by Craig Taylor
At the church I could see people within the grounds. There were these Roman pillars, a bit of shelter and that. They were loud. They were drunk. I went up to this girl who I’d seen in the centre and asked if this is where the sandwich van comes. She went, ‘You can fuck off an’ all!’ I just thought, you don’t even know me, I don’t even know you. I sat on a bench outside and thought, I’m not moving. This quite big lad, thickset, came up and just started talking. We found out we were both from Leeds and he loved hearing my accent, he hadn’t heard it for a while. So he invited me into the group while we were waiting for the sandwich van. I was introduced to everybody and he asked me if I wanted a drink. I thought, why not? It was my last night, I’m with a load of British people, they all seemed to be very close and I’ll be all right. They must be allowed to because there’s a bench which is made of ceramics which is a dedication to some of the homeless people what’ve died. They all had their own little bits and they were quite proud of the fact they kept out the Eastern Europeans. It was like, this is our territory, this is homeless territory. So I got amongst them and I drank two cans of very strong cider and they made me laugh, some of the stories they were coming out with. I was saying nothing about the fact that the next day I could be in a studio flat. The sandwich van come, we got a load of sandwiches and boiled eggs and stuff like that. We went to the back of the church and we got a fire going, a little timber fire, and then a fight broke out between a girl and one of the lads. It was nasty. There were no punches or anything like that, just dragging each other round the floor and things and in normal circumstances you’d get up and do something but not in that situation and everybody said, no, leave it, they’ll sort it out. I was tired, very very tired, I fell asleep.
I woke up the next day feeling absolutely rotten and I could smell the horrible smell of stale, high-strength cider. Everybody had gone – and so had my backpack. My last night on the street and my backpack goes. I can’t say it’s them because I have no proof. It could have been anybody. I panicked initially, then I got quite philosophical about it and thought, fuck it, I’m getting a place today. They’ve got nothing. And I don’t even know if they took it. I went to the police and said my backpack was missing. Just fill out a form, they said. We’ll get the pigeons what did it. That’s who probably did it, I’m telling you. The pigeons.
JANE LANYERO
On arriving from Uganda
I was still at the university in Uganda, we were writing newsletters about the war in my area. We cited some atrocities that had happened and took pictures of it and I put my name in there, saying, oh, we’ve got the evidence, and blaming the government. It blew up to be something really risky, so I had to leave the country and come over. I was 22.
At Gatwick I was handed a train ticket, with directions to take me from the airport to a bed and breakfast in Harrow on the Hill. Good enough, I could read and write. But I’d never been on a train, I didn’t know what the train of London is like. You’re told to follow the Circle Line, then change to Metropolitan Line, then change to this line, when you get to this station you can change to that platform. I said, God, be my help. You go up, you come down, you come out … I didn’t know. I was scared to ask because you see all the white people around and don’t know how to approach them. You say good morning to someone and they just look at you. Or everybody’s sitting with their newspaper, reading to themselves. Ah, is this what this place is all about? I didn’t talk to nobody. And it was so cold! I came in July, but I felt very very cold.
I had my papers and directions to take me to Harrow on the Hill, they told me the house number. But I had no clue that houses had numbers in one direction. I’d be going one way and then find that I was going the wrong way. I think I left at 9.30 in the morning and I got to Harrow on the Hill at about eight o’clock in the evening. Eight o’clock! It’s not that I stopped anywhere, but at Victoria Station alone it took me four hours to get from the mainline trains into the Underground station. Then the Underground train, even when it’s coming, I felt too scared to get on. I waited for the first train to pass to see what the people are doing and then I waited for the second one to pass too, because I still didn’t know what to do. I said to myself, let me see how they do it: they’re very confident, they just walk and go into it. But I didn’t know, is this door going to open or not? Because you see the door opening and sometimes they’re pressing buttons … It was so scary. Never mind the gap!
The most frightening thing is that I was given a date to report back to Gatwick for a refugee interview. I could not sleep for one night thinking about my journey. I wasn’t even thinking of my interview, I was just looking at the nightmare of the journey back to Gatwick.
But the people at the bed and breakfast were very welcoming. When I came in, the manager said, ‘Are you Jane? I’ve been expecting you – what happened?’ I told him, my goodness, if only you people know what I’ve been through.
JOHN HARBER
A tourist from America
For the first time in my career, I took two weeks off at one time and flew over on a Saturday night out of Atlanta, Georgia. I got to Gatwick the next morning, and I could not understand the man at Immigration. I had to ask him to repeat himself. He said, ‘Are you here for business or pleasure?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ I couldn’t understand what he said. So he said, ‘Well, which one is it?’
I rode the little train into Victoria Station and then a van picked me up and took me to the hotel. I was surprised at the number of Chinese people and Indians I saw. But from what I understand, a lot of people immigrate to modern Britain.
I took a bus past Westminster Cathedral, past Westminster Abbey. I went to Trafalgar Square and tried to figure out why the crowd was there; it turned out they were having a Darfur protest. I saw Nelson’s Column. We drove down Whitehall Street and went by the Cenotaph, and – God, there’s just so much history. You see these pictures of the Queen Mother and Queen Elizabeth putting a wreath there at Remembrance Day, and just to say I’ve seen that, I’ve been there – it meant a lot.
I went to an evensong in St Paul’s, which was just incredible. You got to sit under that dome. That’s one of the great churches of the world, one of Christopher Wren’s churches built in, I think, 1666, isn’t that right? And going into Westminster Abbey where every monarch except two have been crowned. To see the coronation chair, that’s just too much.
I walked through Soho and came out at Leicester Square. Was it maybe the last year or so, when they found a car bomb on a street near Leicester Square? When I heard that I was like, oh my gosh, I’ve been there.
I went by the Royal Opera House. I went up to Covent Garden, where the old Punch and Judy shows were performed. That’s where the first few scenes of My Fair Lady were filmed. Did you know that? And the British Museum – I could not believe that it was free to get in and see the Rosetta Stone. I was able to go right up to it. I mean, it was behind glass, but I was able to go within a foot or so of it. If I’m not mistaken, there was a passage on the Rosetta Stone that was translated into three different languages and that was the key that unlocked some of these lost languages. I remember reading about that when I was maybe 10 years old and to think that thirty years later, I could actually see that – that’s too much to take in. I was able to see the Elgin Marbles, which made me think of the Parthenon in Athens. I remember how the horses’ heads were carved.
I went to the Tower of London, saw the Crown Jewels and went into what I guess they call the Jewel House, and saw the White Tower, if that’s what they call it, and just thought about the wives of Henry VIII. They were in those little bitty tiny cells. Sir Walter Raleigh was in there. I went up the hill, they called it Scaffold Hill, where they would behead them and I think some of that stuff might be embellished a little bit, but still it’s really interesting to see.
I went to a little restaurant the first night I was there and had like a chicken and mushroom tart. I was not familiar with the tipping etiquette, I did not know whether t
o tip or not. I ate Chinese one night and, I’m kind of ashamed to say this, but I went to Pizza Hut one night and it was quite good. The hotel I was staying in had one of the best breakfasts I have ever had in my life. I’m not a big beans person, but they had the broiled tomatoes and I mean … you could easily skip lunch.
A few people would ask where I was from. I’m a native of the state of Virginia, and in Westminster Abbey I was able to go in a chapel to see Queen Elizabeth I. That’s who Virginia was named after – did you know that? This was just too much to take in. You know, I’ve been to her tomb.
Living in America, we don’t realize how much open space there is here. Go to an old capital like London that’s been there for hundreds or a thousand years and you’ll see the difference. I won’t say it’s cramped, but I saw how compacted it is. If you had a lot of money it would be a fabulous place. You could have a big apartment or a big house. But I would imagine the people that I saw probably all live out in the suburbs and probably spend an hour, hour and a half, commuting in to work in the city.
One thing I did notice in London is when I would come back into the hotel at night, my face would be kind of tingling. Apparently the air quality is not the best there and there seemed to be a lot of – well, I won’t say pollution, but maybe coal dust or something there?
FARZAD PASHAZADEH
On arriving from Iran
I left Iran in 2007. Always I wanted to run away, to come abroad. My brother lives in London, he used to tell me it is not what you imagine. It is not perfect place, but I wasn’t satisfied with what I had in Iran. It’s not because of the finance, but because of the freedom. And I heard that in London homosexuals are so free, they can go anywhere they want. They are not scared of anyone. They can be very open. There are lots of bars and clubs which are specifically for gay people. Always I heard about that.
I had a visa for Thailand, so first I went there. It took me seven hours’ flight from Tehran to Bangkok. It was my first time in an airplane. When the plane took off, everyone took off the scarf. I’d never seen ladies with all their scarves off and I thought, oh my, what they are doing? I’d heard about that and seen it in the movies, but I’d never seen it in reality.
In Thailand, I met up with an old guy who made passports. He made Austrian passport for me, and he highlighted my hair, eyelashes, everything. I couldn’t believe it: I was looking like Europe! I looked like I’m Austrian. He took a few different pictures, and one week before I’m leaving, he showed the passport to me. It was an Austrian passport and the name was Daniel Primmer. He said, you have to practise the signature, you have to learn how to sign it in the airport. If they become curious about you or they think it is a false passport, you have to do that.
He mimes signing a piece of paper again and again, then laughs. It’s hard to hear his soft, accented voice over the clatter of the Waterloo Station concourse – high-heeled shoes, platform announcements, mobile-phone conversations. To my left a couple of pigeons waddle towards the orphaned remains of a muffin. ‘Daniel Primmer,’ he says, and practises the signature again.
Me and one of the people I met there, who had a German passport, we flew from Thailand to Sri Lanka. That country was the worst country I have ever been in my life. Really nothing interesting about there and so boring. After one week I left Sri Lanka and went to the airport to fly to Charles de Gaulle in France. I’d been in business lounge about one hour and then they called us, the flight to France. There was a guy who checked the passport and when he asked for mine I was a little bit nervous, my hand was shaking. But he checked it, waved me through and I got on the plane. When I arrived I took a bus to central Paris. Most of the French didn’t want to speak English but I say, how can I go to London? Someone told me Gare du Nord, the station, and always I will remember a very nice lady, I don’t know where she was from, but she was with two children and she took me to Gare du Nord station. I bought a ticket for 500 euros, first-class Eurostar to Waterloo Station. The train was leaving in one hour. Finally I am almost there, it was the last step, my journey’s going to be finished. I passed through French customs and then the UK Border Agency guard checked my passport, put it on the scanner, and straightaway said, ‘Come with me.’
I thought, oh my god, everything’s finished. We went to the office and a massive dog came around me and was sniffing me. I had a very bad feeling. I never have this feeling before in my life. I waited for a long time. Finally a guy came and he asked, where is my baggage? He was bald and had a quiet voice. I said, they took my bag, they searched my bag, they couldn’t find anything. And the guy gave me a form which was in German language and he said, you can fill it in and then you can go. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t speak German! They said, how are you an Austrian national but you can’t speak German? I said, I’m Austrian but I was born in Greece and I grew up in Greece … They didn’t believe me. I was petrified, I was scared, I started to cry. They said, where are you really from? I said, I’m Iranian. And then they took me to a police station.
The UK Border Agency gave me to French police, who were so so rude. They didn’t give me even water and I was there for hours. When the interpreter came they said, oh, you are Iranian, how old are you? I said, I’m 16. He said, you are not 16. I say, yes, I am 16. I didn’t want to tell them that I’m over 18 because I heard that if you say you’re over 18 they will behave different with you. The interpreter couldn’t believe me and he said something French to the police officer and the police officer slapped my face. They took me to prison for twenty-four hours – in France, if they catch you with the foreign passport not belonging to you, they take you to prison for twenty-four hours. It was horrible. I’ve never been somewhere like that. So smelly. People were making horrible noise, they were screaming, shouting. Next day a social worker came, picked me up from prison and took me to a hostel for refugees. I bought an international calling card, phoned my brother in London and he said, you have to go to Calais. I didn’t know how can I get there. So I ran from the hostel and went to the Gare du Nord station again. I went to buy a ticket, I said I want to go to the Calais. They told me to take the Eurostar, but I know that to get Eurostar you need a passport. So I went outside and said to the first taxi, I’m going to Calais, and the taxi driver said, ‘Calais from Paris, no, no, no.’ To the second taxi I said, I’m going to Calais. He say, ‘Yes, how much?’ I said, 200 euros. He said, no, six. I said, four. He said, okay, come. I paid 200 euros at the beginning and 200 euros when we got to Calais.
My brother had paid someone to bring me from Calais to the UK. The guys who will do that for you, they’ve got hiding places in Calais – under a bridge, near the train tracks – where you go so they can find you later, in night-time, when they can put you in a lorry. So they took me under a bridge for first night, hungry, tired, depressed, under the bridge in Calais. It was nearly winter. It was very cold. I had two or three jackets, two, three jeans, still I was freezing till morning. Most of the others were Kurdish. They were all refugees. They were waiting there for a chance to pass from Calais.
It was one of the worst nights I have ever had in my life. When the lorries passed they made a horrible noise. We hide from police. It was very cold and horrible. I couldn’t sleep until morning, it was so freezing. When we went to that area to get breakfast I met a few other Iranians and they said, why are you staying with Kurdish people, come with us. They had a small place and they had a few shelters they had made with wood and covered everything with plastic, which was very nice and warm. Much better than under the bridge. It was called the Jungle.
After one week, a guy told us to come to a petrol station near the bridge very early the next morning. We did, and it was very quick. In ten minutes a lorry was stopped there, the driver was in the petrol station, and they called four of us, saying, you, you, you, you – go! We ran towards the lorry, got in the back and we all lie down between the stuff. We hid and tried to be quiet as possible. Soon the lorry started off and about fifteen minutes later we arrived
at the ferry.
I knew a few people who had been in Calais for about six months, each time they reached the ferry they’d been booted out of the lorry because they’ve got this kind of sensor that can find them if they breathe. So we just hid between everything and prayed. I was saying, oh my god, my god. It was small space, and one guy was so fat he could barely fit. Really there wasn’t anywhere to hide. We tried to hide between things so if someone opened the doors they couldn’t see us. But if they came up even one step, they could see us.
The lorry had a plastic and canvas cover and we had a blade to cut a little bit to see what’s going on outside. A little later we saw that we are in the ship, and they came and chained the lorry wheels to the ship and someone was speaking French and then English. We could hear the ferry make noise. [He makes a foghorn sound.] We were so happy, we were. Especially me.
It took us about forty minutes to get to Dover. From there, the lorry started to drive. After a while, when the lorry had stopped at a petrol station and it seemed like the driver had gone inside, we broke the canvas on the back with the blade, jumped out, and we all ran away. Two of us this way, two that way. We thought maybe someone was going to follow us, but when we jumped out of the lorry the driver was just coming out of the petrol station, and he started running away too. He was running away from us! I think he was scared, because there were four of us and the driver was just one person. Anyway we were running on the highway, the cars at very high speed, they pushed horn and we were scared. We crossed the highway and saw there was a village nearby, past some farms, so we ran towards that. We ran through the farms very very quick because we knew mostly the police check and there are cameras. We were running like horses! I’ve never run like that in my life. I could be Olympic runner.
