Living in direct-provision
This week Alan Shatter told the Dáil that 49 people have taken their own lives while living in direct-provision centres in the State in the past decade. Earlier this year the United Nations Committee for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination expressed concern at the negative impact direct provision had on the welfare of asylum seekers. It said delays in processing their applications meant asylum seekers spent lengthy periods in direct provision, often leading to health and psychological problems, including serious mental illness. The committee called for a review of the system and for the speedy processing of applications. Below, we republish a piece written for the 2008 series Living in Direct Provision produced by the Forum on Migration and Communications and Metro Éireann, that details the realities of life within the system.
Looking for a way out
Lynda Onuoha relates the voices within Ireland’s direct provision system
It is lunchtime and the queue in the restaurant is very long, as usual. The man in the brown jacket, the fourth person in the queue, patiently awaits his turn, tray in hand. He glances at the food counter to see if there’s something special today. No – the menu is the usual assortment of chips, rice, sausages and a yellowish sauce, possibly a curry. Oh well, he’ll just have to make do with whatever there is because he is hungry. Besides, he needs to catch the 12.45 bus to Drogheda to go to the post office and collect his weekly allowance. The bus goes free of charge, so he has no choice.
The lady in front of him is arguing with the kitchen staff. Something to do with how many apples she can have and whether or not she is allowed to take her food to her chalet to eat later. The man heaves a sigh at what to him is another humiliating episode. He has witnessed such scenes in the restaurant countless times before. The man in question is Ishmael Khudri, an asylum seeker originally from Iran who came to Ireland two years ago and has since lived in direct provision at Mosney Accommodation Centre on Co Meath.
Direct provision is a policy introduced by the Irish Government in November 1999, in which the basic welfare needs of asylum seekers are met by providing full bed and board in designated accommodation centres. They are also given a weekly allowance of 19.10 euro per adult and 9.60 euro per child. Mosney, formerly a popular holiday resort, is just one of many such centres throughout Ireland.
Prior to the announcement of the 2008 Budget, there was much pressure from human rights groups including the Irish Refugee Council (IRC) calling for an increase in asylum seekers’ weekly allowance. Of course everyone knows that the chance of that happening is slim to none. But the shocking reality is that for many of the asylum seekers caught up in the direct provision system, the amount of their weekly allowance is of secondary importance. Whether it is increased or not, the humiliation and stigma of living in direct provision will still remain.
Before coming to Ireland, Ishmael was a professional artist specialising in portraits and abstract painting. When asked what he thinks of direct provision, he replies: “I can potentially earn up to a thousand euro per portrait as an artist; 19 euro a week is inadequate, I see it as an insult. It’s not nice to queue for free food when I’m young and able to fend for myself.” Regarding his hopes for the New Year, he laments: “Just tell them to give me a work permit and get me out of here.”
Ishmael is currently part of an initiative sponsored by the asylum seeker support group Spirasi, which involves him visiting third level colleges in Dublin to give talks to students on intercultural issues. He does this voluntarily, just to have a sense of purpose.
In addition to living in direct provision, asylum seekers in Ireland are not allowed to take up paid employment, access free third level education or leave the country without permission from the Minister for Justice, Equality and Law Reform. Add this to the long wait and uncertainty of the asylum process itself and the picture is one of hopelessness, frustration, shattered dreams and despair for many.
Adam Haj Tahir, another Mosney resident, is a trained English and Arabic teacher originally from Somalia. When asked his views on direct provision, his answer is simple.
“I live in the best prison in the world,” he replies. “The UK is only a train ride away, yet all I can do is to sit and watch the Dublin–Belfast train pass Mosney each day. I live like a tourist but I’m given free food, free accommodation, pay no bills – what kind of life is that?”
For some, however, direct provision is of great benefit. A different viewpoint came from another Mosney resident, Obinna Nwankwo, an Economics graduate from Nigeria. As a single man with no dependants, he feels that the system is of the most benefit to the couples and women with children.
“These people are using this opportunity to expand their families by having as many children as they can while in the process,” he says. “They know that necessities like pushchairs and baby formula will be provided free of charge so it costs them little to get pregnant while they’re in direct provision.”
Obinna’s hope for the New Year is to leave “this system and be able to get a job so I can fulfil my ambition in life.”
For most of the women, particularly those with children of school-going age, the worst part of direct provision is not having a say as to which school your child can go to. That decision is made for them by the officials of the Reception and Integration Agency (RIA). In addition, parents are often unable to afford the necessary schoolbooks for their children. A female resident who preferred not to be named said: “I cried the day my five year old daughter came home from school and asked me why she doesn’t have school books like the other kids in her class. I just can’t afford to buy them.”
Okcsana is an 18-year-old woman originally from Ukraine, and has lived in Mosney with her parents for three years. Her hope for the New Year is to “move out of Mosney and get my own place and have my privacy. There’s not much for teenagers to do here, you have no work permit so you cannot work and have enough money to go to the cinema with your friends.”
There are some within the system who have lived in direct provision for more than five years. For many who eventually get permission to stay and move out, it is very difficult after such a long time to adjust to life in the real world.
After years of being institutionalised, they suddenly have to pay their own bills, make their own decisions and brush up their qualifications in readiness for the job market. This takes a long time for many; it’s not hard to calculate the heavy cost to the Government due to their dependence on social welfare. It only serves to further reinforce the average Irish person’s notion of asylum seekers as ‘spongers’.
As I sit in the restaurant watching the other residents in the queue, I cannot help but be reminded of the Western phenomenon of giving handouts to the developing world. It beggars belief that the Irish Government has refused to acknowledge that among these asylum seekers are well educated and qualified people who are potentially economically viable to the country. Rather than see them as a resource, it prefers to spend taxpayers’ money on keeping them from contributing.
The latest buzzword is ‘integration’, yet people continue to be segregated in accommodation centres all over Ireland in the name of direct provision, further isolating them from Irish society and fuelling racist tendencies.
For 2008, one can only pray for change. There is no disputing the fact that asylum seekers must pass through a process before a decision can be made on whether they should be allowed to stay. But the crux of the matter is that any person who has left their country to seek asylum in Ireland, did so in search of a better life.
The social, financial and psychological prison that is direct provision is clearly not in the best interests of Irish taxpayers, nor any asylum seeker who genuinely wants to be given a chance to be an economically viable and worthy resident of Ireland.
Lynda Onuoha is a marketing graduate and has lived at Mosney for three years. She is chairperson of Mosney Intercultural Forum and in her spare time has been involved in teaching English to asylum seekers in Mosney.
Follow the links below to read more articles from the series:
Mental health risk for Ireland's asylum seekers
Direct provision in an EU context
Christmas is a time of isolation
Loneliness is the most terrible poverty