Immigration Ireland
I once again hand the blog floor over to our guest contributer Dae. [We're trying to get an account sorted for him.]
Last week I had an interesting insight into the immigration process in Ireland. I confess to know very little about our current immigration policy in Ireland and the number of asylum seekers who successfully receive refugee status every year. A friend of mine approached me and asked if I could assist a non English speaking Pakistani woman on her trip from Galway to the National Garda Bureau of Immigration in Dublin. A deportation order served against her is currently under appeal, and she was required to present herself at the Immigration Office or risk immediate deportation. A previous attempt by this lady (who I shall not name) to visit this office in Dublin resulted in disastrous consequences whereby she fell into some bad company and was nearly human-trafficked and forced into slave labour. But that in itself is another story.
The Immigration Office in Burgh Quay can best be described as a rather large waiting room where you take a ticket and dutifully wait your turn to be served. The first thing I noticed is the glass wall that separates the immigration staff from these dangerous foreign types - it stretches all the way to the ceiling. I found myself reminiscing about all those jail scenes in American movies where the incarcerated and the free sit either side of the great impenetrable divide. To say confusion abounded would be to grossly understate the atmosphere of this office.
A quick glance around the waiting area reveals peoples of all race and creed, some sitting rather despondently while others in a high state of agitation patrol the service booths looking for a free immigration official to accost with questions. They are advised to take a ticket and wait their turn like everyone else or simply ignored as the official gets up and walks away from their desk. The lady who I am accompanying looks at her feet, shakes uncontrollably from time to time and avoids eye contact with anyone and everyone at all costs. Who knows her story or what hardships she has endured in life?
Having showed the reference letter to the immigration official behind the counter, we were instructed to wait opposite booth number one where an official would promptly deal with our situation. Long story short but a couple of hours later we hadn’t advanced our cause very much. I vociferously aired my opinion on their general incompetence and was promptly dealt with by a senior manager who appeared on the scene to find out what all the kafuffle was about. No doubt having an Irish accent advanced my request considerably. We left the office frustrated, albeit mission accomplished, without anyone having positively identified this woman. Given their lethargic response to her presence in the office, I fail to see why this lady presenting herself at Galway Garda station would not suffice.
It was a humbling experience to find the woman sobbing with gratitude because I had helped her. I took only a small part out of my day to assist her. It occurred to me what an intimidating environment the Immigration Office must be if you are unsure of your legal status and struggling with a foreign language. Where is the resource to help such an individual? The hard headed might say well they come to our country, what do they expect us to do, speak all the languages of the world?
But it is also worth remembering that most people who come to our country under refugee status have already suffered some form of serious psychological and/or physical anguish in their former homeland. The least we should be able to do is make their application for asylum as simple as possible while treating them with the dignity they deserve as human beings. From what I observed last week in the National Immigration Office, this does not appear to be the case.
Published by Colm.
Last week I had an interesting insight into the immigration process in Ireland. I confess to know very little about our current immigration policy in Ireland and the number of asylum seekers who successfully receive refugee status every year. A friend of mine approached me and asked if I could assist a non English speaking Pakistani woman on her trip from Galway to the National Garda Bureau of Immigration in Dublin. A deportation order served against her is currently under appeal, and she was required to present herself at the Immigration Office or risk immediate deportation. A previous attempt by this lady (who I shall not name) to visit this office in Dublin resulted in disastrous consequences whereby she fell into some bad company and was nearly human-trafficked and forced into slave labour. But that in itself is another story.
The Immigration Office in Burgh Quay can best be described as a rather large waiting room where you take a ticket and dutifully wait your turn to be served. The first thing I noticed is the glass wall that separates the immigration staff from these dangerous foreign types - it stretches all the way to the ceiling. I found myself reminiscing about all those jail scenes in American movies where the incarcerated and the free sit either side of the great impenetrable divide. To say confusion abounded would be to grossly understate the atmosphere of this office.
A quick glance around the waiting area reveals peoples of all race and creed, some sitting rather despondently while others in a high state of agitation patrol the service booths looking for a free immigration official to accost with questions. They are advised to take a ticket and wait their turn like everyone else or simply ignored as the official gets up and walks away from their desk. The lady who I am accompanying looks at her feet, shakes uncontrollably from time to time and avoids eye contact with anyone and everyone at all costs. Who knows her story or what hardships she has endured in life?
Having showed the reference letter to the immigration official behind the counter, we were instructed to wait opposite booth number one where an official would promptly deal with our situation. Long story short but a couple of hours later we hadn’t advanced our cause very much. I vociferously aired my opinion on their general incompetence and was promptly dealt with by a senior manager who appeared on the scene to find out what all the kafuffle was about. No doubt having an Irish accent advanced my request considerably. We left the office frustrated, albeit mission accomplished, without anyone having positively identified this woman. Given their lethargic response to her presence in the office, I fail to see why this lady presenting herself at Galway Garda station would not suffice.
It was a humbling experience to find the woman sobbing with gratitude because I had helped her. I took only a small part out of my day to assist her. It occurred to me what an intimidating environment the Immigration Office must be if you are unsure of your legal status and struggling with a foreign language. Where is the resource to help such an individual? The hard headed might say well they come to our country, what do they expect us to do, speak all the languages of the world?
But it is also worth remembering that most people who come to our country under refugee status have already suffered some form of serious psychological and/or physical anguish in their former homeland. The least we should be able to do is make their application for asylum as simple as possible while treating them with the dignity they deserve as human beings. From what I observed last week in the National Immigration Office, this does not appear to be the case.
Published by Colm.
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