Inalienable rights?
On the side is written “Galway City and County Childcare Committee” and it looks weather-beaten, a bit smudged, but in many ways it is similar to the centre itself — it mightn’t be the best available, but at least it’s something.
Esther (pseudonym), a resident of the centre since 2008, secured the bus from the Galway Childcare Committee so it could be used as a pre-school building for the younger children at the centre.
It proves the maxim that something is better than nothing. And now she and the rest of the residents are leaving it behind.
The centre, formerly an Ibis Hotel, was home to more than 270 residents and was operated by Bridgestock Facilities Management, until the Government decided to close it down on cost grounds. There are about 100 children in Lisbrook, ranging from a three-month-old baby to those well into secondary school, and as far as they and their families were concerned, the first they heard of the proposed closure of Lisbrook came in a letter to residents on Sept 3.
David, the de facto spokesman for the residents, said confirmation of the decision to close the hostel only came on Oct 10.
He says the children are now approaching mid-term and demanding that families move elsewhere is “unreasonable”. Speaking in a rapid-fire manner, he says: “We have stayed here for five years, our children were born here, so many of us work with the directorate of [a local] charitable service. They [the people who are closing the centre] cannot put themselves in that situation.”
He and others have piled into the foyer of the nearby Pillo Hotel to discuss the move.
This was news to the residents, including James, a Cameroonian, and his son, two-year-old Henry; Bernadette (pseudonym) and her daughter, Emily (also a pseudonym), who is also aged two, as is Claire, the daughter of Esther. Both women are from Nigeria, as is David, who has children of his own. The group is joined in fits and starts by others with children of schoolgoing age, dressed in their uniforms. The colour of the uniforms will be changing as those families that do not have children in secondary school will not only be moving as a result of the decision to close Lisbrook, but in all likelihood, will have to move to Cork or Waterford. It has left a bitter taste. It later emerged that a young woman at the centre had attempted suicide — whether it was down to the prospect of moving or not is unknown, but David and others certainly believe so.
David said the local schools were not happy with the decision either, on the basis that children leaving would deplete overall numbers and, therefore, might have a knock-on effect on teacher numbers. Likewise, local charities such as Galway Simon and St Vincent De Paul, with which some residents regularly volunteer, will be down on helpers. “They will have to employ paid workers now,” says David. “Some people here have studied up to MA and PhD level, some of them teach in VEC. One of our guys teaches disabled children music. Everything, we are involved [in] on a voluntary basis. That is what we do to keep our souls together.”
That very night David was having to pack for his move, although as of last week he was still in the Galway area. When asked how he felt about the prospect he said: “You can see it from our eyes.”
James is a director of a local church choir. He says: “I think everything comes down to political reasons.” He mentions contracts signed by the previous government and the notion that the current government want out of them. “When Alan Shatter was the one that led the rally in Mosney, in the opponent party, his argument was that [direct provision, which requires those seeking asylum or leave to remain in the state to stay in designated accommodation centres] should be nullified, that people should only be in a hostel for six months to one year. Now nothing has been done.” He adds that in his view, cases where a father has been deported while other members of his family stay behind is “child abuse”, while in other cases teenagers, aged 14 or 15, are still sharing a bedroom with their parents. It all sounds hellish, but James and others do not believe their situation will improve if they move. “To take them [the children] somewhere else is like starting all over again,” says James.
Another resident, who referred to herself as Mrs Jones, says: “We want to save money but they should think of the welfare of these children as well. We have lived here with our children in Galway. We have them ahead in school.”
Sarah (pseudonym), from the Democratic Republic of Congo, has a 12-year-old son called Simon (pseudonym) in sixth class in primary school. They have lived in Galway for more than four years but now she has been told they could be moving to Waterford. “Yes, we are in the system, but we are also human beings,” she says. “They should have transferred people during the summer holidays. We would still have been against it but we would have had time to prepare ourselves.”
Her other children have already asked if they are moving to “another hotel”. Simon has asked: “When are we going to get our own house?” According to Sarah: “My son does not tell his friends where he lives. He says ‘Mum, I am ashamed’. It’s OK for a period of time but not four or five years. I never see friends from school in my place.”
Esther’s testimony is even more devastating: “My daughter is in secondary school but when she was in primary she asked people to come to her birthday party. Nobody came.”
The rights of children in Lisbrook House have not been front and centre in any debate on the children’s rights referendum. The number of people applying for asylum here has been falling in recent years and it is no longer deemed a central issue at a time when the economy is permanently in the emergency ward and immigration and austerity has eviscerated much of Irish life.
The lack of focus on children in the asylum system does beg the question whether those advocating a yes vote are wary of pointing out any possible shortcomings in the amendment, on the basis that something is better than nothing. Similarly, some have expressed the view that it is better not to muddy the waters about possible repercussions in areas such as the asylum seeker system.
A source on the yes side agrees with much of this analysis, but stresses that if the amendment is passed, it will be a landmark step forward for children in this country, even if the exact wording is “not as strong as we would have liked”. The source said: “They have been very careful about the crafting of the legal language. It is a moderate change, it is definitely an improvement, but it is not rocking the boat.”
The perception exists that the lack of a more vocal no side is prompted by the view that, in reality, the wording is not as dramatic as it could have been, and so there is less to fear. The Government has certainly taken care to ease any worries about “unintended consequences”, in contrast to the original wording formulated by an all-party Oireachtas committee and published to some fanfare in 2010. Within hours of that wording being published it became clear that the “unintended consequences” could include the execution of deportation orders.
No such problems seem to have attached themselves to the wording which will be voted on next month, but is that to say it will have no impact on those children living in direct provision?
Tanya Ward, chief executive of the Children’s Rights Alliance, part of the Yes for Children campaign, believes the amendment, if passed, will provide scope for legal changes that will benefit children in direct provision.
“Under the amendment, the Constitution will recognise, for the first time, that all children have rights and that the State must protect those rights. If the amendment is passed on Saturday, Nov 10, it will place an onus on the State to protect all children, including those living with their families, in direct provision facilities. Many of these children are living in inappropriate conditions, sharing bedrooms and bathrooms with strangers. Following this amendment, we would expect that the State can be held to account for not protecting children and families. We will demand, at the very least, that Hiqa be able to inspect these facilities.”
Fergus Finlay, Barnardos CEO and also at the forefront of the Yes for Children campaign, echoes those views. “The wording of the referendum applies with the same force to the 1,000 children that are in direct provision as it does any other child.” He believes that if a solicitor or barrister wanted to take a test case focusing on the treatment of children within DP, his or her hand would be strengthened.
If you want an example of how you can be an adult but still feel like a child, Mildred (not her real name) is a prime example. Sitting in the offices of Nasc, the Cork-based immigrant support centre, she seems younger than her 18 years. Originally from Nigeria, she has been in Ireland for a number of years, but you get the impression that she is struggling to grow up, amid the changes that have taken place in her life. Her parents were killed in a car accident in Nigeria, after which time, still in her young teens, she came under the influence of a person she refers to as her “aunt” — a maternal figure at first, but someone who, having engineered a trip for both of them out of Nigeria, changed to someone who simply expected Mildred to work as a skivvy and glorified babysitter to her children. Coming under the care of the HSE, Mildred stayed in a place in Dublin which she loved, and then later with a foster family in Co Cork. For years this was like living in a dream, she says — she was part of a family, treated the same as the other children in the house, taking summer holidays and going to school. Normal stuff. Then she turned 18, the placement ended, and she was moved into direct provision in Cork City.
“I am sad about everything,” she says, crying quietly. “I easily break, I cry almost every time she [her foster mother] calls to me.”
It is the absence of her foster family, despite the regular contact she has with them, that hurts — that, and her new surroundings, sharing a room with another woman, someone who is fervently religious and who watches the God Channel throughout the night, only stopping to pray.
“I do not feel comfortable, there is nobody to listen to you,” she says, her tiny frame juddering with the emotion. “You have no freedom.”
Like others staying at the Kinsale Rd centre in Cork, Mildred does not want to be identified; in centres around the country there are fears that speaking up about conditions in your place of residence will see you ultimately shifted to a less pleasant centre. There has never been any hard evidence for this view, but the fear persists. Despite pledges from the Reception and Integration Centre that it had instigated a new, more transparent complaints policy, the actual number of complaints seems relatively low, with groups, including Nasc, claiming they have received many more complaints from residents than those which appear in the official statistics.
This explains why Younis (also not his real name), a father and former sales manager from Pakistan, does not want to be identified either. He has very real complaints, however. Despite his urbane appearance and immaculate English, he is a man on edge. As he explains it, he and his family, ranging in age from a young baby to a Leaving Cert teenager, moved from a centre in the West to one in Co Cork, with debilitating results. “The place is so horrible,” he says. “So miserable. There has been a drastic change in my life — in myself, in my wife and in my children.”
He says his wife has a phobia of small places, and is now effectively trapped in a house that is smaller than the one they had in the last centre. “It is very compact, and a very dirty place,” he says, adding that he now feels a little stupid for having criticised the centre they lived in prior to the move, a place he now believes was “paradise” compared to his current dwelling. “My wife, she can’t sleep. She has a phobia that if she sleeps she will die.” One of his children has suffered a severe asthma attack, leading to a panic attack, while a doctor has expressed concern about the psychological impact of their situation on the children. “The whole scenario has been changed — the environment, infrastructure, friends. They are very much in mental stress.” He has a daughter who he says is “devastated” at the impact of the transfer, which only happened because their previous centre was closed down, just as is happening with Lisbrook. The place, isolated and removed from the local community, seems shrouded in darkness.
Mildred says she and all the other residents in her section of the centre have to share four bathrooms. With a delightful turn of Leeside phraseology she says: “The bathroom is so manky you feel you can’t have a bath in there — it’s too disgusting. It’s not home. I hate it.”
According to Nasc, many residents in Kinsale Rd and other centres such as Millstreet have expressed concerns about isolation and the living conditions. Another woman, who does not wish to be named, claims that in one centre she was pregnant and when her waters broke a manager told her and “she didn’t care”.
Mildred has two aspirations: To continue her studies and see her status finalised. Like all those interviewed for this piece, she is in the throes of a long process, which recently prompted mild criticism from the UN High Commissioner on Refugees on a recent visit here. When people consider the asylum system, the focus is typically — and correctly — on whether or not the claims are valid, but when considering the new amendment and what it will mean for children living in the State, that is almost a side issue. According to a yes side source, the amendment, if passed, will not mean it will be more difficult to secure deportations. It will simply mean that until that moment, even someone who is unsuccessful in their efforts to claim asylum should receive a better standard of care while they reside here.
“At the moment, if you look at Provision 1 (The State recognises and affirms the natural and imprescriptible rights of all children and shall, as far as practicable, by its laws protect and vindicate those rights), it is a broad statement that kids have rights and the State must vindicate them — that is a very powerful statement for legal practitioners to use, that there are basic rights that must be protected and the DP system currently violates those rights.”
According to the source, if the Constitution is “a value statement”, DP has been “an achilles heel”, and one the Government knows it needs to address.
Following the 2004 Citizenship Referendum, there is no auto-matic entitlement to Irish citizenship by dint of being born here, and the wording is unlikely to impact upon deportation legislation, thanks to the State being the guardian of the common good — meaning it will always have the capacity to deport, in protection of the State.
Nevertheless, the expectation is that while the amendment, if passed, may not result in instant results, it will be utilised in fresh court proceedings which may well alter the ways various laws are framed.
Until then, the residents of Lisbrook will move against their will, Younis will probably have to stay where he is against his will, and Mildred will try and make sense of the changes that have enveloped her in the latest phase of her young life. “I don’t like to be alone,” she says, claiming she would like to remain in Cork to be near her friends and her former foster family. Her thoughts often turn to Galway, but fora different reason to those in Lisbrook.
“There was one holiday we took to the west last year,” she says. “We were in Galway and it was so fun.” And now? “I feel that everything is put on me and I have to grow up fast. I have to do everything on my own.”
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