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.