Apart. A Part

I am apart

from this history

what was Mandela?

Prison black politician

selected parts of his speeches

shape my knowledge

sounds a good elder

to our struggles

against the again and again

of oppression

selecter parts of his history

give me knowledge

sounds like power corrupted

a lesson repeated

in the again and again

of oppression

questions of history grow

as we dance under Biko

how did apartheid become

the defining word for peoples experience?

How did the debate get framed

and then photographed

and then framed again?

What has not been framed?

Who has not been framed?

Alejando Uribe assasinated 2005

Aldelina Gomez assassinated 30th September 2013

Cesar Garcia assassinated 2nd November 2013

I am a part

of this history

Anglo in the mountains of colombia

Gold in the mountains of colombia

Ashanti in the mountains of colombia

the colonial pursuit of el dorado

leaves more freedom fighters

fallen again in its bloody wake.

What was in Mandela's other speeches?

What did he say

to Anglo Gold Ashanti,

The white south african mining elite?

What did they say to him?

Nationalise Privatise

Royalties Ransom.

Compromise?

I gather in community

at this time of his death

to prevent the centuries old

whitewash of black working class history

our elites white master so well

and to dialogue together

to find each other

to seek solidarity with each other

in this time of growing

fortress europe

apartheid.

We are a part.

I read this out in Millenium Square, Bristol on Sunday 15th December as part of a public community event, organised in response to Nelson Mandela's death. I wrote this after being inspired by an event at the Malcolm X Centre on the Friday night before. Thank you those who organised the space for us to come together.

We are going to survive.

He speaks bravely

he looks boldly,

voice clear loud,

fingers trembling reveal

our shared vulnerability

when we speak our truth.

Here is how I heard him:

I want

you to imagine

I am your brother, your uncle, your son.

Would you want

me to be

denied

healthcare

if I need it in the future?

My fear

is what will happen

to me.

It

won't

be

easy.

I don't want

to use this word

but I

think it is a torture

method.

How am I

going to pay

when I am not allowed to work or to receive any money?

How does government think

we are going to survive.

This piece is a creative listening to a speech given by a friend and asylum seekers who spoke at Bristol Refugee Rights 10th December human rights day event about the proposed denial of health care to some asylum seekers, including himself.

For more info:

www.bristolrefugeerights.org/10th-december-health-care-for-all/

Econometrician by trade, asylum seeker by necessity, deported by a racist government.

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 18^th 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.