People

People

The work of the Newport & District Refugee Support Group is all about giving people otherwise neglected a chance to be equal.

In 2003 we combined many of our activities to create the Paintback! exhibition. We teamed together with various other organisations, including Newport Council and Amnesty International, to run art classes and create a collection of art work and stories that give a snap shot of what is was to be an asylum seeker in Newport.

Here you will find some personal testimonies: descriptions of homes and communities, new and old; accounts of change and adaptation, of fitting-in and falling-out; expressions of excitement and hope, or of loss and despair. Paintback! is the world of refugees and asylum seekers, in their own words.

Why are stories useful?

A joke. A fable. An Enid Blyton classic. A sermon. An obituary. A dinner party anecdote: stories take many different forms. Some are sad, some happy, some filled with despair or hope. Stories may fascinate, educate. However, it is not the actual content of the story that really matters. What matters is that someone has opened a window into their life and let you peep in. It should be regarded as the highest honour that someone has felt comfortable and trusting enough to allow you to share a small piece of them.
The stories here are as diverse as the people who told them. In allowing them to express themselves freely, we should reach a higher level of understanding, not only about them, but also about ourselves and the world we live in.

Efthie’s story

Ethnic unrest drove Efthie from Turkey But now in Britain, the distress is by no means over: moving country has torn her life apart.

"My family are Kurdish, so living in Turkey has destroyed our lives. We are thought of as second class citizens there. Over the years, we have been so terribly treated that we decided we had to get out. The only way to do it was for my husband to escape illegally. He got in touch with some traffickers and after many months of saving the money, was given a place in a truck.

He arrived in Britain four years ago, after a long, hard journey. People who travel this way get very little food, water or daylight yet have to pay thousands of dollars to travel in such bad conditions. Some of the women who travel this way have also been abused by the traffickers.
After settling in the UK, my husband gathered the money for me and my 14-year-old son to get a flight out to join him. I do not know how he got the money, and I really do not want to know. I arrived last February and I was so happy to be here, to be safe and away from the conflict. My son was also so pleased, he could see how happy I was and that gave him hope too. Then our world started to fall apart."

Shortly after arriving a decision was made on our case which meant that we would all be deported. It was only when I found this out that I told the whole truth about what happened in Turkey to some of my closest friends.

" What I have not been able to tell my husband is that after he left, the police and other authorities had abused me. They would torture me in the hope that I would tell them where my husband was. I had been very often beaten and sexually assaulted for three years. However, I could not tell my husband, because I feared he would divorce me if he knew I had been raped.

When I was told I may have to go back, I took an overdose. I really would rather commit suicide than have to leave. The terrible I suffered at home for being Kurdish have left me with scars that will never go away. Since I have been in Britain, I have lost two unborn babies, and it is very unlikely that I will be able to have any more children.

If I tell this to the solicitor, I would be able to make a case for myself, but my husband and son would still be deported. I have such a difficult choice, because I will lose my husband either way. If I choose to tell him, he will have to leave me. If I choose to tell the solicitor, my family will have to return to the horrors on their own.

I really believed that coming to Britain would be the start of a new life for me, but even here things are so difficult and my heart is in pain."

Estelle’s story

War and corruption caused Estelle to leave her own country. She is still unsure about whether she will have to return.

"I grew up in Zaire, as it was called then, now called the Congo, in a happy, privileged home. My father was an advisor to President Mobutu, they not only worked together but were also good friends. However, things began to fall apart when I was aged just 19.

Tension and conflict had been mounting for some time, I could see in on the streets, in the newspapers - and written on my father's face. In 1997, war broke out. A man called Laurent Kabila enlisted thousands of troops, not only from my homeland but also from Rwanda and Uganda, to tear Zaire apart. My father's party did not stand a chance. After weeks of indiscriminate attacks on civilians, illegal executions, rape, and destruction of property, Kabila took control of the Democratic Republic of Congo.

The horrors did not end with his victory. In his four years in power he ruthlessly violated the human rights of the Congolese people. People who Kabila thought to be a threat to his regime simply disappeared. A generation of politicians, civil servants, human rights activists, and journalists were wiped out in a matter of weeks. More than 1.7 million people from my country died.

Kabila handed out money and power to his closest friends, while ordinary people had no food, medicine or other basic necessities, particularly in urban areas. My mother and sister still lived in the capital, Kinshasa, at that time so could not get away. I eventually lost touch with them when they had to go into hiding following the murder of my father.
I was living in a Catholic college in the provinces so I had the chance to escape. I did not want to leave, but to stay would have been suicide. When the war came everybody was leaving - I knew that I had to join them.

I approached some fishermen I knew, and begged them to help me escape. I paid them to take me down to the province of Brazzaville in their boat. Although it was a less central place, it was still in the Congo, and I knew I was not yet safe.

I had no idea what was in store for me. I escaped to Angola and there I met a Catholic Father, who worked with a refugee organisation. He knew an Angolan businessman who had moved to France and was planning to come and visit. When this kind businessman saw me, he instantly recognised my sadness and offered to help me. Every night I used to cry, I was so alone and I had lost my family but this man told me not to worry and that he would help me to re-build a happy life in Europe.

He said that I should seek refugee status in Britain. From Angola, I had to travel very far through Italy, Greece and France and I eventually arrived at British immigration. I had a passport that the man had got for me, which said that I was his daughter. The immigration people would not tell me how long I could stay, I sent off my papers three years ago, but still I have not had my hearing to see if I will be granted asylum.

I cannot go back to the Congo, even though Laurent Kabila is dead, his legacy lives on. His son, Joseph, is the new President and, despite promising change, he has not initiated any reforms. If I returned, I would be alone. I have no idea where my family are - I do not know if my mother and sister are dead or alive. If I returned I may be killed too.

Since arriving here three years ago, I have started to learn English but I find it so very hard. I cannot get a job because I am not recognised as a citizen, and the language is always a barrier. I am trying hard to fit in but I will never truly belong until I know that I am allowed to stay. My dream for the future is to work in a shop, to learn how to use computers and speak English to the customers - that would make me happy."

These stories were told in 2003. They appeared as part of the Paintback! exhibition in conjunction with Oxfam.