Tuesday, 04.11.08
Nadine, Venja and I chose the topic “Strait of Gibraltar” regarding illegal immegration. Up to know we read several articles published on the web about this theme. Also the Spiegel-article “Das Traumschiff” (Spiegel 44/2008) will be really helpful because it is dealing exactly with these Africans who try to reach Spain via the Strait of Gibraltar.
Tuesday, 11.11.08
Today we fixed the subitems of our presentation.
Presumably, Nadine will begin to introduce the rest of the course in our topic. Then she will deliver us an insight into the situation. She will pose the questions, why the Africans want to escape from their native country and in how far their own government obscures them.
Then I will start with a fielding report to demonstrate the significance of that topic. What do the Africans have to sit out on their boats? Do they have an chance to survive?
After that, Venja will come to the laws of the EU detaining the Africans to immigrate to Europe. Do they have a chance to stay in Europe, especially Spain; are there any loopholes in the law?
Finally, the life after their escape. Was it worth it to escape? Are they able to start a new life?
Monday, 08.12.08
Now we have finished the preparations of our presentation and I will give you some informations about the course of that prewsentation now.
Nadine D. will be the moderator; so she has the task to lead Venja and me in the right direction. Venja will be a delegate of the European Union who is against the immigration of Africans to Europe. By contrast, I will play the role of an African woman who has lost her whole family by crossing the Strait of Gibraltar.
That is my text:
“Hello,
my name is Hope.
There was a time I really had some hope. But I think it’s better to start at the beginning.
Me and my family including my husband Niles, my son Luis and my daughter Joy wanted to escape from that god-damned place called Africa. It’s true, we never had a possibility to live a full life there. We fought a losing battle.
So we put all one’s eggs in one’s basket. We took the few reserves we had and started off on the journey from Nigeria to Marroco. Sometimes we had the chance to hitshhike but usually we had to walk with two little children through the deserts.
Eventually, we reached the camp where we had to live four years because we needed more money to cross the Strait of Gibraltar.
In these years we had to go begging and live in renunciation. Later I have been told that the life in these camps is like a life in a concentration camp. I don’t know.
In contrast to waht came next it was a lightness.
One day, it was a Sunday, we had the 1000 Euro and a possibility to enter a “patera”, one of these wobbly boats containing about 50 people illegally.
I can exactly remember the moment we set off – I regreted our decision so much. But there was so much hope in the eyes of Niles and the kids.
One of the refugees had to navigate the patera. We decided for John. I don’t know why. He never did navigate a boat or a car. Nobody of us did.
Also we just had petrol for one day. -No problem- we thought. But now i Know it was too less.
Right at the beginning the engine made some strange sounds. After a few hours – hours under the glowing sun – it failed.
There was panic. Linda, a pregnant young woman, didn’t stop crying and weeping.
We didn’t know what to do. Some wanted to return, but the mayority wanted to reach europe – with their hands. I wanted to return.
After two days a lot of us lost their consciousness, after two days the first baby died because of dehydrartion. We had no water because it would have been too much wight for the boat.
You can’t imagine that despair, that rage, that mortal fear.
-There is no hope- I thought, -We have to die-.
Then Louis died. I can’t remember that moment because I lost my consciousness from time to time. Niles went mad; he cried himself to death.
After four days we were rescued by a spanish lifeboat. When I woke up, Joy was already dead. I was dead. I am dead.
Now I’m living in Spain. In Córdoba. I don’t have a real identity. Moreover, I don’t hav a real home because I’m not allowed to work here. I have to go begging.. HERE! In the rich Europe. I’m treated as if I’m of second importance.
It’s like Africa. Just without family..
