and graduated in 2012.

However after graduating, despite having two degrees, Daniel found it difficult to get a graduate job and was unemployed for about six months. He believes that there was a lack of professional help from the job centre and that employers often lacked knowledge about refugee status; that being that individuals with this status have full right to work in the UK without immigration restrictions.

This was until a friend, also from Eritrea, put him in touch with Sheila Heard. Sheila is the managing director of Transitions-London, a not-for-profit careers and employment organisation who specialise in placing highly-skilled refugees into work. Transitions’ clients include the national grid, crossrail, KPMG and British Red Cross. Daniel says Transitions helped him by providing services such as help with writing tailored-CVs, assisting with application forms and conducting mock interviews.

Daniel finally found employment as a graduate trainee at the FDM group, an IT consultancy company and has been there for 11 months. Daniel enjoys his job: “I’m very busy Monday to Friday but I like to be busy, I know what it’s like to be unemployed and I wouldn’t want to feel like that again,” he said.

How does working in Eritrea compare to the UK? “It is completely different”, Daniel says, “At first it was very difficult [to adjust] but not any more, all of the people [at work] have been very helpful so there are no problems… I’m really enjoying living and working in the UK.”

Daniel praises Transitions for their “excellent work” adding that in his opinion “they are the only social enterprise who understand professional refugees’ problems”. Daniel advises other refugees who may be finding it hard to get work to “keep their morale high and work harder and they will definitely get there”.

For more information on Transitions work, visit their website.

Choi Joong-ha greets us in the small head office of a Korean supermarket in New Malden on a sunny afternoon. “Annyeong haseyo,” he says, bowing slightly. He leads us to an even smaller room at the back and gestures for us to sit. There is a whiteboard in the room with the words “The government’s lies are all bullshit” scribbled across it.

“I don’t really have any spare time,” he tells me, through an interpreter. “All my time is taken up by the community work I do.”

Choi is president of the North Korean Residents’ Society, which helps defectors integrate with life in the UK and helps them tell their stories. About 600 North Koreans have settled in New Malden. He has lived here for seven years with his wife and three children. He is the stock manager of Korea Foods supermarket. Choi used to serve in the North Korean military, where he worked for more than 10 years before the famine.

His childhood in North Korea was “very controlled”. From the minute they are born, North Koreans are fed pro-government propaganda and not much else. “They use hunger to brainwash you,” Choi says.

“Even baby food is rationed, you aren’t allowed to feed your baby more than the allocated amount a day. So from birth you are hungry – and hungry people cannot think of anything other than their hunger. In school and at work, you have entire lessons on how great the Kim dynasty is. That’s how they brainwash you.”

Because of this conditioning many defectors are still afraid to tell their stories.

“I was torn between loyalty and fear,” he says – loyalty to his great leaders, to whom he was expected to be grateful for having life itself, and fear they would torture and kill him and his family if they ever found them.

After defecting and working for four years in China, Choi saved up enough to pay a Chinese broker to take him and his family further away. They were given a choice of South Korea, the US or the UK. America and South Korea were known to Choi as hostile countries – “the enemy. That’s what we were taught.” So he chose UK, where the government sent them to Newcastle.

“The hardest part about coming to the UK is that I had no other skills than those I had in the military,” he recalls. “I had no other job experience either. It was very hard to pick up new skills and get another job here. English is also a barrier: I just don’t have time for classes.”

After hearing about a Korean community in New Malden, Choi decided to settle there. Some people thought he was mad for wanting to uproot his family again. “As a refugee, you just follow your survival instincts,” he says. “Your gut knows how to keep you alive.”

Only after North Korean Park Jihyun found refuge in the United Kingdom in 2008 did she slowly begin to understand what human rights mean – a discovery that came after 40 painful years that included torture, imprisonment in labour camps and being trafficked to China.

“In North Korea, one’s happiness is not one’s own: happiness belongs to the regime. In my case, as is the case with all North Korean women, we have never had pride either in North Korea or in China,” she says. “All women should have pride, but in North Korea women don’t even have that.

“I was sold [by the trafficker] in China; I couldn’t even make eye contact with anyone. I always thought that was a woman’s destiny. After I arrived here I saw other British women live their lives: I was surprised by this new world.”

Her home in that new world is Manchester where the former maths teacher is now the North Korean outreach and project officer for the European Alliance for Human Rights in North Korea (EAHRNK).

“We are an NGO that works with North Korean refugees living in Europe to help them tell European and EU politicians the realities of life in North Korea, and to get them to lobby for lasting change there. I am happy in this job as I feel I am giving my fellow North Koreans a voice and helping to make a positive impact.”

Apart from the weather – “my husband and I joke that it always seems to be raining in Manchester” – she says “life in Britain has given me so many freedoms that I never thought I would have.

“It was not until I reached the United Kingdom that I learnt what ‘human rights’ were, and that mine had been abused.

“I had not heard about the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, or what a ‘refugee’ was. I was overwhelmed to find out that I could choose to do and to be what I wanted.”

When I arrived in the United Kingdom, I was based in Liverpool. I stayed there for 20 days, before being relocated by the Home Office to Manchester, where I have lived ever since. There is a large Korean community in Manchester, so I found it easy to find familiar foods, and people who spoke my language.

“For more than 40 years, I did not know happiness, love or what it means to be human,” she says.

“On the day that the UK Government gave me a refugee visa and an ID card, tears came from deep inside my heart: I could not say any words at all.

“I remember, I was sitting around the dinner table with my family – my husband and my three children. We were talking about our day and how the children’s day at school was, just talking and laughing and smiling. That was when I felt happiness for the first time.”

When I was young, I used to look at the sky and say “What is the feeling of going up there?” I really didn't expect I'm going to go to another country. Being the only daughter – the youngest – I never dreamed of going away from my parents.

My mum she was a midwife. When I was in primary school my Dad decided to go to Saudi Arabia because the expenses were getting harder and harder. Back home you have to pay everything: if you don't have money you won't go anywhere. One time my dad had to have an operation I had to ask my cousins for money. I decided it should not be like this; my father spent most of his life away from us.

Before I left my mum was not happy - she never supported me applying to go away, just my Grandma. I secretly asked her to give money for a placement. I said to her: this is my chance, just let me go and I'll prove that I'm right. At that time the UK was having a massive recruitment of nurses in our country (the Philippines) so I said “I have to go.” I've got nothing to lose. 

I was scared when I first came, because what can happen to me if I get ill, if I'm in trouble?  But in Wales they were so supportive. The Nurse Manager there showed me around the small town where I was going to live. They brought us to the Catholic Church and then they gave us the name of Filipino people I could contact. 

I miss what we call 'halo-halo'. It's with ice mainly and then some different kind of fruit in the tin, maybe it's a fruit cocktail? Put it there with nata de coco and milk on it and sugar and then you just stir. Those are the things that I miss a lot: here it's too cold to have it. 

When I applied to work here I had a different boyfriend.  When I managed to come over I supposed it was a bit too late, he would find somebody else; that was the bad part. My co-workers really helped me out. I don't think it's a good idea to be alone in the countryside.... It was very quiet. All you can hear is seagulls and the wind and the river, nothing else - it's too depressing. I was living beside a bridge. I said - one day I'm going to jump of off there. My manager was so nice: she said, oh don't be silly! My sister-in-law's sister invited me to Birmingham and I liked it. 

When you start with a family, it's hard to decide whether you're going to be separated from your child or not. We tried not to send our first child back home; we tried seven months for him to stay with us, but we did struggle – we're paying the rent, my husband had to stop working to look after the baby. I was the only one working, we were also sending money back home for our parents and it was not enough. [So eventually we had to send the children back home]. When they came back my son was four, my daughter was three.

Being here: it might be that I can be myself. I don't know; I think I'm different with my family. When I'm with my friends, I can be wild, in a nice way, I can be chatty. With the family you have to be cautious of what you're going to say because the thing that you say might hurt them, because they know that you are hurt. 

And I suppose I could give my kids a better life, a better education. I could give them - not what they want: what they need. But it's sad. For instance, my grandma - because I grew up with her - when she was dying I went back home with my youngest daughter for two weeks. I was in a hospital. I said – hmm – this never changed – still on duty. It's so sad that we're working in a hospital, we look after all these patients and then, if our own family is the one who needs it, then we're not there.  

View Vilma Corpuz's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GS5a5IwEwSM

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

Migrant Voice is a national migrant led organisation with a vision of an equitable society where migrants are recognised for their contribution, embraced as valuable members of our community, and their voices equally heard. Migrant Voice mobilises migrants to engage with the media and the debate on migration to encourage a more inclusive debate.

Migrant Voice has an established network in Birmingham engaging many communities. 

Migrant Voice is a registered Charity No 1142963 and a not for profit company 7154151

www.migrantvoice.org

I am from Turkey and grew up in Ankara, the capital city. I came to the UK to learn English in 1996 and met my husband in 1998 and stayed. I now live in Birmingham where I teach dance, English and Turkish. 

My love for dance came at a young age. I practiced dance from Primary School, throughout High School and University. While I lived in Turkey I performed in many cities across the country. I got my dancing qualification in 1996 and when I moved to the UK I was asked to teach dance classes, so I did.

Dance is still a part of my life. I teach Oriental Dance (belly dance) to women from many different backgrounds, and I have danced all over the UK. I lead my own group in Sutton Coldfield and also make dance costumes. 

Turkish Oriental Dance has many styles such as Kars, Kara, Kafcas, Kasik, Chiftetelli, Dogan Halay, Cukurova Hay, Adana, Atabari, or Ankara, named after capital. The influences are from Kurdish, Azerbaijan and from Mediterranean folk dances but in the UK people from all backgrounds are dancing it. It is very good for body and mind.

I also used to teach Mediterranean cookery for the Adult Education Service. As well as teaching Turkish and doing the occasional interpreting, I am proud to say I now teach English in England. 

View Ozlem Green's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yFaOxMFVoEs

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

Migrant Voice is a national migrant led organisation with a vision of an equitable society where migrants are recognised for their contribution, embraced as valuable members of our community, and their voices equally heard. Migrant Voice mobilises migrants to engage with the media and the debate on migration to encourage a more inclusive debate.

Migrant Voice has an established network in Birmingham engaging many communities. 

Migrant Voice is a registered Charity No 1142963 and a not for profit company 7154151

www.migrantvoice.org

I am originally from Sudan and I have a degree in economics and social studies from there but I left in 1999 to join my husband who was living in The Netherlands. I had a baby there. 

In 2003 I came to England for the first time to learn English and I continued to do a Degree in Human Resource Management at Coventry University. After achieving my Bachelors’ Degree I went on to do a Masters’ Degree in International Human Resources Management. 

The time at University was challenging because the English language was difficult for me. But I heard that if you want success you have to imagine yourself in success. I put this in my mind and I start to take the first step. 

The strong Sudanese community also made me feel welcome and made it easier to settle, but overall Birmingham is a welcoming city. After University I volunteered for around six months for a company as a HR person. However, I was not able to find paid work my field yet. While studying at Coventry University I worked with adults with special needs to help pay for my studies. I have now returned to work as a support worker in a residential setting for adults with learning difficulties and mental health issues in Birmingham. I practice Islam every day, I pray five times a day, I fast at Ramadan, I try to tell my daughter how to practice Islam.

Birmingham is a multicultural city with many religions living together, and I have many Christian friends and went with them to the cathedral or church, which gives you the opportunity to love everyone. I feel at home in the city. You can see different faces around that make you comfortable and not feel alone or home sick.

I like to eat in the Arabic and Indian restaurants around Birmingham. Life is nice when you are gathered with friends around a table of food, discussing books or events. I like writing and I like to read poems and novels. I am also part of a book club. I like doors and door art around the world. Doors mean a lot in my culture, it means open heart and welcoming everyone, and I link it all with cathedral doors. They are always open. In the Mosque or the church the door symbolises for me that it opens people to the perfect soul.

The great achievement in my life is studying. I am very proud that I completed my degrees at Coventry University at a time that was challenging for me in terms of family and a new language.  My future plan is to start studying for a PhD and also to work with my organisation which was set up in honour of my mother’s memory: ‘the Fatima Educational Organisation.’ 

View Hiba's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7vO0PxPKvnI

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I am 26 years old and was born in Madrid in Spain from Argentinian parents, but now live in Birmingham city centre. I came to the UK in 2014 because I wanted to learn English and try to become a more independent person. The economic situation in Spain is very poor even for someone who has a Degree in Economics.  

I came to Birmingham to work as an Au Pair.  After three weeks I left the family I was working for due to bad working conditions. Luckily, I found another job looking after children and after this I found work in a café. I am currently studying English and Media at South and City College. I really like studying here.

In Birmingham there is a lot of diversity, a lot of foreign people, so people are used to speaking with people with difficulty with the language, people are really open, it is a really welcoming city. A city where you can develop yourself. A country with a lot of opportunities. That is why I chose the UK.

Over the last year I have made many friends through work and college. I am also involved in a church that supports the LGBT community. I recently participated in the Birmingham Opera Company’s production of Michael Tippet’s ‘The Ice break’ where I acted two parts. I really enjoyed this experience.

Here there is room for everyone, Christians, homosexuals, in Spain this is impossible. Here it is like a dream. You cannot be rejected. It is open, that is why my plan is to stay here long term.

At Digbeth Coach Station there is a sign that says “welcome to the city of a thousand welcomes.” When I go back to Madrid after a week I start to miss Birmingham.

Birmingham is my home town now.

View Nuria Tissera's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Bdd0VW6ejs

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

Migrant Voice is a national migrant led organisation with a vision of an equitable society where migrants are recognised for their contribution, embraced as valuable members of our community, and their voices equally heard. Migrant Voice mobilises migrants to engage with the media and the debate on migration to encourage a more inclusive debate.

Migrant Voice has an established network in Birmingham engaging many communities. 

Migrant Voice is a registered Charity No 1142963 and a not for profit company 7154151

www.migrantvoice.org

I am 46 years old and from the Philippines but now live in Birmingham. I came to the UK as a missionary through the missionary society. They gave me orientation and input and immersion into various places where I could meet the people we would join and help – the asylum seekers and refugees. 
This place was totally new to me so without the help of other people who showed us around and gave us orientation on how to integrate of course it wouldn't have been easy, but we received orientation and updates on what the current situation in the country is. It helped us to be sensitive also because here there are people from different backgrounds, cultures and faiths so that helped me integrate into the community.
What is of interest to me is our ministry which crosses boundaries of race, culture, etc. We work by helping the poor or marginalised people and in the UK usually that is the migrants and asylum seekers.
There are some aspects of Birmingham that I enjoy but there are also aspects of the Philippines that are not here that I also enjoy, so it is just a matter of trying to live where you are.
What I enjoy the most is being intercultural and interfaith. You can sit down in a place for a meal and people are from all over, bringing their food. It is really very interesting because you can taste food from different places. In a way it is like also travelling to their country through their stories. It enriched me as a person.
I have contributed my time and presence. I go to different charities and help with different activities, cooking, meetings, take time to chat. I think that is my contribution. Whatever talents or abilities I have I try to contribute it.
Compared to before, I would say that UK is home to me now because anywhere that I go I always see or meet someone on the road that I know. Things started to become familiar to me now and I know my place. I have a lot of friends here and everywhere I go people recognise me, even the nearby shop.
The weather was a struggle for me in the beginning because I didn't know how to protect myself, to wear a hat, scarf, but I learned I have to wear several layers of clothes, several layers of socks.
I sometimes feel that they migrants are portrayed as a burden. But most of the time you can see that immigrants are contributing so much to the society. Most of the time they are the ones who are willing to do the jobs which the local people don't want to do.

View Gertrudes' video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FH_kEam4Mqw

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I am an asylum seeker from Pakistan. Before I retired, I was a Civil Servant working in local government and rural affairs based in Lahore. I came to the UK in 2011 after having my life threatened. Unfortunately, law enforcement and the judicial system in my country offered me no protection. Therefore, I have looked for safety and sanctuary in Great Britain.

I appreciate the help my wife and I have received whilst living as asylum seekers. We live very frugally. We have no cash – we survive by using a card [the Azure card some asylum seekers get] which enables us to buy food. However, this card can only be used in large supermarkets (Tesco, Asda, Morrison’s’ etc.) It is not accepted in local Asian stores so sometimes it is difficult to find food that would be cheaper in smaller shops.

I do not have enough money to buy a bus pass so I generally walk to the mosque and to appointments. I feel welcome in any a mosque in the city. I also like to visit St Chad’s Centre which is a place that provides a welcome space for asylum seekers in Birmingham City Centre.

I am fortunate that I have a son now living in Birmingham who visits me to look after my welfare, health and well-being.

I am a member of Birmingham Asylum and Refugee Association (BARA) which was formed to provide fellowship and support to those people in my situation living in Birmingham. I attend meetings and training sessions at BARA. I have also helped distribute copies of the Migrant Voice newspaper on the streets in Birmingham. I want to continue to do more voluntary work. 

View Nawazish Pervaiz’s video here:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80T21dpMTgo

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

Migrant Voice is a national migrant led organisation with a vision of an equitable society where migrants are recognised for their contribution, embraced as valuable members of our community, and their voices equally heard. Migrant Voice mobilises migrants to engage with the media and the debate on migration to encourage a more inclusive debate.

Migrant Voice has an established network in Birmingham engaging many communities. 

Migrant Voice is a registered Charity No 1142963 and a not for profit company 7154151

www.migrantvoice.org

All the changes - political, social, cultural - started to happen after 1989. I went from black and white film into colour. So many opportunities started to open. 

Before 1989, we had very little knowledge about what's going on outside the Russian bloc. When the Berlin wall broke down I was 15. Before, I didn't feel that we were lacking anything; it was a very nice simple comfortable life. We were not thinking about going to the UK, not thinking in terms of “it's not allowed” - it was just a non-existent thing. Then in 2004 when Poland joined the European Union, so many people came to UK: they wanted to come finding new job experience. 

My cousin was doing her degree in English Language so she started to come to the UK in the summer and work in pubs. My boss then was closing whole company down, so I thought – oh, maybe I can go to the UK for a year, year and a half, see how it is. Within two months I found myself in the UK. 

At first it wasn't as perfect as I thought it would be, there were a few hiccups. I went through a language shock purely because of the accent of the North, so I watched all the soap operas. Later, thinking about that period of time, I think I sorted everything very calmly, very methodically, I wasn't really stressing though I had to change accommodation and jobs. I started attending English evening classes in Sheffield. It was intense but very amiable, very funny. It was the most amazing class, it gave me so much confidence. Within the group were diverse students having the same problems: we could help each other with other aspects - accommodation, documentation, applications. 

I worked within the Care Home environment, but I was a qualified dietitian from Poland and I wanted to pursue my career. At first I was not able to because you need to be registered with the Health Care Professionals Council. That was the next step. I came to Birmingham and started as a dietetic assistant and after couple of years I became Assistant Practitioner. Finally I became registered so now I am in a position to look for dietetic jobs. 

In Poland dietetics was purely about catering, creating menus but UK dietetics is more clinical, it's much more developed and professional. It's versatile, interesting - it's what I love to do and I want to develop. I would like to work within diabetes and weight management, those are the jobs where you can be close to the communities, close to the patients, helping them to manage their condition, to see options that they've got - you help them to make their own care plan. Also I'm very interested in eating disorders so it involves coaching as well. 

The hardest thing is isolation. If you don't have friends then sometimes you can get very, very low, so it's important to create your own network of contacts. It's also important to be in touch with your friends in Poland and your family, just to keep you going. Ultimately you have to think about your goal: why you are here. Your heart may tell you you want to be here – and also that you want to be with your family - but you can only be in one place at a time. 

The other thing that was particularly difficult for me was the bad press the Polish people had. Because of your accent you will be asked “oh, where are you from?” - even from my patients. You are so fearful to say that you are Polish, because you don't know what that person's perception of Polish people would be. You may get “oh, that's nice, oh I've got friends from Poland, yes, my son got married 5 months ago to a Polish girl, how lovely” - but you are still afraid that there will be something not really nice. I value the diversity of Birmingham especially. Recently there was a project on getting food recipes from different cultures. Seeing someone from the Polish community giving a recipe for their favourite foods alongside an Indian lady – it is very nice if you see all these different cultures valued together.

View Magdalena Kot's​ video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qw1_7HMqbr0

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

Migrant Voice is a national migrant led organisation with a vision of an equitable society where migrants are recognised for their contribution, embraced as valuable members of our community, and their voices equally heard. Migrant Voice mobilises migrants to engage with the media and the debate on migration to encourage a more inclusive debate.

Migrant Voice has an established network in Birmingham engaging many communities. 

Migrant Voice is a registered Charity No 1142963 and a not for profit company 7154151

www.migrantvoice.org

I was born in Egypt in 1976, one of eight children. In March 1999 I got married and now have four children.  The same year I got my Bachelor’s degree in ancient European civilization. After achieving my degree I migrated to the UK aiming to start a new life, my ambitions were great.

Although I had studied English in Egypt, when I first arrived to the UK, I found it a bit challenging to understand and speak the English accent and comprehend the way of life. However, I learned rapidly, picking up new things every day. I was fascinated listening to the radio, and this helped me to develop my knowledge and understanding about the UK. Only a year later I managed to find a job, which helped me to further improve my language and widened my experience.

In 2006 I undertook a teaching assistant course and did a voluntary placement in a local Catholic school. After this I did child-minding training, and started my own child-minding business. I continued my study while working and in 2010 I achieved my level 6 qualification, Early Years Professional Status. The business grew and I currently employ two assistants which subsequently enables me to offer the community better facilities and outstanding services.

I have been rated as outstanding by Ofsted, which make me really happy but also puts more responsibility on me to keep at that level. I work with the Birmingham city council, I offer early years education, and I offer lots of help to newly qualified child minders and I am proud to help and support them.

Being a child-minder gave me the opportunity to meet and work with many people from different backgrounds for instance, British, Pakistani, Polish, Algerian, Yemeni, Zimbabwean, etc. This helped me to understand and learn about the diversity of our society.  It is rewarding and enjoyable to learn more about people in our society. It taught me not to stereotype people. Meeting and understanding people can change ideas, what you used to believe. It changed me a lot and made me a better person.

What I don’t like is being judged for wearing a headscarf. People sometimes treat me as a lady who sits at home seeking benefits, but when I start to talk to them introduce myself and say who I am, then they change their view. I think we should be respecting each other regardless of how we look. I think everyone deserves being respected. I believe that I am lucky to be in the UK and particularly in Birmingham; it is a lively city where you can meet and learn about different cultures. In Birmingham I learnt about the Indian Diwali, the Chinese New Year, the Jewish Hanukah, the Christian Christmas, the Muslim Eid...

In Birmingham I tasted some of the most delicious food: Indian curry, English fish and chips, Italian pizza, American burger, Arabic couscous, Egyptian (Mahshi), Sudanese (Mulah) and other mouth-watering dishes from all over the world. In Birmingham you will see the most colourful clothes shining with brightness, the Pakistani suits, Indian saris, Arabic Abayahs, Sudanese thoub, Nigerian dresses, Chinese clothes and other elegant traditional clothes and accessories from around the world.

Here I feel I am a member of a great big family; this is the most diverse family, where there are no boundaries of skin colour, language, religion, age etc. It is the Brummie family.When I first left Egypt, I felt that I left my home, but now I proudly feel Birmingham is my home, its people are my family and its land is my home. It is Birmingham… my city. 
 
View Enayat’s video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cAp65Z_OK7s

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I am 26 years old and live in Kingstanding, Birmingham where I am a full time mum. 

I was born in Canberra, Australia but I came to the UK in 2004 when I was 15 years old as my mother came to England to work as a Social Worker. At first we lived in Canterbury in Kent where I attended school. 

It wasn’t too bad coming to an English speaking country although it took me a while to get used to the different words English people used as different to Australians. Especially English slang words. My school mates in Kent did pull a few tricks on me because I was not familiar with English terminology.

In 2008 our family moved to Birmingham because we had relatives living in the city. Since coming to Birmingham I have got married and had children. 

There are differences between living in England and Australia. Obviously the weather is warmer in Australia and Australia is more “laid back” than the UK. In the UK people live more indoors where as in Australia more activity goes on outdoors – sport, the beach and so on.

View Leila Khan’s Video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=810ihy1Tiuw

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

Migrant Voice is a national migrant led organisation with a vision of an equitable society where migrants are recognised for their contribution, embraced as valuable members of our community, and their voices equally heard. Migrant Voice mobilises migrants to engage with the media and the debate on migration to encourage a more inclusive debate.

Migrant Voice has an established network in Birmingham engaging many communities. 

Migrant Voice is a registered Charity No 1142963 and a not for profit company 7154151

www.migrantvoice.org

I came to the U.K. from Russia in 2006 and am now settled in Birmingham. Since moving here I have learnt English, completed postgraduate study, worked in several companies and I now run a charity assisting migrants from Central and Eastern Europe living in the UK. 

England is such a nice country. The people are so warm and welcoming. I'm very proud to be a member of the congregation in Aston Parish Church in Birmingham. My friends in church were so keen to listen to me even though at first we did not have a common language. They spoke slowly and clearly to me, it really helped me to learn English. 

Many members of our congregation came to the UK from all over the world. We have people from Jamaica, St Kitts, Iran, India, Syria, Russia, Thailand, China, and Togo to name just a few.

Western culture is very different to what I am accustomed to, but I was lucky to find friends over here and receive enormous support and encouragement. This has given me the confidence to progress and now I am able to help other people who, like me, have come to the UK and would like a helping hand to guide them.

What I enjoy most of all is traveling around the UK. I have seen so many amazing places and events - medieval battles or stock car or boat racing. It seems that having fun is very important here!

I would tell any migrant coming to the UK to look at everything, try everything, and not be shy to speak to people. Life here is so interesting and gives many opportunities to explore a different culture. 

I believe that migration is good for everyone. It makes us more confident, sociable and gives an excellent life experience. 

The other good feature about the UK is that it is much warmer in winter than in my country! 

View Elena's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZSPC-0hiE1M

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

Laurentis: We sell all kinds of products, cheese, olive oil, barley, noodles, pasta with different flavours - pasta with squid ink is very popular - halva, which is traditional to eat for lent, baklava.

All the products come from Greece. People mainly buy things for home cooking; we get all kinds of people, family people, and students. It is not only Greeks, it is the English, Welsh. English people have been buying baklava for over a thousand years now. Don’t forget the Greeks came here a long time ago.

You have to [get used to this climate].  Yes I would like to have a little bit more sun, it plays a big role in our mood, when we see the sun we are happy; you are more energetic. When we came from Greece we had to change our lifestyle. It was very difficult for us to find products we are familiar with, it was one of the reasons we opened the shop. 

We set up the shop a year and a half ago.  Every day we get new clients, it spreads by word of mouth, so every day we have people coming in. We are not ready for wholesale yet, we want to set up the shop first, then to consider the restaurants.

Eating in Greece is not for actually eating the food, it is for socialising. We eat meals with friends and family and chat to relax after a long day or week, it is a way for us to get rid of the stress and the tiredness. If we stay inside the house it is not the same, you are going to watch a little bit of TV, and then go to sleep and tomorrow the next thing.  And we don’t like routine so much we like to do different things.

That is the problem - [in the UK] people are going very fast and also in countries like Germany, Scandinavian countries, the lifestyle is very fast. We have been here for a year and a half and some people pass by every day and only just notice the shop now. 

In Greece we always had time to go to the gym, the swimming pool, the sea, but here I don’t have time, the rhythms of life are different.

Lianna: My children are here, I am with my family, but in Greece I have a different life, my friends, my relatives… I could go out for a coffee for a walk there, on the beach. Here I don’t have that luxury. I don’t have a lot of friends here. I work, I don’t have time to meet people. I miss my house in Greece, I miss Greece.

View Laurentis And Lianna Konstantinidou's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xNQ0-BIk4A

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

Migrant Voice is a national migrant led organisation with a vision of an equitable society where migrants are recognised for their contribution, embraced as valuable members of our community, and their voices equally heard. Migrant Voice mobilises migrants to engage with the media and the debate on migration to encourage a more inclusive debate.

Migrant Voice has an established network in Birmingham engaging many communities. 

Migrant Voice is a registered Charity No 1142963 and a not for profit company 7154151

www.migrantvoice.org

I am 35 years old, I come from Iran and I was married three years ago. My husband is studying at Aston University, doing his PhD in Electronic Engineering and because of him I'm here in Birmingham now. 

For an Iranian getting a visa for the UK is hard but we were so lucky because before here we lived in Italy for seven months and we applied from there. Recently the British embassy in Iran closed down because of political issues.

I'm an artist, a sculptor.  At first when I came to the UK I was a little upset because in Iran I had a good career, I was in a good situation, I had an exhibition and I sold my sculptures. When I came to the UK I had to start from the first step, I had to find connections. I started working on my collections and thought naturally I would find connections here. I am completely positive about the situation.

During my childhood my parents supported me to go to a painting course but when I became older and chose to be a professional artist my parents didn't agree with it because they were concerned that I wouldn't earn any money. But I insisted and I was the person who decided about my future.

I graduated from University of Tehran in Sculpture and then in Illustration. For two years I worked with publishers in Iran. I went to a private institute and I was taught a Russian style in figurative sculpture. 

I think artists in society try to challenge boundaries and limitations. They try to make new questions that will make people think. It’s so important for me that I can try to do that. As an artist you should have a critical mind even about many common things. I think about all sorts of things all the time. I even have dialogues with myself. Nothing is obvious for me. I don't make assumptions of what things are, I look beyond the surface.

In some cases there are lots of differences between Iran and the UK. But when you live between people and communicate, you can see that people from all over the world have lots of common behavior and ways of thinking. Maybe for the first month you think there are lots of differences but now I am really comfortable and can have communication with people.

I can't really divide these two concepts [art and life], no artist works in isolation, they work within the discourse that they live in. They reflect society and also they create a situation to influence society. We can't separate it. 

View Azadeh's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eDBcd9AIvwk

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

I am a PhD student at Malmö University, Sweden and came to Birmingham for six months to do research among undocumented migrants and destitute asylum seeking families. In Sweden I am actively involved in refugee rights. I am married and will become a father in the autumn of 2015.

In Birmingham it has been easiest to integrate with other migrants; you share being an outsider. But I have also made contacts through the university. It is important to have a context to integrate through, that makes it easier.

Sweden and England are quite similar so I thought things would be the same as in Sweden, but there are small differences which over time made a huge difference. You feel like you don't always understand what is happening or that you fit in. Over time those kinds of small differences can be harder to handle than big differences because they are not so clear. 

Since my research is about Birmingham that is going to feed into the discussion about what it is like to be a migrant here. I try to combine my research with volunteering in a youth group on Wednesdays in Coventry.

If you are a migrant planning to move to Birmingham I would give the following advice:

I was afraid in the beginning, wasn't sure what it was going to be like, what people would think of me, if they would be welcoming or not, but I decided I am just going to go for it and reach out and try and see. And everyone I met has been really welcoming and friendly. 

The most important thing you can do for yourself is to have that courage and try and go against your fear, still try and reach out to people even though you are scared. Go to places and start volunteering or start getting engaged in different activities. Because as soon as you get to know one person, then you get to know that person's friends and it is snowballing from there. 

Interview by Bridget Obi with Agnes Tanoh

Video Jacob Lind's video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BtWQRs0r_Fo 

This interview is part of a series of stories of migrants in Birmingham produced by participants of Migrant Voice's 'Many Faces, One City' project. The project celebrates the contribution of migrants to life in Birmingham. It brought together migrants and host community in Birmingham to build their skills in telling stories of migration through text, photo, film and social media.

Funded by Big Lottery – Awards for All, England.

Migrant Voice is a national migrant led organisation with a vision of an equitable society where migrants are recognised for their contribution, embraced as valuable members of our community, and their voices equally heard. Migrant Voice mobilises migrants to engage with the media and the debate on migration to encourage a more inclusive debate.

Migrant Voice has an established network in Birmingham engaging many communities. 

Migrant Voice is a registered Charity No 1142963 and a not for profit company 7154151

www.migrantvoice.org

#MigrantsContribute is a grassroots campaign led by a coalition of 67 migrant-led organisations. It aims to demonstrate the positive contribution that migrant communities make to British life and to counteract the negative stereotyping of migrant communities that is frequently seen in public debates.

Ingrid Guyon is a member. This is her story.

“Where are you from?” resonates in my head.

After my 14 years in London, this is still the first question that people ask, as no one can ever guess correctly.

I am a citizen of the world. I am a migrant and proud to be a migrant. I live with migrants and work with migrants. If you look at history, we are all migrants. Why do we need to be labelled and judged depending on where we are from or even what we do?

Although I come from a neighbour, southern France, people forget I am a migrant. Like most of us, I have left my home country, my culture, my language, my family and friends and sunny Mediterranean coast and good food to start a new life in London.

I would not be able to live in a single-culture country. Multi-culturalism has taught me more about tolerance, understanding, respect, history, human rights, traditions, migration, politics, cultures, love and values than any school would ever be able to do.

I came to London in 2001 to look for a new life and independence and to practise my English, which I was studying at university in France and always dreamt of travelling and saving the world! But what I really wanted since I was a child was to travel, study visual anthropology to work and preserve the traditions and wisdom of Native Indians from Latin America.

At the time, finding a job and accommodation in London was easy and affordable. I worked as a waitress and met amazing people from all around the world and decided to stay. I travelled a lot with my new friends and developed an interest in photography while living in the small village of Uvero Alto in the Dominican Republic. Since then I have never stopped taking pictures and living and working with Latin Americans. While living in squats and juggling with crazy jobs, I graduated in photography at the London College of Communication and in social anthropology.

I found a home within New Generation, a collective of Latin American artists from refugee backgrounds who gave me the trust, space and inspiration that makes me who I am now. I worked as an immigration adviser for the Latin American community for five years and have been photographing the Latin American and migrant communities and cultures ever since.

My approach to photography and to representations of cultures, to news and to my career has radically shifted in the wake of my studies in social anthropology. In 2009 I established Fotosynthesis, a non-profit organisation that encourages social inclusion, self-development, participation and advocacy through photography.

I am also collaborating on a long-term project with Latin Elephant, a small charity that aims to involve the Latin American retailers in the regeneration of south London’s Elephant and Castle area, and promoting the contributions that we migrants make to the British economy, and to diversity and culture.

I am really grateful for all that Britain has made possible in my life and in the life of millions of migrants but I believe that each individual has a voice and rights and should be heard, listened to and valued equally.

We all contribute to British society by paying taxes, working, volunteering, and by bringing knowledge, skills and culture. What would London look like without migrant communities? Can you picture it? I can’t.

www.ingridguyon.com

http://www.fotosynthesiscommunity.org.uk

A former child soldier who is setting up an organisation to reduce the suffering of children in war says that sexual abuse was rampant in the orphanages in which she lived after the Rwandan genocide.

Agnes Uwase says some of the orphanages in the two Congos (Brazzaville and Kinshasa) and Rwanda were run by international aid agencies and staffed almost entirely by men.

Girls were blackmailed and threatened with beatings or being sent away if they resisted the men’s sexual demands.

“We used to call them papa. The abuse was done by Rwandan and Congolese men but also white men from some of the aid agencies,” she told Migrant Voice.

When Uwase refused to have sex with one of the staff he tore her travel documents in two and told her: “You and your brother can now kiss goodbye to Europe. You are going to be a prostitute on the streets and you will die with aids and HIV.”

Uwase also bitterly recalls the way the children were made to sing and dance - and most importantly, smile - for visitors from donor organisations and told that if they did not train to perform they would not be fed.

She was saved when a French charity worker took over the centre where she was living, discovered the abuse and started sacking the workers. He helped Agnes move to Europe with her brother, with whom she had fled the genocide in which their parents were killed.

“I feel the pain right now - the pain that I did not feel when I was running away. I do not lead a normal life because of all the memories that fill my mind; the fact that a child could not trust anybody. I did not cry back then because everyone was hiding and if you screamed people would kill you… I was seven. The next time I cried was 10 years later at a counselling session at the Medical Foundation for the Care of Victims of Torture in London. I broke down. It was all there in front of me. I could not run from it any more.”

Last year she returned to Rwanda and the Congo and visited refugee camps in the three countries, including the one in Congo -Brazzaville where she spent around three years as a child.

She saw many street-children, some with HIV/AIDS. She says there is still no education at the camps and no activities. Some children were eating ants.

The visit sparked sad feelings and memories for Agnes. She felt lucky and guilty that she had survived the conflict and the hardships faced by so many children. She returned even more determined to fight for children.

Now 28 and living in Britain, Uwase says that through the organisation she is setting up she wants to give a voice to the children who cannot speak for themselves, raise awareness about the unspeakable experiences of the children the world ignored, and tell the stories of the survivors to ensure a better system is in place to protect and treat the children of war.

More information about Agnes’ organisation: victimsnomore2015[at]gmail.com

Not many people have heard the term “half-immigrant.” This is an identity embraced by Dr. Richard Hovannisian, a history professor at USC Dornslife College of Letters and Professor Emeritus of Armenian and Near Eastern History at UCLA. On 28 January this year, he engaged in a live streamed conversation with William Deverell, the Chair of USC Dornsife’s Department of History and Director of the Huntington-USC Institute on California and the West, at USC Institute of Armenian Studies. Through this conversation, deemed “The 'Half-Immigrant': In Between California's Generations,” he was able to discuss the pressures of balancing both halves of his identity.

Hovannisian’s father came to California in order to escape the 1915 Armenian Genocide at an age when most people in the US would be graduating high school. Throughout his life, he felt the cultural collide of being part of the “1.5 generation”, such as feeling the need to change his Armenian name in school to “Hovey” and, later in his adult years, realising the comparative American influence on his language and behaviour while teaching children in Beirut. He has created informal live-streamed conversations from USC about his experiences balancing both halves of his identity.

Dr. Hovannsian’s split experience is one shared globally by many. Aleksandra Rusowicz is a 20-year-old living on the other side of the country in Connecticut, but she also has been influenced by dual backgrounds. Her family left Poland in 2003 to come to the United States when she was in third grade.

Although she migrated to the country herself, Aleksandra feels she can identify with the idea of a “half immigrant”. “I usually consider myself a first generation immigrant. But it is often hard to remember my childhood in Poland - it is so distant at this point that is sometimes feels like a dream. So a “1.5 generation” immigrant may be more accurate when it comes to describing how I feel.“

“In my house, we keep up with many Polish traditions. We are basically obligated to wear slippers when inside, we drink tons of black tea, and eat many Polish foods that I rarely encounter outside of my home. Whenever my American friends come to my house, they often experience a sort of culture shock. “

Initially, Aleksandra also felt a culture clash between the worlds within her home and outside of it. “It was strange to realize that not all households are like mine as I was growing up. My school interactions were very different from those I experienced at home. The dichotomy was pretty unsettling for a while, but over time I learned how to act and speak in both settings. Now I tend to transition easily between the two.”

Hovannsian’s family, due to pressures and stereotypes of the “old world” at the time, did not talk with their son about the struggles in Armenia until his adult life; Aleksandra’s understanding of her family’s past was much more defined. ”There has never been a war on US soil but in Poland, my family has been pretty directly affected by war. My great-grandfather died in the war, and all of my grandparents participated in WWII in some way… Being raised by people who were largely brought up amongst violence and poverty has made me more appreciative for all that I have and also somewhat guilty for how easy my life is in comparison. “

Like Hovannsian, she also had difficulties with her name in school. “Throughout my life, almost everyone I encountered - even teachers - struggled with the pronunciation. Some barely even attempted and others took it upon themselves to give me a nickname. Most would call me Alex. But how would I spell that? Aleks? It seemed strange.”

She came to the culture-neutral nickname of “Ally” serendipitously one day when talking with friends. “But I do sometimes regret not using my full name. People rarely call me Aleksandra and it's a bit unfortunate because it is a beautiful name and it reminds me where I came from. “

Since she lives in America, Ally is able to keep up on all the US trends - whether they are pop cultural, political, or linguistic. In Poland, it is harder to stay up to date on current events going on when she visits. As a result, she feels it can be much easier to interact with friends and family in the US.

She explains that it is very strange having something so unique about you despite the different contexts you are in. “Here in the US, I'm the butt of many (good-humoured and hopefully affectionate) Polish jokes. When I'm in Poland, I am very much the ‘American girl’ and am sometimes treated as something to be studied. I spend much of my time in Poland answering questions like, ‘Does everyone there drive a minivan?’ and, ‘Have you ever met Britney Spears?’”

Despite these changes, the young psychology major feels it has been surprisingly easy to preserve her Polish identity, but mainly thanks to others. “Once people learn that I am Polish, they often bring up questions, news, and stories about Poland and Polish people to me.” But her family is still the main source of her Polish identity. 

She is an example of how family plays a key role in shaping identity and culture, similar to Dr. Hovannisian’s sentiment. When questioned about passing on the Armenian culture to his children and grandchildren, he says it is better to transmit the messages “through osmosis rather than direct penetration.” In other words, he will not push his heritage on his family, but allow them to absorb the culture as they grow.

After all, identity is not what we let other people put onto us; it is the aspects of our lives that have formed us and that we make part of ourselves.

Although Ally is fully integrated into her American life and does not plan on moving back to Poland at any time, she says Poland will always have the sense of home for her. She wants to preserve the Polish identity that has helped shape her life while living in the country she grew up in.

“If I have children, I hope to teach them Polish and keep celebrating Polish holidays with them. I also think that my parents would be disappointed if I chose an American name for my children so I am hoping to find one that works in Polish as well as English.”

Nishit is a former intern at Migrant Voice with a passion for journalism on an international scale. Having lived in London for a few years, Nishit sat down with us to talk about his experiences studying and working, and to describe his hopes for the future.

As we spoke, Nishit looked confident, as if ready for anything the world was about to bring him, even if unsure what exactly that is. He looks forward to a future in journalism, but that future no longer involves staying in the UK. With his work visa soon to expire, Nishit has no choice but to leave the country. Despite this, Nishit is not sad to go. He has aspirations to travel and to work as a journalist in North and West Africa, places that he says don’t traditionally get a lot of news coverage.

Born and raised in Bombay, India, Nishit studied journalism for his undergraduate degree. He always knew he wanted to be a journalist because he loves writing, and he is particularly interested in conflict journalism and foreign news. That may be why, at the age of 20, he decided to head abroad and get his 1st Master’s degree in international journalism at London’s City University. “India is insulated in terms of news, and the UK is a better place for international journalism than most places.”

Another Master’s and a couple of internships later, Nishit found himself working at SKY news as a text producer. His duties includee looking at the news agenda and what’s being covered, and prepping and getting relevant information on screen, such as breaking news and updates. Typical days would run from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m., with night shifts being 2 p.m. to 11 p.m. Nishit enjoys his work, which was possible because of a two-year work visa after his graduation. He emphasized that his was the last year of students to receive such visas upon graduation, and he is unhappy to see the changed situation for international students. Nishit believes that due to the ending of the visas, students today are “less likely” to come study, especially in journalism, because they can’t get experience immediately after graduating.

His time in London has given Nishit his own unique views of London. London is accepting and open and easy to get used to, but not as easy to integrate into as cities such as Singapore or Hong Kong. “As an immigrant in London, you will always feel like an immigrant.” Nishit does believe that London is a diverse city that embraces other cultures, but he doesn’t feel that it is a true “international city.” He feels London maintains a sense of British identity that can serve to alienate foreigners not used to it.

Despite this, he walks away with a lot of positives on his time here. “London is an exhilarating city with so much to offer intellectually and culturally. There are many other cities that aren’t as diverse, where you hit a ceiling with what you can get.” The opportunities afforded to him by this city provide him with a base with which to move forward, and he intends to do just that.

I came to this country in 2002 when I was 12 years old. I couldn’t speak a word of English and tried my best to learn as much as I could in high school.  After I arrived here, I thought I was safe, however instead of the horrors that I faced in my own country; the UKBA became the face of my nightmares.

It was a normal day when I heard that one of my best friends had been detained. I was in an English class at the time. My teacher told me that Agnesa had been detained by the UKBA and she and her family where in a detention centre waiting to be deported. There was one question going through my head: Why?

She was an Asylum seeker, who did not have her papers to stay.

I want you to put yourself in my position. Think about how you would feel, if your best friend had been snatched away. No goodbyes, no more school, nothing. How would that make you feel?

I was angry, but I was also afraid. Like Agnesa, my family and I did not have our papers either. Were they coming for me too? When was it going to be my turn for the knock at the door in the early morning?

It was the fear and the anger that helped me and my remaining friends find the strength to fight back. The injustice of the situation that we were in drew others to our cause. They were other people from our area – asylum seekers, Scottish people, even former refugees came together and we formed a community. A community that campaigned for social justice. The Media called us ‘The Glasgow Girls’.

We ran a successful campaign and challenged the status quo. We won some and lost some. Against all odds, us girls from secondary school in Drumchapel High managed to stop the UKBA from detaining children, who should be at school, in prison-like detention centres. We shone a light on the sinister things that were happening to those who had already fled from terror and intimidation and raised awareness of the horrors of dawn raids.

Yet some experiences never leave you. The fear that you live in, waiting for the knock at the door. Waiting to be told that you can’t stay and that you have to go back to a country where your family is in mortal danger affects me even today. It leaves its mark. Even though I have my papers now, I guess a part of me is still waiting to be told I have to leave.

The Westminster Government and the British Media don’t help to allay these fears.  They seem to encourage society to hate and fear those that are seeking asylum. People have become desensitised to what this means. They forget it means seeking sanctuary from people who are trying to kill you and your family.

Not long ago, there was a student called Yashika Bageerathi. She is 19 years old and until very recently was studying for her A-levels. She was deported last year – separated from her mother. Sent back to a country which she fled, fearing for her life.

People say that she shouldn’t have been allowed to start studying; she shouldn’t have come over here at all. Some people say that ‘it’s a good thing that she’s been sent back; one less asylum seeker to claim benefits and drain the NHS’. How would they feel if it was their daughter? Or their sister? Or their friend?

Take me for example.

I was born in Iraq. I am a Kurdish Iraqi but don’t consider Iraq to be my home. I wasn’t safe there. Members of my family were executed, by firing squad. They were taken away, blindfolded and shot. Does that happen in your home?

You might be wondering what their crime was. They spoke out against the regime. They put themselves at risk to try to make the country a little better. Do you think they should have been shot for that? Do you think I should have waited there until they came for me too?

Can you imagine the police coming to your home, rounding up your family members and executing them without a trial? Can you understand what it feels like to have actually lived in that situation? That’s not a home.

Glasgow is my home. Here I feel safe and I can make a difference. Like my family before me, I can speak out to make our country a little better for those who live here; but unlike my family before me, I don’t have to do so in fear.

But there is still a lot to do.

Since the Glasgow Girls, I have campaigned for equal access to education for those seeking asylum. After I came to this country, I had to wait for 8 years before I was allowed to stay. During that time I attended school and achieved high standards. But when I finished school, there was no place I could go. I wasn’t eligible for a student loan like my school friends. I wasn’t allowed to work and I didn’t have the independent financial means required to fund a University degree.

Education is very important. It’s a vehicle for progress for the individual and for society.  Nelson Mandela was right to say that “Education is the most powerful weapon you can use to change the world” .

In Scotland, some asylum seekers are eligible to have their tuition fees paid for by the state – like Scottish Students. But they remain ineligible for vital Student Award Agency for Scotland loans and grants. They are barred from employment and as a result, higher education is inaccessible to those without independent financial means.

This is why I get out of bed every morning to campaign for the rights of migrants. I want to make the UK a better, more accessible and welcoming place for asylum seekers as well as international students to come and study, so that we do not lose the students who bring so much to our country.  I am not campaigning for migrants to be granted more rights than our native friends, but simply to be treated equally and as human beings. Is that so much to ask?

I graduated with an honours degree in law and politics in 2013. I am currently the Vice-President Diversity and Advocacy at the University of Strathclyde Students’ Association. I am one of the original Glasgow Girls - the group which campaigned across the UK to stop deportations of vulnerable asylum seekers. I recently got elected to NUS UK International students committee and Trustee Board.

Five years of living in the United Kingdom has changed Odi’s life immensely after experiencing years of religious persecution and political unrest in his home country, Iran. Even though he has lived all over the UK, London takes first prize in places he loves. Despite a long, difficult journey from Iran to Istanbul to London as a refugee, away from his wife and son, Odi continues to maintain an optimistic view about life, as well as a love and appreciation for the British people he has made friends with.

Speaking to Odi, it is a surprise when he explains that his fluent English is not the result of taking an English class but that he actually learned the language from speaking to people in the park. In his opinion, "the best way to know a place is to go to the park," which he did upon arrival in the UK after seeking asylum five years ago. The journey to the UK included months of interchanging periods of fearful waiting and constant travel. Though the trip itself took several months, the impetus for his wish to leave began many years ago in his birthplace of Tehran, Iran. He grew up in a very religious family where he felt forced to take part in practices that he did not quite understand. His questions always went unanswered.

After attending university to study computer science in the field of computer networking, he worked as a teacher and later, a computer manager. Odi continued to ask questions about both the religious and, also later on, political situation in Iran. As a result, he was imprisoned for three months.  His father helped him get released for two days for permission to get a medical check-up on his heart problem. From here Odi’s escape from Iran commenced. A taxi drove him to a town bordering Afghanistan and Pakistan where he ran to a border village and spent two weeks in Karachi, Pakistan, until he was able to get a fake passport. After a flight to Istanbul, Odi spent seven months there because his body was in a poor condition from health issues and life in prison. Rather than risk travelling by plane, he rode in the back of a lorry from Istanbul to London. After living off dates, cheese and water for 28 days, the driver finally opened the gates to the door and said, "you can go now," and when Odi asked, "where are we," the driver said, "England, you are safe now."

At first, Odi struggled with the Home Office who refused his case. They thought he was lying because a truck trip from Istanbul to London should only take two weeks but it took him 28 days due to stopping for multiple days at a time. For four years he was homeless and had no support. Now he has a fresh claim and gets basic support for food each week on Azure cards which do not allow him to get money for travel and many other essential items. His Home Office identity card reads ‘Forbidden from taking employment.’ Currently he waits for a response to his fresh claim, but this restriction does not stop him from filling up his days and engaging in the British community.

Volunteering is a crucial part of Odi’s life, and his experiences include a year and a half as a mentor in a project at the Migrant and Refugee Communities Forum (MRCF) and doing IT Work at Migrant Voice. "I’m happy about my volunteer time," he said as he described helping his mentee overcome his fear of communicating with English speaking people. He believes in the importance of being an active member in the community. A typical day for Odi is spent all over the city. He often goes to the library to read, spends time at the MRCF or with friends and walks around the park to meet and converse with people. Often, he catches many by surprise with his story and they enjoy talking to him, "because they don’t know any refugees."

After living in London for the past year, Odi naturally has found his favourite places to go and things to do. He loves Westminster Abbey and Uxbridge and he would like to be able to go see a production at a theatre or an opera. Observing and speaking with people are two things he really enjoys doing. He particularly strives to talk to as many people as possible who are also in his position. Sadly, "many refugees think that the English hate them," and he works to change their minds by sharing his positive experiences with them. "People here are so lovely," he says, and they encourage him not to give up.

Despite facing so many obstacles, including homelessness, his friends help keep him grounded on multiple levels. The people of London and the friends he has made from all over the world cause this to be the city he loves. "London is beautiful because many people from other countries are here and bring their cultures here." If he gets his status, Odi hopes to bring his wife and son, who are still in Iran, to London. His dreams include attending university to study psychology after he becomes a more native English speaker. While he waits to hear from the Home Office, he continues to be optimistic and make the most of his life in London.

Article by Tara Higgins 

London Eye photo by: Mike Peel

The Women on the Move Awards was held on the 4 March at the Southbank Centre as part of their Women of the World Festival, leading up to International Women’s Day on 8 March. It was great to be there. Supporting and celebrating successful migrant women.

Presenters included Samira Ahmed, Livia Firth and Annie Lennox. Opening the ceremony was Maya Yousef, a Syrian kanun player who has performed all over the world and has won an Exceptional Talent Award in the UK. Roshi Nasehi, a singer-composer and sound artist born in Wales to Iranian parents, also performed. She has a strong track record in performance, recording, collaboration, public art and social intervention projects and workshops.

Sonia Khoury received the Woman of the Year award, presented by Annie Lennox.  Sonia came to the UK in October 2011 as a medical doctor to do her PhD in Health Sciences. She later claimed asylum due to the spread of violence in Syria. Before coming to the UK, she had helped refugees who had fled Iraq. Sonia lives in Wales now with her daughter, working at Black Association of Women Step Out Women’s Aid to support migrant women, in particular those escaping domestic abuse.  She is currently undertaking an MPhil on reproductive care provision for refugees and asylum seekers.

The Young Woman of the Year Award went to 20-year old Chrisann Jarrett. Chrisann founded Let Us Learn after being denied a student loan to go to university because she had been born in Jamaica. Her organisation campaigns for the rights of irregular and undocumented young people kept out of higher education by their immigration status. Her work in bringing attention to migrants in similar situations allowed her to win a full scholarship from LSE. 

Asma Mohamed Ali received the Special Jury Award. Born on the Brava Coast in Somalia, Asma came to the UK in 1992 after spending much of her childhood in Kenyan refugee camps. She built a thriving centre and education programme while working for the Somali Bravanese Welfare Association in Barnet, supporting 200 students and their families until it was burnt down in 2013 in a racist arson attack.  Within a week, and while six months pregnant, Asma forged ties between the local Jewish and Muslim communities to keep the students’ programme going, and led community action to raise £1.1 million to rebuild the hall.

The Awards also recognise Pauline Hawkes as Champion of the Year. Pauline worked in foster carer for over a decade before dedicating her life to supporting young people seeking asylum and victims of trafficking for sexual exploitation.  She also founded her own foster care agency, the Phoenix Centre, which now provides a home for around thirty unaccompanied young people in Tottenham.

The Media Award for outstanding media coverage of the protection needs of refugee and migrant women went to Giles Duley and Katie Razzall.

Giles Dule yis is a British documentary photographer and photojournalist who travelled to Lebanon with Handicap International teams to document the harrowing experiences of disabled and injured women and girls. The documentary provided powerful insight into some of the most marginalised and vulnerable of the Syrian refugees, the issues they face and the physical and psychological impact of the conflict on them and their families.

Katie Razzall has been Special Correspondent at BBC Newsnight since April 2014, covering a wide-ranging brief including social and legal affairs and disability issues. She was previously a correspondent at Channel 4 News, winning an RTS and a Foreign Press Award. Her Newsnight piece on the situation of talented students denied funding for higher education, produced by Maggie Latham, profiled two bright and ambitious young women who are being denied loans because ‘their immigrations status is not settled,’ giving a central voice to migrant women.

Roshi Nasehi, a singer-composer and sound artist born in Wales to Iranian parents, ended the ceremony with a traditional song chanting in Iranian. The crowd sang the lines of a wheat flower blooming together, symbolic of the inspiration shared that night.

Photo: Proud of our Women On the Move Award winners and presenters: from left Zrinka Bralo, Annie Lennox, Chrisann Jarrett Winner, Young Woman Award, Pauline Hawks, Winner, Champion Award; Livia Firth, Asma Mohamed Ali, Winner Special Jury Award; Samira Ahmed; Sonia Khoury, Winner, Women on the Move 

I am 29 years old. I fled Eritrea after 
a jail sentence for leaving my military service. My journey to the UK took six months and cost $4,500.

I first went to Sudan. The really difficult journey started when I left Sudan with a group of traffickers.

We started in a lorry from Khartoum. We were 150 people. The Sudanese traffickers took us into the Sahara desert. It took six-to-seven days, far longer than we had been told. Our food and drink ran out after three days. We asked the traffickers for more, but they refused. They wanted to use all the space to fit in more people.

Some people started drinking their own urine. People were worried that they were close to death. Somehow most of us made it. The traffickers left us in the desert and we were picked up by Libyan traffickers.

In Libya we were held in a big building for two months, at least 1,000 of us. We were given bread and water once a day. Anyone who tried to leave the building was shot. Some women were raped by the guards.

Eventually we were taken to a small inflatable boat. It sank quickly and we were picked up by the Libyans. They took money and made us stay a week in Libya before telling us go our own way.

There was fighting in Libya and no way to go to Sudan again or back 
to Eritrea. I knew I might die on the journey, but I had to take the chance on another boat. There were 500 people, but only 14 gallons of water – which we kept for the 60 or 70 women – and no food for the three-day voyage. Some people tried to drink sea water. I can’t talk about it. It was too awful.

The boat’s engine failed, but we were picked up by the Italian coast guard. I stayed on the streets for three months, because I didn’t want to give my fingerprints. Then I managed to go to France by train. When I saw the living conditions in Calais I asked why people don’t apply for asylum in France. I was told that it took months to get an appointment to make a claim and you end up living on the street, so it was better to try to go to the UK.

I ask your help to get the information out. We need to change the government in Eritrea. We need to be able to go back to our homeland.

Angelina is a 37-year-old Syrian mother with three children who lived with her family in Damascus. Her life was turned upside down when her husband went missing, the civil war escalated and Angelina felt she had to seek safety for her children.

She had only enough money to fund her journey for herself and her four-year-old son. She left the other children with her cousin in the hope that they would join her later.

She made her way to Lebanon, where she caught a boat to the Turkish town of Mersin. Unable to find a boat to Italy she got to Istanbul, spent a week in Aksaray Square and met an Arab agent, or smuggler, Nimr (‘Tiger’), who offered
 to take her to Greece. This attempt proved unsuccessful so she had to find another helper.

After two more unsuccessful attempts she and 48 other Syrians crammed into a rubber boat arrived in Greece. They were detained for four days before being moved to a refugee camp for 10 days, and then to another camp in Athens.

Angelina looked for smugglers to help her get to another European country, but negotiations were complicated because the smugglers wanted to transport her son separately, which she of course rejected.

Finally, another smuggler drove them to Bulgaria. Arriving at midnight, she had to scramble over barbed wire to cross to Romania. Bleeding, and with a flat cellphone battery, she was cold, hungry and in pain, alone with her son, in the open. That day she wished she had died.

At 7am she found a hotel and contacted the smuggler who returned to take them through Romania to the border with Hungary. The smuggler instructed her to wait until it got dark and then walk across the border. She did, but was arrested. The police took them to a refugee camp and took their passports. Next morning the police booked them train tickets to a refugee camp in Budapest.

Instead, Angelina contacted the smuggler
 again. He picked them up and drove them to the Netherlands. She applied for asylum as her brother and a cousin were living there in another camp.

She felt safe and wanted to end her journey there and start building her life - but was raped 
in the camp in front of her son. This horrific experience messed up her life again. She felt
 she could not report the rape for fear that if her relatives found out they would kill her for bringing shame on the family.

She fled the camp and contacted the smuggler again. He drove her and her son to Calais.

A family saw her sleeping rough with her son and offered them shelter and food for five weeks. She travelled from Calais in a refrigerated food truck, arriving in the UK.

Her 3,764 kilometre journey from Damascus to London had taken five months.

A migrant has been a children’s favourite for four decades. After an earthquake destroyed his home in Peru, Paddington Bear came to the UK and was adopted into the Brown family. He had to learn the language and adapt to the culture of his new home.

Recently a hit film gave the lovable character’s popularity an extra boost. But what are the new stories about migration being told to children?

Writer Michael Morpurgo is best known for War Horse, but his book Shadow, winner of the 2011 Red House children’s book award, is about a boy, Aman, and his mother fleeing Afghanistan, only to be held at a checkpoint and then imprisoned at a detention centre as they attempt to start a new life in England.

Migration comes into another of his books, Alone on a Wide Wide Sea, based on the true story of orphans shipped from Britain to Australia after World War II.

“One of the great nonsenses is that we imagine that children can’t cope with and don’t want to face the difficulties of this life and this world,” explains Morpurgo.

“They see and learn very young now that the world is not an easy place, not a funny place and not always a happy place, but a place where we have to confront great difficulty and overcome it.

“It seems to me that, books – not all, but some books – should be part of this growing process, a pathway to understanding and a pathway to discovery, even if the truths discovered are sometimes uncomfortable.“

Sometimes children tell their migration stories themselves.

In Anthony Robinson’s four-book series, Refugee Diaries, for example, migrants from various troubled countries share their journeys towards asylum in the UK in their own words. The books received praise from schools and in the press. The first of the quartet was included in an Outstanding International Books list and won a Scholastic Best Books of the Year award.

One child reader told Robinson, “The stories made me change my point of view about refugees and I hope I can help adults and kids respect them.”

Such empathy may be the biggest benefit of exposing children to migration through literature. As Morpurgo says, “The most vulnerable people are those who have – for whatever reason – no home they can feel safe in, no family to look after them, nowhere to hide. These are people in the most need, so often the collateral damage of war, and it seems to me that those of us lucky enough to live in a stable, peaceful country should hold out the hand of friendship, support and protection to those who do not.”

Many younger readers have also enjoyed The Colour of Home by Mary Hoffman and Christophe’s Story by Nicki Cornwell, in which fictional children share their stories about leaving war-torn countries. Vibrant, colourful illustrations help draw readers in.

Not surprisingly, since the United States is a country of immigration, it has more of a tradition of children’s books about migration than the UK. Most books featuring the topic in the UK are adventures of flight from desperate situations rather than more reflective accounts of accompanying parents to a new house and a new job, like Simone T. Costa Eriksson’s The Mission of Detective Mike: Moving Abroad, a playful story in which young Mike deals with the fears and pressures of learning his family is moving to another country. Another example is Sarah Crossan’s multiple award-winning young adult novel, The Weight of Water, a coming-of-age story about a Polish girl adjusting to life in England and finding her first love.

"We stuck out like a sore thumb," Sarah Way says with a laugh, remembering her experience taking participants of the Lead to Inspire project to the 2013 Feminista conference. "I think actually a lot of the women that have done the course would probably say that they identify themselves as feminists," but, she adds, "they have to work a little bit harder to be seen [that way]."

The Feminista conference isn't the only context in which the Arbour’s Lead to Inspire project is unique. In a borough where many of the programmes aimed at migrant women focus on stereotypically gendered skills, the Lead to Inspire is focusing on empowering women to become leaders in Tower Hamlets and beyond. Talking to the participants in Lead to Inspire, it’s obvious that the course is about embracing different perspectives, and developing the confidence to express them, far more than it’s about learning English.

Rizwane, a young South East Asian journalist and new participant in the course, who speaks with quiet optimism about one day working for the BBC, sees Lead to Inspire as an opportunity to the courage to communicate. "That’s why we need this course. The more we spend time together, the more we know each other, and the more we can learn." As soft-spoken Khadiza, also an aspiring journalist and participant in the programme, points out, women are often uniquely positioned to act as a point of contact for that communication. "Because we are women, so we feel comfortable when a woman comes to us and says you should not stay at home, you can do different things. One kind of woman can feel shy with a man and can’t express herself with a man but can express herself with women. So with women leaders we can express ourselves most fully."

Through a series of English and leadership classes, culminating in participant-led projects that aim to address community issues, the Lead to Inspire project has stepped in to challenge an understanding of migrant women as dependants and victims. "It was a way to get women to take their place at the table and say hello, we’re here, stop making decisions on our behalf, we want to be part of the conversations" says Vix Garner, head of women’s services at the Arbour. Despite a renewed presence in public debate, ‘feminism’ remains a loaded term, not least among those who are working to reduce inequalities in socio-economic status, gender, and ethnicity. The experience of the organizers and participants in Lead to Inspire at the 2013 Feminista conference is an example of the complicated dynamics that characterize feminist politics. Despite having been challenged at the conference for their religious and cultural principles, Vix Garner says that when it comes to the feminist credentials of the participants of Lead to Inspire, actions – which include past projects such as publishing a pamphlet helping women coming to the UK on spousal visas to understand their rights, a project Sarah Way calls a kind of ‘radical feminist manifesto’ - speak louder than words. In this, Lead to Inspire is not unique.

Nydia Swaby, is a PhD student at SOAS whose research focuses on how concepts of belonging and identity in the context of black women’s movements are and have been shaped. She focuses on organisations where women have been actively involved in shaping the debate around gender identity and women’s rights. Attending the recent Black Women’s Conference, Swaby describes her gratification at seeing this principle put into practice. ‘One of the things I liked about this conference was that there were tensions, it wasn't like we all get along,’ she says, ‘and yet we’re all working towards this utopian ideal. Even if we have different perspectives, the idea is that nonetheless, I don’t feel that your different perspective should be silenced.’ For women who've migrated to the UK, living away from their country of origin need not mean they stop campaigning for the women in their native country.

Despite having lived in Europe for nearly two decades, Efat Mahbaz's solidarity with Iranian women has remained strong.  A former political prisoner herself, Efat continues to campaign for those who oppose the Iranian regime and suffer from it’s repressive policies. As a founding member of the UK branch of the Mourning Mothers, an organization originally started in Iran by women whose children were imprisoned or killed in the 2009, Where is my Vote Movement, Efat helps to provide solidarity and advocacy for migrant women affected by events in Iran. Although Efat's focus is on promoting democracy and equality in Iran, she emphasizes that change is still needed in the UK. This change, Efat emphasizes, is not achieved through silencing dissent but through embracing it. Crediting human rights activists with a role in her own release from prison, Efat knows no contribution to a debate is without value: "I'm alive partly because of the activity of human rights activists, and I try to help as well. I think if I continue to be healthy and positive I can do that."

While Nydia Swaby is cautious in her use of the term ‘feminism’ in her academic research, conscious of those who do work on women’s rights but may not identify as feminists, as an activist, she’s inspired by the possibilities of reclaiming the term and using it to mobilise women to resist patriarchy across the broadest possible set of circumstances.  "I would love the idea of trying to create a framework where we can think about how we can come together across all our disparate spaces and experiences to fight for a common cause, which to my mind is resisting patriarchy," she says. "I'm really excited about living in a world where feminism is about talking about the linkages that are much broader than just saying it’s about gender."

The Arbour's Lead to Inspire project has now ended. The Arbour continues to do Youth Work in Stepney building on the work carried out since 1946.

Photo: Elaine Cheung and Iulia Osmanov from the Arbour

My Story

My name is Muriel (you need to pronounce it MuriEL, not MEWriel, just so you know). I used to live in Paris and, when my husband found a job in London, I had two options: change husband or change job. I chose the latter, and the whole family moved to London as a result. I really wished I had changed my name to Julia when we moved here. No, honestly. Because every time I say that my name is Muriel, here is the reaction I get:

" Oh really? My great-great-grandmother used to be a Muriel too. She had a sister called Mildred who remained a spinster all her life. They lived together after the death of my great-great-grandfather. They both died in 1925, a week apart. Can you believe it?"

Great. You have just made my day.

But I digress.

I quickly found a new job, and a school for my daughters but struggled to understand the rules of the game on this side of the Channel. To make matters even worse, I wasn't taken seriously, probably because of my French accent. Because just by crossing the Channel, I had apparently become some sort of mysterious creature that was almost too beautiful to have a brain of her own. I remember presenting a new business case when one of the Directors asked me whether he knew me from somewhere. He didn't.

In the meantime, my daughters were thriving in the British system. They were all about show-and-tells and having bangers and mash for dinners. What was going on?

It was time for a change. I started writing a blog called French Yummy Mummy when I left the Corporate world in 2011 to set up my own business, spend more time with my children, and get back in touch with my more creative side. I had reached a stage where I couldn't see what was next for me. I was tired of always being considered as 'the sexy French lady' and wanted to debunk the myths on French women by making fun of them. I also wanted to help women of all nationalities, shapes, colours and ages to see the funny side of things, and feel happier about themselves. Because if I am the 'sexy one', warts and all, anyone can be.

The success of my blog took everybody by surprise (including me). I started writing for newspapers and magazines, and was interviewed by most major media companies. I also started modelling for photoshoots and commercials at the ripe age of 42. My business is doing well, and my daughters are getting more British by the day. The younger one wants to join a cricket team, and the older one is already playing in her school's netball team. It doesn't get any more British than this, right?

Ten years down the line and we all have British passports now. Moving to the UK has given us the push we needed to get out of comfort zone, and achieve a lot more than we would have in our home country.

My name is Muriel and I am a happy migrant.

Cleaners employed through ISS to clean at SOAS University in London went on strike on the 4th and 5th of March 2014.

The strike was part of their campaign to be employed directly by SOAS on the same sick pay, holidays and pensions as others working for the university, rather than the work being outsourced. Here is the story of one of the cleaners and why he decided to go on strike:

My name is Lenin Escudero, I am 37 years old. I come from Ecuador and have been living in London since 2000. Back home I was a professional footballer until I got an injury at 21 and had to stop playing. I also have a degree in teaching Physical Education. I came to the UK to find a better life because at home, all doors were closed. I saw the UK as country of opportunities and equal rights.

I work 15 hours a day as a cleaner, including for SOAS University where I have been working since 2003. I used to work even more, 7 days a week, 16-18 hours a day, now I don't work weekends any more. Monday-Friday I start working at three in the morning. I clean offices in central London from 3am to 5:45am, then start at SOAS University from 6am to 4:30 pm where I do clean-up work of classrooms, bathrooms and communal areas and move furniture. In the evening I work at the HSBC bank as a cleaner from 5:30pm to 8:30pm. It has been very hard.

One of the weakest points in my life is the lack of time I could spend with my family. By the time I arrive at home at 8pm, my kids have to go to bed. It has affected me a lot that I have spent so little time communicating with them. It is not because I don't want to, it is because the lack of time. At the end of the day we try to manage to continue living because we don't have any other option. I am the only one working, as my wife looks after our three kids. I don't work these long hours to save up money, I just work to survive, to feed my family.

I would like to cut the hours, but I can't because the income is very important for my family and also we have family back home that I am supporting: my parents and my wife's parents. But the few moments I have, I try to spend a lot of time with the children and my wife. When the children were little, they would ask me, 'why do you not spend more time at home with us? Why do you work too much? Why do you not find another job? Why can't you be a footballer?'

They questioned why I work as a cleaner. So I have explained to them about that. I would have liked to work in my field (physical education) but I would need to study again to re-qualify and I can't take time off to study again to do that when I have to make a living. I have also brought the children with me sometimes to another cleaning job and showed them what I did. And I explained to them, 'I do cleaning now, but I don't want you to do this job, I want you to do something better. I want you to study hard.' It is not a bad profession, but it is not well paid.

The children know about the campaign I have been involved in with the other cleaners at SOAS. They know what we are fighting for. I don't feel we have fair pay and conditions. At the beginning I thought we had equal conditions, but then I would met other staff from the university, and when they were sick they would be able to take the time off they needed. But when got an injury I had a risk to lose my flat because of the low sick pay. It was in 2003.

I had an accident: chairs fell on my feet and I lost three of my toenails. I was unable to work for three weeks, and only received Statutory Sick Pay of £84 pounds per week, which was not enough to pay my rent and to make ends meet. I could not provide food for my family and I was even at risk to be evicted from my house because I couldn’t pay my rent. I had to take a loan from the bank to cover my expenses. It was very stressful for me and my family. The doctor had given me a full month for Disability, but I had to return to work while still not been fully recovered from the accident.

If I had the same sick pay as other workers at SOAS, I could have taken the time off I needed to fully recover and I would not suffer from economic difficulties such as struggling to pay my expenses. Thank God that I haven’t had any other accident since then. I would not want to go through that bad experience again, because with the Statutory Sick Pay no one can survive.

At one point we went 3 months without pay for some of our work. This was while working for the previous company the cleaning was outsourced to. So what happened is that out of 30 cleaners, 12 cleaners left and that's what they wanted it seemed, because as soon as they left the vacancies weren't filled. The people who were left had no other option but to seek advice. That is why we went to Unison. We told them about the situation and they organised a meeting. There were 30 cleaners with the same situation between the two SOAS campuses. We asked them for help to get the 3 month’s salary but then this led to them explaining to us about the London living wage, so in 2006 we started to campaign for this and for union recognition and also to be brought back in house.

I come from a background where all my family are politically involved. My mother was in the top of the party, she was involved with. Around the time when I was born, she had to hide because of her political involvement. But I was the only one never involved in any political things in Ecuador. I only liked football. So I grew up with this, but I didn't know how to do it myself. It just started here because they wanted to cut my hours. I worked 8 hours and they wanted to cut them to 5 and a half. So I went to seek advice from the union and I was told that they couldn't just do that.

I started to challenge the situation, without knowing the law. And then we started to organise. The people appointed me as a union representative and I have been one for almost 7 years. I took a lot of courses as a union rep and I have a lot of experience in the campaign now, speak publicly about these issues and feel more confident. I speak publicly about these issues.

The campaign was eventually successful in achieving the living wage and union recognition, but not being brought in house and we are still fighting for this and for dignified treatment. Here is another example why: In 2012, I was working with my co-worker in the bathrooms on the first floor when my manager called me and asked us to go to the first floor to clean the male bathrooms. He gave us the order that from the next day, I would have to begin to clean tops, around toilets and walls and floors.

I expressed my concerns regarding why we had to do a job that we have never done before. We have never done 'deep cleaning'. I have not been trained to do 'deep cleaning' so I was not able to do it. The issue was that the person normally doing this job was on holiday and had not been replaced, so the job was not done. Moreover, those toilets had not been cleaned properly for a long time, so the bathrooms were shabby. Despite this, my manger wanted us to clean them properly.

This difficult work was added on top of our other daily duties.  But I was not going to receive any pay for the extra work. My manager said that he saw no problem for me to do what I was asked to do, but I told him I wouldn't do it because it didn't not seem reasonable that he was increasing my workload when the issue was that the cleaner, who was on holiday should have been replaced.

The next day I was suspended on the grounds that I didn’t want to follow reasonable instructions from my manager. At this time we had raised a grievance against the Company, because they were not following the agreements made between Unison and the company. They knew I was one of the people behind the grievance. I think that is why they came here and asked me to do the extra job cleaning the bathroom etc. They knew I was going to say no, so they could say you didn't follow instructions, and could suspend me. I was suspended for two months, but they didn't expect that people were behind me.

Unison organised a demonstration together with the student union (UCU) and the union for the academics and because of the pressure, I got my job back. So instead of getting me to stop, I am more determined to continue the campaign because I know people are behind me. At the beginning the other staff and students didn't understand about the campaign because they saw our work conditions as legal. And it is legal to outsource the work. But if you are outsourced, you only get the statutory sick pay, holidays and pension. And we don't think it is fair that we don't have the conditions of the other SOAS employees, especially because we are working for an educational institution that is teaching every day about equality and human rights.

They say that 'At SOAS everyone is treated equally and with dignity' and that is not true because the cleaners are not treated equally. So we started to raise our voice and people started to understand it. Because in the beginning some of them thought, 'well you work for an external company, why are you complaining to SOAS?'

SOAS is the main boss, it is still their responsibility. If they want to hire a cleaning company, they should hire one with equal work conditions because otherwise it doesn't make sense that their policies say that there is equality for everyone who work under the same roof. We do an important job so why should we be treated differently, we are human beings. We have more risk of getting sick than anyone.

Because we work moving furniture, we work with chemicals, we work in contact with bacteria every single day, so why we don't have the right to get sick pay? Over Christmas they turned off the heating in the building while we had to clean. We had to work in below ten degree temperature. And when we get old after working 20 or 30 years in this job, there is only statutory pension and how can you survive on that?

I also believe it is important for the outside world to know about this. Because this is not only a problem here, it is a problem everywhere people are working for outsourced cleaning companies. Maybe you don't hear about it in other places because they are like us in 2006 when we didn't know yet how to organise and they are afraid to speak out. Because as soon as you start to speak out you are victimised by the cleaning company. They don't victimise you directly, no they say 'no, this is still dirty' or if you are sitting down, they tell you ‘no, you can’t sit down.’ And at the end of the day you get scared. But we have to continue fighting.

The campaign is fair because we are fighting for equality and for justice. And we believe that everyone at this University needs to be treated with the same terms and conditions.  We don't believe in second class workers, especially not at this university. These are some of the reasons why I am going on strike for equal sick pay, holidays, pension, and for dignity and respect.

Cleaners currently employed through ISS to clean at SOAS University in London went on strike on the 4th and 5th of March 2014.

The strike is part of their campaign to be employed directly by SOAS on the same sick pay, holidays and pensions as others working for the university, rather than the work being outsourced. Here is the story of one of the cleaners who went on strike:

My name is Luis Armando. I am from Ecuador and have been living in London for 18 years. I started working for SOAS very soon after arriving - it would be 17 years that I have worked there now. In Ecuador, I studied 5 years at the university and got a mechanical engineering degree. But I couldn’t find a job because in those days corruption and bad governance were everywhere. I needed to go abroad. I came to the UK with my wife. We had to leave Ecuador, because like everyone else we wanted to live well. We were poverty exiles.

When I arrived in London the first barrier I encountered was the language. We could not communicate so we did not know our rights. Cleaners were invisible. Communication was the first problem because we couldn’t express what we felt. Nobody asked about us. In that time, here at SOAS the companies paid in cash, they didn’t ask for documents when they hired you. I never had a pay or holiday problem but some of my colleagues got problems: they would work and when they had to collect their pay, they would be asked for documents… some of them wouldn’t be paid for 3 months.

Eight years ago, we started to claim our rights. It was hard because some of us were scared. We needed the job; we could not speak proper English. But we started talking with some students who could speak Spanish. We told them what was going on. We started to get organised with one union, and then we joined UNISON. We learnt more about our rights in this country. And we started our campaigns.

The first step was to get recognition between the cleaning company and UNISON. Getting this gave us the power to talk with our colleagues about the union, about their rights. Then we started a campaign for the London living wage. UNISON helped, and so did professors, students and other workers. It lasted nearly two years but we were successful. We used to be paid £7.40/h, now we’re getting £8.80/h. We also protested when they did an immigration raid.

And around two years ago, we started a new campaign to ask SOAS University to bring the cleaners in-house. We have only a statutory sick pay of £85 per week and we only qualify when we work full time. The pension we have is also very basic. And we have only 20 days of holidays while SOAS employees have more than 30. We do a lot of hard work here.

We bring our knowledge, our physical labour. At work, I also painted classrooms or fixed things when they were broken. They did not have to pay someone else to do it. But SOAS doesn’t want to employ us directly. I don’t think it is fair. We do not ask for anything free. We work here, we pay taxes, we give our knowledge, we help this country.

We ask for basic rights: for our sick pay, pension, and holidays to be the same as the ones of the people who work at SOAS. We did a few demonstrations, we sent letters to MPs, embassies, students. In July 2013, SOAS created a commission to investigate the best option for them. They said it would be to create their own cleaning company and to share it with other colleges. But nothing has happened since July last year.

This is why we decided to start the strike. We organised it step by step. It is legal, we don’t want anyone to be fired. I am optimistic about it. We have a lot of supporters. Sometimes I ask myself “why does SOAS say no to bringing us ‘in house’?” We feel discriminated because at SOAS, you’re supposed to find dignity and equal rights but in reality it’s not true. And it is the same for all the contractors (security, catering, maintenance etc). However, we the cleaners are the most organised. We have learnt with time.

I used to live in the Democratic Republic of Congo. In 1998 I graduated from the Catholic University in Kinsasha, Congo. After graduation I ran a family haulage business and also set up a “Bureau d’etude” / Consulting Office in Management of Development Projects. I became involved in the opposition to the Government and as a consequence of this I left DRC and travelled to the UK seeking sanctuary as a political refugee. When I came to the UK I was sent to Peterborough where I spent almost three years as an asylum seeker. As I could hardly speak English, having been born in a French speaking country, I accessed ESOL (English for Speakers of Other Languages) from Intermediate Level at Peterborough Regional College.

In 2004 I became the first ESOL student to receive the award at the college. As well as learning English I volunteered with the British Red Cross and took an active part to set up a community association for African refugees and asylum seekers called “Peterborough African Community Organisation” (PACO). After having been granted Refugee status I moved to the West Midlands and continued my English Course at City College in Handsworth, Birmingham. Having been granted refugee status I was able to attend a variety of job training opportunities. My first paid work was working as a general labourer in warehouses through employment agencies. I eventually found work in the care industry and was employed as a Support Worker by Midland Mencap supporting adults with learning difficulties. I worked for this organisation for 6 years from June 2006 till February 2013. During my time at MENCAP, thanks to my managers, I completed NVQ Level 2 and 3 in Health and Social Care at Josiah Mason College in Birmingham. My wife, Mrs. Zizina Matensi-Kubanza, came from Congo and started working after just 3 months of her arrival. She has also supported numerous fellow members of the community to access the job market.

In 2009, I stopped working on full time basis and started studying for a University degree in Social Care and Social Policy at the University of Wolverhampton. In September 2012 I successfully completed my degree after three years and obtained the BA (Hons) in Social Care and Social Policy. In February 2013, I secured a job with Swanswell Charitable Trust as Supporting People Worker. Swanswell is a national charity that supports people to become free from problem alcohol and drug use. My current role consists of providing support, advice and information to service users. I assist service users apply for the right benefits; access independent accommodation obtain household items; budget their money and pay bills; keep their house safe and in good repair; attend appointments; get into voluntary or paid work and develop leisure interests and attend peer support groups for recovery.

I have been actively involved in community development since moving to the UK. I started volunteering with the British Red Cross in Peterborough. I was involved in helping to set up a community association for African refugees and asylum seekers called “Peterborough African Community Organisation” (PACO). When I moved to the West Midlands, I joined a group of friends from Africa and set up another community association called MACHO (Eye for help community association). In 2010, MACHO became “African French Speaking Community Support” (AFSCS). In February 2012 we managed to secure charity registration. The AFSCS is based in Smethwick, Sandwell. The AFSCS provides one-to-one support to migrants whose first language is not English and is also very active within the local community in Smethwick. Trustees and volunteers assist clients with a range of activities such as: interpretations and translation in many language (French, Swahili, Lingala, Portuguese, Spanish, Kikongo, Kinwaranda and Kirundi), job search & coaching, interview preparation, befriending, companionship, campaign for awareness raising, the organisation of public events, youth activities, guidance and signposting, counselling,  advice and helping to complete a variety of application forms. We are currently providing a range of activities, for instance: Sport activities for young people a young people; Zumba dance for women; we host an After school club/Saturday Homework club attended by 43 children and young people; Dance for young people; a Saturday Befriending club attended by families. We also provide coaching for jobs, advice, and benefit check on one-to-one basis. We are currently providing a range of activities, for instance: Sport activities attended by 46 young people; Zumba dance attended by 16 women; After school club/Saturday Homework club attended by 43 children and young people; Dance attended by 18 young people; Saturday Befriending club attended by 12 families (36 people). I am currently the elected Chair of the AFSCS part of a Management Committee consisting of 8 members. My remits as the Chair consist of: making sure that the charity complies with the laws and Charity Commission’s requirements; making applications for funding; I represent the charity and network with other organisations. We are most grateful to all our funders (including BBC Children in Need, People Health Trust).

Life in the UK is very different from my home country. People in the UK are more helpful and committed to support vulnerable people living in the community. More support is available through volunteers and some members of the community are dedicated to give their free time for the benefit of the whole community. This is case of members from Soho and Victoria Ward in Smethwick who have set up a Community Interest Company called “Friends & Neighbours Soho & Victoria CIC”. There is more freedom, including freedom of speech in this than in my home country. There are many voluntary organisations helping vulnerable people in the community. Members of the community always give their money for the benefit of vulnerable people of the community event for supporting projects in the third world.

Simone spoke with us about living and working in the UK, as well as her aspirations for the future.

Simone is a proud Brazilian who loves London and the blend of cultures that it has to offer. She spent the first 25 years of her life in Brazil and still has a strong connection to the country. She worked as a journalist while living there, writing about topics ranging from shopping to education in cities.

Simone came to the UK to study and to seek a new type of life. She studied English at Metropole College upon her arrival, and began the daunting task of adjusting to life in a new city. It was during this time that Simone met her husband Maciej, a migrant from Poland. The two met through Maciej’s sister-in-law, who was taking English classes with Simone at the time.

Her marriage and subsequent experiences have played a key part in Simone’s positive transition to life in London. Now 10 years after from her journey to the UK, Simone has grown to embrace London as her home away from home. Residing in North London, her favourite parts of the city are the parks and Southbank. Hobbies include dancing, meeting friends, and going to concerts.

She feels that the multicultural aspects of the city reflect her values as a migrant. “I like the diversity, it’s a dynamic city. “ I can identify with London”. 

Currently, Simone works as an immigration advisor for the Brazilian migrant group ABRAS (Associação Brasileira no Reino Unido). This organization provides support for Brazilian community services and Brazilians living in the UK as a whole. Within ABRAS, Simone is involved in public relations and provides support for migrants looking to renew their visas or for advice on other immigration matters. This usually involves helping with the application process, contacting the Home Office, and serving as a representative for individual migrants. Simone enjoys helping others through her work, especially since she knows how hard it is to stay on your feet in this environment.

She believes that life in the UK is increasingly difficult for those who are not high earners. She also notices that many people are unwelcoming to migrants. “I like it here, it’s my home, but sometimes people make me feel like I don’t belong.” These kinds of challenges do of course make an impact on Simone’s views on life in London. After living in the UK for years, Simone plans to return home with her husband and ‘do something on her own’. What this is remains to be seen, but whatever change it may bring she will be ready.

Cleaners employed through ISS to clean at SOAS University in London were going on strike on the 4th and 5th of March 2014.

The strike is part of their campaign to be employed directly by SOAS on the same sick pay, holidays and pensions as others working for the university, rather than the work being outsourced. Here is the story of one of the cleaners and why she is going on strike:

My name is Consuelo Moreno. I am Colombian and I arrived in London in January of 2002. I came to the UK with my husband and my daughter. I wanted to work to be able to support my family and I was looking for better opportunities for my daughter.  Back home, I started studying law but didn’t have the chance to finish my degree.

I am currently working for three different cleaning companies, in three different places. I have to do so in order to survive. I wake up at 2.50 in the morning. I work from 4am to 9am in my first job, from 11 to 1pm in my second job. Then I go home, clean my own house and do some cooking. From 3 pm to 5 pm I see my husband. My daughter comes home at 4.45 but then I have to leave at 5 pm to do another job from 6 pm to 8 am. Then I go back home and we all eat together. When I have time, I like watching movies, going on the seaside, dance salsa.

This is my experience working as outsourced cleaner at SOAS. In January 2004 I began working at SOAS as a cleaner for 5 hours per day. In August of 2005, another company took of over the cleaning services at SOAS and it was at that time when all the problems began. The new management wanted to reduce my working hours by 2 hours per day. I refused to accept this reduction and then I began to be victim of workplace harassment and intimidation. I felt deeply stressed and began to feel fear every day I went to work. It was like a living nightmare.

A friend of mine who knew about my situation advised me to go and talk with UNISON. I went to see the SOAS UNISON representative and he helped me to initiate a grievance procedure against my manager for his attempt to unilaterally reduce my salary and workplace harassment. It was a success. They did not reduce my working hours and they stopped harassing me. However, new problems emerged. We began to have problems with payment to the extent that some colleagues did not receive any pay for 3 months. UNISON once again intervened and the company paid the salaries very quickly.

In 2006, I was elected as worker representative and I began, with my co-representatives, to actively organise our workplace. We formed the Justice for Cleaners SOAS’ campaign. We started to demand union recognition, the London Living Wage, and equal pension, holiday and sick pay to those working directly for the university. In 2008, we achieved 2 of the demands, union recognition and the London Living Wage.

Despite winning the London Living Wage and union recognition, this represented only a partial gain since we were still working under inferior and less favourable conditions than those are employed directly by the university. Moreover, we still suffer from injustice and exploitation. We were continually working to improve our working conditions. In 2009, immigration officers raided SOAS and nine of our colleagues were deported due to their immigration status, including pregnant women. These are only a few of the many problems that we face here at SOAS.

Despite this, I would like to express that I am proud of being with my co-workers fighting for dignity and respect. Since 2011, we began to demand to be brought in-house. I am proud of leading the Justice for Cleaners Campaign alongside my co-workers to bring to an end the two tier workforce, to stop being treated differently from those working directly for the university, to stop being outsourced workers. During this time, we have planned demonstration, meetings, forums, referendums and finally we began the legal procedure to go on strike. The ballot result is possibly one of the most important in British trade unionism with 100% voting YES for strike action.  

I would like to tell you as a result of my experience as a cleaner and UNISON representative, I am going to strike to receive the same equal working conditions as those working directly for the University. We clean at a public institution, but still our working conditions are not fair. We are not directly employed by the university and our rights are different from the ones of people who work directly for SOAS. They have more holidays, a better pension and sick pay. There is also a lot of injustice and favouritism, especially when holidays are assigned.

We want to be respected for your job because we do it with respect and honesty. I am going to strike because I believe that it is inhumane to do not receive a decent sick pay. We are being forced to work while being ill or psychically injured.  Three years ago, I injured my ankle. Since then, I went through several treatments and my doctors advised me that the only way to recover from the injury was to undergo surgery.  However, this would require me to take 5 months off work and I would only receive statutory sick pay which would only be £87.70 a week. I would be unable to provide for my family. I therefore continued working and my condition worsened. But there is nothing I can do at the moment apart from taking more painkillers to bear with the pain.

I am really proud of the way we were able to get organised. I am also proud of the support we get from students, staff and academics at SOAS. We are not afraid any more. I am going to strike to receive a decent pension because after working for so many years, and very long shifts, we deserve to receive a decent pension when we retired and not live below the poverty line.

I am going to strike for dignity and respect for of all outsourced and vulnerable workers. I think that migrants bring a lot to the UK society. Our contribution is positive. We pay taxes, we bring money to the capital of this country, we do jobs that are important for the economy. For the future, I hope that all workers will be organised and able to fight for equality and justice because everyone deserves to be respected. We should all have equal rights and dignity.                        

Today, on International Migrants Day, I wanted to share a story of one of the many migrants who has had a pleasant experience of migration and integration into British culture. Here is Toufik’s story:

My name is Toufik – I am from Syria; I initially came to the UK some 20 odd years ago to do a Master's Degree in English Literature. As a young student back then, I had always dreamt of continuing my studies in England. I had never been abroad before and I was excited at the prospect, yet I did anticipate some ups and downs in my new adventure. I had hopes that I could continue my studies and would have a better prospect when I go back to Syria; but I also predicted the disappointments I would have if I’d find it hard to settle in my new temporary home, miss my home country or simply couldn’t find a job.

I was the youngest of three sisters and one brother; all married and settled with kids and jobs. My parents were elderly enough that they didn’t oppose my travel abroad; after all why should they?! They always believed in encouragement and being assiduous. Bidding my family farewell back then keeps ringing in my ears to this day, “don’t you worry – I will be back next year.”

But fate took a different course. Life was so different in the UK. When I arrived in London back in the nineties, I had little money on me – fortunately my scholarship was sorted, including my accommodation. However, a part time job was required to keep me going. One day, as I was having my morning walk in Greenwich Park, I got to chat briefly to a friendly woman walking her dog about what I did and where I came from. She advised that they were always look for temps in day centres and hostels for homeless men and women.

The same day after I finished my lecture, I popped in to the day centre the woman had mentioned. I walked through the door into a hallway filled with people – some looked very sad while others seemed cheerful. I got seen to by the manager called Tom, and he offered me a temporary job in the adjacent hostel. He was very pleasant and I am grateful for he has helped me tremendously throughout that period and for many years.

I started working as a cleaner, which I didn’t mind. Then I started helping in the kitchen, washing up and peeling vegetables. It was heart-breaking to see some members of the hostel ruining their lives by drinking themselves to death. I befriended most of them, especially the hostile ones. I tried to listen attentively to their struggles and stories of addictions; some were trying their best to form a better life, yet reversion was inevitable. I found a glint in their eyes; a catalyst to help others and those in need. It gave me some kind of reward and satisfaction, which reminded me how much goodness is missing in human lives.

My degree studies soon ended and I was proud to achieve a first class, as was my family. My visa was also about to run out, but my emotional attachment to this place was so great that I actually didn’t want to leave. Tom, the Day Centre Manager where I worked, was also sad to see me leaving, especially after having had forged a great rapport with his clients and staff. “I must think of a way to make you stay here,” he commented.

A month before I was due to leave for Syria, he called me into his office and offered me a work permit for five years. I was over the moon. During that period, I continued studying towards a degree in psychology and social work, which I thought was very much needed for that type of work. I had never pursued a career in English teaching as intended when I first came to the UK – instead, I remained in the social sector – helping others to form their lives and personalities. I became fully integrated in British society and I felt proud of being part of my new home.

Cleaners employed through ISS to clean at SOAS University in London went on strike on the 4th and 5th of March 2014.

The strike is part of their campaign to be employed directly by SOAS on the same sick pay, holidays and pensions as others working for the university, rather than the work being outsourced. Here is the story of one of the cleaners and why she is going on strike:

My name is Marta Rey. I am 55 and I came from Colombia in 1995. I had a good job in Colombia. I was a travel agent and owned my own agency, but when I came to the UK, I got a job as a cleaner. I would like to tell you about one of my experiences working for cleaning companies contracted to clean SOAS University.

I started working for SOAS eight years ago. I used to work eight hours a day, sometimes ten hours or even more. My job was like a marathon.  There was a building I had to clean on my own. I only had one hour to clean six levels, including the toilets, kitchen and gallery. Nowadays, four people are cleaning this building and they have two hours to do the job.

I was running all the time. As a result of this, on the 6th of February 2007, I tripped with a Hoover and fell on the cemented floor. I hurt my forehead, nose and mouth and suffered cuts to my upper lip as well as slightly breaking my two front teeth. I made my way to the manager’s office. He made a report of the accident but didn’t offer any help. He told me that I was free to go but didn’t take me to the hospital. I was in a state of shock as well as bleeding from the mouth but I left the building on my own. I made my way from Russell Square to King’s College Hospital.

I am still wondering how I was able to get there by myself because I cannot remember whether I took a bus or a taxi. I only remember watching my daughter walk through the Accident and Emergency room to make me company. At the hospital, I was given a 10 day sickness leave, which was validated by my GP the next day. The cleaning company never reimbursed me the money that I had to spend at the dentist in order to fix my teeth. But I got the biggest surprise when I received my payment later on that month: the 10 days of validated sickness leave had been taken off my pay. They discounted £278. The manager first said that it was because he lost the paper from the GP. But I went back to the GP to ask for a copy, which I was charged £15 for and gave it to the manager.

I still have not been paid the money taken off my salary. After the accident I had to attend many more appointments with my GP due to the strong headaches and the pain in both my ears that I was getting as a consequence of the impact when I fell on my face. The hours I had to attend my GP were also discounted from my monthly pay.

As a result of this, I ask myself: Dignity at SOAS? Maybe, but not for us the cleaners that have to suffer continuous abuse from our employers without SOAS caring much though they both benefit from our hard work. It is not just about me. There are a lot of people like me but they don’t say anything. There are people who have been working without contract. There is also much favouritism, especially when it comes to holidays or longer time off to go to your home country.

That’s why we don’t want to work for subcontracted companies. We want to work directly for SOAS University. Companies don’t care about us. We are just a number, nothing more. They don’t appreciate our work. We deserve better conditions, especially because we work very hard. Imagine SOAS without cleaners! It would be a sanitary emergency! With all the rubbish inside and the toilets dirty!

I have worked very hard here, I had to clean, but that’s no matter. Now my children have their life in the UK and they are happy and progressing here. I didn’t lose my time here. However, I still want the work I do to be respected and for us cleaners to have our dignity. This is why I am going on strike on the 4 and 5 March 2014.

I am going on strike for sick leave paid in times needed, I am going on strike for a fair holiday to spend more time with my family, I am going on strike for a decent pension so that when I retire I can survive without the need of other persons.

Photo: Marta (on the left) together with Fanny, Migrant Voice volunteer

A shocking and extraordinary telephone conversation with two kidnapped hostages in Egypt’s Sinai desert has given me evidence of what the UN has called “one of the most unreported humanitarian crises in the world”.

Thousands of refugees from Eritrea, Somalia and Sudan are captured by criminal gangs and held for ransom. They are subject to appalling brutality. About 4,000 of 7,000 victims have died in the last four years, according to some estimates. The kidnappers use Sinai because swathes of it have become lawless since the 1979 Egypt-Israel Peace treaty stipulated that only limited numbers of Egyptian forces could go there.

In an effort to learn more about these atrocities and to help draw them to public attention, I contacted an Eritrean activist who has been trying to help victims. She and I managed to talk to a kidnapper, Abdallah (A), on the phone. In the transcription of the conversation, the activist is indicated by M and N is for Nazek (I am presented as a teacher from Scotland called Sara):

A -I swear by god, I swear by god that I am only losing money on them. Our agreement was until Thursday; this conversation does not help, believe me; listen to me.

M -Please if you may; give me a bit more time. I have a lady who wants to help. Can you speak with her? I called her to help but she does not trust me. She wants to check first that what I am telling her is true…

A-Who is she? Where is she from?

M-Her name is Sara, she is a teacher from Scotland. Do you want to speak to her?

A-Arabic only

M-She can speak some Arabic as well. Speak with her. We need to raise the money, we need her to help…

A-$15000 by Thursday.

M-Yes, I know. We need to raise the $15000, but please you need to give me more time to raise the money. Can you give me few more days?

A-When will you pay? Friday?

M-No, please, we need until Monday.

A -OK, Monday 8am.

M-8 am will be too early. It is 6am in Scotland. The banks and other institutions will not be open by then. We need until at least midday.

A-The money must arrive to Israel by 12noon on Monday. I am doing this as a favour.

M-Thank you for understanding and for your help. I am grateful for what you are doing. God will award you. But please be kind to the boys, don’t beat them. They are no good to us if they are injured and cannot walk.

A-I gave them medication; we are like brothers. You can speak with them but you need to respect your word.

At this point I joined the conversation:

N -Hello. Good afternoon. Who am I talking to?

A -Abdallah

N -Hello Abdallah. M told me about the situation. Can I check with you what is happening? What is the situation and what is required?

A -What is required is the money. You pay the money and they go free…

N- Can you tell me about the boys; are they ok?

Then the phone went dead.

Later I managed to talk to 24-year-old Nasir Abdul Fadel. He was kidnapped in Sudan and taken to Sinai, where he has been held for six months. Nasir said that there was one other person with him in the house where he was a prisoner and ten others in houses around them.

“We cannot survive here. We get one meal a day: a loaf of bread and a glass of water. I cannot eat food; I cannot open my mouth because of my wounds. My body is in a very bad condition."

“We have only until Monday to pay $15,000 otherwise … they will beat [us] until [we] die. They say if they get the money they will release us to either Cairo or Israel. Half the people who were kidnapped here before were sent to Cairo and half were killed. Five people died here and seven were freed."

“There were eight people in the house when I arrived from Sudan; 25 of us came together but I cannot see them any more..."

“They [kidnappers] say to us regularly that we have to get the money – and then they rape and beat us. They sometimes rape us with a bottle as well."

“We are in a very bad condition. We can’t survive like this for more than two weeks. We have lots of injuries from the beating. If we stay here we will die. Please help us...” I

n another conversation, 14-year-old Haftoum told me he was seized nine months ago with his 15-year-old cousin, who has since died from torture. At first Haftoum didn’t want to talk. He said he had been beaten so badly that he is in severe pain. He has not had a single bath since his kidnapping. He cannot go to the toilet on his own: he has to be carried there. Haftoum said that he has a hole in his backside; the kidnappers are using him for sex and they insert bottles into his rectum; his injuries are infected and covered with insects; he has never been given medication.

“I can’t eat. We get bread and salt, not good food. If you do not help me in 2-3 days, I will die. I want to go to the doctor, my body is all damaged. I can’t sleep; I can’t sit down ...” He has only one contact, a friend of his mother who is in Israel. She is the only one who is in touch with him. He said they were about 20 minutes by car from Israel. “I am scared to die. It is too much. I cannot handle it. It is too long till Monday. I need to get free from this place… Can you get for me money?” he pleaded tearfully.

As this newspaper went to press, the boys were still in captivity. We heard relatives were still trying to raise the money and negotiations with the kidnappers were continuing. Just before uploading the story on the Migrant Voice website (two weeks later) I contacted the activist for an update. She told me that they had managed to get a two week extension from the kidnappers (until Monday 9 September) but the price for this was that they (the two boys) would be beaten daily. However, the remaining requested amount was not raised (the kidnappers already received $20.000). There were no calls from the boys this week.

These conversations and the situation for the two boys affected me deeply. I wanted to try and help. I contacted a number of prominent Arab journalists to seek their help. One of them was an Egyptian journalist from Sinai who has covered the issue of African migrants in this part of the world. He confirmed the widespread kidnapping, torture and killing of African migrants in the Sinai desert. He also explained that the criminal act of kidnapping people in exchange for ransom is not confined to African migrants. The organised criminals also kidnap Egyptian citizens including high ranking officers in the Egyptian Army. The officers’ families also have to raise the ransom to free their sons. I asked the journalist if he could report the kidnapping of the two young Eritreans to the authorities, and gave him the names of two kidnappers with their telephone numbers. I also mentioned that the two African migrants were held about 20 minutes by car from the Israeli border. He came back to me the next day to confirm what he has already told me on the phone earlier.

With the escalation in the tension and the security situation in Egypt, African migrants are not currently a priority for the Egyptian authorities. Even if they wanted to help, it would have been impossible to locate the position of the victims along the very long and treacherous border. The kidnappers use Israeli telephone numbers to make it harder to trace them. This is also a very rough terrain, only the kidnappers know their way around the area. Even the army comes under regular attacks from kidnappers in this lawless part of the country. The army there can protect itself only. Although they come from the area’s tribes, the kidnappers operate outside the local tribes who have a completely different way of life and values. The local tribes have assisted many of the fleeing or released migrants and helped them to safety.

Feven Hadera, founder of the UK-based African Women Empowerment Information Centre, who has visited refugee camps in Ethiopia and met freed hostages and heard their stories, said that she is kept awake at night worrying about the victims. “But the problem is, people have to stop paying kidnappers or they won’t stop seizing people.” It’s an impossible choice, she added. “The kidnappers are very organised and have agents in both Cairo and Israel to collect the money from distraught families. Those who tried to trick them paid the heavy price with their loved ones lives”.

Petros Tesfagherghis, coordinator of the UK Eritrean Refugee Support Association, said that outside Eritrean local media outlets, the news about the traumatic experiences of the 2000 people, mostly the youth, leaving Eritrea every month, receives little coverage. On most occasions, they cross the border to Sudan, Ethiopia, Djibouti and Yemen where they face imprisonment and untold abuses, he added. “The level of torture they face at the hands of human traffickers in Sinai, Egypt is the most harrowing. Those who fail to pay ransom are often murdered in cold blood and their organs sold to collect lucrative profits. Their bodies are thrown in refuse dumps”.

Amnesty International reported in April: “Many people held captive in Sinai have been subjected to extreme violence and brutality while waiting for ransoms to be paid by families. Including beatings with metal chains, sticks and whips; burning with cigarette butts or heated rubber and metal objects; suspension from the ceiling; pouring gasoline over the body and setting it on fire … being urinated on and having finger nails pulled out. Rape of men and women, and other forms of sexual violence have been frequently reported.”

I ended my telephone conversation with the two young Eritreans by saying: “thank you for sharing all this information with us. Try to be strong. We are thinking of you and praying for you. We will do out best to help you”. The memory of this conversation will no doubt remain with me for very long time, especially the voice and words of the 14 years old child. The child who went on what he thought was an adventure of a lifetime, little aware of the cruel world out there. He trusted me to help free him and end his suffering and to tell the whole world what was happening to him. I could only do the latter.  

Photo information: A 'lucky' 13-year-old who managed to flee from the kidnappers. Feven Hadera helped him get to a refugee camp in Ethiopia.    

Emina Hadziosmanovic was a child when she fled to the UK in 1992 to escape the siege of her home town, Sarajevo. She tells Nishit Morsawala that her degree enabled her to “finally understand why I was where I was, studying psychology and what I wanted to do with it. I was motivated to help others achieve this understanding and to move forward with their own lives.” Emina Hadziosmanovic grew up in an environment of war and trauma in Bosnia-Herzegovina, and as a result “always had a desire to understand why the war had happened and how humans can be capable of such despicable actions. “I was exposed to the consequences of trauma on a daily basis — at home, in the Bosnian community, watching the television.” Today in Britain she is deeply involved in helping other refugees from all over the world deal with their own traumas. She is doing a PhD in clinical psychology at Nottingham University and is a successful author. She also works with elderly and disabled refugees from Bosnia-Herzegovina and helps younger members of the community get access to further education and employment. “What I most value about my outreach activities is probably the power of just listening in the healing process for individuals traumatised by war and conflict,” she says. “I began to realise that through this process of talking, they were beginning to heal.” As a result, she plans to set up a community organisation that offers a new treatment — Narrative Exposure Therapy — for traumatised refugees in the UK: “I believe it has immense therapeutic power.” Now 26, Hadziosmanovic arrived in Britain as a four-year-old: “I remember thinking that people were all speaking a strange language ... once I learnt English, I experienced some racism in the early years of primary school because of the way I spoke and where I was from. “Many children at school and indeed their parents had not heard of Bosnia and the fact that we had escaped a war zone.” Nevertheless, “The UK was very welcoming in the 1990s. The general public was somewhat more understanding and various organisations would invite us to celebrate Christmas or Easter with them or would take us out on trips. This was a very positive experience which no doubt helped us to assimilate.” Though herself a living testimony to the huge potential of refugees and asylum-seekers, she is critical of current media coverage of these groups, which she says “has made the process of becoming a refugee to the UK even more difficult that 20 years ago. “I feel that we were more accepted as refugees by the British Government and society than some individuals who seek asylum today. I feel sad that the racism I experienced as a young child is only increasing in our country now and people are less well accepted and integrated into this society,” says Hadziosmanovic, whose award-winning novel addressed her experience of exile and integration.

Photo by Jason Wen, Spot of Bother

Ladies and Gentlemen, last week, I was deported to Switzerland from Helsinki and I would like to tell you my story.

My name is Marae Atallah. I wrote this letter as a result of despair, frustration and being in a poor psychological state. I have been suffering for three years while seeking asylum and have crossed seven states to do so.  Today, I am putting my fate into your hands with the hope that you will help me retrieve my humanity.

I have suffered in my Palestine in general and in Gaza City, in particular, which is my hometown. I have seen my children murdered in an attempt from the Hamas’ armed factions to kill me because I was advocating for a life of peace and harmony between us and the Jewish people, pleading that killings and wars do not and will not do any good, and that, as Christians and Jews, we have our right to live in the land of Palestine.

God is my witness, I did my best  in order to try to prevent war and murders on both  sides. I went back to Gaza in 1996 after College. For about 3 years, together with friends, I thought about a way to stop the war between us and Israel. We were 8 who set up an organisation together.

We started being very active in 2001. We started talking with the Hamas and the Fatah organisations. We wanted to create peace between us first before trying to make peace with the Israelis. I met so many persons, leader, chiefs, army leaders, including people from Egypt or Jordan. We talked a lot. There were many people from the Israeli side who were working with us on the same principles and towards the same goal, but unfortunately we, the Palestinians are the weakest link between these movements.

At that time, I had a job, I had created my small company, I was married, everything was normal. We started talking with Israel in 2008, when our group counted about 40 individuals. Because of our activities, eight people from my group were killed, my children were murdered and my house destroyed. Armed factions also exposed me to various forms of torture.

I had to escape and try to survive with the rest of my family, trying to find freedom outside Gaza. I sold some parts of my company and left, first to Egypt, then, Syria and Turkey. After 8 months and a long journey, I ended up in Switzerland where I claimed asylum. I had imagined that my arrival in Europe would have ended my suffering and that my family and I would find some comfort and peace. But after more than 3 years in Switzerland, I am still surprised at the inhumane treatments given to asylum seekers.

For my first interview, I was interviewed for 6 hours by 5 officers. They wanted to know everything about how my children were killed. They wanted to know if they had died at home or at hospital and the time of their death. But it was not their main focus. Most of all, they wanted to know where the Hamas keeps their weapons. How can I know? They kept asking me military questions, again and again. So I thought that I wouldn't answer military questions because I'm not military and I don’t know everything.

I asked to go to the toilet, they said no. I asked if I could smoke a cigarette, they said we needed to finish the interview first. After I refused to answer questions and the interview finished, the interpret told me: “you are a very brave man but you won’t get any papers”. They invited me to other interviews. One of them was through computers, there was no person in the room. They asked me about Hamas, about Fatah, about who I was with. I tried to explain I wasn't with anyone. After 3 hours, they sent me away.

They called me to another interview, this time in Zurich. The interviewer came in the room, put his kippa on and asked me: “do you know who I am? Do you know what that means? This means I am Jewish, do you have any problem with this?”. I said I didn't have any problem with it. I said that I am a Palestinian man claiming asylum and asked him if it would be possible for him to grant me a status. He said no. And then he started asking me about Gaza, about Jordan, Syria, Egypt, my opinion on Iran or Saudi Arabia. I didn't refuse to discuss these topics because I thought that it was general politics.

Then he asked me if I liked the place I was living in in Switzerland. I said no. And the interview was over, he sent me to live in this place underground, a bunker. We were about 100 people inside and there was only one door. It was under a football stadium. Every minute, every second, the police came for controls. It was like a jail, there was a place to sleep but no kitchen, nothing.

They refused my application, they said I had 5 days to leave Switzerland. I tried to appeal within the five working days legally allowed, but let me tell you what happened. They notified me on a Tuesday at .:00 pm, so the first day was gone. Wednesday and Thursday, no lawyer was working. I went to the office on Friday, they took the case and told me they needed an extra day to go through it. On Monday I went back to the office but they told me “we are sorry, we cannot do anything for you, you have to pay 1600 francs to us now”. I told her that I don’t have fingerprints and that it was my last day to appeal.

She said that if I didn't pay, she couldn't do anything for me. She told me I would never get papers anyway: “You’re Palestinian, Switzerland doesn't give asylum to Palestinian people. You might stay in Switzerland but you will not have papers. If the police catch you, you will go to prison for 3 months because you don’t have documents and you have to leave Switzerland”. Indeed they refused my appeal. They said that my stay in Switzerland is illegal and I should leave immediately.

Several times I was forced to sign papers asking me to leave Switzerland or to face detention and I saw people around me being sent back to their home countries. Three of my acquaintances from Gaza were sent back to Gaza via Egypt, they were deported to Egypt and Egypt delivered them at the Rafah crossing to the Hamas, after awful imprisonment and interrogation by the Egyptian military.

I waited for a couple of days and left to Belgium. I tried to take a bus to London but I was stopped by the border police in France because I didn't have a passport. I wanted to claim asylum but they did not let me do it. I found myself in Calais with nothing for 4 months. Once, the police caught me and sent me back to Switzerland. I went through the asylum procedure a second time. They rejected my request and my appeal a second time. The Swiss police emailed me to tell me that I would be taken back to Gaza and this is what prompted me to go to Finland for safety and protection.

But the story repeated itself; after about 40 days, I was denied asylum and asked to leave Finland and return to Switzerland. I tried to appeal but once again, appeal was not effective. I was deported back, even though Switzerland had refused my request three times, put me in jail several times and I am under the threat of being returned to Gaza even if my life is at threat there. I was deported back to Switzerland from Finland, even if it meant that I would face one and a half year in detention in Switzerland or a deportation to Gaza that is synonymous with death.

When I arrived in Switzerland, to punish me, they sent me to a camp for a week. Now I am being diagnosed with a lung condition and I'm still in a camp. How long will this suffering continue?

Ladies and gentlemen, I appeal to you, to your humanity and to your moral and humanitarian conscience to help me to stop this suffering. My family and I would welcome an opportunity to live a peaceful and dignified life. Please stop sending me back to Switzerland and be aware that when I will be granted a leave to remain somewhere, I will be a faithful contributor to the community, a hard worker and an example of discipline, law and order.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have given you some record of what I have suffered. I am now 44 years old and have been in Europe for 3 years. I hope that you will kindly accept this complaint and consider my case. I thank you very much for your consideration. ]

Please accept my thanks and respect,

Marae Atallah  

I was born and grew up in New Zealand, in Wellington. I was born in 1953, and left in 1973. Passing the half way mark, when you realise that you’ve been longer in the country you’ve come to than in the country you were born in, is a very significant moment. Then you have those big questions such as what do you call ‘home’. I still refer to Wellington as home. But, of course, home is where my family is, and my family is here, so what you call home is a loaded decision, I think, and it can vary depending on whom you’re speaking to.

When I went to England, I was predisposed to love what I found there because I had read English literature for as long as I could recall. My head was full of descriptions of English landscapes, English art, English buildings, English history. I came to study English literature, and when I was about to leave Oxford, I met the person who later became my husband, who is Scottish, so it was a very fortunate crossover.

In 1999, I saw the advertisement for the position of Director of the Scottish Poetry Library and I thought, 'That’s an extraordinary job. I won’t have a chance for it, but I’ll try.' And then I was appointed! I’ve been there ever since.

I’m very privileged to be right at the heart of literature, and Scottish creativity in that sphere. I feel passionately that I need to be an advocate for Scottish literature and Scottish poetry. A poem – for example at weddings or funerals – can say things for us that we can’t articulate for ourselves but that we recognise. It’s immensely consoling to recognise our own emotions or ourselves; we immediately feel that we’re less isolated, less peculiar, less stupid because our emotions have been shared and expressed by somebody else.

We hate the idea of people who are no longer very mobile, and whose mental faculties are diminishing just sitting in chairs, left alone for most of the day or watching television that they don’t understand. The sessions the Scottish Poetry Library offers to care homes are a combination of storytelling and reminiscence and poetry. People have a lot of poetry buried in their minds. They can still recite a bit of Burns, they can recite a bit of Wordsworth. If your mind is going and I say to you “What’s your name?”, it may be a horrible moment before you remember what it is. But if I say “Here’s a poem by Wordsworth about daffodils and I’ll read it for you,” they’ll say, “Oh, I remember that my mother grew daffodils," or, “I remember that we learnt that poem when I was 7.”

Migrants are always going to be in a difficult position because when times are hard, as they are now, then people look for other people to blame, or say that the country is not big enough to contain them. I was very heartened by the example of the Glasgow Girls who banded together and went to Parliament and said you can’t deport our friend who’s an asylum seeker. When my daughter was in a primary school, which was in a very ethnically mixed area, I was struck by the fact that she never identified somebody by their skin colour, which would not have been the case when I was a child. My mother would ask “Who is your friend?” and I’d say, “She’s an Indian girl called so and so.” I don’t think they do that now, and that seems to me a hugely positive change.

Interview by: Migrant Voice Photo by: Karen Gordon

Karola Formella is quite literally one of the most colourful characters to be found on the streets of Brighton. An integral element of anarchist social centre, The Cowley Club, she consigns her daily life to the community cause and what she calls, “giving oil to the engine of good stuff”.

I met Karola at the Cowley, on what felt like the first real day of 2014 spring. We sat in the back yard while her chocolate, coconut, cardamom and lemon cake baked in the oven, alongside a few other equally unique concoctions. The cakes are just one example of her self-defining aversion to conformity, in which she pushes the dress code, helps the homeless into squats and prefers bikes to people.

Karola describes The Cowley Club as a voluntarily run, not-for-profit social centre.  It was set up in 2002 as a space for groups and individuals to meet, organise and practice a DIY ethos. There is no hierarchy, with equality and inclusion at the top of the agenda. Karola is at the club most days, cooking and baking for the café, cleaning, working on the bar, ordering stock, inducting others, doing general admin and organising DJ events - all on a voluntary basis.

She first noticed the club whilst on holiday from her native Poland in 2007, and as a result that holiday still hasn't ended. “I thought it looked cool, but I didn't really know what it was,” she told me. “I didn't even know it was a café, it just looked like some weird place.  They were looking for volunteers so I put my name down.  The next day I was volunteering and after that I never stopped.”

The club appealed to her because participation was entirely her choice rather than the will of any outside pressure. She said, “I was drawn into it because I hate conforming and I hate being told what to do.” This much is clear just by looking at her.  She is a mass of layer upon layer of sparkle and colour; of strikingly bright dresses, tights, tops, shoes and braces, covered with broaches, badges, tassels and ribbons.  It's a hyper-real, almost jarring display of femininity that she pulls off with confidence.

She insisted she has no fashion influences; that it's just a way of keeping herself 'entertained' every morning. Her style spawned from a childhood obsession to look different by buying expensive and often designer clothes. Now she has retained the ethos to be different but rejected the consumer characteristic that went with it, shopping instead at jumble sales, flea markets, charity shops and clothes swaps, where the items would otherwise be thrown away.

She described how in Poland her look attracted bullying and intimidation. “It's not that people didn't like the style, it's the fact that I stood out that was the problem. They found it really disturbing that someone had the guts to look different.” In Brighton it's the opposite; enthusiastic onlookers stop her in the street for pictures and ask her to take part in vintage fashion shows.  

Either way, she's adamant she doesn't do it to provoke, but rather for the simple pleasure of doing things differently: “We should do as many different things as possible so the world is an exciting place to be,” she said. Her activities with The Cowley Club are by no means the full extent of her community services. She also cooks food to give to the homeless and even took part in a project that supported homeless people to squat a building and set up a housing cooperative.

Mostly though, she serves the community through her love of push bikes. She participates in various local primary school bike clubs, teaching children how to fix bikes and ride safely.  On top of that, she plays bike polo, organises bike festivals and has taken part in the naked bike ride and the 'critical mass' bike events where cyclists ‘reclaim the streets’.

She took me to Cranks, one of the two DIY bike-fixing workshops she volunteers with, where she directed me in replacing my rear brake.  “I used to do loads of stuff with people, but I've shifted more towards bikes,” she told me. “I prefer bikes to people because they are simple and uncomplicated.” The contradiction is obvious, since Karola gives so much of her time to socialising and helping others. But whether it's bikes or people she will work with next, there's no doubt she will continue to make the world a more exciting place to be.

Article by Emilio Casalicchio

Photo by Nathan Gregg

I was born in Mogadishu in 1953 during the Italian Trusteeship and educated in Italian schools. In 1971 I left Somalia during the Siad Barr dictatorship. I moved to northern Italy with my husband, an Italian citizen. While I raised two daughters I travelled extensively because of my husbands’ work living in Zambia, Saudi Arabia and the United States of America. Returning to Italy I collaborated with different women’s group associations who dealt with social and immigration problems. In 1994, as a result of my reaction to the horrors of civil war in Somalia I wrote an autobiographical novel published in Italian called 'Far from Mogadishu.'

My love for Africa brought me to live in Kenya for several years. I continued to write and published several short stories. In 2010 I completed my second novel (in Italian) 'Clouds by the Equator - The forgotten Italians.' This is the story of mixed race children (known as “Meticci”) of Italian Colonists ignored and discriminated against by the Italian authorities. As a result of my novels I have been described as “an example that inspired a new generation of migrant writers”.

I came to the UK in 2010 because of an unquenchable thirst for travel, and to come into contact with different cultures, new ideas together with a daughter’s wish to study in Birmingham, England. Living in the Birmingham area gives me energy, because it is a multicultural city. When the weather is gloomy, shops are filled with exotic fruits that give colour and warmth. I live in Smethwick (just outside Birmingham) and work as a volunteer reader in local schools and is involved in the families and schools together programme helping families bond, supporting parents and children in Year One and reception classes.

I love meeting people and taking part in my neighbourhood, that is why I joined my local school as a volunteer. It is rewarding sharing your time and skills, especially with children. I have been active in Women’s support groups. I am currently training at Sandwell College to be a volunteer mentor. Being part of a women’s group is connecting and discovering the real problems and strength of a community. My writing has brought me in to contact with the Italian Department at Warwick University who run a 3 year programme Transnationalizing Modern Languages I still return to Italy spending the summer with my other daughter and grandchildren.

I have recently translated my book 'Lontano da Mogadiscio /Far from Mogadishu' from Italian into English. This new edition expands the book with new chapters deliberately tackling on the painful issue of the Somali diaspora in UK. Writing for me is telling stories of people who are invisible in a society. I am inspired to write against injustice and stereotypes.

For more information about Shirin's book: The bilingual  e-book edition is now available on - line at Amazon.uk at the following link: http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_13/280-6186979-7738254?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=far+mogadishu&sprefix=far+from+mo%2Cstripbooks%2C577 You can view an interview with Shirin on You Tube at the following link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ta80RQ-IfvQ