WHILE FREEDOM of movement between member states is a central pillar of the European Union, immigrants can find themselves being hindered by bureaucracy when attempting to relocate from one European country to another – even when they hold citizenship of a member state.  This has been the experience of Nigerian-born Osa Godwin-Osaghae, who left his country of birth to come to Europe some 20 years ago, when he was 17.

Godwin-Osaghae originally settled in Austria and was granted Austrian citizenship. But he later decided to relocate to Ireland in 2002, where he found a job and started an undergraduate degree course in Business IT and German at Blanchardstown College. He quickly settled into Irish life, and went on to further study at the Dublin Institute of Technology.

However, the Cabra resident found himself hindered at times by his lack of an Irish passport, particularly when travelling to and from the continent.  “I am a big fan of Bayern Munich and it causes difficulties for me when I go to Germany,” says the soccer-mad Nigerian. “That’s part of why I want to get an Irish passport to make life easier for me when I am travelling around Europe.”

He decided to apply for Irish citizenship in 2008, and was taken aback by the waiting period he would have to face. “I went online and was told to get proof of residency for the past five years. I got a letter from my college, proof of address, went to a lawyer to sign off on the forms and sent it all into the Department of Justice,” he recalls. “About two weeks later, in November 2008, I got a letter saying it was going to take 28 months to process. “I was frustrated. They said in the letter that I should give them the 28 months and that I should not call them in the meantime. So for the past year and a half I’ve just been waiting with no contact from them.”

Godwin-Osaghae’s dealings with the Irish citizenship system contrast with his experiences of residency elsewhere in Europe. “In Austria I got my residency in three months. It doesn’t take that long there if you don’t have any criminal convictions and you are free to check your application on their system. In the UK it takes about four months and in Canada it takes as little as two months.”

The Nigerian believes the blame for the delays fall firmly at the door of the Justice

Department. “It seems like the people in that office are not doing their work. Right now they are dealing with applications from 2007 and 2008 – that is way too slow.”

Although some may have reservations about pledging allegiance to a country not of their birth, it is a process Godwin is willing to undergo.

“I did it in Austria – you put your hand up and swear before the flag. You take an oath to abide by the laws of the land and vow to step up and defend the country at any time. This is something you have to be prepared to do.”

Godwin-Osaghae thinks that both the State and immigrants hoping to secure citizenship stand to benefit from a faster, more efficient citizenship application process.

“This is a fine country and a lot of good people would like to make it their home,” he says. “If someone is not involved in crime, then they should be given citizenship. It will make their stay here a better one.” He adds: “When the Irish team is playing you can see the pride they feel when they wear the Irish colours. It’s the same with citizenship. I feel more Austrian and Irish than Nigerian, because I’ve spent 20 years in Europe.”

This article was produced in association with the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

Who can apply for citizenship through naturalisation? Immigrants who fulfil a number of criteria, including having had one year’s continuous ‘reckon- able residence’ in Ireland (Republic) before applying, and a total reckonable residence amounting to four years during the preceding eight years.

What is ‘reckonable residency’? In basic terms, it relates to periods of residency that are fully documented. Also, be aware that time spent in the refugee application system does not count towards reckonable residency, nor do periods on student visas.

What other conditions must be met? In most cases, you should be at least eighteen years old, be pre- pared to make a declaration of fidelity to the nation and loyalty to the State, and be of good character, among other stipulations.

What exactly does ‘good character’ mean? The Department of Justice has not issued concise information on what constitutes ‘good character’, but advises that An Garda Síochána will be asked to furnish a report on your background.  Any criminal record or ongoing proceedings will be taken into consideration, and details of any proceedings, criminal or civil, in the State or elsewhere, should be disclosed on the application form, says the department.

Can I attain Irish citizenship through marriage? Yes, if you are married to an Irish citizen and living on the island of Ireland, you may meet special conditions for naturalisation based on that marriage.  You must be married to your Irish citizen spouse for a period of not less than three years, and have had immediately one year’s continuous residence in the island of Ireland prior to applying.  Also, during the four years immediately preceding that period, you must have a total residence on the island of Ireland amounting to two years.

My spouse and I are not Irish, but our baby was born here. Is the child entitled to Irish citizenship? Children born to non-Irish nationals are no longer automatically entitled to Irish citizenship by birth.  However, if one of the child’s parents has been resident on the island of Ireland for a period of not less than three years, the child is entitled to Irish citizen- ship.

How does one apply for Irish citizenship? You can request the relevant forms from the Department of Justice, or download them from www.inis.gov.ie, which is the website of the Irish Naturalisation and Immigration Service (INIS), under the aegis of the Department of Justice.

What type of supporting documentation is required? You’ll need a variety of documents, including evidence of your identity and nationality and documents relating to your status and the duration of your stay in the State.

Do I have to take any tests on Irish culture, or have my English language abilities gauged? Not at present, though Government politicians have raised such suggestions in recent years.

How much does it cost to apply? Most applicants pay €950. However, applications on behalf of minors and widowers of Irish citizens costs €200. Recognised refugees do not have to pay any fee.

How long does the process of naturalisation take?  Applications are taking around two years to process.

Who exactly decides whether I become an Irish citizen or not? Legislatively speaking, it is the Minister for Justice. In practice, it will be officials at the Department of Justice.

If I apply for Irish citizenship, will I have to surrender my existing citizenship? As far as Irish law is concerned, people can hold Irish citizenship at the same time as citizenship of another State.

Some other countries, however, have citizenship laws which do not permit the holding of another citizenship alongside their own (Denmark and Japan are good examples).

Can someone renounce Irish citizenship? Yes, if an Irish citizen is or is about to become a citizen of another country, he or she may renounce Irish citizenship, if ordinarily resident outside the State, by lodging a declaration of alienage with the Minister for Justice.

Are there any exceptions to this? Yes – if Ireland is at war you’ll need the minister’s explicit consent.

Nigerians  - are the top applicants for citizenship, followed by Filipinos, Indians, Pakistanis and South Africans. Filipinos are the top group applying for long-term residency

2 - The average number of years citizenship applicants must wait for a decision on whether they can become ‘Irish’

9  - The percentage of valid citizenship applications refused in Ireland in 2008

7,000 -  immigrants are currently waiting to hear if they’ll get long-term residency

18,500 -  people across Ireland are currently awaiting decisions on their citizenship applications

16 -  The number of months applicants for long-term residency are generally waiting for decisions on applications

Source:DepartmentofJusticePressOffice

This article was produced in association with the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

IMMIGRANTS WHO access jobseekers’ benefit could see their citizenship applications dismissed on that basis, it has emerged. The Migrant Rights Centre Ireland (MRCI) has encountered a number of such cases and expressed dismay at the situation, pointing out that jobseekers’ benefit is “an entitlement” amassed through PRSI contributions from workers and their employers.

“It means that some migrants who are entitled to social welfare are not taking it even when they urgently need to, as citizenship could be refused,” according to the migrant rights organisation.  Accessing child benefit and widow’s benefit “does not appear” to adversely affect applications, however.

The MRCI has also pointed to a lack of clarity on eligibility requirements for both citizenship and long-term residency, specifically surrounding the requirement to be “of good character”.

A spokesperson commented that from refusal letters, ‘good character’ appears to be not ‘coming to the adverse attention of the gardai’, yet relatively minor offences such as not showing car insurance to a garda or not having up-to-date car tax and insurance are being cited as reasons for refusal.

A Department of Justice spokesperson confirmed that citizenship applicants are “expected to be financially self-sufficient and non-reliant on public funds”.

The spokesperson said that enquiries with the Revenue Commissioners and the Department of Social and Family Affairs “may be necessary” and that “each case is assessed on its own merits”.  Criminal “or other offences” are taken into account, he added.

This article was produced in association with the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

MANY IMMIGRANTS entitled to long-term residency feel they’ve been ‘priced out’ of the mechanism, according to a migrant rights’ group.  A spokesperson for the Migrant Rights Centre Ireland (MRCI) told Metro Éireann that the €500 long term residency fee brought in last summer is “unaffordable” for many immigrants, and criticised the “lack of consultation” on its introduction.

Previously, no fee had existed for long-term residency applications.  Navan based Rajat Bhatnagar, a hotel manager originally from Delhi, India, submitted his long-term residency application in February 2008.  He is yet to receive a decision, but told Metro Éireann a friend received a letter from the Department of Justice requesting that €500 be paid within 28 days.

“My first thought was '€500 in 28 days?'” said Bhatnagar. “Five hundred quid is a lot of money for a lot of people. The only thing you can do is plan ahead and have your money ready, but that is difficult for many people. “A lot of the population don’t have jobs, and for people in such situations I don’t know how they’re going to do it. People are struggling with rent and other things.”

According to the Department of Justice, the prescribed €500 fee for long-term residency is “payable within 28 days of an applicant being approved”, and if not paid within 28 days of the “issue” of the approval letter, the application will be “deemed abandoned” and the applicant “will have to re-apply”

Meanwhile, accessing social welfare is not a commonly cited reason for residency refusals, in contrast to refusals for citizen- ship, according to the MRCI. The rights group also revealed that the stipulation that applicants be of “good character” – a reference described as “vague” – is frequently cited by the Department of Justice when refusing residency applications.

“In addition there is no specific application form for long- term residency so it is not clear that any Garda record should be disclosed and explained, including copies of any legal proceedings, fines paid, etc, or that offences can be a cause of refusal,” commented the spokesperson.

However, while citizenship applications have no appeals’ mechanism, long-term residency applications can be reviewed and additional information submitted.

Currently around 7,000 people are awaiting decisions on their long-term residency applications, which take around 16 months to process, say the Department of Justice.

This article was produced in association with the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

THOSE WISHING to secure citizenship in Ireland have to contend with a stringent application process, while refusals – sometimes handed down after a lengthy waiting period – are not uncommon. Moreover, the reasons cited for such refusals are often particularly hard to swallow for those turned down. “Some of the reasons given seem very trivial,” says Claire McCarthy, policy and campaigning officer at the Cork- based Nasc Immigrant Support Centre.

McCarthy has come across a number of cases where people are turned down for spurious reasons. One of the worst involved that of ‘Mohamed’, who arrived as an asylum seeker in Ireland from Afghanistan and was later granted refugee status. “His application for citizenship was refused on the basis that he has two traffic offences, which he did not mention in his application,” says McCarthy. “He has paid fines in both cases but non-disclosure of even the most minor offence is fatal.”

Another extreme case was that of ‘Simon’, a refugee from Liberia. “His application was refused because he was deemed not to be of good character, because he had come to the attention of gardaí,” recalls Claire. In Simon’s case, his offences were both traffic-related: a speeding ticket, for which he paid the fine, and the ‘crime’ of ‘wholly entering a yellow box’.

The Department of Justice’s motivations in turning down applications on what can seem like flimsy pretexts are some- times hard to comprehend. “These people tend to be long-term residents in Ireland,” says McCarthy, “and citizenship isn’t something that is going to affect that. They’re still going to be living and working here.”

She feels that refusal of this kind can have a damaging impact on applicants. “To my mind, if someone is refused because they are not of good moral character, then it gives the impression that they are not considered a good citizen.

“This is only going to exclude them more and makes it less likely that someone will have a sense of civic responsibility.” She continues: “They will end up even more alienated from the State, and so the process will have the opposite effect to the one intended. Worse still is that there is no direct recourse for appeal. “If you have reasonable grounds for appeal, you can start the application process off again, but it takes about two years to get a response. That is your only option.”

McCarthy believes there is a range of reasons why people apply for citizenship. “They want to feel secure – Ireland is their home now and they want that reflected in their passport. They want to be able to travel knowing that they can come back to the country that is their home.”

The advantages of giving citizenship to someone resident in Ireland for a long period are, for McCarthy, quite obvious. “I think it has a psychological effect on people – it gives them a sense of security and I think they then feel more tied into the community around them,” she says. “Keeping people on the edge of society really goes against all the principles of integration that are in government policy.”

This article was produced in association with the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

By ROBERT CARRY

 “I WILL NEVER forget it,” says Sorina Nabors of the day she swore an oath to the Irish State and became a citizen of her adopted country. “When I came back to my office all my colleagues were waiting for me with flowers and a wonderful present which I still have – a crystal sphere with an Irish symbol engraved in it in gold,” she beams with pride.

Naturalisation didn’t come easy to the Romanian-born Nabors, and was granted some two years after she and her then husband initially submit- ted their application. The process was both lengthy and stringent for the pair, who were both working professionals with children enrolled and settled in Irish schools at the time. Although Nabors – from the Transylvanian capital Cluj – already had residency in Ireland, she felt that securing citizenship was an important move.

“Ireland was the country in which we had been working and living, so citizenship was a very natural progression,” she says. Nabors, who works with asylum seekers and refugees in her adopted city of Cork, sees the granting of citizenship as the icing on the cake at the end of the process of integration rather than a part the process itself. “This is more about self- esteem,” she says. “For those who are really integrated and living like an Irish person, it is about being seen by the State as a normal citizen and knowing that from then on you will be treated as such.”

Nabors’ big day came in slightly unusual surroundings. “We were called into the courts on a day when the judge obviously had plenty of other cases to attend to,” she recalls. “There were solicitors, barristers and people who were in court on charges. It was an interesting audience.” Also in attendance were other residents ready to get sworn in. Among them was a Somali woman with her two young boys. “It struck me at the time that she didn’t have any English. She was going through the same process as me but her son translated when it came to swearing the oath.”

As well as facilitating easier travel and allowing Nabors to vote in general elections and referenda, her successful citizenship application would also help solidify her children’s status. At the time children had to have separate applications submitted, and it was a further year before they too received their Irish passports.

For Nabors, however, that extra step was one very much worth taking. “Everybody treats me as Irish until I open my mouth – my accent will always make the difference but my children will have the whole package.” Nabors feels that although applications are dealt with stringently, there is a lot that applicants can do to improve their chances of receiving a positive response.“I would encourage people who are applying for citizenship to update their application by contacting the department whenever there is a positive change in their circumstances.”

Although Nabors has been a citizen of the Republic of Ireland for six years now, she has found her life again being impacted by the lengthy processing period. “My fiancé, a doctor who has practiced in Ireland for the last five years, is currently waiting for a decision on his application,” she explains. As well as having problems travelling abroad for conferences and other work-related events, her fiancé‘s current status has impacted on the pair’s lives in other ways. “We have been dreaming of a romantic trip to Paris, but it has been put on hold by bureaucratic checks.” BUT THERE ARE plenty of other success stories. Among them is that of Vitaliy, a Ukrainian national also living in Cork. He was in Ireland five years when he applied for citizenship and, after a two-year process, he received word last year that he had been accepted. “I was a bit nervous while I was waiting for the result,” he recalls. “I know people who had applied for it three or four years ago and still heard nothing. It’s a big lottery. ”Yet the long wait made the positive outcome all the more enjoyable. “Physically, nothing changed,” he says. “It’s just a piece of paper that makes your life a little bit easier, but to receive it was absolutely brilliant. I was a free person; I could go wherever I wanted.”

This article was produced in association with the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

HOW MANY amendments does the American constitution have? The answer is twenty- seven, as if you didn’t know. Where are Geordie, Cockney and Scouse dialects spoken? Tough one, that. And by the way, who was the first prime minister of Canada? Not to worry, that one’s multiple choice. These puzzlers aren’t from the board game of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? but rather are questions asked of respective applicants for American, British and Canadian citizenship.

Many wealthy western countries with histories of major inward migration require their citizenship applicants to prove a basic historical and working knowledge of their nations, and some also test their language ability. Like any exam, learning resources and sample tests are typically available, usually on the countries’ immigration department websites – some even publishing this data inmultiple languages.

The Republic of Ireland has yet to introduce such measures, but in the North, applicants for British citizenship and ‘indefinite leave to remain’ must undergo a ‘Life in the UK Test’ or take combined English for Speakers of Other Languages (ESOL) and citizenship classes. Somewhat comically, the UK Border Agency assures candidates that the test can be offered in Scottish Gaelic and Welsh (in Scotland and Wales respectively), so the most integrated of immigrants need not fear. The test lasts 45 minutes, and comprises of multiple choice questions on government, society and practical issues. To pass, an applicant must score 75 per cent or higher. According to statistics released last year, just under 70 per cent of applicants pass the test.

In the US, in contrast, the process seems that bit more daunting, entailing a “naturalisation interview”, during which applicants answer questions on their “application and back- ground” in front of a US immigration official, who also gauges their ability to read, write and speak English. The applicant’s knowledge of “civics”, involving 10 out of a pool of 100 questions on US history (requiring a score of at least six), is also examined. The civics questions are not multiple choice, but on a more accommodating note, applicants are given two chances to pass both the English and civics tests each time they apply.

Authorities in the US have recently issued a revised test, but pass rates for the old one stood at over 80 per cent.  Of course, such delicate processes are open to massaging, in a bid to keep successful citizenship numbers at certain levelsAustralia’s test process, which is similar to that employed by the US, attracted controversy last year following complaints that there was obscure sporting trivia and even racist overtones in the test, prompting concerns over its intentions. One sample question asked “Who is Australia’s greatest cricketer? Sir Donald Bradman, Sir Hubert Opperman or Walter Lindrum?” A new test has been implemented in recent weeks, following a review initiated early last year by Australia’s new Labour-led government.

This article was produced in association with the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

“YOU HAVE to get references, clearances from the gardaí, get your identification verified and notarised by a solicitor, fill out forms, and then you submit your application,” says Marie McPeak, a Californian native who is about to get the ball rolling on her bid to secure citizenship in the country where she has lived for the past seven years.

McPeak came to Ireland via the UK in April 2002, initially for a four-month period, but she settled quickly and soon decided that Ireland was somewhere she would like to stay long- term. She secured employment in a travel agency, which helped her to remain in Ireland through the work permit system.

However, the lack of flexibility in that system (visas are tied to individual employers) became a sticking point.

“It is frustrating more than anything because I’ve stayed in the same job since I first arrived in Ireland in part because it’s tied to my work permit. It’s hard to take risks and you can’t freely move amongst employers,” she says.

Residency didn’t come quickly for McPeak. She recalls: “I had to wait until July of last year for residency – I applied for it in August 2007.”

McPeak is regularly reminded of one of the key advantages of citizenship when returning from trips to the US.

“Because I don’t have Irish citizenship I have to come in through the ‘non-EU’ line and that can be a lengthy wait sometimes.”

Although ease of travel is one factor, there is a whole range of other reasons why McPeak feels citizenship is a goal worth pursuing.

“For most people who apply, I think their main motivation is the freedom it gives you to move around the EU,” she says. “You don’t have to worry about visas so much and obviously you can work anywhere.

“For me personally, though, I see it as a kind of right. I have lived here for a long time and I intend to stay here permanently. It’s much better for me to have citizenship rather than having to renew a residency visa every five years.”

Although McPeak’s surname may hint at Celtic origins, she has no immediate family here. However, she feels she has carved out a life for herself in Ireland.

“I don’t have family here but I have a lot of really close friends and they are like my surrogate family. I also have a boyfriend here and we have been together for quite a long time.”

Although open to the idea of working abroad, for McPeak, Ireland has become home.

She adds: “I’m firmly entrenched here. I would consider moving on if there were better opportunities elsewhere but I love it here and I don’t really have any intention of leaving on a permanent basis.

“Even if I did go and work elsewhere for a while, I think I would always come back to Ireland.”

For the time being, the wait is on to see if the US-born Wicklow resident will ultimately be granted citizenship in her adopted country. But even if she does receive a letter from the Department of Justice stating that her application has been accepted, there are still further steps to be taken.

“You have to take an oath to the Irish State as part of a ceremony,” says McPeak. “There is also a fee involved in getting over the final hurdle and receiving your actual passport.”

Until then, the process of becoming Irish – independent of bureaucratic approval – will continue. As McPeak points out: “When I am here people say I am American, but every time I go home people say I am Irish!”

FOR THOSE who come from developing countries, applying for Irish citizenship is a rite of passage for almost every one of them. And it’s the opportunities and security that citizenship brings that makes the drawn-out process worthwhile.

Ernest Bishop from Sierra Leone can tell you all about that. Having lived in Ireland for six years, Bishop is thoroughly involved with the local community and is a strong advocate for equality and anti-racism. He is coordinator of both the Galway City Anti-Racism Strategy and of Community Development at Galway City Partnership.

Bishop talks regularly to groups about the issues of diversity and equality, and the importance of implementing more initiatives than are presently set out by the

Equality Authority.

With a background in accountancy, he has previously worked in Doras Luimni as a finance/outreach worker and was chair of Integrating Ireland from 2003 to 2005. Five months ago, he applied for citizenship.

“I am settled here and want to live a natural, normal life,” he says of why he decided to apply. “You have more rights as a citizen.”

The procedure so far has been straightforward, he notes. “I got the forms from the Citizens Information Centre; anyone can go in there and request information. I filled them out and got them signed. You need a few Irish references, for example employers or people in the local community.

“I’m not sure what the next step will be,” he adds. “I’m just waiting to hear from them.”

                                                                                                Additional reporting by Sarah Freeman

‘What’s the process?’

The supporting documents required for a citizenship application include evidence of identity and nationality (long- form birth certificate and pass- port, national identity card or travel document) and, if married, a marriage certificate.

Applicants must also produce documents relating to their status and the duration of their stay in the State (Garda registration, declaration of refugee status, work permit or the like).

If an application for naturalisation is based on a relation- ship to an Irish citizen, the applicant needs to produce the documents to show that person’s status and the relationship to that person (such as their birth certificate).

As well as these, applicants must produce documents relevant to their financial and employment status (payslips and bank statements for the previous three months) and confirmation of their income tax situation.

Applications must be witnessed before they are signed. The instructions as to who can be a witness are noted on the form itself.

The receipt of application and accompanying documentation is normally acknowledged within 15 working days. Forms completed incorrectly are returned to the applicant for resubmission.

When an application is accepted, applicants are given a reference number which should be quoted when making queries either by phone or in writing.

Applications are processed on a first come, first served basis. On average, applications are taking 22 months – almost two years – to process.

As soon as the Minister for Justice has made a decision on an application, the applicant will be informed by registered post.

When the minister approves an application, the letter notifying of this decision will contain instructions regarding final procedures that must be completed prior to the issue of a certificate of naturalisation. These include swearing an oath of fidelity to the nation and loyalty to the State (usually done before a judge of the District Court).

On finalisation of the appropriate procedures, a certificate of naturalisation will normally be issued within 30 days.

Successful applicants are Irish citizens with effect from the date of issue of the certificate, and can apply to the Department of Foreign Affairs for an Irish passport any time after that date.

This article was produced in association with the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

Interest in European elections is traditionally low, but not in Ireland, where political and economic crises have animated voters. Meanwhile, in local elections, also on 5 June, the immigrant community has become a vibrant new force.

“The worst thing is the war,” says Anna Rooney, simply. All around her, these past months, people have been losing jobs, closing businesses, cutting budgets. The national conversation has been dominated by talk of recession and straitened times.

Anna Rooney, however, has an alternative perspective. “When you go through the war, your eyes are opened differently.” Standing in this small village on the southern side of the border with Northern Ireland, with her local surname, hint of a local accent, and shock of reddish hair (closer inspection shows it to be purple), an outsider might think Rooney to be talking about what Irish people have always euphemistically referred to as “the Troubles”, the long history of Irish civil conflict for which the border is the totem.

Rooney did grow up on a contested border, but it wasn’t this one. Hers was in the Soviet Union. An ethnic Armenian, with a grandfather from Ukraine, she grew up in the contested province of Abkhazia in Georgia, later moving across the border to the Russian resort town of Sochi. When war broke out between Abkhazian separatists and Georgia in 1992, Rooney’s family were lucky to escape unharmed. But they were scarred in other ways. “Suddenly, we had nothing.”

They succeeded in starting over, and the experience was formative for her. So now she says: “We can get through this crisis. Everybody just has to find the strength.” Rooney exudes strength. In the Soviet education system, she says, they were taught to be leaders. She makes a wry comparison with the Irish Catholic education system, in which the Catholic sacraments mark the key staging posts of childhood: “You have Communion and Confirmation [sacraments of initiation into the Catholic Church]. We had the same – but with a political side to it.”

A date with destiny

In the late 1990s, with the internet still in its infancy in Russia, a friend of Rooney’s put her details up on a dating website. The first Rooney knew of it was when she was phoned one day by an Irishman. Intrigued, she allowed him phone her again. They struck up an email correspondence, and a relationship flourished. He visited. Soon, she was flying to Ireland for “a weddin’” (she says it with a local accent).

Immigration was a relatively new phenomenon in Ireland then. Rooney’s husband ran a shop and petrol station on the town square. “People were coming into the shop just to look at me.” Many in the town were involved with a charity that brought children from Chernobyl to Ireland for respite and holidays, and soon Rooney found herself translating Christmas and birthday cards from locals to their young friends in Belarus.

Rooney’s instincts led her to get involved in local initiatives, and her professional experience led her to set up a multilingual business services company. Then, early this year, politics intruded. Fianna Fáil, the party in government since 1997, asked her to stand for them in the local elections, on 5 June.

Fianna Fáil is currently at a historic low in the polls, as the country, and notably the media, has blamed the party for the recession, holding it to account for the “boom and bust”, pro-cyclical economic policies that it flaunted in good times. But for Rooney, the choice of party was reflexive. “The people who helped me when I arrived, they all were Fianna Fáil. My choice was based on personal experience. They asked me, and I’m honoured to be asked to represent.”

She sees, too, opportunity in crisis. “Look at what’s happened the last five years: we’re all on the go; unless you text somebody, you can’t visit them; every minute is written down. We lost our community values. Maybe we have to go back to ‘community’.”

Behind her, the window of her shop is grimy, the newspapers on the floor inside are old, and the door is locked. A new petrol station on the outskirts of this small town, Clones, undercut the Rooneys’ petrol pump, and the new phenomenon of cross-border shopping, as Southerners take advantage of the weakened British pound to buy goods cheaper in Northern Ireland, hit shop sales. The shop closed – temporarily, she insists.

In the meantime, there is politics, and one impact of her involvement is a new awareness of her identity. “Until about three months ago, I never felt that I was a ‘foreign national’.”   Suddenly, though, Rooney’s own story was part of a larger one: there are an unprecedented 38 immigrants running in these local elections, from countries as diverse as Colombia, Moldova, Pakistan and Zimbabwe.

Winning the immigrant vote

For many of those candidates, their hope of election is a forlorn one: reliant on a vote from their own communities, they will be stifled by low voter registration amongst immigrants generally. According to one independent candidate in Limerick, Pat O’Sullivan (an Irishman running in large part on an “integration” agenda), the political parties are running immigrant candidates as “sweepers”, intended to bring out an immigrant vote that will transfer to the party’s lead candidates, while the candidates themselves are being unfairly “led on” by the parties to believe that they have a realistic chance.

The charge hardly applies to Rooney, who has a remarkable degree of local involvement, and will be less reliant than many of the others on an “immigrant vote”. Still, she knows that the vote is there to be taken, and has been involved in voter registration drives among the immigrant communities.

With an immigrant population estimated at around 10% of the total population, or 420,000, the political parties are belatedly awakening to the fact that this could become an influential constituency – particularly in the local elections, in which any registered resident is entitled to vote. Voter registration drives have been a prominent feature of individual candidates’ campaigns. At the last election to Letterkenny Town Council, in the north west of the country, the final seat was won by a margin of one vote – a striking lesson in the importance of getting out the vote.

Michael Abiola-Phillips, running for a seat for the main opposition party, Fine Gael, has been driving people around town to get their voter registration forms signed and delivered on time. Abiola-Phillips is part of a five-man team running for Fine Gael, and there is no sign of “sweeper” cynicism here: the campaign is being run with apparent military efficiency from a large HQ on the main street, and a long list of housing estates on a whiteboard tells each candidate which needs to be canvassed each night. (The length of the list is testament to the huge economic and population growth in this traditionally remote part of the country, during the recent “boom” years.) When not pounding the streets of local housing estates, Abiola-Phillips is courting the multiple local African churches, another sign of demographic change.

This he does, unusually, by day; by night, he works as a mobile security guard, driving alone around Letterkenny’s business parks. He returns home at 7am, sleeps for two hours, gets up to canvass, and catches another two hours’ sleep before work that night. A former student activist in Nigeria and a political analyst, his enthusiasm for Irish democracy is almost infectious. Being elected, he says, would be “a way to set the standard for other immigrants coming behind me”.

Some candidates prefer to downplay their “immigrant” identity, and portray it as incidental to their politics. More commonly, though, the rhetoric of immigrant leadership and civic participation is prominent. Were one to pick a place in Dublin in which to canvass and mobilise an immigrant vote, it would be Moore Street. The city’s old market street became in recent years a beacon of multiculturalism, because of its unique mix of “old Dublin”, working-class street traders, and “new Irish” immigrant businesses, attracted by the low rents.

South African Paddy Maphoso runs his security-training business from a stand in the new mall on the street (between the mobile phone unlocking booth and the Lithuanian supermarket), and this has become his campaign HQ. As we talk, he accosts a passing Irishman in a builder’s jacket, with tattoos on his forearms: a lost cause, I assume. “I’ve voted Fianna Fáil all my life,” says the man, Kevin. “Never again. They sold us out.”

By the time Maphoso is finished with him, they’ve swapped phone numbers, and Kevin has offered to bring him canvassing in his area, the traditionally rough inner-city community of Ballybough. What will Kevin’s neighbours make of an African candidate calling to the door, I ask. “No problem,” he says. “New faces are what we need.”

I watch Maphoso canvass a bewildering array of nationalities, constantly pressing home the point, “you’re entitled to vote”, as he presses registration forms into their hands. He seems to count each of these as a definite registration, and a likely vote, and is confident of being elected. This area of Dublin has one of the highest immigrant populations in the country: hypothetically, they could swing the election. But the pleasant, noncommittal (or simply confused) faces that I watch listen to his pitch suggest that, though there may be an unprecedented number of immigrant candidates at this election, there is yet to emerge a tangible immigrant constituency.

“At least I’ll be counted amongst those who tried to make a difference,” says Maphoso. “In 2009, I stood out and tried to make a change.”

LMD ENGLISH EDITION EXCLUSIVE

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

“WE were taught to be leaders,” says Anna Rooney. “You have Communion and Confirmation. We had the same – but with a political side to it.”

Rooney, despite her Irish surname and touch of a Cavan accent, grew up in the Soviet education system, in the disputed province of Abkhazia next to Georgia. Leadership wasn’t all that she learned. In 1992, war broke out between Abkhazian separatists and Georgia.

“Suddenly, we had nothing.” Her family had by then moved across the border, into Russia, and were lucky to escape the worst of the fighting. But their economic prospects were destroyed and they had to start over. That gives Rooney a distinctive perspective on the current recession.

“The worst thing is the war. When you go through the war, your eyes are opened differently. We can get through this crisis. Everybody just has to find the strength.

“Look at what’s happened the last five years: we’re all on the go; unless you text somebody, you can’t visit them; every minute is written down. We lost our community values. Maybe we have to go back to ‘community’.”

Rooney moved to Clones, Co Cavan, nine years ago, following a whirlwind romance, conducted largely online, with a local man. A translator by profession, she threw herself into local community activities, and eventually set up a company offering multilingual and integration training services. Then, a few months ago, Fianna Fáil asked her to stand for Clones Town Council. The answer was obvious.

“The people who helped me when I arrived, they all were Fianna Fáil.” She was “honoured to be asked to represent”.

The campaign, though, has brought a new awareness of her identity.

“Until about three months ago, I never felt that I was a ‘foreign national’.”

Suddenly, Rooney is part of a larger trend. There are an unprecedented 38 immigrants running in these local elections, from countries as diverse as Colombia, Moldova, Pakistan and Zimbabwe.

For many of those candidates, their hope of election is a forlorn one: reliant on a vote from their own communities, they will be stifled by low voter registration among immigrants generally.

On the doorsteps in Letterkenny, Co Donegal, the reception given to each of two, rival Nigerian candidates is, indeed, impeccably polite.  Stella Oladapo, a claims examiner with a multinational insurer, goes door-to-door, alone, while one of her daughters waits patiently in the car. At home, her 10-year-old daughter is minding the baby, while her husband works the late shift in another multinational.

Oladapo originally joined the Blaneys’ Independent Fianna Fáil organisation, because Niall Blaney had been “so supportive” when she arrived in Letterkenny first, and she subsequently followed Blaney into the party proper.

Oladapo’s campaign strategy is contained in a clutch of hand-written foolscap pages: a list of 400 names of everybody she knows in Letterkenny, “friends, and friends of friends”. (The quota here in 2004 was just under 600.)

“I went street by street through the register, and if I spotted a name that I knew, I wrote it down, and visited them. The majority of the people here will give me their number-one votes.”

Oladapo’s rival, for the Nigerian vote at least, is Michael Abiola-Phillips, running for Fine Gael, whose most distinctive campaign innovation is a white bib, worn over his suit, with his name and logo, and matching baseball cap.

Abiola-Phillips has courted the immigrant vote, targeting the local African churches in particular. But he also appears well integrated into an unusually cohesive party strategy in the town. Most of their promotional materials give equal space to all five candidates, and the canvass is being mapped out on a large whiteboard in the Fine Gael HQ with a long list of housing estates to be canvassed in turn.

Abiola-Phillips canvasses by day; he works by night, as a mobile security guard, sleeping for two hours in the morning and two hours again before starting his nightshift. Walking through one of the local estates, mid-morning, successive doors open to give him a polite nod and take his flyer with a “thank you”. He always asks for a vote or high preference, and takes people at their word when they say they’ll do what they can.

“He seems a nice critter,” says Veronica Gallagher as Abiola-Phillips walks on down the road. “He has a good personality. As we always said around here, a smile carries farther than a frown.

“There’s only one problem: they’re not here that long. They don’t know the swing of things.”

For Abiola-Phillips, though, the issue is as much about offering leadership to his own community as representing the indigenous one. Being elected, he says, would be “a way to set the standard for other immigrants coming behind me”. In that, he echoes Paddy Maphoso in Dublin.

“At least I’ll be counted among those who tried to make a difference,” says Maphoso. “In 2009, I stood out and tried to make a change.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS) 

By Emilia Marchelewska

FIANNA FÁIL’S Ala Olsevska has caused a stir in Portlaoise with an election manifesto some call “controversial”.

But the Lithuanian – who works as a chef in a local hotel, and speaks an incredible six languages – is taking it in her stride, referring to her programme as “a bit different but concrete”, and is very assured and passionate about her ideas.

One of the main issues Olsevska plans to tackle is the Irish heath care system, which she describes as very expensive and not sufficiently staffed by specialists.

“Reform is badly needed and it will happen soon, but it doesn’t solve the immediate problems, problems of people who are sick now, without private heath insurance and who are put on the long waiting lists.”

When her son became ill some time ago, the family were ask to wait a whole year for proper treatment. “I was so shocked, I cried,” she recalls.

Olsevska’s solution to this problem is to organise treatment trips abroad for local people in need. Her idea is that those requiring specific medical treatments and check-ups could easily be treated in other EU countries where medical care is more efficient. 

Could this audacious plan attract votes? She admits that younger people have described her idea as medical tourism, but “people who suffer health problems, who don’t have work, don’t have money say ‘Yes, help us now.’”

Indeed, she was initially surprised by the positive response. “I think it is a good idea for this very time.”

Olsevska’s other plans include a call for the development of a large-scale solar energy system to reduce fuels costs and pollution. She admits that this requires a major change in people’s thinking, and might not make her very popular, though she maintains it is an important issue for the future, and could even lead to job creation.

Further points on Olsevska’s programme revolve around children and culture. With long term experience as a professional dancer and choreographer in her native Lithuania, she says she recognises “the bug in people that makes them want to dance, to sing and to draw.”

She dreams about starting a multicultural centre where people could engage in all forms of cultural activity and experience the cultures of the many different nations represented in Portlaoise today.

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

By Viktor Posudnevsky

LIFE-LONG Fine Gael supporter Jim D’Arcy has been a Dundalk county councilor for the last 10 years and also contested the 2007 general elections. The experienced politician sounds like he’s got every- thing planned out.

“Considering the quality of herself as a candidate,” he says of his running mate, Benedicta Attoh, “and taking into account the dynamics of this election, there is a realistic chance of taking two seats. It would be a disappointment to lose this opportunity.”

Nigerian-born Attoh is D’Arcy’s running mate on the Fine Gael ticket in the Dundalk South constituency. With Fianna Fáil expected to fare badly, Attoh now looks almost certain to win a seat on the back of transfer votes from D’Arcy, who is highly popular in the area. But there are potential pitfalls ahead.

“It’s very important that she gets a lot of first preference votes,” says D’Arcy. The worry is that if Attoh doesn’t get enough first preference votes, she might fall out of the race too early and fail to capitalise on the transfer vote from D’Arcy, who is poised to win by a big margin.

D’Arcy says only “around six per cent” of registered voters in Dundalk South are immigrants. “I’ve got this number from studying the latest register of voters,” he explains. “There are many more immigrants living in the area, no doubt. But a lot of them are not registered, and then there’s a lot of mobility as well.”

Even if all six per cent were to support Attoh unanimously, victory for her would not be realistic, he says. “There’s a good chance of getting elected, but Benedicta also has to reach out to the Irish community.”

Attoh herself realises that she must act as a representative for the whole community. “I am not an ‘immigrant’ candidate,” she says. “I will represent all, and the support I’m getting is across the board.”

In order to secure an even number of first preference votes, the two have devised a canvassing strategy. D’Arcy is taking in the rural areas of the constituency, while Attoh competes for voters in town. When D’Arcy is not busy campaigning on his own behalf, he helps the Nigerian in trying to persuade as many people as possible to vote for her.

“I was impressed by Benedicta’s abilities, talents and her grasp of issues,” says D’Arcy, explaining his choice of running mate. “I see her as a Dundalk person who happens to be born in Nigeria.”

In 2004 Attoh ran in the local elections as an independent, after finding out she could be a candidate just three weeks before polling say. She didn’t get the seat, but was approached by several political parties, finally choosing Fine Gael.

“I am determined to win and so is Jim D’Arcy,” says Attoh. “I’m putting in hard work, commitment and perseverance. Having taken part in elections before, this time I am positive.”

The Nigerian activist says she sees her future in politics. “Politics is a call to service and I want to build a political career in Ireland,” she enthuses.

D’Arcy also sees brighter things ahead for his running mate: “I don’t think she’ll stop at local elections.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

By Emilia Marchelewska

WHEN IRELAND’S borders were opened to the new EU accession states in 2004, it not only allowed immigrants from eastern and central Europe to fill gaps in the Irish labour market, but also brought in massive intellectual and skills potential.

People were slow to realise this at first, as new arrivals from Poland secured work mainly in low skilled jobs that belied their level of education.

Since then, however, many have moved up the career and social ladders, contributing more and more to their local communities. And this year, some will even be standing in the local elections. 

Katarzyna Gaborec is one of this new political breed, running for Fianna Fáil in Mullingar Town Council. And she already has some experi- ence in politics. After graduating in law in Poland, she worked at a legal office and she was involved in the European parliamentary campaign of Polish senator Ryszard Matusiak. Subsequently she stood in the Polish local elections herself. 

When first arrived in Ireland in 2007, Gaborec worked in a hotel and as a bartender before taking a position at a company that looks for investment opportunities in Poland. Today she not only takes care of its Irish office but also manages legal affairs in the Polish branch of the company.

Gaborec has since built strong links with the Polish community in Mullingar, setting up the local Polish association where she also provides a drop-in information service and legal advice.

“As a councillor I want new-comers to feel at home here, to be aware of their rights and entitlements and improve their access to information,” she says. “I also would like to facilitate integration of our community and work on further development of the town.”

Tomasz Askuntowicz is similarly settled into life in Ireland. He has been living in Tullamore for more than four years with his wife Barbara and their two children, Karolina (eight) and seven-year-old Kacper.  

He is well known in the local community as a businessman, and for his engagement with the 600-strong local Polish community.

Askuntowicz came to Ireland with little English. But while working he improved his language skills, got involved with the Tullamore Parish Council, did courses in interpreting and community development, organised several sport and cultural integration events and never said ‘no’ when he was asked for help.

“There are many Polish people here without [good] English,” he says. “I go with them to Garda stations, hospitals, health centres. I always give my phone number in case somebody needs help.”

Askuntowicz is standing for Fine Gael in an electoral area populated mainly by Polish, Lithuanians and Irish. One of his main goals is to improve relations between the different communities.

While canvassing, he discovered that the recession and alienation are big concerns among the local community.

“When people lose their jobs they feel lost and useless, become depressed,” he says. “I want to drag them out of homes and engage in volunteer work, and after work have maybe a grill party with an open fire as we do it in Poland.

“I would like to see more social clubs, mothers and children groups and more activities for children and teenagers – while some are into sports and attend hurling or football training a few times per week, many do not.”

Both Gaborec and Askuntowicz believe that it is not only Polish votes or immigrant votes that might get them elected, but also the desire for change and new ideas among the Irish.

“There are some people who have been councillors here for 15 or 20 years and people are not happy with their work, so this is an opportunity,” says Askuntowicz. But Gaborec is more circumspect: “I have the same chance as anybody else to be elected.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

By Viktor Posudnevsky

CLONES LOCAL election candidate Anna Rooney has urged voters to have a “stronger spirit”.

“When we overcome difficulties we become stronger,” says the Russian-born woman, who is running for a town council seat in Clones, Co Monaghan on the Fianna Fáil ticket. “Everyone is afraid now, but we need to summon our strength, maybe change something in our ways, and then just go.”

She adds that the Irish in particular have “forgotten how to survive” during the years of the economic boom.

Rooney is originally from Sochi in the south of Russia, but her family hails from Abkhazia, the breakaway region of Georgia that borders Russia and the Black Sea. The election candidate said many of her relatives were in Abkhazia during the bloody conflict there in 1991 and described the time as “an ordeal”.

“Many of the immigrants to Ireland have had to go through a lot, and maybe we can teach the Irish how to survive and be stronger,” she says.

Rooney has lived in the small Co Monaghan town since 2000, having followed her husband there. The pair met on the internet, and Rooney’s husband – who comes from a local family – had visited her in Russia twice before they got engaged and she moved to Ireland. The couple are now married and have two children.

Rooney has been active in a host of voluntary projects around Clones, and she also has her own business, Culture Link, which provides cultural and language training as well as business start-up courses.

The Russian chose to run with Fianna Fáil after being approached by the party three months ago.

“It’s true that everyone is blaming Fianna Fáil now, but their local representatives have helped me a lot in my voluntary work,” she says. “I know how they treat people and how they treat immigrants. I believe they’ve done a lot for the community.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

By Chinedu Onyejelem

LATE AFTERNOON on Sunday 17 May – just 18 days till the 5 June local elections – one would have expected Fine Gael’s Nigerian candidate in Mayo to be canvassing strongly for votes, or reflecting on his campaign strategies. But instead he is in Galway, studying.

“I am actually preparing for my final exams tomorrow, for a law degree in NUI Galway,” says Okey Williams Kalu, who has been driving between his home in Castlebar and the Galway campus every day for the last three years.

“I am happy with my ability to go back to college as a mature student to study law, which I always wanted to do – not withstanding the degrees I already have, and my responsibilities as a husband, father of four children, and a volunteer with seven different organisations in Mayo.”

Despite the challenge of his educational pursuits, Kalu took on the added challenge of running in the local elections during his final year. With a manifesto that includes working towards affordable childcare facilities, more affordable homes and good facilities for the elderly, he says he wants to be a strong voice for the people of Castlebar.

If elected, Kalu could become the first black councillor in the town. He will also be competing against another African, Eddie Kimpwene from DR Congo, who is contesting as an independent candidate.

And even ahead of the polls, Kalu has started working to fulfil his campaign promises. While in the local post office recently, he realised that the elderly were queuing for too long to access services.

“Some of them had difficulty standing for too long because of their age. Some of them wanted to buy only stamps or just to collect their entitlements,” he says. “I called on the post office to introduce a fast-track system for the elderly so that they would not have to be standing. I am glad that they have taken it on board. The post office has also brought in stamp vending machine as a result.”

When asked what kind of reaction he is getting when he is out canvassing, Kalu says he could not have been a candidate in any other constituency.

“People are very enthusiastic about my candidacy. The support I have received in Castlebar has been extremely tremendous. Myself and my family, on every door we knock at, they say they need new faces that will bring new ideas and also reflect the multicultural nature of Ireland.”

Even some apparently racist attitudes in the area – in some places, his face has been cut off Fine Gael’s group posters for the party’s six candidates – are not enough to get Kalu down.

Indeed, many in Castlebar – including Fine Gael’s leader Enda Kenny – are increasingly rating Kalu’s chances of getting in due of the contributions he is making in the community. The party’s heavyweights in the town, including Kenny’s wife Fionnuala, have all gone canvassing with him.

Speaking to Metro Éireann recently, Enda Kenny said he hoped Kalu would top the polls: “He is one of the six standing for the Town Council in Castlebar. He seems to be getting on pretty well with his campaign. He seems to be enjoying it and we’ll see how it’ll work out in the next few weeks.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

Three Nigerians are currently vying for votes in Mulhuddart - a constituency with a significant ethnic population - but it is far from certain if any of them will win a seat on 5 June. VIKTOR POSUDNEVSKY reports on the growing tension

According to the 2006 Census, around 20 per cent of Mulhuddart’s population were born outside Ireland. “But only a fraction of them are registered to vote,” notes Adeola Ogunsina, who is running as a local election candidate in the area with Fine Gael.

All three migrant candidates in the Mulhuddart constituency happen to come from Nigeria. And all three have conducted energetic registration drives in an effort to boost the number of migrant voters. According to Ogunsina, 5,000 residents are now registered to vote. “Even if there’s a turnout of 60 per cent. you can get a seat just on the back of that vote,” he says.

But it is far from certain that either Ogunsina or either of his Nigerian rivals will manage to secure voters’ preferences. The immigrant vote is divided, the candidates acknowledge, but all three maintain that this division is not based on nationality, but rather on politics.

“It’s perfectly normal to have three Nigerians running in one constituency,” says Ignatius Okafor, an independent candidate. “We’re all very different candidates and we represent different parties.”

Okafor chose to run as an independent because “party politics restricts you,” he says. “Currently no councillor wants to take responsibility for some very important issues in the area. That’s why I didn’t align myself to any of them.” These issues, he says, include careless development, lack of facilities and traffic chaos.

He says he works hard on his campaign and has already canvassed in more than 10,000 homes. “From what I heard at the doors and from the support I’m getting, I’m in a good position to get a seat,” he enthuses.

The third Nigerian is Fianna Fáil’s Idowu Olafimihan, who has worked with the party since 2004. At the local elections five years ago he campaigned for party candidate Michael Smyth, who lost at the polls. And with the tide now seeming to turn against the ‘soldiers of destiny’ across the country, Olafimihan admits he is in for a difficult ride.

“Everyone is complaining about Fianna Fail,” he says. “And I think people have a right to be angry. But the question is: what to do next? I think the Government is trying to find a solution.”

Olafimihan comes from Nigeria’s Yoruba tribe, as does Ogunsina, whereas Okafor is an Igbo. Both tribes are well represented in Mulhuddart, and some are expecting the vote to split accordingly. But Idowu Olafimihan dismisses this as “groundless speculation”.

“Modern politics is about real competence,” he says. “It’s about choosing the right person for the job. Creed, race or tribe is not relevant.” However, he hastens to add that many Igbo people are working in his campaign.

Ogunsina laments “the lack of unity” among immigrants in the area, and accuses some candidates of stirring tensions. Moreover, the lack of unity may even result in the failure of all three candidates, Ogunsina says.

“Now more than ever our community needs a representative in Irish politics. We can’t wait another five years. Yes, we come from different backgrounds, but the main issue for all of us is a better and fairer future for our children. That’s what should unite us.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

José Ospina (LAB) Cork South West - From Colombia, 61-year-old development consultant. In Ireland since 1996. Married with three children.

Idowu Olafimihan (FF) Fingal County Council - From Nigeria, 39-year-old running security business. In Ireland since 1999. Living with partner and children.

Stella Oladapo (FF) Leterkenny Town Council - From Nigeria, 37-year-old claims examiner for UnitedHealth Group. In Ireland since 2004. Married with four children.

Frances Soney-Ituen (IND) Athy Town Council - From Nigeria, 36-year-old corrosion engineer and founder of the Women’s Integrated Network (WIN). In Ireland since 2003. Married with two children.

Paul Osikoya (GRN) Tuam Town Council - From Nigeria, 45-year-old economist researching PhD at NUI Galway. In Ireland since 2000. Married with five children.

Okey Williams Kalu (FG) Castlebar Town Council - From Nigeria, 36-year-old law student. In Ireland since 2005. Married with four children.

Shaheen Ahmed (FF) South Dublin Co Council, Lucan - From Pakistan, 54-year-old businessman. In Ireland since 1981. Married with four children.

Tomasz Askuntowicz (FG) Tullamore Town Council - From Poland, 39-year-old fitter/welder. In Ireland since 2003. Married with two children.

Anna Banko (FF) Limerick East - From Poland, 30-year-old beautician. In Ireland since 2004. Single, no children.

Agnieszka Faltyn (FG) Templemore Town Council - From Poland, 29-year-old restaurant supervisor. In Ireland since 2006. Married with two children.

Katarzyna Gaborec (FF) Mullingar Town Council - From Poland, 26-year-old administrator in a construction company. In Ireland since 2007. Single, no children.

Anna Kulikowska (LAB) Shannon Town Council - From Poland, 35-year-old waiter. In Ireland since 2004. Single with one child.

Anna Michalska (FF) Kilkenny City Council - From Poland, 26-year-old health and safety instructor. In Ireland since 2004. Living with partner.

Wojciech Wisniewski (FF) Shannon Town Council - From Poland, 30-year-old assistant bar manager. In Ireland since 2004. Single, no children.

Alex Peter Ivanov (GRN) Bailieborough/Cootehill Town Council - From Russia, 37-year-old student at the Cavan Institute. In Ireland since 2000. Married with three children.

Anna Rooney (FF) Clones Town Council - From Russia, 35-year-old owner of Culture Link training agency. In Ireland since 2000. Married with two children.

Patrick Maphoso (IND) Dublin North Inner City - From South Africa, 40-year-old security consultant. In Ireland since 2001. Married with four children.

John Hardt (GRN) Kildare County Council - From the United States, 57-year-old homemaker. In Ireland since 1996. Married with three children.

Tendai Madondo (GRN) Tallaght South - From Zimbabwe, 33-year-old aid worker for Christian Aid. In Ireland since 2002. Married with three children.

Bartlomiej Bruzewicz (FG) Dublin North Inner City - From Poland, 30-year-old law graduate working for Group 4. In Ireland since 2006.

Eddie Kimpwene (IND) Castlebar Town Council - From DR Congo, 39-year-old owner of Fast Eddie Recruitment. In Ireland since 2000. Married with five children.

Baby Pereppadan (IND) Tallaght South - From India, 41-year-old area manager for Avon Cosmetics Ireland. In Ireland since 2000. Married with two children.

Ina Nemirskaite (FF) Carrickmacross Town Council - From Latvia, 35-year-old translator. In Ireland since 2002. Lives with partner and two children.

Kristina Jankaitiene (GRN) Carrickmacross Town Council - From Lithuania, 24-year-old homemaker. In Ireland since 2002. Married with two children.

Vilma Moceviciene (FG) Balbriggan Town Council - From Lithuania, 41-year-old receptionist at Citizen Information Service. In Ireland since 2002. Married with two children.

Ala Olsevska (FF) Portlaoise Town Council - From Lithuania, 39-year-old head chef at the Heritage Hotel, Killenard. In Ireland since 2000. Married with two children.

Elena Secas (LAB) Limerick East - From Moldova, 35-year-old MA student at University of Limerick. In Ireland since 2001. Married with one child.

Jan Rotte (LAB) Lismore Town Council - From the Netherlands, 59-year-old management consultant and Mayor of Lismore. In Ireland since 1997. Married with four children.

Michael Abiola-Phillips (FG) Letterkenny Town Council - From Nigeria, 44-year-old qualified teacher. In Ireland since 2002. Married with four children.

Rotimi Adebari (IND) Portlaoise Town Council/Laois Co Council - From Nigeria, 45-year-old intercultural consultant. In Ireland since 2000. Married with four children.

Festus Peters Asemota (IND) Cork County Council - From Nigeria, 46-year-old international lawyer. In Ireland since 2000. Married with four children.

Benedicta Attoh (FG) Dundalk South - From Nigeria, consultant on diversity management in her late 30s. In Ireland since 2000. Mother of six.

Yinka Dixon (GRN) Louth Co Council/Drogheda Borough Council - From Nigeria, 48-year-old lecturer with Dublin VEC. In Ireland since 1999. Married with children.

George Enyoazu (GRN) Dundalk Town Council - From Nigeria, 46-year-old self-employed salesman and MA student at DCU. In Ireland since 2001. Married with four children

Dr Taiwo Matthew (IND) Ennis Town Council - From Nigeria, 47-year-old public health specialist. In Ireland since 1999. Married with three children.

Philips Femi Obimah (GRN) Mullingar Town Council - From Nigeria, 35-year-old company owner and student at Trinity College. In Ireland since 2001. Separated with one child.

Adeola Ogunsina (FG) Fingal County Council - From Nigeria, economist in his late 30s. In Ireland since 2000. Married with children.

Ignatius Okafor (IND) Fingal County Council - From Nigeria, 39-year-old IT engineer at Temple Street Children’s Hospital. In Ireland since 2000. Married with two children.

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

Two immigrants, representing two different ethnic communities, are competing for votes in Tallaght South. But rather than see each other as rivals, they are looking to co-operate, they tell VIKTOR POSUDNEVSKY

ZIMBABWE-BORN Tendai Madondo and Baby Pereppadan from India wish each other well. In fact, they even appear to have made a pact to share votes. The Indian candidate has asked Indians in Tallaght to give their second preference to Madondo, while she is understood to have done the same for him with African voters.

“We are going together,” says Pereppadan. “My community is going to give her second preference.”

“I am looking forward to working with him,” adds Madondo. “It’s better than working against each other. We can achieve a lot more together.”

Both candidates will need all the support they can get if they are to succeed on polling day. On the face of it, Madondo is the more likely of the two to win a seat.

She certainly has the higher profile, having been courted by several political parties – among them Fianna Fáil, whose TD for Tallaght Conor Lenihan is known to have worked with her on a number of projects.

However, Madondo opted instead for the Green Party because it provided “a freer platform to speak on issues that are important for the community,” she explains. Yet some sources have described Madondo’s falling out with Fianna Fáil as “a mystery”.

Meanwhile Pereppadan, who is running as an independent, also has his strengths – not least of which being his unique first name.

“Most people are against parties now,” says the Indian, explaining the advantages of running as an independent. Furthermore, there is a “huge” number of Indians living in Tallaght, and Pereppadan is sure that up to 95 per cent of them will give their first preference to him.

“Unless they’re on holidays or working night shifts,” he adds.

And even though no political party supports his campaign in Ireland, Pereppadan has important backers abroad. He says the Indian Foreign Minister Pranjab Mukherjee has urged Indians and Malays living in Ireland to vote for him.

Pereppadan is working hard on his campaign, conducting intensive voter registration drives – he says he got more than 150 people to sign on the register in less than two weeks of canvassing.

And both candidates say apart from their own community’s support, they are also getting significant attention from the Irish share of the electorate.

“Right now what everybody wants is change,” says Madondo. “People want enthusiastic politicians; they don’t care that I’m a foreigner.”

“I don’t separate immigrants and Irish,” adds Pereppadan.  “I’m a candidate for everybody.”

Yet despite their confidence, the outcome of the 5 June elections is still highly uncertain – even for the more experienced politicians. For example, it is a fact that Tallaght’s immigrant population has increased dramatically in the last five years, but how many of the new arrivals will come out to vote?

“It’s a really hard one to call,” says Mayor of South Dublin Marie Corr, who is running as a local election candidate for Labour again this year.

“In 2004 a lot of immigrants were mobilised to vote because the citizenship referendum was due to take place that same year. Now, you just don’t know.”

Fianna Fáil Councilor John Hannon, who is also running this year, believes there will be a greater immigrant turnout than before because of the increased awareness of voting rights.

“It’s inevitable that both will get a number of votes from their groups,” says Cllr  Hannon of Madondo and Pereppadan’s chances. “But I don’t believe there will be ‘bloc voting’. I think many immigrants realise that it’s results that matter, not where the person is from.”

“I’d love to see Tendai and Baby do well,” says Cllr Corr.  “But most people now feel so angry and let down that for any candidate it’s going to be a struggle to get them to vote in the first place.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

Housing asylum seekers can be a lucrative sideshow for Irish businesspeople, and some have been accused of cutting costs to enhance profit margins

ASYLUM SEEKERS began coming to Ireland in significant numbers at the beginning of this decade, peaking at over 12,000 for 2002.

To cope with this phenomenon, the Irish Government chose a system of ‘direct provision’, whereby applicants for asylum would live at designated premises with meals provided – and without permission to work –while their claims were processed. Contracts are out-sourced to private operators by the Department of Justice’s Reception and Integration Agency (RIA), and for some, this had proven lucrative.

Mosney in Co Meath, owned by businessman Phelim McCloskey, is one of the bigger facilities. Its turnover for 2006 was €8,660,127, while the profit for that year, after providing for depreciation and taxation, was €633,612.

Mosney, which can accommodate over 800 residents, is generally described as one of the better-run facilities but has, along with other centres, come in for criticism.

In June, the Newbridge Asylum Seekers Support Group (NASSG) raised health concerns over the toothpaste bought in by management at the Eyre Powell hostel. The RIA, however, indicated that the toothpaste was sourced through a reputable supplier and presented no adverse health affects.

Mick Power of the NASSG, speaking to Metro Éireann at the time, said the issue was part of a wider problem. “The core of what we are saying to the RIA for the past God knows how long is that the system is wrong – the less food they eat, the more the profit for the operators.”

Sometimes, it must be added, protests at asylum seeker centres can be seen in the context of the social situation of the residents. Not allowed to work, many go stir crazy, and getting involved in disputes over food and conditions is a way of blowing off some steam.

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

A GROUP providing information for asylum seekers and refugees across the country has warned that homelessness for those awaiting a decision on their status is not acceptable.

“It is particularly unacceptable when a person who is internationally homeless ends up living on the streets because they have experienced difficulties in the accommodation centre in which they have been housed by the State,” said the Refugee Information Service (RIS).

Referring to a recent High Court case heard by Judge Hedigan, the organisation’s director Josephine Ahern told Metro Éireann: “The case shows exactly how easy it is for a person to become homeless. [Judge Hedigan] said that asylum seekers live in direct provision accommodation while their cases are being decided by Government and that if they experience difficulties with the management of these centres or with other residents, the State must ensure that the appropriate supports are in place so they do not end up on the streets.”

According to Ahern, the judge added that it is clearly “in no one’s interests to have asylum seekers living on the streets of Dublin or any other city in Ireland”.

In light of the growing numbers of homeless asylum seekers, Ahern said: “We have enough difficulties addressing the needs of the indigenous Irish population who suffer homelessness… There is no justification for the State to make decisions which leave people in even more vulnerable and precarious circumstances while they are in the asylum system.”

She continued: “We under- stand that the direct provision accommodation system is complex to manage and that there are many issues to deal with on a daily basis, but there is no reason for a person who has sought the protection of Ireland to end up homeless.”

Some people, Ahern said, are experiencing homelessness “because of poor mental health, addiction or because they have suffered a family breakdown and lack the supports necessary to work through their problems.”

She called for support for those who have found themselves homeless. “People with mental health difficulties are particularly vulnerable, and this is even more so the case when a person has fled their country because they fear persecution,” Ahern said.

“It is imperative that bodies such as the Homeless Agency, the Health Service Executive, local authorities and the RIA co-operate to ensure that when a person is identified as at risk of homelessness, and that the necessary supports are put in place to prevent them becoming homeless,” she added.

Photo: Bryan O’Brien

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

By Louise Browne

“YOU CANNOT control what happens to you, but you can control your attitude towards what happens to you, and in that, you will be mastering change rather than allowing it to master you.”

These words by the self-help guru Brian Tracy serve as an introduction to a fascinating project by residents of the Dun Gibbons Inn direct provision centre in Clifden, Co Galway.

The Clifden Asylum Seekers’ Community Online Newsletter (clifdenasc.blogspot.com) uses stories, photographs and humour to provide an insight into the real lives of asylum seekers.

Set up in July this year, the ‘blog’ website, according to Samuel Kirugumi, chair of the Dun Gibbons Residents’ Committee, was intended “to represent the residents by improving their well-being through empowerment, now and in the future.”

The idea for the site came courtesy of Brendan Smith, community education officer with NUI Galway, who approached Kirugumi about his proposal.

“Brendan works a lot with asylum seekers in relation to computers, and he came up with the idea to get a group of asylum centres together to create a website that would be able to communicate their message out there.”

Using the popular free Blogger service, the website was up and running in no time at all and, although still in its infancy, has been warmly welcomed by everyone involved, according to Kirugumi.

“The majority of the residents are very happy with it. Plus they have been very helpful in contributing material as well. They also give good feedback on what they’d like to see on the website.” An example of this, says Kirugumi, is the banner that shows the local time in Ireland, Algeria, Nigeria, Burundi and Kenya.

On a more personal level, the Kenyan native says: “I think it’s a great idea because it is not only seen within Ireland itself. We have a gadget which shows us where each and every person who views it [is located], what country they’re in or what continent, and I have been surprised to see we have got many visits from the United States and from as far away as Asia.

“So it’s not only helping here within the country of Ireland or in other centres, it’s internationally. We’ve got a lot of hits from all over the world, and it’s good to know we’re passing on our message.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

By Louise Browne

“EVERYWHERE we go we are just treated like dogs,” remarks Bettiel Lekhutile, an asylum seeker in Clifden, Co Galway. “When you have a dog you give it a bit of food for it to keep quiet. If you give it some shelter, it will keep quiet. So that’s how we are.”

Lekhutile, a resident at the Dun Gibbons Inn direct provision centre in Clifden, is discussing mental health issues facing asylum seekers on a daily basis, particularly the use of prescribed medication and alcohol to combat depression.

“Most of the people in this situation are on anti-depressants, and I’m one of them,” she says. “I have tried to avoid taking them for about a year, but I started taking them again about two nights ago because I was just in a situation whereby anything, any small thing [could set me off] and I would just sit up and cry.”

Her frustration stems from the everyday battles she faces, one being her son’s ongoing skin disorder.

“It is very depressing because in some circumstances you know that you are entitled to something, and then someone will tell you ‘You can’t do this,’” she says. “You just feel so belittled and wonder why you came to this country in the first place. So either you take anti-depressants or alcohol. 

“But at the end of the day, if you’ve tried to take away the depression using alcohol first, then you get anti-depressants, and sometimes you end up using both whether you like it or not.  But you don’t take anti-depressants by choice in the first place.”

Another health problem Lekhutile touches on is weight increase among the residents, particularly women.

“You look at them and you say ‘My God, you have gained so much weight’ and it’s because they are taking anti-depressants. And then people think that people in the hostels gain so much weight because they eat too much. But most of the time it’s because people are taking anti-depressants.”

Another voice of concern belongs to Dr Bernard Ruane, a general practitioner based in Tralee. 

“There is definitely a high incidence of depression among [asylum seekers]. They get more depressed the longer the wait, and most of the depression is due to idleness, which in turn causes physical and emotional isolation.

“It’s the waiting list that’s causing the trouble,” he says.

“I’m not sure that it’s got worse or not, but it’s definitely very obvious.  I think basically what we need to do is get the country to have a look in relation to work or courses so they can support themselves in society in general.

“Giving them food and lodgings is fine, but human beings need more than that to keep them happy, more than food and water. They need to have some place to go everyday to be active”.

Dr Ruane also feels the need to take heed of practice in other countries, particularly Canada, as a template towards changing Irish policy on the matter.

“I think the asylum issue should be put in with the Department of Employment and immigration [authorities] as other countries like Canada have done, as opposed to the Department of Justice,” he says.

“Nobody in Canada ever seemed to pay attention to asylum seekers because they were more or less accepted as part of the history of the country. In fact, politicians used to actually boast about the fact that the country was so good, that’s why all these people were coming to it.

“I’m not saying that we should transplant [the system] here because it is not always easy to transplant a solution from one country to another, but it’s definitely something to be looked at. [Canadian asylum seekers] were allowed to work and engage in social activities. They had to make special application, but it was an accepted part of a country which they contributed to, and people’s opinion of asylum seekers wasn’t one of negativity. Here, however, it is a very different story in many cases”.

Dr Ruane’s conviction stems from his daily experience, witnessing first-hand the mounting mental health problems among asylum seekers visiting his surgery.

Earlier this year, Dr Ruane put forward two motions at the Irish Medical Organisation AGM calling on the Department of Justice to review both the rights of asylum seekers to work or access education, and the procedures surrounding applications for citizenship, which can be a long and drawn-out process. The motions were passed unanimously by his colleagues.

Dr Ruane recalls: “I have to say that many doctors came up to me afterwards and said that it was something they had always wanted to say, but never actually had felt the courage to stand up and say it.

“The response was extremely positive, especially from colleagues and from patients as well. Most of the public didn’t realise that these people were not allowed to work.  They just presumed that they didn’t want to work.

“I didn’t get one voice of dissent,” he adds, “especially from patients here who were very positive towards it. Nobody objected to what I was saying; everyone was very supportive of it.”

What remains to be seen, however, is whether Dr Ruane’s outspokenness can achieve any tangible measure of assistance for the asylum seekers under his care.

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

Access to education is difficult for those within the direct provision system, as one former asylum seeker tells LOUISE BROWNE

“I KNOW THE reason they give behind it is ‘Why bother spending money on an asylum seeker when you’re not even sure if they will remain in the country?’ But at the same time, an asylum seeker who has been here for a long time deserves a life. It cannot be said or stressed enough that it is unfair to hold someone’s life down until whenever you choose to release them, because there is no going forward.”

These words from Susan (not her real name) are strong, heart-felt and weighted with sheer frustration at the lack of access to real and free education for Ireland’s adult asylum seekers. 

“I spent three years in the system,” she says. “Most people, when they come here, some would have English as their first language. But the only provision they make for education is for people to speak English. Other than that, you’re on your own.”

Undeterred, the Nigerian native took matters into her own hands, despite the potential pitfalls of losing her weekly allowance of €19.10.

“I did a post-grad course in Business Studies with one of the colleges, it was private and I had to pay as a foreign national. I probably paid three times above what a normal EU national would pay. I still owe the college a lot because I wasn’t able to keep up with my payments.

“However, if they ever got to know that you were in school, and wonder how you got the money, a lot of times the social welfare will stop your payment.

“As small as it may seem, for asylum seekers it is a lot of money because you need some change, money for transportation, support and the food you get at the hostel and accommodation. And although we complain seriously about it, at the end of the day it is also a huge support, so when I was in school I had to hide it until I finished my course.”

She adds: “The managers in the hostel kept asking me ‘Where do you go all the time?’ And I’d say I just go to an internet café to do an online course. I just told them something that would not give them a lead as to what I was doing. Because if they ever heard that I was doing that, they would be the first to report you. The managers are not supportive in any way. As a matter of fact I think they’re employed there to make sure you stay at the very bottom of the chain.

“There where so many other things I would have loved to do but I didn’t have the funds or the qualifications, because of my status as an asylum seeker, to receive education, and that is the case of many other asylum seekers.”

Susan’s initial joy at receiving her status has somewhat waned. “It was like magic, wave a wand and it’s there. But the funny thing is, since I came out of the system, having applied to different companies for jobs, they tell me even with all the experience I have, I’m not qualified enough.

“So those three years in the system had tied me down, and now I’ve been programmed to depend on social welfare. Why? Because I’m not qualified to do the job I would like to do.

“I want to move forward in my life but I’m unable to get it right now. Thanks to social welfare I’m back [looking for education] and it’s supporting me. I’m not happy about it, but I don’t have a choice.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

BELOW, the Department of Justice responds to our questions on the burning issues regarding direct provision:

Metro Éireann: How much did direct provision cost the State in 2007, and how much is projected for 2008?

Department of Justice: The cost to the State for the provision of such accommodation in the year 2007 was €83.262m. This expenditure included such services as pre-school services, utilities, transporting asylum seekers throughout the country under the system of dispersal, and miscellaneous expenditure. The likely expenditure outcome for the Reception and Integration Agency (RIA) in 2008 is €89.810m.

ME: Asylum seekers and campaigners are calling for the system to be scrapped because it breaches their human rights, including the right to education. Do you have any plans to review the system?

DJ: The direct provision system is fully in accordance with all national and international human rights obligations. Indeed, the system is on a par with, if not superior to, any system of accommodation for asylum seekers elsewhere in the EU.

ME: Many people in direct provision are qualified professionals who could be beneficial to this country during the present recession if they are allowed to work. Are there any plans to review the employment ban for asylum seekers so that they could contribute to society?

DJ: It is not proposed to allow asylum applicants to take up paid employment pending a final decision being made on their applications.

ME: It is several years now since the Government started paying an allowance to adult asylum seekers. Is there any possibility that this, as well as child benefit for asylum seeking children/children of asylum seekers could be reviewed upwards?

DJ: The Direct Provision system seeks to ensure that the accommodation and ancillary services provided by the State meet the requirements of asylum seekers in the period during which their applications for asylum are being processed. This system provides asylum seekers with full board accommodation free of utility or other costs. In addition to meeting these basic living costs, a direct provision allowance of €19.10 per adult and €9.60 per child was introduced some years ago. The direct provision allowance seeks to reflect the value of the above-mentioned services to the asylum seeker, and there are no plans to increase the allowance.

ME: Is there any reason why people are being regularly expelled from direct provision centres? We understand that at least 10 asylum seekers are affected every year.

DJ: The RIA provides accommodation for just under 7,000 asylum seekers at present, covering 94 nationalities. The system provides a safe environment, secure from worry about the need for food, shelter, health supports and education for their children. A very small percentage of asylum seekers behave in a manner which suggests that they have no desire to be pro- vided with this safe support. In a rare number of cases, such persons take it upon themselves to threaten the safety of their fellow residents, the staff at the centres, community welfare officers, health service providers and the local community which has embraced them.

All persons accommodated by the RIA are informed about what is expected of residents and what is unacceptable. The RIA cannot force persons to comply with these rules and procedures, but makes every effort to highlight, at an early stage, any breaches which may lead to a resident jeopardising the benefits of direct provision.

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

By Louise Browne

“WE WANT to work,” says an asylum-seeking couple from Kilkenny, who left their home in Gambia over eight years ago. “We are very, very frustrated. We can’t stress how frustrated we are in this system. It feels like we are just sitting about waiting to work.

“I have done many courses, such as an accounting course,” says the female of the couple, “but I can’t do anything with them. If you want a job, you have to get your status first.

“It is so very difficult to know that I am trained as an accountant back in Gambia, but I can’t do it here because my status does not allow it.”

Currently in Ireland there are thousands of asylum seekers who are left to occupy themselves while their applications are processed. For years in many cases, such applicants are forced to be a burden on society, but it is a situation that is not of their own making.

The Irish Refugee Council has consistently campaigned for asylum seekers to be given the right to work in this country.

The council’s policy, launched on World Refugee Day 2001, equates the right to work with the right to dignity, and calls for working rights to be granted to asylum seekers six months after their applications have been lodged.

This policy has been endorsed by Cori, Ibec, the ICTU and the INOU, among others. However, seven years on and not much seems to have changed, except that more and more trained and willing workers are left to fall deeper into the black hole of State bureaucracy.

“The problem here is that without your papers, you can’t work,” says the Gambian mother of three. “The only thing you can have is the social welfare and the needs of your kids met, but I don’t want money, I want to work.”

Educational courses for asylum seekers are also restricted, she says. “Fás courses are not open to us. I have asked and said that I would pay for courses and they still say no, I need my status.

“If I get my status I plan to go to Pitman [Training, for IT skills], but I can tell you that for those six months I will not be sitting down, as I have a lot of experience, so when I am through with that I can get a job of my own. All I want is to be my own business woman.”

For most asylum seekers, the frustration and the isolation of their situation are the main issue. The long delays in the decision-making process leave asylum seekers across Ireland in limbo, not knowing whether they are staying or going.

“We just want things to get moving so we can work,” the Gambian woman adds. “We don’t know anything, we don’t get any letters or phone calls about our application, nothing, so we don’t know if we are going or what the future holds at all really.

“We have settled into life here. Right now, though, we are not sure what will happen. We can’t do anything, I am a trained accountant, but I can’t move forward.”

Isolation from society is another problem that asylum seekers face. Without the right to work, it is difficult to make friends or socialise beyond their immediate environment in direct provision.

“It can be isolating, that is why my husband got involved in football tournaments as it gets them moving, and sometimes they go away for matches or to Dublin. It is great to get involved in a socialising team to get you out and busy,” says the Gambian.

“Luckily I have my family to keep me busy; most people are here alone, and it can be very isolating for them not being involved in society and not being able to work. All you can do is sit down, lie down, go to sleep, get up, eat, sit down again, day after day. No one can live like that.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

LOUISE BROWNE learns what one asylum seeker caught in the system believes the Government should do about the controversial ‘direct provision’ policy

“Scrap the whole system,” says Uche Odinukwe, a Nigerian asylum seeker living in a direct provision centre in Co Cork.

The mother of three says that life in such centres is extremely difficult, especially for single mothers.

“[It’s] three people to a room if you are single, but if you have a child you share with another, usually who has a child also, and bathroom facilities are shared. It is not spacious at all, there is always conflict. It is not a nice place to be for a mother and child.”

Odinukwe says one of the main problems she encounters is the total lack of privacy. “There is really no problem with security but there is with privacy. The adults could be dressing or something and people could just walk in – it’s the privacy that is missing.

“I have a boy, he is six, and I have to change and everything in front of him. He is beginning to see things and ask questions, and it is not his fault, but it is not fair.”

She also explains how these centres are no place to raise any children, let alone sick children. “We have people living here that are sick, such as my daughter who has a blood disorder, and another child also is here who has a heart condition, so it is a very difficult life.”

The direct provision centres which house Ireland’s asylum seekers are mixed accommodation complexes, usually made up of separate blocks for single men, single women and mothers with babies. Nasc, the Irish Immigrant Support Centre, has stated that they ultimately oppose these provisional centres, but with the lack of political interest in changing the sys- tem, they would like to see a number of improvements to the problems which Odinukwe has seen first-hand.

“There are lots of people that have been here for years,” she says. “One person I know has been here for eight years, some for five or six. It is just not healthy to live in such close quarters with people for that length of time.”

Nasc is also concerned about this issue. Asylum seekers in Ireland do not have the right to work or full time education, and those housed for long periods in direct provision  are showing signs of significant mental health problems such as depression, despair and loneliness.

“During the day we sometimes go out. A bus comes and brings us into town and then back again, which is the one good thing I can say,” says Odinukwe. “We try to stay busy, maybe go shopping. But it is difficult for children in these centres because they can’t go out and play or anything. It wouldn’t be safe to let them go off by themselves.”

Life for those who do eventually leave direct provision can also be difficult, explains Odinukwe. “Once people get out, they simply cannot function in the outside world. It takes time to adjust after leaving the centre and you are not living with lots of people.”

The Department of Justice says it has no plans to review the direct provision system as it currently stands. But Odinukwe believes the department must act now.

“If they are going to remove us, we should be removed early,” she says. “We shouldn’t just be left here for years. We can be waiting for up to six years to hear back on [an asylum] decision.

“It is something that cannot happen or be allowed go on anymore. People should be told sooner whether they are allowed in or out. That way, no children will have to see what it is like living in centres.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

People who have been legally resident in Ireland for over five years on the basis of work permit/work authorisation/ work visa conditions may apply to the Immigration Division of the Department of Justice for a five-year residency extension. In that con- text, they may also apply to be exempt from employment permit requirements. 

Long-term residence is granted on the basis that a non-EEA national has completed five years’ (60 months’) legal residence in the State on work permit conditions which is reflected in the corresponding Stamp 1 or Stamp 4 endorsements in a person’s passport, and not by the dates of commencement and expiry of each work permit.

The dependants of applicants who have been legally resident in the State for over five years may also apply for long-term residency. This particular long-term permission does not grant an exemption from employment permit requirements to such dependants. For further information visit www.inis.gov.ie/en/INIS/Pages/Long Term Residency

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

WHEN Anon-EEA national arrives in Ireland, they must register with the Garda National Immigration Bureau (GNIB). The bureau’s officer, upon examining their case, issues them one of the eight stamps which show the person’s immigration status.Here is what the different stamps mean:

Stamp 1

This stamp indicates that the per- son can work in Ireland if they have a valid work permit. It is also granted to people who hold a business permission to start or to engage in a business in Ireland.

Stamp 2

This stamp is given to non-EEA nationals who are attending a full-time course in Ireland of at least one year’s duration and leading to qualifications recognised by the Minister for Education and Science. Stamp 2 holders are allowed to work a maximum of 20 hours per week and up to 40 hours per week during academic holidays. The stamp is only valid until the holder finishes his/her course of study. In addition, non-EEA students who have graduated on or after 1 January 2007 with a primary, Master’s or doctorate degree from an Irish third-level institution and have a current GNIB Certificate of Registration may be permitted to apply for the Third Level Graduate Scheme. People who qualify under this scheme will be granted one non-renewable extension to their current student permission for a six- month period starting on the date upon which the person receives their examination results. The purpose of the permission to remain under this scheme is to seek employment and gain a ‘green card’ or work permit.

Stamp 2A

If the person’s academic course does not fit with the requirements for Stamp 2, they are given Stamp 2A, which does not allow them to take up any employment and which is only valid until the person finishes their course.

Stamp 3

This stamp indicates that the per- son cannot work or study full-time in Ireland. It is given to visitors; tourists, spouses and dependants of work permit holders, or those who come to Ireland for medical treatment. The stamp makes some holders totally dependent on the immigration status of their family in Ireland.

Stamp 4

This stamp indicates that the person is entitled to work in Ireland without a work permit. For many, obtaining this stamp is the first step towards getting a full Irish passport. The stamp is given to people on work visas/authorisations. It is also issued to the foreign-born spouses of Irish citizens, people who are granted asylum in Ireland, people with Irish-Born Child residency and people who have obtained long- term residency status. Temporarily registered doctors are also given Stamp 4.

Stamp 4 (EU FAM)

This stamp is issued to non-EEA nationals who are family members of EU citizens. Under the European Communities Regulations 2006, they can move to Ireland and live here with their families.

Stamp 5

This stamp is issued to non-EEA nationals who have lived in Ireland for at least eight years and who have been permitted by the Minister for Justice, Equality and Law Reform to stay in the State without condition as to time. People holding this stamp can work without a permit and they can freely engage in business.

Stamp 6

This stamp indicates that the holder is permitted to remain in Ireland without any condition. It is usually placed on foreign passports of Irish citizens who hold a dual citizenship so that both their passports show their entitlement to stay in Ireland in equal measure.

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

RESIDENCY CAN be withdrawn – but this would be an extremely rare move. 

According to the Department of Justice, it is unaware of any case in which it revoked a person’s residence status. If breaches are detected in one’s residency permission, however, it may not be renewed when the time comes.

According to the General Immigration Division at the Department of Justice, it grants extensions of permission to remain to non-EEA nationals who are legally resident in the

State, normally on a yearly basis and mostly in relation to people on work permit conditions. If a person breaches the rules of their stay, the division may decide not to re-grant permission when it comes up for renewal.

Those seeking renewals are expected to have complied with their previous immigration and employment permit conditions and be “of good character”. Parents of Irish-born children, who gained residency under the 2005 scheme are also required to show they are “economically viable” when seeking to extend their residency status in Ireland.

Citizenship can also be revoked, and the department is currently investigating three cases where this action may be taken.

Attaining citizenship through fraudulent means and disloyalty to the State are among the factors taken into account when considering the revocation of one’s Irish citizenship.

The Minister for Justice has also withdrawn refugee status from 16 people within the past five years. One reason for revocation of refugee status is if the recipient has voluntarily reestablished him or herself in the country that he or she left for fear of persecution.

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

LAST YEAR four couples, each consisting of a non-EU husband and a wife with EU citizenship, challenged the decision by the Department of Justice to deport the non-EU spouses in the European Court of Justice. Over a thousand letters “with intention to deport” were also sent out to other such couples in Ireland, and the case taken by the four married couples would set a precedent for everyone. 

All the non-EU spouses in these relationships were married to EU nationals who were not born in Ireland, but came to live and work there from other member states. Many of the non-EU spouses had either previously been unsuccessful asylum applicants, or their visas expired before they got married to the EU nationals.

The Department of Justice suspected them all of conducting false marriages to obtain residency rights in the State.

However, in a landmark ruling last summer, the European Court of Justice (ECJ) over- turned the Irish law enabling the State to deport the non-EU spouses in these marriages.

According to the ruling, by issuing the non-EU spouses notices “with intent to deport”,

Ireland was in breach of a fundamental EU directive allowing for free movement of EU citizens within the Union.

The ECJ ruled that EU citizens were free to move between any member states, and they were also free to take their family members with them. The fact that some of these family members were from outside the EU had no bearing on their right to accompany their EU husbands and wives.

The ruling, however, also said that Ireland was free to review its decisions as to whom it will grant permission to stay on a case-by-case basis. So for many couples, their future is still up in the air.

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

A NEAR two-year wait can be expected if you’re applying for long-term residency in Ireland. According to latest statistics released by the Department of Justice, files from people who submitted their long-term residency applications in March 2007 are “currently being processed”.

New applicants can also join a long line of some 8,000 people, all in the same boat. Those successful in attaining long-term residency are usually exempt from needing work permits ever again, and can plan for their future in Ireland.

Only people who have been legally resident in Ireland for over five years on the basis of work permit/authorisation/visa conditions may apply for the status, which is initially granted for five years.

The Department of Justice’s section dealing with residency applications is staffed by 23 civil servants, but “not all staff work exclusively on long-term residency”, said a department spokesperson.

Often confused with long- term residency, stamp 4 status exempts holders from needing a work permit to enter the employment market, but is only an interim measure.

Some parents of Irish-born scheme – mostly fathers who arrived in Ireland after their wives gave birth here.

One father, who did not wish to have his name disclosed, explained that he came to Ireland in September 2007 with a student visa. He journeyed here to join his family, who had residency under the Irish-Born Child programme, but was engaged in studies, completing an MSc.

Under regulations, he is permitted to work until the summer, but is currently waiting on a decision on his application for a stamp 4, which he is eager to get so he can support his family into the future.

“When I sent the application, they said they’ve received it and are having too many cases,” he said, with reference to the Department of Justice. “The situation is full of uncertainty, and one doesn’t know what to do.” However, he added that he believes the department has to be careful in handling such applications.

“To be candid, where there are rules, they have to be followed to the letter. They are only doing their work and need to follow it up step-by-step so they will not set any bad precedent.”

Nevertheless, he adds coyly: prepare to wait  “Justice delayed is justice denied.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

VISIT DUBLIN’S gay clubs, says Dil Wickremasinghe, and the intercultural mix will immediately stand out. “Go into Dragon or any of the gay bars and there’s more and more mixed couples – so many Filipinos and Africans, arms linked with an Irish lad.”

It’s “great to see”, continues Wickremasinghe, who is herself gay and originally from Sri Lanka. But it also poses questions for the present and the future: namely, whether the residency application system has streamlined procedures for gay immigrants who wish to apply to stay with a long-term resident or citizen here.

The short answer is that, at present, no specific system exists. Heterosexual spouses can apply for residency in Ireland on account of their marriage to a resident here, but same-sex couples hit stumbling blocks.

A spokesperson for the Department of Justice confirmed that evidence of a gay relationship can be taken into account when assessing residency applications, but it would just be one ingredient to consider. The example referred to was of someone who was in Ireland, and applying for residency on account of their accumulation of immigration stamps – if that person also submitted evidence of a relationship, it would be a factor to consider along with other information, the spokesperson explained.

According to Moninne Griffith, director of Marriage Equality, the situation is ambiguous and needs addressing.  “I do hear of couples being together for four years, and when they can show it, they can then get a stamp 4, but there’s no laws or written statements or anything you can go by,” she says.

The proposed Civil Partnership and Immigration, Residence and Protection bills will not resolve the situation, according to experts.

Dil Wickremasinghe, now working as an equality consultant, remembers her own experience when she came here with her Irish partner, Mo, who she had met in Bahrain.

“When we arrived in Ireland in 2000 we contacted various Government departments and immigration solicitors to understand what legal rights we had as a same-sex couple. We were particularly concerned how I being a non-EU National could remain in the country. The Government officials we spoke to were rather dismissive and bluntly declared ‘We don’t have laws for you people.’”

She had to frantically find an employer who could grant her a work permit – and only then was she on the pathway to residency. With work permits now thin on the ground, it is unclear what her situation would have been had she arrived nine years on.

Wickremasinghe and her partner were among the founders of Glue (Gay Lesbian Union Eire) and did encounter some understanding from officialdom as regards the situation.

“In 2005, Glue met the Minister of Justice and was able to secure residency for a number of same-sex couples on the basis of their relationship. We were one of them,” she recalls.

It remains to be seen what these tough economic times – and dearth of the employment opportunities that previously kept people legally resident in Ireland – will have in store of Ireland’s growing population of intercultural gay couples. But so far, the signs are good. According to the Immigrant Council of Ireland, residency applications from those in relevant same-sex relationships have been receiving favourable decisions.

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

The Dimbo family was at the centre of a famous test case on residency rights for parents of Irish-born children. Having moved out of asylum seeker accommodation in Dublin, CATHERINE REILLY reports from their new home in Leixlip – and discovers a family glad to have survived but struggling for work

IN THE Dimbo sitting room, a solitary framed photo sits on the mantel- piece. It’s not the usual fare: no wedding hats, confirmation suits or birthday balloons appear in an image capturing a happy trio on the day that time stopped standing still.

The photo shows Ethelbert and Ifedinma Dimbo alongside their Irish son George after they emerged from the Four Courts on 2 May last year. It was the day the five-judge Supreme Court ruled that the Minister for Justice had failed to give substantial reasons for his decision to issue deportation orders against the Dimbo parents and those of another Irish child, Chuka Paul Oguekwe.

“On that day, I was very, very happy about this country,” reveals Ethelbert. “The judicial system is there to fight for your rights – that shows that the country is good. I thank God today for the judges, I thank God.”

His wife Ifedinma came to Ireland to complete a Master’s degree in sociology at University College Cork in 1995, and was given residency in Ireland following George’s birth here in 1996, as was her legal entitlement. However, for personal family reasons she left Ireland in 1998, before returning with George in 2002, followed by husband Ethelbert a few months later.

She had expected that her residency status, based on having an Irish-born child, would be renewed as a matter of course. However, the Department of Justice treated the application as a fresh submission, not as a renewal, and refused it.

In early 2005, the Irish-Born Child residency scheme was briefly reopened as a last-gasp regularisation process for non- Irish parents who had Irish children before the change in citizenship legislation, which had been overwhelmingly voted for by the Irish people and brought into effect on 1 January 2005. But Ethelbert and Ifedinma were refused, as were hundreds of others, on the basis that they had not been continuously resident in the State since the birth of their child.

The Dimbos, at that stage penniless, decided to enter the asylum process as a last resort. For much of that time, they were based in one room at Hatch Hall asylum seeker hostel in Dublin, sustained only by the belief that they had to fight on behalf of their Irish son George, now a first year student at Marian College in Dublin.

The remarkably well-adjusted youngster is particularly intriguing as most of the children involved in the ‘IBC’ cases are babies or toddlers and unable to speak their minds. George, however, was active in demonstrations with his parents and in approaching politicians for help with his situation.

Indeed, when New York Times reporter Jason deParle visited Ireland in February last year to do an immigration- related feature, he based his entire piece on the Dimbos, describing them as “the kind of memorable figures who might have tumbled” from a Roddy Doyle book.

Following last May’s court decision, which ruled in their favour, the Dimbos were invited to apply for residency, which was granted. They moved out of the Hatch Hall accommodation centre last October. But what they hadn’t counted on when forced to stay economically idle during the boom years, was that their permission to work would coincide with one of the darkest eras in Ireland’s financial history.

“When we got the papers, things got very bad regarding jobs,” says Ethelbert, whose background is in mechanics. “It’s given me a big concern. It’s very, very difficult and I feel very bad about it.”

Wife Ifedinma adds: “We’ve gone to the employment office and they said ‘Look, there’s no jobs.' My husband said: ‘What if it’s cleaning?’ They said anything is not there, that people are being laid off everyday.”

The Nigerian woman is looking into the possibility of pursuing a PhD, examining migrants’ access to health services, and notes that she would probably be well down this road had court cases not interfered.

Despite the rough economic times, the Dimbos are enjoying their new life in Leixlip. It once again spotlights the Department of Justice’s decision to contest the Dimbo case, rather than let the few hundred affected applicants enter the labour and training market while times were still good.

The offshoot is that many recent grantees have their residency card in one hand, and nothing but social welfare benefits in the other. And as Ethelbert Dimbo points out, some residency holders – most notably single mothers and those without a second-level education – are prime candidates for long-term social welfare dependency. The institutional affects of asylum seeker accommodation will also have mental health consequences for significant numbers, he adds.

Overall, though, despite being in a difficult situation themselves, the Dimbos do have the advantage of being well educated and prepared to work below their qualification level when times are tough. “Any job,” says Ethelbert, “I’d take any job.”

They are also glad to be away from the asylum seeker accommodation which they compare to “an open prison”. Ifedinma comments: “In Hatch Hall, you would eat, sleep and wash according to the programme. Now everything you do is for yourself and nobody thinks for you.

“It’s up to you now to look for work as it is not healthy to survive on welfare – you are still circulating below the ladder, you haven’t started climbing... But you can’t stand still because there’s a recession. People are losing jobs, but some people are getting jobs. So you live with the hope that tomorrow will be better than today.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

ALEX (not his real name) from Ukraine says that he only started “to breathe freely” when he received his residency permission in November 2007. For the previous seven years, his life in Ireland was filled with uncertainty and fear. And what’s more, his Irish work colleagues frowned upon him because he would not support them in industrial disputes.

“When you’re working on a work permit you’re not in a position to argue,” says Alex, who works for a security company. “You’re at the mercy of your employer because if you lose your job you might have to leave the country.”

Satender Rauthan, a chef from India, comes from a background totally different to that of Alex, but he fully understands the Ukrainian’s predicament. Satender got his residency rights on 27 November last year after waiting for 22 months. “My life is so much more relaxed now,” he says. “Before I would worry a lot about what might happen to me and my family should I lose my job.

Both Alex and Satender applied for permanent residency after working in Ireland for five years on a work permit. But there are many other pathways leading to this status, which is the golden ticket for many non- EU immigrants. Jipe Kelly from Cameroon got his through the Irish-Born Child scheme.

“I waited for two-and-a-half years,” he says. “It took so long because there is a poor link between Ireland and Cameroon. The long wait was difficult, especially for my wife. She was very depressed at times.”

Jipe says the letter, when it finally arrived, took him completely by surprise. “Even now I get emotional when I remember that day. Needless to say, we celebrated. I organised a party and invited all my friends.”

In 2007 Ireland was ranked bottom of an EU-wide league table for not providing long-term residence rights for migrant workers. While Ireland’s citizenship laws wererecognised as fairly liberal, allowing a non-EU immigrant to apply for an Irish passport after five years in the country, there was virtually no other institute that would regularise the status of migrants in Ireland. And with excessively long processing times for many applications, immigrants often wait for up to eight years for their citizenship applications to be processed.

Denis Avdonin, an IT specialist from Russia, remembers how he got his residency rights in 2004: “I didn’t know that such a thing as long-term residency existed and I thought that the only way for me to become a permanent resident was through citizenship. Not many people knew about long-term residency back then and the number of applications was low.

“I think that’s the reason I got it so quick – in just three to four months. I found out about long-term residency from some information leaflet I picked up by chance. The Department of Justice didn’t advertise it enough.”

Denis explained it to his friends, and gradually awareness about long-term residency grew among the migrant communities. As a result, the queue of people waiting to obtain this status has almost matched the line queuing for citizenship. Satender says a friend who applied on the same day with him is still in the dark about when he will get his. Alex, who got his residency rights in 2007, waited 15 months before getting word.

“It’s getting longer and longer,” says Denis, referring to the waiting times. “I was lucky to get it so quick.

Did it change his life? “Not really,” he says. “I work in IT and changing jobs in this industry is not a problem even if you’re on a work permit. I think I would’ve got a different job anyway, but it could have taken longer.”

But for others, getting a more permanent status in their pass- port was a truly life-changing event.

“When I got it I felt that I could finally take care of my life,” says Jipe. Alex is similarly enthusiastic: “I’ve become much more confident about my life in Ireland. Now I can stand up for my rights together with my Irish colleagues. I think I’m going to join a trade union.

“I threw a big party,” remembers Satender. “I was the first among my Indian friends to get residency, most of them are still waiting, but they were all very happy for me. My life has improved a lot.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

International students shape a lucrative and growing industry for the third-level sector in Ireland. This internationalization of the Irish education service is supported by the higher education institutions, while the Government has backed huge marketing campaigns conducted by both the International Education Board Ireland and Enterprise Ireland.

Yet some educators say that the very overseas students that are courted by the State are in danger of having their human rights abused while residing here. The situation relates to international students with young children who are being told by the State that their children can be enrolled in private schools only.

After last year’s high-profile case of an American student in Galway going to court so that her son could attend a public primary school, the latest victims of the opaque student requirements have been told that they must prove they are paying private healthcare, have receipts for private schools for their children, and possess certain substantial amounts of cash lodged in their bank accounts.

“It is getting to the stage in this country that some children can go to school and some can’t, dependent on immigration rules,” one teacher, who preferred to remain anonymous, told this newspaper.

Private schools for primary children are rare in Ireland and would make this rule difficult to comply with. One international student who spoke with Metro Éireann said that they fear for their future. “We are students, myself and my wife, but we wanted our children here too. I am working parttime.”

The father, who wished to remain anonymous, said that when they went to the immigration office to renew their visas, they were told that the rules would be changing. They will have to wait until 31 July before they know if their visas will be renewed, they were informed.

“They told me ‘no problem for the moment’,” said the father, “but we do not know what will happen after that date. It is hard as we will not be able to afford private school fees for both our children if that is required. Also, the rules will change in July, just when it will be impossible to get letters from schools. We would not be able to continue our studies here. I am very worried.”

Hilkka Becker, the legal representative of Erin Britton, the aforementioned American student, said that although Britton had been told by the Government that her child’s education was to be provided privately before her visa could be renewed, the fact remained that they were trying to strictly enforce a policy that had not previously been enforced, and therefore Britton had no knowledge of it when planning her studies in Ireland.

“No actual judgement was made on the case,” says Becker, “so no precedent is made. The case affects policy in that the State has learnt from this in how to define policy this year but we will have to wait  and see in July what that will be.”

Becker adds that there could “still be an argument made for people who are already here  and halfway through their programmes of studies”.

Other educators have said that many of the students who need family reunification are caught between Government departments where there is “no joined up thinking and where the Department of Justice is acting like a gatekeeper”.

The Irish Council for International Students (Icos) promotes the welfare of international students in Ireland and has recently made a submission to Government on behalf of international students (in the context of the proposed Immigration, Residence and Protection Bill). Icos estimates that there are currently 27,000 international students enrolled at higher education institutions in Ireland with a value to the economy of over €370m.

Sheila Power, director of Icos, says that when an international student is from a country that doesn’t require a visa, problems can arise around lack of transparency and clarity in the rules. “If that student wants to bring a spouse or a child to live with them while they study the criteria is not clear,” says Power.

She suggests that a veil of uncertainty surrounds the exact requirements that international students must meet. “Students have to prove they can support themselves, but that level of support, and how they go about proving it, is not always apparent.”

Icos, in its submission at the committee stage of the Immigration, Residence and Protection Bill, has stated that “while acknowledging the Government’s intention to set down a comprehensive family reunification policy in the future, Icos feels that the failure to do so in the current bill is a missed opportunity. The right to reside with members of your immediate family is a fundamental human right as well as being an essential ingredient of successful integration.”

Power believes that international students should not be treated differently from other categories of immigrants in respect of family. The Icos submission emphasises that international students have “no entitlement” to bring spouses and dependent children to reside with them while they are studying in Ireland.

It continues: “This position is unsustainable in an increasingly complex and sophisticated international student market and at a time when we are competing with other countries to attract the most talented students and researchers to our shores.”

Power points out that many international students are on post-graduate programmes. “These are obviously more mature students who will have family considerations and their choice of Ireland as an educational destination will be heavily influenced by factors that will allow their families to reside with them while they study here.”

The services that the family can access, and whether a spouse can work, will also affect an international student’s decision. According to Icos, these questions remain unanswered in the bill.

“The legislation does not set out the rules in relation to international students clearly,” says Power. “There seems to be a parallel process going on. Intending students, some of whom have been offered scholarships, cannot make an informed decision about coming to Ireland, they cannot establish whether or not they can bring their children; the case in Galway is not isolated.”

Icos recommends looking to other countries for commonsense solutions. Responding to queries from Metro Éireann, a Department of Justice spokesperson agreed that a trend has been observed whereby some international students have come to Ireland precisely to allow their children access the State education system.

The spokesperson added: “A review of student immigration is currently being undertaken by the Department of Justice, Equality and Law Reform. The matter will then be discussed with other relevant departments. The intention ultimately is to set out a comprehensive regime for student immigration to Ireland. The issue of families will be addressed in this review. Any rule changes arising from this process will be published.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

A EUROPEAN Court of Justice (ECJ) decision on the residency rights of non-EU spouses married to EU nationals is imminent. The matter was referred to the ECJ in March by Justice Mary Finlay Geoghegan at Ireland’s High Court, and was heard at the ECJ on 3 June. A decision is expected next month.

An earlier High Court case, which was heard by Justice Michael Hanna, ruled against the residency rights of an Indian national married to an Estonian he had met in the UK (known as the Kumar case). The Indian national had a chequered immigration history. The Department of Justice declined his residency application (through marriage to an EU citizen/EU treaty rights) on the basis that he had not submitted evidence of lawful residence with his spouse in another EU member state before coming to Ireland. This requirement is part of a statutory instrument (secondary legislation) introduced by Ireland, known as SI 656/2006.

Justice Hanna upheld the Department of Justice’s adherence to the statutory instrument. That decision was appealed to the Supreme Court and is yet to be heard. Despite the existence of an EU directive issued in 2004 which states that non-EU family members of EU citizens should be automatically permitted to work and live in the EU, the Department of Justice has maintained that it is adhering to EU regulations.

In May 2007, following Justice Hanna’s judgement, hundreds of non-EU spouses of EU citizens in Ireland were issued with ‘notice of intention to deport’ letters. Asked if deportations were proceeding, a Department of Justice spokesperson commented: “It is important to note that these are cases in which the non-EEA applicant illegally entered the State in the first instance. These letters include a number of options for the individual concerned, one of which is the possibility of making further written representations to the Minister for Justice, Equality and Law Reform for permission to remain in the State.” The spokesperson said that deportations may proceed in cases where permission to remain is not granted, and that representations are currently under examination.

It is understood that non-EU applicants for residency through marriage – who applied while still legally resident in Ireland – have been issued with temporary residence permits. This is “by way of damage reduction”, one legal observer remarked to Metro Éireann. Cases have clogged up Irish courts, and many of those affected have attached damages claims, in view of lost salaries, for example.

Currently, the Department of Justice is considering approximately 1,100 applications for residency under EU treaty rights, approximately half of which provide evidence of prior legal residence in another EU country.

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

POLISH MAN Igor Kochajkiewicz (25) never thought that he would marry a girl from a small mountain kingdom in southern Africa, after meeting her thousands of miles away from his home. Yet this is precisely what he did.

But now his happiness with his wife Bubu Ndziba (23) from Lesotho is under threat. As is the case for thousands of non-EU nationals in Ireland living with their non-Irish EU spouses, Bubu has been serviced with a deportation notice by the Department of Justice. “When I got this letter I broke down,” says Bubu. “It’s the way they did it. Very insensitive; very harsh.” The letter addressed to Bubu in August last year and seen by Metro Éireann says, among other things: “You are a person whose deportation would, in the opinion of the minister, be conducive to the common good.”

It is estimated that around 2,000 similar letters were sent out to other married couples in an effort to combat sham marriages conducted by non-EU nationals to gain entry to or reside in Ireland. Both Bubu and Igor admit that their union is an unusual one, and to some people might sound like a scam – but the pair are adamant their marriage is genuine. “Of course it’s unusual,” says Igor. “I get it every day at work. People are asking me ‘What? Who’s your wife?’ But we’ve got to open up, do you know what I mean?” “I grew up with my step father being white, German,” adds Bubu. “My little brother is mixed. But here in this country, if a black and a white person are together, it’s like there’s already something going on. I think it’s more normal to see an Irish girl with a mixed kid and no father, than to see a couple like us who actually chose to get married.”

Bubu comes from a secure family background in Lesotho. She came to Ireland to study and claims she would have left the country long ago if she had not met Igor. Her husband has been in Ireland for three-and-a-half years. He speaks nearly perfect English and has already acquired a Dublin accent. There is self-irony and a great deal of enthusiasm in his voice. “I learned English at school and improved it over here. Thanks to Bu, now I’m speaking English constantly. Fighting with somebody in English is pretty hard, you know.”

His wife, who has been in Ireland for six years, also speaks with an Irish lilt. Despite the uncertainty that she faces and the long period of being in legal limbo, she has an air of cheerfulness and resilience about her.

“One of the worst things is that I can’t work,” she says. “So Igor’s got to be the only one working to pay this rent, which is proving to be hell for him. I can help him as much as I can as a wife, but that’s all I can do.” Igor has a background in journalism and was co-founder of Polska Gazeta, the first Polish-language publication in Ireland. However, now he works in construction because of the higher wages.

“We have a lot of hopes and dreams to fulfill. A lot of plans for the future,” he says. “But we’re kind of being put on hold by something bigger that we can’t overcome on our own. We’re counting the months, days until September.”

The predicament of Igor and Bubu, as well as other cases of non-EU nationals married to non-Irish EU nationals, is currently under review in the European Court of Justice. The court’s ruling will be delivered in August or September – only then can the couple expect some clarity regarding their situation.

“I can’t really dream until I know,” says Bubu. “I’ve got a lot of support from Irish people as well, but there’s nothing they can do.” She admits she gets depressed at times, but she is determined to keep herself going by enlisting in an array of free courses and volunteering in community groups.

The couple is critical of the Irish Government for putting them through these stressful times. “What exactly do they want to do to stop fake marriages?” asks Igor. “Do they want to see how long we last on one wage and with the downturn in the economy would we still be together? What’s the point of all this? If you can get a social worker to visit [the couples in question] and if they’re not living together then fine – scam. There’s easier ways. They don’t have to harm people like that.”

“I was shocked when I found out that there is a Minister for Integration,” says Bubu. “The Minister for Integration doesn’t know about me, and these are some of the things he should know about. As long as people like me are not free like everybody else, there’s always going to be a lack of integration.”

This article was produced by Metro Éireann and with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

IRISH CITIZENS are finding it more difficult to get their non-EU family members recognised by the State than Filipinos, it has emerged. Filipino professionals who are employed in Ireland under a Green Card experience very little difficulty in bringing their spouses and children over, sources in the Filipino community have confirmed.

Andrei Mendoza (32), originally from Manila, has been working in Ireland as an occupational therapist since 2001. His wife and their daughter joined him in 2003. “I had no problem getting my wife and children over to join me,” he said, though he pointed out that it is very difficult for a person in his situation to bring their parents over. “A friend of mine, who is legally working in Ireland, invited her mother from the Philippines to stay with her. I think that woman was approaching 70, but still she was only given a three-month visa. My friend couldn’t get a dependant status for her, and in three months she had to go back,” said Mendoza.

He also spoke of the importance of family reunification in Filipino culture: “That’s very vital in our culture. We’re more comfortable leaving our kids with grandparents than leaving them in crèches. If you know that your child is being looked after by a family member you’re going to be working much better because you know your child is in good hands. You’re going to be more efficient.”

Meanwhile, Irish citizens who are married to non-EU nationals are having difficulties getting their spouses recognised by the State, according to an opposition TD. Speaking at a recent Dáil committee debate, Fine Gael TD Denis Naughten praised the green card scheme, which allows holders to avail of speedy family reunification, but noted that the same rules do not apply to Irish citizens.

“Irish citizens are obliged to wait for long periods before their applications [for family reunification] are processed,” he said. “For example, I am familiar with the case of one of my constituents who has an American partner and whose child was born in Ireland. The individual in question is experiencing major difficulty in obtaining a residency visa for his partner.” Filipino consul in Ireland John Ferris agreed that family reunification is not affecting Filipinos as much as other immigration issues, most notably the long wait to obtain long-term residency status. “Ironically, the restrictions on family reunification hit the Irish people most,” he said.

At the Dáil committee debate in May, the Government appeared to be resolved not to amend its family reunification policy. Minister for Justice, Equality and Law Reform Dermot Ahern maintained: “We cannot have a situation where migration to Ireland by an individual leads irrevocably to movement of a larger number of family members.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

DENIS ANDRE met Angel eleven years ago, when they were both 17. They dated and during the courtship Angel became pregnant. Denis then had to woo her family with gifts and money, to prove he was worthy. By accepting these presents, Angel’s family showed their approval and the young couple were permitted to be married in a traditional ceremony. Part of this process involved family members giving the pair advice on married life, generally along the lines of ‘take the bad times with the good’. Denis says that as with any advice “you listen, but it depends on who is giving it whether you take it.” The couple had a daughter, Claudia, now aged nine.

Denis was working as a nurse in Angola at the time. It was discovered by his employers that he had helped some wounded Cabindan independence fighters with medicine and treatment. Cabinda is an enclave in Angola and is a disputed territory. Cabindans are claiming independence since the Portuguese colonialists left and as it is an oil rich region, Angola wants to keep it as its own. Although a treaty was signed in 2002 there has been continued resistance and fighting. Denis was removed from his post and found himself behind bars. While in prison he was advised to leave the country, and friends helped a fearful Denis to flee in 2003. He arrived in Dublin, applied for asylum and was moved to an asylum seeker centre in Galway. Back in Angola, his wife Angel and baby daughter Claudia had to leave the city and return to village life for some anonymity and protection. “It was very difficult for them too,” says Denis. “It is only through friends that we have a small amount of contact.”

Denis received refugee status and in January 2007 he applied to have his family join him in Ireland. Recognised refugees have a legal right and legislative passageway to apply for family reunification. But Denis, like so many others, encountered problems. “I was advised that a more official marriage must take place between myself and my wife in order for it to be recognised,” said Denis. “I could travel then, but not to Angola. So I was able to arrange to meet with my wife in Congo where we had an official certificate issued to us. Then I had all the paperwork and passports available to present for the family reunification. I was told that it would take a few months but had not heard anything at all after six months. I was told that my application was being sent to the Minister of Justice.”

A year and a half later, he is still waiting. “I do not know where I am in any queue or if there even is a queue. The worst part is just not knowing.” Denis has not seen his daughter in five years. He feels that while he is a patient man, the frustrations of the process are making life harder. “I do understand that paperwork must be processed and that each case needs to be assessed, but after three years in the asylum process, another two year without my family is incredibly tough. I do not know why it takes so long.”

As soon as Denis obtained his refugee status, he applied to the Galway-Mayo Institute of Technology (GMIT), where he did a one-year access course in nursing. He has recently moved to Dublin, where he believes he will have more opportunities. “Although I was a nurse for five years in Angola, I have to start again from the beginning here,” he explains. He says that the rigmarole of completing the IELTS (International English Lang-uage Testing System) course, undergoing interviews for the nursing programme, living in a bed-sit and starting from scratch would all be made more bearable if his wife and daughter were with him.

“A man and his wife are a team, and you do all this for your children. I don’t just want them by my side, I need them here. She is my wife and my life is her life.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

IT IS “too early to say” if Ireland’s ‘no’ vote on the Lisbon Treaty could undermine the future of the ‘blue card’ scheme here, the Department of Justice has said. The department has told Metro Éireann that it was not yet prepared to judge how Ireland’s rejection of the Lisbon Treaty would affect the implementation of EU common immigration policy in Ireland. In particular, no new decisions were taken in relation to the ‘blue card’ scheme for skilled migrants, which was announced last October.

The proposed ‘blue card’ would enable holders and their families to live, work and travel within the European Union. Applicants would be required to have a recognised diploma, at least three years’ professional experience and the offer of a job which could not be filled by an EU citizen. The card would give holders a renewable right to live and work anywhere in the EU, with permanent residency automatic after five consecutive years. The proposal to introduce the scheme was announced last October by the European Commission.

If it’s passed in the European Parliament, the ‘blue card’ will be adopted throughout the EU with the exception of Ireland, Britain and Denmark, which have negotiated special provisions and can decide whether or not to opt into the scheme.

A major survey published by the European Commission in the wake of the Lisbon Treaty referendum stated that immigration was one of the factors that made Irish people vote ‘no’. It is likely that Irish politicians would take this into consideration and oppose schemes that would make it easier for more migrants to come into the country.

Immigrant Council of Ireland senior solicitor Hilkka Becker commented that Ireland has already opted out of a number of pan-European agreements. “The ones Ireland did opt in for were nearly all restrictive measures,” she said. “I believe, in line with its previous decisions, Ireland will decide to opt out of this scheme.”

However, Becker expressed similar scepticism concerning the possibility of the scheme being passed by the European Parliament. “The indications I am getting from lawyers’ meetings are not so positive,” she said.

The European Commission has said that its ‘blue card’ proposal is designed to meet EU skills shortages in areas such as engineering, information technology, pharmaceuticals, healthcare and education, which have been exacerbated by Europe’s aging population. It is estimated that an extra 20 million workers will be required by the EU in the next 20 to 30 years.

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

With the dust settling after the Lisbon Treaty furore, other political issues which had been pushed off the radar are now returning to business in the Dáil. One piece of work that is still making its way through is the Immigration, Residence and Protection Bill. But in a fortnight that has seen the Minister for Justice, Dermot Ahern, fast-track a radical new piece of criminal law legislation, the long-awaited immigration bill is still only at committee stage.

The opposition parties and nearly 70 non-government organisations (NGOs) have dissected the bill and made their submissions, along with hundreds of proposed amendments, to the committee. The submissions can all be viewed online and many, but not all, are critical of the bill, arguing for amendments.

The picture at this stage looks as though the Government intends battening down the hatches with more restrictions. NGO submissions are generally preceded with the softener ‘we appreciate the need for an updating of immigration laws’, but then go on to demand more rights for migrants. The Government is saying that the State has the right to control inward migration and the NGOs are saying that the rules are too restrictive, too vague and violate human rights.

Although there is debate, the Government will always have the advantage because it is in power. Each NGO is lobbying the Government from a different standpoint and agenda. The issues covered are: asylum; illegal immigration and trafficking; legal immigration; and free movement of workers under EU law.

Most of the NGOs are agreed on amendments they feel are required in the following areas: the need for an independent appeals mechanism to review immigration decisions; more provision in the right to family reunification; concerns over summary deportations; more access to benefits and services for persons who are considered ‘unlawfully present’ in the State; fees and excessive ministerial discretion; failure to provide legal safeguards against refusal of entry and revocation of residence permits; lack of permanence for long-term residence; limitation of access to justice for migrants; limitation of the right to marry; insufficient protection for victims of trafficking; concerns over combining immigration and asylum issues in the same legislation.

The bill is generally accused of failing to set out clear immigration rules. Everyone is trying to pin the Government down on clarity, but the bill is proposing much ‘ministerial discretion’ and laws that can be further tinkered with down the line. There is a real danger, according to some, that the rules will constantly be challenged in the courts at a huge cost to the State.

Robin Hanan of the Irish Refugee Council says that his organisation is also worried about the length of time and reasons for detention of asylum seekers. The blanket exemption of the asylum process from the Freedom of Information Act has also been questioned by the Freedom of Information Commissioner.

“We would like to see publication of decisions by the tribunal,” says Hanan. “Increased rights for all people going through the process, up to international standards, are included in our submissions, along with a separate proposal for separated children.”

Other submissions highlight the fact that there will be two systems in place when the new bill is enacted, and that there will be major uncertainty within an already confused system. Hilkka Becker of the Immigrant Council of Ireland has expressed disappointment with this situation. “It shows how little priority the Government gives this bill,” she says.

“We hope that the intervening period will be used by those involved to consider all the information. This month, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees will be examining the Irish Government’s record in this area and their report will also be used by the committee in their consideration.”

This article was produced with the assistance of the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS)

When Sudhansh Verma returned to Ireland as a married man following a short holiday in his native India, his colleagues were bewildered. “When I told everyone at my workplace I got married, the question was ‘how can you do that – how can you go and get married straight away?’” recalls the bemused marketing executive who lives in Newbridge, Co Kildare with his wife Surabhi, a microbiologist. The scene described by Sudhansh has, no doubt, been replicated in workplaces up and down the country in recent years. Stories abound of immigrants returning to these shores with happy wedding photos, while their puzzled Irish colleagues didn’t even know they were dating. In fact, they weren’t – at least not in the Western sense. 

Arranged marriages are common among Hindus (like Sudhansh and Surabhi), Sikhs, Muslims and some Christians of African and Asian origin, but can evoke negative and judgemental reactions from Westerners. Sudhansh explains that for Hindus, arranged marriages are by choice and represent a practical solution for men and women of marriageable age, although he adds that the practice has been declining in recent times. For both men and women, the expectation of marriage looms large once they have finished their college studies, although women are generally a few years younger than men when marrying. “The way it works is that, in my case, I did my studies and moved on to a job and was pretty much settled,” says Sudhansh. “My parents thought, now is the time to get married. They asked me ‘Are you okay if we start looking for a bride?’” Then living in Ireland, Sudhansh agreed with his parents’ assessment and the process got going. “There are a lot of ways and means,” says Sudhansh, of the methods employed by families and individuals during the search, which is usually conducted by the man and/or his family. “You can advertise in the newspaper, you can go on the internet where there are a couple of matrimonial websites, you can register and people can go and access that.” 

In Sudhansh’s case, it was his parents who embarked on  the process within his native India, with Sudhansh providing them the necessary details for their navigation. “I described myself, who I am, what kind of girl I am

looking for,” he explains. “Some people will prefer homely girls rather than professional girls, it all depends. For me, it was a professional girl – if somebody is willing to work, why not?” It was also important to Sudhansh that his bride-to-be matched his own social status. If she was from a family who were either poverty stricken or extravagantly wealthy, it could cause problems. “People have other choices,” adds Sudhansh, of the criteria set out. “Somebody who’s a doctor might go for a doctor girl, those kinds of things. But I just wanted somebody as good as me, and who was ready to adopt my family and settle down.” When a proposal or proposals are received (“You get a lot of applications, just like a job,” quips Sudhansh), they are reviewed by the man and his family, and the ones that are viable are pinpointed – as he succinctly puts it: “Yes, no, not my cup of tea.” “That’s only the initial process,” adds Sudhansh, who says the man and woman – and their families – then have to meet, followed by a number of meet-ups between the would be couple where they chat and begin to get to know one another. 

Some Hindu families insist on assessing the potential couple’s compatibility using horoscope tests, although Sudhansh says this wasn’t his scene. “If you believe in all that, you do, and if you don’t, you don’t,” he says. Sudhansh is originally from Lakh Impur, and his parents found him a match who was from Lucknow, in the same state of Uttar Pradesh, although Sudhansh says it is not important that the couple are from the same region of India.

Surabhi’s admittance to Ireland was to prove an even more taxing procedure. “Oh yeah, there’s a huge story behind that,” says Sudhansh, “Her visa was rejected three times. When you’d ring them [Department of Justice/Irish Immigration and Naturalisation Service] you’d get through to the call centre and it would be a different person you are talking to every time. The next time you’d ring, you would be talking to someone else, so you’d have to explain the whole story from scratch, and then they’d say ‘oh well, I’ll pass on the  message, I can’t do anything’. Then you would get the letter in the post to say [the visa] has been refused.” He continues: “The first reason they gave us was that I was only here for one year, which was not right, I was there for three years already in Ireland before I got married. I was on a work permit, a stamp one, and that means you have to be here a year before you bring your wife. I applied again and told them I’d been here for three years, and they came back with a different reason [for refusal].” The marriage photograph submitted with the visa application, they were told, “does not tell that you got married”. Sudhansh feels this was a cultural misunderstanding. “We have different kinds of rituals at home”, he explains. In the end, he contacted a well-known politician who looked into the case. 

Around two months later, Surabhi was granted a visa to start her life in Ireland with her new husband – but yet another obstacle presented itself. The rules at that time, which have since been altered, meant that Surabhi – a qualified microbiologist – would have to spend her days doing absolutely nothing, bound as she was to a spouse dependent visa. In a new country, where she knew nobody, this was a tough time for her. “Yes,” says Surabhi, recalling the frustration, “I was planning to work, but because of the visa situation I couldn’t.” But now employed in her chosen field, Surabhi has warmed to Ireland: “I find the people very nice, and this is an English speaking country, so it’s easy to live here.” Coming to Ireland was a bit nerve-wracking, she recalls, “but it was a good decision”. Surabhi and Sudhansh are expecting their first child in September.

Family reunification procedures are inflexible and often cause untold stress and heartbreak, affected families told Sandy Hazel

“Go to Tesco. Buy a bottle of MiWadi, a jar of Nutella chocolate spread, and a loaf of bread. That’s five euro. Get a 5-euro top-up for your mobile phone. Then you’ve got a few euro for a bar of chocolate, or chewing gum, or to put toward something you need.”

Rilwon lived like that for three years. He originally came to Ireland from Nigeria in September 2002. He says he lost contact with his parents a year before, during upheavals in the northern province of Zamfara, which implemented Sharia law in 2000. He was 14, and alone.

Rilwon was put in the care of the Health Board, and placed in a hostel where his meals were provided, under the Department of Justice system of ‘direct provision’. Over the course of four years, he lived in four different hostels.

He went to school and did his Leaving Cert, twice; he got the points he needed the first time, but asylum seekers receive no support with their fees at third level, so he couldn’t afford to go on to college. Repeating the Leaving was an alternative to hanging around doing nothing – asylum seekers aren’t allowed work.

By his third year living on 19.10 euro a week, he was desperate, and he got a cash-in-hand job. He earned between 15 and 20 euro a day handing out flyers and free newspapers. He wasn’t paid by a company , but by the man the company had hired to do the job, who paid Rilwon a fraction of his pay to do the job for him. Rilwon gave it up after a few weeks.

Eventually, Rilwon got lucky. “I got a deportation order,” he says. “That was my breakthrough!”

He had used his time well during the preceding years, getting involved in a choir, a drama group and with the St Vincent de Paul and the YMCA. He had also met a solicitor who had offered his help if it was ever necessary. “These stood up for me when I was in trouble,” he says.

People made representations on his behalf, and the solicitor took a legal challenge. The Department of Justice settled, and offered Rilwon a year’s residency – renewable if he doesn’t get into trouble and doesn’t cost the State anything.

That was a year ago. He has since found a job in an insurance firm and is studying accountancy part-time.

“I live every day to get the most out of it,” he explains. “I believe you can do whatever you want to do if you stay focussed.” Not everybody in his situation was so focussed, however.

In his four years spent between hostels, he witnessed three situations where residents stabbed or cut themselves. Sometimes, people would lock themselves in their rooms for days. Others developed drug habits; some started selling. He often saw people get angry, sometimes violently.

“You’re living a life where there’s no progression, where you can’t aim higher,” he says. “You’re doing the same thing every day. You’re not given an opportunity to do stuff that would make you feel a part of society.

“Where do people make good friends? In college. You’re not allowed to go to college. Where else do people make good friends? At work. You’re not allowed to work.”

Like many other asylum seekers, he says the food in the hostels was one of the greatest aggravations: “Food is a big part of human life. We eat what we want, when we want.”

This was not the case in the hostels. The food was often poor quality, he says. There was little or no choice, and it was very repetitive. There was little or no accommodation of cultural preferences. Residents did not have access to the kitchen outside meal times, and could not cook for themselves.

But it wasn’t all bad. Rilwon came to Ireland alone, yet found a family in the friends he made at the hostels.

“They were the only people I could rely on,” he says. “The hostels were a good thing, in a way.”

www.fomacs.org

Ireland, however, stands out in European terms for the absolute ban on anything which can be seen as encouraging asylum seekers to integration into Irish society. The Minister for Integration, Conor Lenihan TD, has been at pains to reiterate the traditional Department of Justice view that asylum seekers should not integrate into Irish society until they receive refugee status. But in most other EU countries, asylum seekers are encouraged to integrate from the point of arrival. In Portugal, for example, asylum seekers are given career guidance, educational support and self-catering facilities.

Ireland stands out most dramatically as the only EU country where there is an absolute ban on asylum seekers working or studying as adults, since the ‘right to work’ scheme was allowed to lapse in 2000. We are also one of the few places where most asylum seekers are not allowed to cook for themselves or their families. Anyone working closely with asylum seekers will know that these are among the main cause of depression and lack of hope in Irish direct provision centres, and among the main barriers to integration when they get refugee status.

Ireland’s position in refusing work to asylum seekers is becoming increasingly politically embarrassing on the European stage. Ireland and Denmark are the only two of the 27 European Union countries which have not ‘opted into’ the EU Reception Directive, which lays down the minimum conditions for asylum seekers and which provides that they must be allowed to work after a year of waiting for a decision, or sooner.
Many EU countries, like Greece, allow asylum seekers to work either straight away, or in less than the year required by the directive. This is true even where the rights of asylum seekers have been restricted due to a recent upsurge in racist politics. In Austria, for example, asylum seekers are allowed to work after three months waiting for a decision, and in the Netherlands after six months.

The same directive also gives asylum seekers “the right to free movement within the Member States in which they apply for asylum and to choose their residence”. It also provides that asylum seekers “are entitled to contact UNHCR, their legal advisers and NGOs”. The directive lays down minimum standards for training of staff in accommodation centres and provides for the rights of vulnerable groups to special housing, medical support, counselling and so on.  These are areas where the Reception and Integration Agency (RIA) has a good record of trying to bring the system up to scratch but where, unlike most EU countries, we do not have specific rights-based legislation.

Our decision to opt out of the Reception Directive puts Ireland’s reputation as a humane country for asylum seekers under threat. Traditionally, Ireland justifies opting out of many EU asylum and migration laws because of the need to follow the UK and preserve our ‘Common Travel Area’ with them. In this case, since the UK has opted into the directive, it will be even harder to continue to argue that the rest of Europe is out of step with us. If the Government remains determined to continue this opt-out, it becomes ever more imperative to bring our legislation and practice at least in line with the rest of the EU and if possible ahead.

It is easy to forget that asylum seekers are in the care of the State while they are waiting for a decision on one of the most fundamental of international human rights – the right to asylum. There is no shortage of evidence that starting integration early, especially being allowed to work, is the key to integration of refugees and their contribution to Irish society when they eventually get status.

The forthcoming Immigration, Residency and Protection Bill provides an opportunity to change the psychologically and socially damaging prohibition on work and integration of asylum seekers before we become the odd ones out in Europe and to introduce rights-based legislation in line with the best practice across Europe.

Robin Hanan is CEO of the Irish Refugee Council

“The type of accommodation that asylum seekers in Ireland receive is not conducive to any type of celebration,” he says. “There is a chance that residents would enjoy Christmas more if they were given an opportunity to join their families. This is the joy that Christmas brings to other people.

“Christmas is about families getting together and celebrating with a meal cooked together and shared. This is not generally available to direct provision residents. Instead they can experience loneliness. They may have friends or separated family in other parts of the country but with finances tight a ticket to visit is too expensive. There are also strict house rules in various centres on visitors, even for family.”

The Christmas welfare bonus to asylum seekers is not enough, according to Ndakengerwa. “This extra cash will not be used for treats; the parents especially will hold on to it for basics such as bus fares, phone calls, photocopying and school extras. Ireland and Denmark are the only two countries in the EU who will not allow asylum seekers to work. If asylum seekers were allowed to work, then they could make a contribution.”

Ndakengerwa also stresses the point about cooking and says that it is a fundamental freedom that is being denied to residents. “By refusing residents the liberty to cater for themselves it is eroding their rights,” he says. “There is a generation of children living in these centres who have never seen their parents cook. When a mother cannot prepare a meal for her child it is not good.” “Many hostels are well run and the management are receptive to people’s needs,” says Roisin Boyd of the IRC. However, she feels that an independent appeals and complaints procedure is going to be an absolute necessity in the delivery of direct provision accommodation.

“In the case where centres are run by families, it can be very difficult for a resident to have a grievance heard or acted upon,” she says. “Food which will reflect the residents’ cultures and food preparation is an important issue in hostels. If children come home from school hungry and there is no meal until 5pm then the kids are ravenous. There are restrictions on food being kept in rooms so it can be really difficult, especially for mothers with children.

“This lack of control and having a grievance procedure are issues that we at the Irish Refugee Council are working on with the government committee for rules and procedures at the moment.”

Sr Breege Keenan works with asylum seekers in Ireland through the Vincentian Refugee Centre in Dublin. “The big thing for many asylum seekers at Christmas is a time of isolation,” says Sr Keenan. “No matter what special treats are laid on for them, there is that feeling of total separation and the loneliness of not knowing how their family is coping back home. “For the best of us, Christmas can be a depressing time, but even we can go and shop, travel and meet loved ones. We have the choice. But an asylum seeker can get hit hard at Christmas time; they do not have the comfort of companionship or time spent with friends.”

Robert Habimana from Burundi is a volunteer with the Irish Immigrant Support Centre, Nasc, in Cork City. “It can be difficult to make everybody happy,” he says, “but many residents that I have spoken to have said they are satisfied. It is harder for those with kids as they do not have the freedoms or resources to give them a better time.

“The hostels cater for Christmas with special food, as they would cater for Muslims. For example, at Ramadan there is food prepared in advance for evening eating. Most of the residents at accommodation centres in Ireland do not have the privilege of cooking for themselves. It would help many residents if there was an activity planned for the day itself as then it would be a more inclusive celebration for all.

“But the biggest wish we hear is that people would like to cook for themselves. If they were then allowed to invite friends or family to their centre it would enable them to actually enjoy it as a festive occasion.”

“Processing certain categories of protection applicants in a closed centre with all the necessary services on site – first-instance decision, appeal, legal services and interpretation as well as accommodation and other supports – will mean speedier decision making and, of course, the faster integration of genuine refugees into our society.”

According to the Nasc immigrant support centre in Cork: “Some of the direct provision accommodation centres which house asylum seekers have improved there are still many difficulties being experienced by residents including problems with how the centres are managed, complaints procedures, diet, privacy, transfers and a feeling of being in detention in some cases.”

According to the department, all asylum seekers on arrival in direct provision centres are provided with a copy of the Direct Provision Reception, Accommodation Centre Services, Rules and Procedures, which are available to them in different languages. 

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.

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.” 

This article was produced by Metro éireann and the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS).

“If you’re white and undocumented, you have a better chance of passing in American society than if you’re Latino and undocumented.”

Twelve million “illegal” immigrants in the US saw their chance to come out of the shadows disappear when immigration reform measures collapsed earlier this year. Amongst them are some 50,000 Irish. So are they now facing round-ups and deportation?

“If you’re an Irish bartender or carpenter, and you speak with a beautiful Irish accent in New York City, you’re not particularly vulnerable,” says Frank Sharry, director of the main immigration lobby in Washington, the National Immigration Forum.

Izabela Razniak was working in her dream job as a library assistant at Tallaght’s County Library when she was faced with an unusual dilemma. In order to take up a permanent position, she needed to pass an oral examination in Irish, which is the requirement for all candidates.

“I mean, I was surprised but at the same time excited, because I always liked Irish music and culture. It was a challenge for me,” recalls Izabela, who is from Swidnica in southwestern Poland. “I was studying languages before – like Russian, English – so it wasn’t very difficult for me to learn a different language.”

Izabela, who holds a Master’s degree in Librarianship and Scientific Information and worked for nine years in librarianship in Poland, embarked on an intensive six weeks as gaeilge.

“I was very lucky because one of the colleagues from my shift, he is a former teacher, and so he helped me a lot, and prepared me very well for the interview,” says Izabela.

“But if they’re going to accept you, it would be better that you know at an earlier stage. I’m supposed to be finished my master’s degree by this time. So many young asylum seekers of my age, they’re not doing anything. There’s no opportunities. You can’t go to college, you can’t work… you don’t have any opportunities after secondary school.”

Her language reflects the intricacies of negotiating the immigration process.

“Residency is different to refugee status, refugee status is different to leave to remain, blah blah blah… Refugee status or leave to remain gives you the GNIB [Garda National Bureau of Immigration] card and you have to have Stamp 4 on the card. If you don’t have Stamp 4, then you can’t work.”

Zainab Disu was born in 1985 in Lagos, Nigeria. Her parents were not married, and she was sent to live with her aunt and grandmother in Kaduna, in north-central Nigeria – “the Northside”, she calls it. Though the state of Kaduna is largely Muslim, the capital, Kaduna city, has historically been mixed, with a large population of Christians. Zainab Disu’s family are Christian, and her grandmother had a church in Kaduna. 

In February 2000, reports of the planned introduction of Sharia law in Kaduna led to violent clashes between Muslims and Christians. At least 2,000 people were killed, according to Human Rights Watch, including some shot by police. (There was further violence there in 2002, following the decision to stage the Miss World contest in Nigeria.) 

“They were just killing people like chickens,” Zainab says. “At home, killing someone is nothing – if you kill someone, you can get away with it, if you’re rich.

“My grandmother’s church was burnt down. By the time I got home, the house was burnt down as well. I ran to my grandmother’s friend – she was a Muslim.

“They came to her house because they found out I was hiding there. They were threatening that, if she doesn’t let me out, they were going to burn the whole house down.”

Zainab Disu’s grandmother was killed, she says. Her grandmother’s friend did not let her leave the house, and the sectarian gang left. Her aunt had left Kaduna previously, and had come to Ireland. After a few days, her grandmother’s friend organised for a man to smuggle her out of Kaduna. 

“She said I should just follow him and he would take me to where my aunty was. That’s how I got here. When I got to the airport, he got me into a taxi, and when I got to the Justice [the Refugee Applications Office] he just said to me, ‘just go in there and tell them you are looking for your aunty.’ That was it, then. Seven years, now.” 

Zainab Disu was 15. She went to live with her aunt, who had an Irish child and had therefore secured residency in Ireland. (This was before a constitutional amendment removed the right to Irish citizenship by virtue of being born here.) Her application for asylum was refused, and her subsequent appeal was rejected. In the meantime, her mother arrived in Ireland, and was granted asylum. (They had had different experiences in Nigeria and had left for different reasons.) 

Zainab went to live with her mother, with whom she had not lived for years: “Oh my God, it was a big clash! Every day we fight,” she says, laughing. 

Zainab Disu went to Castleknock Community College, where “it was tough”.

She explains: “The culture was totally, completely different. It was difficult to make friends. You want to try to join some groups and they kind of ignore you, they won’t accept you – there’s loads of ignoring.”

She was startled by the lack of academic motivation:

“If you get a test result or something like that, they just said, who cares?”

And by the levels of indiscipline:

“Where I came from, you can’t just roll up a piece of tissue paper and throw it at the teacher, or things like that. I nearly slapped a student one day. The teacher looks back and they’re talking to each other and pretending they don’t know anything about it. And they made the teacher look completely stupid. And I felt humiliated – the fact that I was in a class where that happened.”

She settled in, eventually, and excelled at school. She set her sights on studying medicine, but was not able to go on to third level. Asylum seekers and those without long-stay permits here have to pay “international” fees, often many thousands of euro. She occupied herself by doing a course in laboratory science at St Kevin’s College in Crumlin, and then returned to school to do A Levels, this time to nearby Loreto College, thanks to the support of the nuns and some Irish friends. 

Since receiving her leave to remain, Zainab Disu has been working as a nurse’s aid at St Michael’s Hospital in Dun Laoghaire. She plans to do a part-time diploma in psychology at the Dublin Business School, and then go on to do a degree in psychology, part time. By then, she hopes, she will have Irish citizenship (she will be over 10 years living here) and will be able to attend university, to study medicine. It will be a long haul, but she is ambitious and resolute. 

“If we get an education, then we can contribute to the community.”

Zainab Disu is part of a group of young people who came to Ireland seeking asylum that meets in Dun Laoghaire every Monday evening. Many of them have been in Ireland for three years and more, and have done their Leaving Certs. 

The group has campaigned to be granted leave to remain. Michael McDowell, as Minister for Justice, consistently said he would not grant leave on a group basis, and the Department continued to pursue the deportation of some of them. (In each individual case, deportation was successfully challenged in the courts, and the Department ultimately granted leave to remain.) 

The Labour Party included a commitment to grant them leave to remain in its election manifesto, and the group has received similar support from the Greens, Sinn Fein and Fine Gael.

Zainab worries about her friends in this group, those who are less motivated or ambitious, or simply more worn down by the system.

“Most of my friends, they’re just having babies, and that’s not helping at all. Most of them don’t really want babies.

“But if you don’t go to work, you don’t go to school, you get frustrated and you start looking for things you don’t really need. You just feel that maybe you need a boyfriend, or maybe you need this, or you need that…”

Zainab Disu is sure about one thing: she does not want, or need, a boyfriend. She has her career to think about – and some past experience, when she discovered that cultural differences between herself and young Irish people were not just confined to the classroom.

“You know what they talk about? You’re, like, going out with him and the first thing, he’s, like, ‘I’m horny’. What the hell is that? That is a complete put off – you don’t want to talk to them any more. You just go, ‘What do you see me as, like a sex toy or something?’ 

“It’s just so ridiculous, no respect or nothing. They go to clubs, and they’ve just met somebody, and they just start kissing. What the hell is that? It’s really, really hard for me, and for my friends, even just to go out with them, it’s so hard to have a relationship with them. 

“I would really like to meet a very good Irish guy, but the culture is too different, they way they have relationships is just too different to the way we see relationships. No matter how educated they are.”

It’s been a long, slow seven years for Zainab Disu – seven years during which she would, ideally, have studied for a degree and continued on to do a master’s. But she has settled in, has fought for her right to stay here and, now, she’s on track. She has one year to prove that she will not be “a burden on the state”. She seems far more likely to be a contributor.

This article was produced with support from the Forum on Migration and Communications (FOMACS), a partnership of NGOs in the immigration field, based in Dublin Institute of Technology.