Katherin's Story

I was born in Chile, in South America. 

I had to move to Brazil when I was five years old because my father was arrested and put into prison by Pinochet’s military dictatorship. Although he wasn’t politically active, he had been a supporter of the previous president Salvador Allende and expressing any sympathy with Allende’s ideas was forbidden. My father had been in the navy since he was fourteen but when he was arrested he was thrown out. It was devastating for him because the navy was his whole life.  It also made it impossible for him to find a job because when people knew he had been forced to leave the navy they assumed he’d done something wrong and wouldn’t employ him. We had to leave our home because it was soldiers’ accommodation so we went to live with my grandma. One day, military officers came to the house when my father was out, they searched everywhere for him, it was very scary. We knew then that he was going to be disappeared, as so many others had been, nobody knew where any of them went or ever heard from them again.  We had to leave. 

I lived in Brazil for twenty years. While I was there I studied psychology at Mackenzie University in Sao Paulo. My parents could never go back to Chile because my father had lost too much there. But I always wanted to go back and do something for my country so once I’d finished my studies I returned. I went to the North of Chile and started a project for people with autism and aspergers syndrome. In this part of the country there are no facilities, support or interventions to help children with these conditions, and many of them are undiagnosed, so we had to start from scratch. We helped anyone who needed it, regardless of whether they were wealthy enough to pay. We applied for a lot of government funding and finally won a grant to open a school.

Having set up the school and recruited a head teacher who I trusted, I returned to  Santiago. There I set up my own practice as a child psychologist specialising in autism. I was so happy with my private practice. Sometimes I dream about having my own school again. But on the other hand, working one-to-one is really rewarding because you can see the progress of each child. 

In 2007, while I was living in Santiago I got back in touch with my old boyfriend Roberto, who had moved to Australia and then to England. We started our relationship again and I tried to convince him to come back to Chile but he didn't want to because his family had been persecuted by Pinochet’s regime. He had been tortured and his sister was disappeared. Also, he had lived in England for more than 20 years and built a career here so it wouldn't make sense to start from scratch again.

At this point, although Pinochet had just died, my country was still divided. This was clear to see when Pinochet died because half of the people were celebrating and half of them were crying. There was a lot of confrontation in the streets between those who supported and those who hated Pinochet. I was happy he was dead but it was also sad because he never went to jail for all the awful things he did, the people he tortured, those who were disappeared. I don’t understand why he tortured people. I will never understand this. You can put people in jail, you can interrogate them, but torture is…nothing, nothing in my opinion can justify this. So many people were so damaged by the torture he inflicted on them. I can’t even read books about what happened because I start and I can’t finish. It’s too much…It’s too close because of Roberto, because of my father. 

Roberto couldn’t go back to Chile, because it was painful for him. l so I came to England to see what it was like here before deciding to make it my home. But when I became pregnant my mind was made up because family is very important to me.  I left everything to come to England, my family, friends, my country, but I did this to be with Roberto because I love him. I like a lot of things in this county, but if it was my decision alone I would never leave Chile. I am still in love with my country and I will always be, its part of my identity. It was so difficult to leave. I feel like I’m in the same position as my parents who could never go back, and Roberto, who can never go back. It makes me feel so sad. Chile is a beautiful country, there are so many good things. It’s not the fault of the people that there’s all this division. I think people in England don’t appreciate what they have, they’re always complaining about what’s wrong with England. 

What I really want is to do now is to practice psychology again as this is my strongest strength. I feel there is a lot bureaucracy and that there’s so much regulation around the psychology profession here and no one to tell you what to do. I was so depressed until I found Refugee and Migrant Network. My life changed because I thought oh yes, I can do something here.

Boubacar's Story

My name is Boubacar Diallo.


I was born in Guinea-Conakry, West Africa. Guinea is a beautiful country but it is not a democracy. When I left, in 2005, it was ruled by a dictator: Lansana Conte.  Conte was the president of a military regime. He ensured country’s wealth stayed at the top, in the hands of the powerful, and never reached the people. The minister for the economy, Sidya Toure, was opposed to this and started trying to change things: reducing the lifestyle of the government and stop paying wages to protégées. He created a political party, which became very popular, especially among students.

In 2005 I was in my third year studying law at University. A demonstration against Conte’s regime was held near where I live. As Conte drove through the streets people were shouting and throwing stones. The army, with guns and their intimidation tactics, responded fast. They started arresting people who lived in the area, some disappeared, some were killed. They demanded a list of everyone who was a member of the UFR’s opposition party. My name was on that list. Soon after the demonstration they came to my house. I was at University but they spoke to my mother and sisters and asked where I was. Then they came to the campus and asked to speak to me. At the time I wasn’t worried, I was a student I wasn’t afraid of anything. They took me to the police station and held me there for two days. That was not fun, not fun at all, they treat you very roughly. When they let me out they told me ‘next time we catch you, you’ll be in trouble’. This is how it starts, they push you and push you harder until one day they frame you with something and your family will not see you any more. So I went to lay low in another town called Forecaria, close to the border with Sierra Leone.  After two weeks the police came back to my house. This was different, I knew that if they found me I would be in serious danger. My Uncle came to Forecaria. He said ‘things are getting really bad, we’ve got to find a way to get you out of here’. My Uncle’s a businessman, he’s very well-connected, so he took me to Freetown in Sierra Leone and put me in touch with an agent who came to take my picture. A few days later he came back with a passport and told me we were leaving. I asked where we were going but he wouldn’t tell me. When I got to the airport and saw we were going to England I said ‘What! What am I going to do in England?’

The day after I arrived in London, the agent took me to the Home Office. I had an interview with a French interpreter then they put me in a van and took me to Harmondsworth Detention Centre. Harmondsworth was hard. There are some bullies down there. The officers…sometimes you can’t blame them, they’re just doing their job, but sometimes you think…this is too much because when people are in there they’re stressed. You see that in people’s faces, you see people crying. I just tried to keep myself busy going to the library and the mosque. After a month I was told that my claim for asylum had been refused. I went to the court to appeal, and ten days later they refused that as well. From Harmondsworth I was taken to Dover detention centre. I stayed there for seven months. All the time they were saying ‘we’re going to take you to your High Commissioner to issue your travel document and then we’re going to take you back to Guinea.’ I knew I would suffer when I got there, but I accepted my position. After five months I was taken to the High Commissioner, but nothing happened. Two months after that I met a lady from an organisation that helps people get out of detention. Her name was Marion. She helped me to apply for bail and on the second attempt it was granted. Marion arranged for someone to come and meet me and I went to stay with her in Canterbury.  When you come out of detention it affects you to a point that you don’t even want to watch a film in which there are prisons or prisoners. It affects you directly, psychologically. But being in detention was good in some ways, because if something happens to me now I can always think I’ve been in worse situations.

After two weeks in Canterbury I contacted a friend in London who said I could stay with him. He gave me an English grammar book and a dictionary so while he was at work I started teaching myself English…complicated language isn’t it? I said to myself the best way to integrate into society is to learn the language. If you can’t communicate with people you’ve got no chance. I went to the library every morning and I went through those easy reading books and practiced. The things I didn’t know I looked up in the dictionary…a lot of memorising. When my friend got home from work I practiced speaking with him. Don’t worry about making mistakes, I told myself, just express yourself. My solicitor was saying I should go to college but I couldn’t because asylum seekers had to pay.

During this time, in 2006, while I was waiting for the High Commissioner to issue a travel document I was reporting to the Home Office in Croydon every single week. But my friend couldn’t afford to give me money for food and transport so I had to find a job. As an asylum seeker I wasn’t allowed to work but I needed the money so there was no other way. I thought, even if they catch me I’ll just tell them, I’m not getting anything from the government, I have to live somehow. I couldn’t just sit not doing anything. I got a job in the zerox department of a company. One day they told me they wanted to hire me properly and move me to a better department, which would have been great, but I couldn’t risk it so I had to leave. I found another job selling gas and electricity, which paid quite well. I lived like this for four more years until in 2010 my solicitor wrote to the Home Office and asked them to review my case. Finally, five years after claiming asylum, I was granted indefinite leave to remain.

Since I got my status I’ve done a TEFL course and I volunteer at Refugee and Migrant Network Sutton helping students in the English class. I’m also doing a journalism course at the moment but I don’t want to be journalist because my sister is one and she’ll think I’ve copied her. I’d prefer to work in media communications and show people what’s happening in my country.

Country Profile: DR Congo

Reported by Miss Kongo Kimbagu

In my home country, the Democratic Republic of Congo, the government has inflicted violence on its people for more than ten years. The population are at the mercy of the army and police.

The police and the military stop people and threaten to arrest them unless they are paid.

Me and my friend were once walking home from University when two armed officers came over and arrested us.  They said that if we didn’t give them money they would rape us. I didn’t have anything other than my mobile phone and some jewellery I was wearing, so I gave them those. But my friend tried to resist and the soldiers started taking off her clothes. She gave them twenty dollars, which was all she had. There’s no choice. You just have to give them everything you have in your possession.

The reasons behind this are complex. One aspect is that the police are not paid enough. To live a comfortable life they get money out of people by arresting and harassing them. Another factor is that the government are not powerful enough to control the army, they’re not powerful enough to control the police, you don’t feel their authority.

At the heart of my country’s problems is a valuable mineral called Coltan.

In the East of Congo a mineral called Coltan has been discovered. It is used to make mobile phones and laptops. Big companies are doing all they can to get as much Coltan as possible. They use children, six and seven year olds, to work in the mines. The government knows this but they do nothing to stop them because the companies are such powerful lobbyists. In fact, the Congolese army help them to gain control of land that can be mined for Coltan. The strategy they use is to harass, intimidate and abuse the people living on the land to force them to leave. Rape is their most powerful weapon.

In the East of the country 48 women are raped every hour.

I used to live in Kinshasa, the capital. But in the East of the country the violence is far worse. The police and the military rape women over sixty and even children are not spared. They violate them in so many ways, they insert objects into their wombs, they cut off their limbs, things that are just horror, horror. More than five million people are dead because they do whatever they can to get them off the land, and if they don’t go, they kill them.

Following the election in November 2011, Joseph Kabila will remain in power. The credibility of the election is widely contested by international observers.

The atrocities that have taken place in the last ten years were all under the rule of Joseph Kabila, who came to power through a coup d’état in 2001. He won the election on 28^th November 2011, but it was not a democratic victory. International observers from the EU, the UN, NGOs and the Catholic Church were all present during the elections, but they rejected the results because there were too many inconsistencies. He was not our people’s choice. After all that he’s done to our country Joseph Kabila will remain the president. People will continue to get raped and killed. Children will be used in the mines. So today the Congolese are just desperate. They don’t know what to do now.

Please make our voices heard because we feel alone in this.