Refugee Boy (20 page)

‘Mr Kelo sent a letter from Eritrea to his son, a copy of which you should have before you. They are in fear of their lives, which is why Mr Kelo came to England. This is a family that is terrified, this is a family that cannot afford to take any more risks.’

Nicholas sat down while the adjudicator began to read again. He read for a long time, spreading the papers out in front of him and glancing up periodically. After a long silence he addressed Alem and his father.

‘Could you stand, please? I have listened to both of
you very carefully and I have read all the papers concerning this case. One cannot but be moved by the death of Mrs Kelo and I offer my condolences. But you must also understand that I cannot make a judgement based on emotions, I have to look at the facts. The war between Ethiopia and Eritrea is a border dispute, some may call it a skirmish but at any rate it is not a full-out war. There are millions of Ethiopians and Eritreans who are not affected by the war, and there must be other families that consist of members from both communities, and the records show that they are not all making their way here. Now I want you both to listen very carefully, as it is very important that you fully understand what I am going to say. The circumstances of this case have drastically changed in the last few weeks. When this case first came to my attention last month, my major consideration was the wellbeing of the juvenile. Being separated from his country was one issue, but I believed that being separated from his family was a more important matter. But things are somewhat different now. Now that your family is reunited, albeit with one member missing, the issue of the juvenile not having anyone to return to and not having a legal guardian is no longer relevant.’

There was a pause and Alem and his father, Nicholas and Mrs Fitzgerald could sense that something was wrong.

‘I have given this case much consideration,’ the adjudicator continued, ‘but I’m afraid that I must turn down your application for asylum.’

There was a gasp from Mrs Fitzgerald as she began to weep. Nicholas was completely taken by surprise and just didn’t know where to look. Alem and his father just looked straight ahead in disbelief. Both of them tried to go over what he had said in their heads in case there was a misunderstanding.

Alem spoke from his seat to Nicholas. ‘What does this mean?’

The adjudicator responded. ‘It means that you must try and make a life with your father in your own country. It is possible. You now have your father with you so you will not be alone. Your barrister will explain. We do have a very fair system of justice here so you do have the right to appeal.’

The adjudicator stood up, as did everyone else in the court except Mrs Fitzgerald, and then he walked out.

Outside the courtroom Nicholas tried to soften the blow that all three had just received but it was easy to see that he had really not expected things to turn out this way. ‘This is not the end of the line. We shall be lodging an appeal immediately. He just ignored so many of the facts before him. We have to get that judgement overturned.’

They listened impassively, thanked him and made
their way out of central London. Mr Kelo went with Alem and Mrs Fitzgerald to Meanly Road, where they told Mr Fitzgerald what had happened and phoned the Social Services and Mariam at the Refugee Council. By five o’clock when Ruth arrived home from work, the house was full. Mariam, Pamela, Sheila, Mr and Mrs Fitzgerald, Alem and his father were all crowded into the living room, talking quietly about the way things had gone in court and what could happen in the future. It was as if they were in mourning.

Mrs Fitzgerald suggested that Alem should have a day off school but once more he was determined to go and his father agreed. So the next day Alem went to school, trying as much as possible to concentrate on his work and not to let his sadness show. But Robert was beginning to read Alem well; he knew something was wrong and he knew that Alem had gone to court the day before. So at dinnertime he asked him how things went at court and Alem told him everything.

Robert was shocked. ‘Just run away,’ he said. ‘I’m serious, man! Don’t go back if you don’t want to, just run away. Did the judge know about your mum?’

‘Yes,’ Alem replied, ‘but he said my father’s alive and that he should look after me in our own country.’

‘That’s not right, guy, we got to do something,’ Robert said, looking around the playground full of kids playing.

‘We are, we are making another appeal.’

‘No, we got to do something more than that.’

After school that afternoon Alem couldn’t see
Robert so he walked home alone. But much later, when their evening meal was over and everyone at the Fitzgeralds’ house was quietening down for the night, the doorbell rang. It was nine o’clock and they weren’t expecting any visitors, so everyone was surprised.

‘I’ll get it,’ Mr Fitzgerald shouted.

He opened the door to find three boys looking back at him. He recognised the first; it was Robert.

‘Hello, Mr Fitzgerald. I’m sorry for disturbing you, especially ‘cause it’s quite late, but do you remember me? I’m Alem’s friend, I met you not long ago.’

‘Yes, I remember you,’ he replied. He looked at the other two.

‘Oh, this is Buck,’ Robert said hastily, ‘and this is Asher. Both friends of Alem. I know it’s late, like, but could we please see Alem? It’s very important and I promise that we won’t stay long.’

It was raining. Mr Fitzgerald noticed that the boys were dressed as if they were out on a warm summer evening. They were soaking.

‘Come in, wipe your feet and go in the living room. Alem,’ he shouted upstairs as they made their way in, ‘you have visitors!’

Alem jumped off his bed and ran downstairs as quickly as he could. It didn’t occur to him that it could be Robert or any of his other friends; he was thinking social worker, barrister, father even.

‘They’re in the living room,’ Mr Fitzgerald said, heading for the back room.

When Alem entered the living room he was surprised by what he saw and even more surprised by the condition of his visitors. ‘What are you all doing here? Look at you, soaking!’

They were standing in a line in front of the window as if they were on an identification parade. ‘We have to talk to you,’ said Robert.

‘Yes, we have to reason with you,’ Asher added.

‘OK,’ said Alem, not sure what to expect. ‘Sit down – no,’ he said quickly, realising that Mrs Fitzgerald would not take kindly to any marks left by their wet bottoms. ‘Don’t sit, just stay where you are.’

‘Dat’s cool,’ said Asher.

‘We want to start a campaign,’ said Robert.

‘What?’ Alem was not sure whether he had heard Robert properly.

‘We want to start a campaign,’ Robert repeated.

‘What kind of campaign?’

‘A campaign to keep you and your dad here, man,’ Buck said lazily. ‘This planet is for everyone, borders are for no one. It’s all about freedom.’

‘Yes,’ said Asher, ‘there ain’t no justice, just us, so we will defend you. Your barrister and them – let them do their thing – but this is where it happens, man, on the streets.’

Buck continued. ‘What we’re saying is that you got
people working for you in the system, right – suits and educated people – but you need some people power, you know. Who’s this judge anyway? He’s just a human being, he ain’t no better than us, so if we speak loud enough he will have to listen.’

Alem was overwhelmed by it all and a little lost for words. ‘I don’t know, I don’t want to start any trouble.’

‘You’re in trouble already,’ Robert said, with the others nodding in agreement.

‘I don’t know,’ Alem said. ‘I’ll have to think about it and I’ll have to ask my father what he thinks.’

‘OK,’ Robert said. ‘I think we should go now, but listen, it’s Thursday tomorrow, and we’re going to have a meeting at the rehearsal cellar at twelve on Saturday. That gives you two days to talk to your dad and whoever. If we do this, we gotta do it right.’

As soon as the boys left, all the Fitzgeralds made their way to the living room to find out what the visit was all about, and Alem told them. Mrs Fitzgerald and Ruth both agreed that it was a great idea and they encouraged him to go ahead, but Mr Fitzgerald wasn’t sure. He felt that if the political boat was rocked, the powers that be might make life even more difficult for Alem. After some gentle persuasion from Mrs Fitzgerald he conceded that it could be a good thing if Alem’s father agreed.

Alem had the feeling that his father might not like the idea of a public campaign, so he was prepared, and the next day after school he made his way directly to the hotel to speak to him. He was right, his father was completely against the idea.

‘No!’ he shouted. ‘We are in enough trouble as it is. We should wait for your appeal to be heard and we certainly should not be getting involved in the politics of this country. What we should be doing is being as peaceful as possible and making no fuss. We must not draw attention to ourselves.’

When his father was speaking in such a way, Alem knew that it wasn’t the right time for him to speak, but for the first time ever he felt he needed to challenge his father’s point of view.

‘But Father, who knows what will happen to us if we get sent back? We have a right to life, we have the right to be protected, and sometimes these judges and adjudicator people get it wrong. That judge doesn’t know anything about Ethiopia or Eritrea. He didn’t even know when our Christmas was. Who is he?’

‘He is the law,’ Mr Kelo shouted, ‘and the law of the land must be respected.’

‘So we must go home to live in fear,’ Alem said quietly.

‘We must go home – if we are told to – and how we live is not the issue for the judge. You heard what he said; we are together, now it’s up to us.’

‘It’s not fair,’ Alem said stubbornly. ‘Never mind fair, we will stay quiet and appeal. If we lose the appeal, we must go, that’s the law. Never mind fair!’ his father shouted.

‘But you said this country has compassionate people who know what it’s like to need refuge, people who understand, that’s what you said.’

‘That’s right, I said that.’

‘Well, those are the kind of people who want to help us now. Look!’ Alem quickly unzipped his bag and pulled out the newspaper cuttings that he had been keeping. He handed them to his father. ‘There are also people who are not compassionate, people who don’t care. They call us tramps, thieves and beggars, they want to clamp down on us, they want to make us live on boats and in prisons.’

Mr Kelo looked at the cuttings and read the headlines. ‘This is politics, young man, we should not be getting involved in these things. This has nothing to do with us!’ he shouted, throwing the cuttings on to the bed.

‘Everything is politics, Father, you know this. We are here because of politics, the judge is there because of politics, and we are being sent home because of politics.’

Mr Kelo started to pace up and down the room, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. ‘We are not going to get involved in any campaign,’ he said
angrily. ‘If we deserve justice, we will get justice.’

Recalling what Asher had recently said to him, Alem replied, ‘There ain’t no justice, just us.’

Mr Kelo suddenly stopped. He stamped his foot on the floor and said firmly, ‘I want you to stop answering me back and have some respect! Since when have you learned to speak to adults like that?’

Alem pleaded with him. ‘But Father, please don’t get angry with me. On Saturday my friends will be having a meeting. Please come with me and hear what they have to say.’

Mr Kelo sat down on one of the pink chairs. He didn’t answer Alem for a minute. ‘Yes, OK I will go with you. I shall go and listen to what your friends have to say.’

On Friday afternoon outside the school gate Alem, Buck and Robert had an impromptu meeting. ‘My father does not like the idea of a campaign,’ said Alem. ‘The Fitzgeralds said it was a good idea but my father just went on about the law of the land and not causing any trouble.’

‘Don’t tell me you can’t come tomorrow?’ Robert said in resignation.

‘No,’ Alem replied, ‘I will be coming but I will be with my father. He wants to see what it’s all about.’

‘That’s even better,’ said Robert joyfully. ‘We want your dad there, it’s about him too.’

When Alem arrived home there was more bad news for him and he knew it as soon as he reached the house. He could see Mariam’s old Volkswagen parked outside and when he entered the house he could tell from Mrs Fitzgerald’s manner that something was wrong. He looked in the living room, where he saw Mariam sitting with Sheila. Alem walked right in and sat down.

‘What’s the matter?’ he said bluntly.

Sheila spoke. ‘The problem is, Alem, that you were placed in the care of the local authority because you did not have a guardian in this country. Now that you do have a guardian, we’ve been told that your care order is being removed and that you’re no longer in our care.’

Alem smiled. ‘So what? That’s not important, is it? I mean, you’ve been very good to me and I think that you have really helped, and Mr and Mrs Fitzgerald said that they don’t mind looking after me,’ he said, looking towards Mrs Fitzgerald.

‘It’s not as simple as that,’ Sheila continued. ‘Mr and Mrs Fitzgerald are foster parents working for the Social Services. They are carers, in effect, and once the care order has been removed, they cannot legally foster or adopt you.’

Alem looked around the room slowly. He thought someone was playing a sick joke but he could see by the stony faces that no one was joking. ‘So what
happens to me now?’

‘Well,’ Sheila said, ‘you have to return to the care of your father.’

Alem didn’t know whether to feel good or bad about this. ‘Does he know about this?’

‘Yes, I’ve just come from there.’ ‘Where will we live?’

Sheila leaned back in the seat, preparing for Alem’s reaction. ‘You’ll have to stay with him in the hotel.’

‘What? You mean in that little room?’ Alem shouted. ‘Have you seen it?’

‘Yes, I’ve seen it and it’s not a nice place but it’s all we can do for now.’