I remember last summer
sitting out on my front wall . Camara would walk past several times a
day on his way to pray. We would exchange greetings and smiles, share
news and reflections on the workshops we did together. Gentle
exploratory steps to build trust and friendship.
What name can I give to
that moment when anothers life becomes bound up in your own?
A year later I sit on
another wall. A faded red painted wall outside the Bristol Central
Mosque. Camara and his friends would sit here socialising after
prayers. I often waved and exchanged greetings as I passed by.
I pass by today and
Camara is not there. I stop and sit on the wall. Tears come quickly.
Camara is gone. Disappeared. Deported.
His full name is
Koniagi Camara. He is from the Gambia. Econometrician by trade,
asylum seeker by necessity.
On the 18th
July he was detained while signing at Trinity police station. Many
people have to sign at police stations and reporting centres around
the country because of their immigration status and at any point are
at risk of being detained and deported.
That evening I strapped
a giant heavy suitcase on the back of my bicycle and wobbled his
paperwork related to his asylum case over to the police station. He
did not get to see a duty solicitor until a week after he was
detained and then this duty solicitor did nothing.
I also took him a new
pair of shoes as he had been on his way to get some new shoes as his
old ones were damaged. That's what detention is. Ripping people out
of their lives with no warning. This is violent.
We have spoken daily
since his detention. His voice comes filtered through the impacts of
barbed wire, air less rooms and fear. He is in Colnbrook Detention
Centre with removal directions for last Saturday.
Camara's strength has
been a source of inspiration for me, with much of his strength coming
from his Muslim faith. Fear, anxiety, anger doesn't dominate him yet
they are all present.
Despite much effort, we
did not have enough time to stop his deportation. We spoke as he was
in the car on the way to the airport. He was full of love for all the
people who had stood by him against this injustice.
The government appears
to go out of its way to create a dehumanising and traumatic system
for aslyum seekers. This needs to be challenged and changed. I
thought to ask what a humane and dignified asylum system would look
like, yet then I think maybe we are creating it. A grassroots
popular system of welcome based on solidarity and needs, and a
recognition of the impact of colonialism and neocolonialism on
migration.
I don't sleep much on
Saturday night. His phone is switched off. At 8.30am it starts to ring. A
foreign sounding ring. He is gone.
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