HTTP://WWW.STOPNATO.ORG.UK ---------------------------
-----Original Message-----
From: John O [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]]
Sent: 08 April 2002 10:04
To: Recipient List Suppressed
Subject: What's in a name? - Shpresa - Hope
From: John O [mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]]
Sent: 08 April 2002 10:04
To: Recipient List Suppressed
Subject: What's in a name? - Shpresa - Hope
==========================
National Coalition of Anti-Deportation Campaigns
(NCADC)
Phone: 0121-554-6947 Fax: 0121-554-7891
==========================
What's in a name? - Shpresa -
Hope
To Shpresa, a young Albanian
mother, her name is her way of life. Shpresa means hope and that is
how she survives each moment of the day. After her terrifying experience
at Yarl's Wood detention centre on the night of February 14th, and, all that
preceded and followed, it is only hope that keeps her
going.
'The reason I fled to England is because of a blood feud,' she explains, 'I damaged family honour, we are Muslim and I fell in love and married a Catholic without family permission. My brothers have sworn they will kill us and our two children. It is the law of the Kanun. They have already killed my brother-in-law.'
The Kanun of Lek Dukajini is a strict, 15th century, code of laws governing marriage, birth, death, hospitality and inheritance, which has been handed down orally through the generations and used as a system for administering justice in northern Albania, which historically has remained isolated from central government law. With the collapse of communism in 1991 and the subsequent lack of law and order, the number of vendetta killings has soared.
But, how more civilised is British 'justice' that seeks to return her to this?
"It was very early in the morning', said Shpresa, 'We were awoken by banging on the door, my husband opened it and seven officers burst into our home. Outside, police cars and vans blocked the street. They said 'pack quickly, you're being deported.' Almost hysterical, Shpresa woke her children and packed a few clothes while her husband desperately tried to explain that their case 'wasn't finished.' The response was 'move more quickly.'
Taken first to the Regional Immigration Centre, they were searched then transported to Yarl's Wood. It was like a prison', reflected Shpresa, 'surrounded by high barbed wire fencing, patrolled by guards and with locked doors. We had one room with three narrow beds and slept each with a child in our arms. There was a bathroom, but no water came from the taps.'
On the ninth day of their detention fire broke out.
'It was 8pm,' said Shpresa, 'our children were sleeping when we heard much noise. We didn't know it was the fire alarm because there'd been no fire instructions. Friends on the landing shouted 'Come out quickly, the building's on fire.'
Choking, acrid smoke had already begun to seep into their room, situated on the first floor where the fire originated, when, panicking with fear and gasping for breath they'd grabbed their babies and stumbled out into the suffocating black corridor. 'I was so scared, recalled Shpresa, 'The fire was very close and we were almost overcome by smoke. Thankfully, we located the stairs and got out. We were last from the building, but nobody noticed. No one was counting.
The young parents, each with a babe in arms (18 and 4 months), were forced to remain outside all night. In bare feet and dressed only in a tee shirt, Shpresa begged to be allowed inside because the youngest child was going blue with cold. She was refused. Then, after twelve freezing hours, on the excuse the camp shop had been raided, they were humiliatingly searched, and bused to a detention camp near London. Twenty hours passed before food and drink were offered.
Two days later, Shpresa was separated from her husband.
'I was given a ticket, taken to the station and left with my babies,' said Shpresa. 'I couldn't stop crying because I missed my husband and I couldn't speak any English.'
Shpresa described her nightmare journey back to her home in the north of England. How, before breakfast and without food, drink, nappies and money she'd waited four hours for a train that only went part way to her destination. How she'd got lost, then eventually found a policeman and was taken to a bed and breakfast hostel. How the following morning, still without food and nappies, she was taken to the town's Civic Centre where she'd waited four hours for the housing provider to come and take her home.
'The reason I fled to England is because of a blood feud,' she explains, 'I damaged family honour, we are Muslim and I fell in love and married a Catholic without family permission. My brothers have sworn they will kill us and our two children. It is the law of the Kanun. They have already killed my brother-in-law.'
The Kanun of Lek Dukajini is a strict, 15th century, code of laws governing marriage, birth, death, hospitality and inheritance, which has been handed down orally through the generations and used as a system for administering justice in northern Albania, which historically has remained isolated from central government law. With the collapse of communism in 1991 and the subsequent lack of law and order, the number of vendetta killings has soared.
But, how more civilised is British 'justice' that seeks to return her to this?
"It was very early in the morning', said Shpresa, 'We were awoken by banging on the door, my husband opened it and seven officers burst into our home. Outside, police cars and vans blocked the street. They said 'pack quickly, you're being deported.' Almost hysterical, Shpresa woke her children and packed a few clothes while her husband desperately tried to explain that their case 'wasn't finished.' The response was 'move more quickly.'
Taken first to the Regional Immigration Centre, they were searched then transported to Yarl's Wood. It was like a prison', reflected Shpresa, 'surrounded by high barbed wire fencing, patrolled by guards and with locked doors. We had one room with three narrow beds and slept each with a child in our arms. There was a bathroom, but no water came from the taps.'
On the ninth day of their detention fire broke out.
'It was 8pm,' said Shpresa, 'our children were sleeping when we heard much noise. We didn't know it was the fire alarm because there'd been no fire instructions. Friends on the landing shouted 'Come out quickly, the building's on fire.'
Choking, acrid smoke had already begun to seep into their room, situated on the first floor where the fire originated, when, panicking with fear and gasping for breath they'd grabbed their babies and stumbled out into the suffocating black corridor. 'I was so scared, recalled Shpresa, 'The fire was very close and we were almost overcome by smoke. Thankfully, we located the stairs and got out. We were last from the building, but nobody noticed. No one was counting.
The young parents, each with a babe in arms (18 and 4 months), were forced to remain outside all night. In bare feet and dressed only in a tee shirt, Shpresa begged to be allowed inside because the youngest child was going blue with cold. She was refused. Then, after twelve freezing hours, on the excuse the camp shop had been raided, they were humiliatingly searched, and bused to a detention camp near London. Twenty hours passed before food and drink were offered.
Two days later, Shpresa was separated from her husband.
'I was given a ticket, taken to the station and left with my babies,' said Shpresa. 'I couldn't stop crying because I missed my husband and I couldn't speak any English.'
Shpresa described her nightmare journey back to her home in the north of England. How, before breakfast and without food, drink, nappies and money she'd waited four hours for a train that only went part way to her destination. How she'd got lost, then eventually found a policeman and was taken to a bed and breakfast hostel. How the following morning, still without food and nappies, she was taken to the town's Civic Centre where she'd waited four hours for the housing provider to come and take her home.
Shpresa was 48 hours without
food or drink. Her two babies were sustained by suckling from their
mother's breasts.
Bravely optimistic about an
uncertain future, Shpresa, continues to live in hope.
==========================
Letter from a Detainee
Wednesday 3rd April 2002
From: Nikola Garzova
Room 409
Dungavel Detention
Strathaven
South Lanarkshire
ML10 6RF
To: Mr. David Blunkett
Home Office
50 Queen Annes Gate
50 Queen Annes Gate
London SW1H 9AT
Dear Mr Blunkett,
I know that you are very busy and important
person, but I am writing to you because my family is in a sad and bad
situation.
My name is Nikola. I am come from Slovakia. I am only
13, a little teenager. My birthday was on 2nd April. I spend it in detention
centre. It’s my second birthday in detention centre. About a year ago I spend my
birthday in detention centre.
I lived in Gateshead. I liked it there. It was the
bestest place I have ever been. I had lots of friends there. All my friends did
not forget about me, I knew that because they send me lots of birthday cards. My
birthday was really sad, so is my family.
My mum and dad were worried about my little sister,
called Vanesa. She is 21 months old. She can't sit, can't walk and talk. She
can't really see through her eyes. She missed her hearing test. She is having a
health problems, but she is absolutely beautiful. In Gateshead there was a team
of doctors and they helped with her health. Me and my family know that the team
of doctors will continue and my little sister will be like a normal child.
My brother Adrian, his birthday is on 24th April, he will be
12 years old. I wish for my brother to spend his birthday in Gateshead with his
friends. I want to ask you if you can help me with it. Please!
In this country is my family very happy. Can you please
to don't send us back to our country.
Thank you very much that you read my letter and please
don't forget about my family.
From: Nikola Garzova
==========================
Home Office: They don't know what they're doing
"Your wife and child have been taken into detention"
Last month an asylum seeker returned home to
find that his house had been secured by the accommodation provider. He found a
note pinned to the door telling him that "Your wife and child have been taken
into detention", but not telling him where. There were no contact details on the
note, not even the name of the person who pinned the note there, just the nine
words. "Your wife and child have been taken into detention" .
In trying to find his wife and child the
distraught asylum seeker spent the next six hours being kicked from pillar to
post.
First he rang East Midlands Immigration, who
said they had no record, advised him to try the police. He tried the police,
they said they had no record, advised him to try East Midlands Immigration. He
then contacted a local immigration office, who immediately told him to contact
the police.
In tears he went in person to the local
immigration office, who rang a few detention centres, no trace of mother and
child. They to rang East Midlands Immigration and so the merry-go-round, went
on.
Eventually someone, managed to work out that they should
contact the firm who convey detainees to detention centres. They rang
'Wackenhut', who had indeed picked up the mother and child and had taken them to
Harmondsworh Detention Centre.
The family are now together in Harmondswoth, awaiting
removal to a European country as third country returnees.
--------------------------- ANTI-NATO INFORMATION LIST
==^================================================================ This email was sent to: archive@jab.org EASY UNSUBSCRIBE click here: http://topica.com/u/?a84x2u.a9617B Or send an email to: [EMAIL PROTECTED] T O P I C A -- Register now to manage your mail! http://www.topica.com/partner/tag02/register ==^================================================================
