Immigration and racism? I think so:
Let’s start this one with a story.
A few years ago, I visited Athens for about a week with another journalist, Abi Ramanan. Austerity had smacked the Greek infrastructure to rubble even then. We went to Greece to ask people how that felt. They said it didn’t feel too good.
While we were there, we interviewed three young guys – they were all in their 20s – who’d recently made the move to Europe. They were new-ish arrivals. We talked for a while about the reasons they’d made the trip to Greece. They gave the answers that you’d expect from young people on the move in any part of the world: they hoped to further their studies, learn new languages and to find good jobs (you can read transcripts from those conversations here).
“Everybody wants to be the best, to have a good life,” one of the young men said. “I’m here to learn, to know something, to get knowledge.”
“I came here for education. I was studying economics. I wanted to learn Greek and English. I wanted to finish my schooling,” said another.
This part of the conversation struck quite a chord with me. I’m an Antipodean by birth. We leave for other countries and for new starts all the time. You might even say that for some of us, leaving home is a sort of lifelong rite of passage. We never reach the end of it, or grow out of it, or manage to decide whether Here or There is best. The final decision is usually made for you when the money runs out. When we’re Home, we save up our money so that we can get Away, and on the double. When we’re Away, we dream about Home and then very quickly about getting Away again. If I understand anything, it is that desire to move and to keep moving. I left New Zealand for Europe and the UK myself for the second time over a decade ago for the same sorts of reasons that the three young men in Greece talked about – to see Europe, to learn and to push on and out in a part of the world that I’d always found enticing. I have an Irish passport (my mother’s family was/is Irish) and so have the right to live and work in Europe, but if I hadn’t, I would probably have tried to find sponsorship to stay. I grew up in the Antipodes. We leave for other countries all the time.
What we don’t do, though – the white Antipodean family and friends I know, at least – is find ourselves on the receiving end of the dreadful crap that the three guys I met in Greece had flung at them from the moment that they decided to move to Europe. The three men had come from Togo and Nigeria. They’d been violently attacked and abused in Greece. This was 2012, too, if you don’t mind. So much for civilised advance.
For a start, these guys had been ripped off. They had paid shifty agents a large amount of money (€3000 one of the men said) for transport and “help” to make the trip to Greece from Togo and Nigeria. These deals were supposed to include visas for studying and for part-time work. The visas never materialised and the agents disappeared. That left the men stranded in a city that was patrolled by an aggressive police force and the Golden Dawn. Things turned very nasty very fast.
“The police attack us every day,” said Koffi, 25. He’d been subject to a violent assault only a few days earlier. The police had thrown a gas bottle at his head. A large lump on one side of his forehead marked the place where the bottle had hit. “We don’t have [the chance] to work to get money. We don’t have [the chance] to get out to learn the language. They don’t like to see the black [sic]. Why?”
“They don’t like foreigners,” Saheed Aylula, 22, told us. “If I’m on the bus, I cannot get people to sit down with me. If there is two seats there, I cannot get people to sit next to me. You can go to any restaurant or any cafe here and you cannot see blacks working there.” He also told us that a friend of his had been attacked by someone with a machete. “They [the perpetrators] were wearing black. They macheted the guy around nine or 10pm. So, that’s the reason why I don’t feel like walking around at night.” Continue reading →