Letter to the World from Moria (No 12)

Author: A migratory girl

copyright: Hinrich Schultze

I am mother Earth

I have existed for billions of years. Every century I raised new generations, but I have never been at the same time as proud of myself as I am today and as sad and disappointed as I am today.

Today, I stand tip-top on some incredible advances and discoveries achieved in this world. Yet, it looks like my residents are returning back to old false thoughts, thoughts thousands years old. Thoughts of egoism, thoughts of greed, thoughts that make you fight between each other, that made you built borders in order not to share between your kind or other creatures.

I am mother of you all. I am equally belonging to all people. You can all live on me. So what are these borders for that you created? Why don’t you open your doors to each other? Why don’t you get rid of racism and come together sitting on one table?

We are a family. Didn’t you realise? Is it possible for one child to ask another child to give him back his mother? Is she mother to just one child? Which mother can be happy to see one of her kids happy and wealthy and another poor and miserable? Which family can draw borders between its members? You are all earths people, how can one be more and another less?

You want to conquer other people, other countries, other planets. Have you pleased me, to now think that you will please other planets? Did you look after me so now you think that you can look after other planets?

Today, more than any times in the past, I need protection from you people and people need protection from each other. Instead of looking after me, you want to conquer me, you think that I belong to some few of you. You don’t want to care and to share…

Don’t you need me all in order to survive? I am soil and water for you, and if the goal is to live and not to turn others into slaves, get a piece of land for yourself and give a glas of water to others.

Every day, with your growing greed I fall into more trouble and you loose yourselves. Your attempt to conquer me burns forests into ashes, forests that have grown over thousands of years nurturing us with oxygen. Seas turn red with human blood, and more lands with their thousand years old history, turn into dry sand.

Your pressure on me is ever growing. With every century of your “progress”, I get closer to the end of my life. You want to exploit me, but don’t you realize that you deplete me every day, that you end my days and yours.

Why don’t you content with what you already have? Why don’t you protect the treasures in your hands? Your life would be terribly short if I belonged to one man only, if you were alone. If you continue the same way, you won’t be able to have me for more than 100 years more. I will die. You will die.

So let the people see the grasses also in future, let them touch the lawns, let them smell fresh air, let them climb the mountains and swim in the seas. Don’t force the future generations to spend all their days and lives with masks! My ozone layer is being destroyed. I cannot escape harmful radiations anymore, all because of you! Every day by making more nuclear power, by building more factories, I come closer to the end of my life.

…This is only an Abstract of the letter.

One can wander to the East or the West, to the North or the South, but where home is, it is the best.

Parwana

Letter to the World from Moria (Nr. 11)

Author: A migratory girl

Life of a Transgender

I am in Moria Camp.

Being a transgender means not to be of female or male sex, neither man nor woman – but of transgender sex. In a society like Afghanistan, being a transgender person is like being an extra-terrestrial, landing on earth from outer space. In Afghanistan people think of sex binary: only female and male are considered as “normal” genders.

In Afghanistan I used false names. I am Mina. This name gives an understanding that I am a girl. Yet, every day, during my whole being, my soul screams: “I am not a girl! Don’t cover your self with these clothes.”

I was born, in 1992, in Mazaresharef, the western province of Afghanistan. Being a girl in such a society carries guilt. Being a transgender born as a girl carries double guilt. So when I realised that I was not really a girl, my life became a nightmare. I felt myself separate from everyone, not belonging to any of the dominant sexes. Although I had a female body, I wanted to be with boys, behave like a boy. Playing with them, learning with them, speaking with them was pleasant for me.

While I was little, my family allowed me to do more or less what I wanted. But as soon as my female body developed, they didn’t allow me to be what I wanted to be, as I wanted to be. They were always thinking about their reputation and honour and not about what I wanted. When I became 18, I felt like a prisoner in the jail of my female body and I couldn’t tolerate anymore wearing girl’s clothes. So, I decided to take off my hijab and be what I wanted to be.

I loved one of my classmates and I was all the time with her. She didn’t know everything about me. She just knew my deep feelings for her and she thought that I was like all girls. Sometimes, she felt uncertain and would ask if I was ok. Soon, I decided to speak with her and with my family.

First I told her all my feelings, that I really loved her and wanted to be with her all my life. She was shocked, but she accepted me and wanted me to be what I wanted to be, not what others wanted me to be.

When I then spoke with my family, they told me that they would kill me if I did not do what they wanted. They also told me that there was a suitor asking for me and that he and his family were coming the next day to visit to ask for my hand. I should just dress like a lady and that was it!

I thought ok, I will do what they ask me to do. I will get married, but I won’t have any relation with him. Relations need feelings and I had no such feelings for him or any men. I thought, I will divorce him after two months, I promise!

I did the opposite. I went to a barber and cut off my hair like a boy. Then I wore a t-shirt with a pair of jeans and went home.  

I did all of that in order to live in freedom, and I will continue my struggle until I achieve my freedom. Freedom for ever.

I hope that here I will be free!

Parwana

…This is only an Abstract of the letter.

Letter to the World from Moria (10)

copyright: Salinia Stroux

Author: A migratory girl

Seeking for protection in a world of war

Where is safety?

In a camp with 14,000 refugees coming from different places of earth living under inhuman conditions one piled upon the other, the authorities can do very little to protect us. In fact, the miserable conditions they force us to live in, the inhuman laws and rules they subject us to create a small world of violence – a form of systematic violence against all of us.

If you live this violence day by day, you become part of it. In the end we humans, who are currently refugees in your Europe, must defend ourselves, our tents and our families against a generalised violence from above, but also from all sides. This violence can come come from any side now.

Where is safety?

If you live under conditions not worth for animals, violent conditions, then you can become violent any time yourself even if you share the same pain.

I feel powerless against this violence. I feel it crawling in our veins. I don’t want to become a part of this. I feel shame, when I see anger growing between people who suffer the same pain and shame when I feel anger rising inside me.

Instead of establishing friendly relations between each other as oppressed people that face the same discrimination, we become part of the reasons of fear. We escaped war, but it seems we are in war again. There is no way out. This is the war to survive the jungle called Europe.

Where is safety?

How long are we going to search for safety by holding guns in our hands? These hands, which long for a pen not a gun!

Open your doors for our lives’!

Parwana

…This is only an Abstract of the letter.

Letter to the World from Moria (No 12)

Author: A migratory girl

copyright: Hinrich Schultze

I am mother Earth

I have existed for billions of years. Every century I raised new generations, but I have never been at the same time as proud of myself as I am today and as sad and disappointed as I am today.

Today, I stand tip-top on some incredible advances and discoveries achieved in this world. Yet, it looks like my residents are returning back to old false thoughts, thoughts thousands years old. Thoughts of egoism, thoughts of greed, thoughts that make you fight between each other, that made you built borders in order not to share between your kind or other creatures.

I am mother of you all. I am equally belonging to all people. You can all live on me. So what are these borders for that you created? Why don’t you open your doors to each other? Why don’t you get rid of racism and come together sitting on one table?

We are a family. Didn’t you realise? Is it possible for one child to ask another child to give him back his mother? Is she mother to just one child? Which mother can be happy to see one of her kids happy and wealthy and another poor and miserable? Which family can draw borders between its members? You are all earths people, how can one be more and another less?

You want to conquer other people, other countries, other planets. Have you pleased me, to now think that you will please other planets? Did you look after me so now you think that you can look after other planets?

Today, more than any times in the past, I need protection from you people and people need protection from each other. Instead of looking after me, you want to conquer me, you think that I belong to some few of you. You don’t want to care and to share…

Don’t you need me all in order to survive? I am soil and water for you, and if the goal is to live and not to turn others into slaves, get a piece of land for yourself and give a glas of water to others.

Every day, with your growing greed I fall into more trouble and you loose yourselves. Your attempt to conquer me burns forests into ashes, forests that have grown over thousands of years nurturing us with oxygen. Seas turn red with human blood, and more lands with their thousand years old history, turn into dry sand.

Your pressure on me is ever growing. With every century of your “progress”, I get closer to the end of my life. You want to exploit me, but don’t you realize that you deplete me every day, that you end my days and yours.

Why don’t you content with what you already have? Why don’t you protect the treasures in your hands? Your life would be terribly short if I belonged to one man only, if you were alone. If you continue the same way, you won’t be able to have me for more than 100 years more. I will die. You will die.

So let the people see the grasses also in future, let them touch the lawns, let them smell fresh air, let them climb the mountains and swim in the seas. Don’t force the future generations to spend all their days and lives with masks! My ozone layer is being destroyed. I cannot escape harmful radiations anymore, all because of you! Every day by making more nuclear power, by building more factories, I come closer to the end of my life.

Your egoism and greed is my death. But my death will be your destruction. It will affect all of you. Every day more species of herbs, plants and animals become extinct. More humans lose their lives fighting in front of the borders of your greed and pride.

People were all born with many hopes, but not feeling the joy of life, they lost everything. When I see that in one part of me, people die from hunger and children are threatened by malnutrition, and in another part of me, people go under surgery‘s blades to lose weight, I feel anger.

I am sorry for the countries where people live below the poverty line. I should also say: I am sorry for the residents, of those parts of a country, living under the poverty line, while just next to them others live on top of joviality. I feel pain for those who work in their own territories for other people and give their own natural wealth away for a few cents.

It pains me to think that, millions of years from now, the inhabitants of other planets would call Earth “the planet of the greedy species”, and amazed from the horror, they will look at the destruction caused by atomic wars and missile weapons.

You have closed the borders, when in one of my hemispheres population density is low, while in my other hemisphere it is very high. The rich eat more, the poor face hunger more.

Are not the rich countries of the world responsible for that? The nations, the presidents, the politicians, the businessmen? Have they not taken away all natural resources? Should they not feel shame? They don’t. Instead the rulers, the real thieves, just give “development aid” and present themselves as benefactors to our world. They interfere in politics of other countries, they throw down governments and start wars to “save” others.

In a period when Europe has decreasing birthrates and schools and universities close down because of a lack of students, in Asia and Africa and in most other continents, thousands of schools are destroyed under bombs and students are deprived of education.

In an era when generations should deliberate together to get to know and understand each other, people have raised borders higher and thousands die as a result, including children, pregnant women, old men.

One day from the Aegean Sea, the Mediterranean Sea, the North Sea terrible screams will rise — screams to break down the borders. I have never raised borders to hold someone out. Nature has always stretched a friendly hand to all – so hold it tight.

In an era when you still want to visit Mars, I have never constructed a border. You were created as free people and freedom is what you deserve. I need life not borders. No one needs borders.

Come together to find new ways to protect life and dignity. I am getting old and I cannot tolerate fumes of chemical factories, atomic power’s gases, missiles, atomic bombs.

Let one day of life be a gift for yourself and give one day also for all the others.

I turned centuries around the sun to give your life, but, today, when I need you to listen to me, don’t turn your back on me. Earth don’t want no borders. Earth want people united.

One can wander to the East or the West, to the North or the South, but where home is, it is the best.

Parwana

Letter to the World from Moria (Nr. 11)

Author: A migratory girl

Life of a Transgender

I am in Moria Camp.

Being a transgender means not to be of female or male sex, neither man nor woman – but of transgender sex. In a society like Afghanistan, being a transgender person is like being an extra-terrestrial, landing on earth from outer space. In Afghanistan people think of sex binary: only female and male are considered as “normal” genders.

In Afghanistan I used false names. I am Mina. This name gives an understanding that I am a girl. Yet, every day, during my whole being, my soul screams: “I am not a girl! Don’t cover your self with these clothes.”

I was born, in 1992, in Mazaresharef, the western province of Afghanistan. Being a girl in such a society carries guilt. Being a transgender born as a girl carries double guilt. So when I realised that I was not really a girl, my life became a nightmare. I felt myself separate from everyone, not belonging to any of the dominant sexes. Although I had a female body, I wanted to be with boys, behave like a boy. Playing with them, learning with them, speaking with them was pleasant for me.

While I was little, my family allowed me to do more or less what I wanted. But as soon as my female body developed, they didn’t allow me to be what I wanted to be, as I wanted to be. They were always thinking about their reputation and honour and not about what I wanted. When I became 18, I felt like a prisoner in the jail of my female body and I couldn’t tolerate anymore wearing girl’s clothes. So, I decided to take off my hijab and be what I wanted to be.

I loved one of my classmates and I was all the time with her. She didn’t know everything about me. She just knew my deep feelings for her and she thought that I was like all girls. Sometimes, she felt uncertain and would ask if I was ok. Soon, I decided to speak with her and with my family.

First I told her all my feelings, that I really loved her and wanted to be with her all my life. She was shocked, but she accepted me and wanted me to be what I wanted to be, not what others wanted me to be.

When I then spoke with my family, they told me that they would kill me if I did not do what they wanted. They also told me that there was a suitor asking for me and that he and his family were coming the next day to visit to ask for my hand. I should just dress like a lady and that was it!

I thought ok, I will do what they ask me to do. I will get married, but I won’t have any relation with him. Relations need feelings and I had no such feelings for him or any men. I thought, I will divorce him after two months, I promise!

I did the opposite. I went to a barber and cut off my hair like a boy. Then I wore a t-shirt with a pair of jeans and went home.  

My older sister was shocked to see me like that and told me to change my clothes immediately and wear a scarf. “Otherwise”, she told me, “our father will kill you”.

I put a scarf over my short brown hair and wore a skirt over my jeans.

The guests came and I got married, but I had no relation with him. We were together for two months and then I divorced.

When my father learned that I divorced, he beat me up. My eyes became black and purple.

“What is this,” he shouted. “Do you want me to kill you? What did I do wrong to you that you behave like this? What did you want, that I didn’t give you”, he shouted and continued to beat me.

“You didn’t give me my right,” I answered. “Did you ever ask me what I wanted? Did you ever ask how I felt? Did you ask anytime how I wanted to be? You know nothing about me,” I went on. “You were always thinking about your reputation and honour, not about your child.”

And as I was speaking my voice stopped. I was sobbing. “Your crying won’t change anything,” he cried, “I will decide about you.” He threw me out of the house and that was the last time I saw him.

It’s about six years that I have not had a single contact with my family.

My mother died some years ago and my two sisters got married. I went to them.

I couldn’t stay a lot with my sister. Her husband, my brother in law, was not happy with me and his behaviour towards me became worse and worse. I understood that I could not stay there any longer.

One day, my bother in law called me in the room and told me: “We are taking a decision about you. As you know, our financial situation is not good and we cannot spend money for you. We will tell you our decision tomorrow.”

I felt totally stressed out. I didn’t know what he was going to decide and how it was going to be. That night was like a nightmare for me. I couldn’t sleep. Yet, I was pleased with my new style. I was day-dreaming all night long in front of the mirror, brushing my short hair and changing my parting hair line.

The next day, the sun was shining and I was still day-dreaming. I wanted to become a lawyer to protect the rights of people, make the world a just world. But they burned my dreams, they burned my child and my adult dreams. They burned my hopes.

In the morning my brother in law asked me: “Will you change yourself?”

“No”, I replied.

“Won’t you change your decision?”

“No!!!”, I insisted. “I know who to be and how to be. Everyone has the right to chose.”

“We are not in Europe, never forget it”, he shouted. “I live in society, with many other people. Every day I hear them speak about you. Their words bother me. I don’t have any problem with you working in the municipality, or you going to university, but I cannot tolerate that people speak about you and us.”

I was living with my sister for 3,5 years. But, after this conversation with my brother in law, I decided to leave them and not to make them uncomfortable anymore.

I was sad, hopeless, upset and disturbed. I realized that I was alone. Alone in all respects. Totally alone in the whole world. I didn’t know what to do and where to go. I cried, and cried. I cried continuously.

I went to my classmate who had promised to give me money to escape from Afghanistan and become free — free to spin in the air for all to see me. No need to hide anymore.

I found a family that also wanted to go Germany. So I took the money from my classmate and I went with them to Farah, then to Nemroz, the nearest city to Pakistan’s border. Then we went to Pakistan, to a city of thieves, war and deception. When we were there, I didn’t know that I should dress like a girl and wear a hijab. I thought it would be more tolerant and open-minded than Mazar-e-Sharif. But when we arrived at Nemroz, I understood that I should cover all my body. Even then, however, everyone was looking at us as if we “women” were guilty of a crime. Then I understood that they were looking at us, because our men wore t-shirts and trousers, clothes very different from theirs, since they were all wearing long dresses and Tomban (traditional trousers). So our men changed their style and borrowed a Pirahsn and Tomban for themselves.

We were eight nights at the Pakistan border and this was the most difficult part of our journey. One night three men wanted to invader our tent while we were sleeping, but fortunately our men stopped them and had a fight with them. They left, but, after that, we couldn’t sleep all night.

We reached Iran, a country of racism and hatred, between Shiites and Sunnis, Iranians and Afghans. When we were there, we spent three days in the mountains. The weather was very cold, but no one of the smugglers helped the families that had children. I felt very sorry for the family of that baby who fell from the mountain and died.

Finally we arrived to Turkey.

The UNHCR helped me a lot in every respect. When they learned that I wanted to change my gender, they tried to collect money for the operation. Unfortunately there was no doctor to perform such an operation. They suggested that, I should go to Europe.

I spent two and half years in Turkey. After six months, I got a money card, and every month, I took 7 hundred and fifty Lire from PTT. But as I had to pay for rent, water, gas and electricity that money wasn’t enough for me. So I was peddling everyday at the corners of the streets. I do the same here too, just to earn 5€.

It’s so hard when somebody asks me, how many siblings I have. How can I say 6, when I have not been with them for so long? I share nothing with them.

Isn’t it wrong?

It’s very hard when somebody is looking at me strangely and I sense that he or she wants to ask me who and what I am.

I cannot say anything. I just hide myself, hide my gender, because of my feelings and I hide my feelings, because of others.

I passed the borders not to be hidden!

I risked my life not to be hidden!

I lost everything not to be hidden!

I did all of that in order to live in freedom, and I will continue my struggle until I achieve my freedom. Freedom for ever.

I hope that here I will be free!

Parwana

Letter to the World from Moria (10)

copyright: Salinia Stroux

Author: A migratory girl

Seeking for protection in a world of war

Where is safety?

In a camp with 14,000 refugees coming from different places of earth living under inhuman conditions one piled upon the other, the authorities can do very little to protect us. In fact, the miserable conditions they force us to live in, the inhuman laws and rules they subject us to create a small world of violence - a form of systematic violence against all of us. If you live this violence day by day, you become part of it. In the end we humans, who are currently refugees in your Europe, must defend ourselves, our tents and our families against a generalised violence from above, but also from all sides. This violence can come come from any side now.

Where is safety?

If you live under conditions not worth for animals, violent conditions, then you can become violent any time yourself even if you share the same pain. 

I feel powerless against this violence. I feel it crawling in our veins. I don't want to become a part of this. I feel shame, when I see anger growing between people who suffer the same pain and shame when I feel anger rising inside me. 

Instead of establishing friendly relations between each other as oppressed people that face the same discrimination, we become part of the reasons of fear.

We escaped war, but it seems we are in war again. There is no way out. This is the war to survive the jungle called Europe.

It is so painful to witness women and children unable to sleep, afraid of violence. Their men must stay awake to guard in front of the tents, to protect their families all night. A pi8ece of nylon, a zipper separates them from any intruder.

Today when, more than ever before, we need each other, we are afraid of each other. We don't know from which side we could be attacked. We don't know who is a friend. We have lost trust in life and people because there is no system to protect us and to make us feel like humans among humans. 

Today instead of curing our wounds hand in hand, we put salt on each other’s wounds.

We are trapped in a desert where no one will help us and no one will ask about our whereabouts.

I am responsible of myself. Within this violence, I have to do the first step to not become part of this. I have to criticise me first and start the change from inside myself, as no help will ever come from outside. We have to start from ourselves, from our families, our communities, to stop the violence and to raise up against this system. 

I don't want to brake. I don't want to feel shame for my actions. I will stand firm against you violence and answer it with raised head and open fists. 

We crossed thousands of kilometres to find a life in safety, but it seems that there is no security here for us. I stopped believing that we will find a place in peace. We have to find peace inside us and withstand the war going on outside.

When violence erupts in Moria, when the police beat us, when people riot or even fight, we cannot count for protection by anyone. We have to find the solution to beat the monster.

Can you imagine yourself living in these conditions, having survived war, facing daily violence... Could you control yourself, stay calm and start peace if after all your fate was unclear for months and years while trapped in Moria?

Living under such anxiety and insecurity, we people are under permanent shock; we experience panic and trauma daily. We inflict injuries to ourselves and others. There are even kids hurting themselves and trying to commit suicide.

Where is safety? 

Clubs, tear-gas, wooden sticks, stones and knives... Fists and kicks.... 

Our shields of protection are naked hands and our dignity. All our wealth is our blankets and our few warm clothes. Fear of losing even these keeps us near our tent 24 hours a day. But even if we decided to move away, where could we go?

During the day, the knowledge that darkness is always near and fear of violence shakes our body.

For how long?

Wolves hunt in the darkness of night and the shepherds look after their flock. But here the wolves are the shepards, the shepards are the sheep and sheep turn into wolves. 

No sleep. No dreams.

Where is safety?

How long are we going to search for safety by holding guns in our hands? These hands, which long for a pen not a gun!

Open your doors for our lives'!

Parwana

Sea-Watch 3 seit heute unter deutscher Flagge 

Seit heute ist das Schiff Sea-Watch 3 nicht mehr unter niederländischer, sondern unter deutscher Flagge registriert. Sea-Watch sah sich gezwungen die Flagge zu wechseln, da die Niederlande ihrer Verantwortung als Flaggenstaat nicht nachkamen und bewusst eine Situation schufen, die weitere Rettungsmissionen unmöglich machen soll. Nach internationalem Recht sind die Niederlande als Flaggenstaat dafür verantwortlich, dass…

Der Beitrag Sea-Watch 3 seit heute unter deutscher Flagge  erschien zuerst auf Sea-Watch e.V..

Sea-Watch 3 seit heute unter deutscher Flagge 

Seit heute ist das Schiff Sea-Watch 3 nicht mehr unter niederländischer, sondern unter deutscher Flagge registriert. Sea-Watch sah sich gezwungen die Flagge zu wechseln, da die Niederlande ihrer Verantwortung als Flaggenstaat nicht nachkamen und bewusst eine Situation schufen, die weitere Rettungsmissionen unmöglich machen soll. Nach internationalem Recht sind die Niederlande als Flaggenstaat dafür verantwortlich, dass…

Der Beitrag Sea-Watch 3 seit heute unter deutscher Flagge  erschien zuerst auf Sea-Watch e.V..

Letter to the World from Moria (No. 9)

Author: A migratory girl

copyright: Salinia Stroux

I am a mother

I am mother of three children and& and wife of a sick husband. He has a hernia on his backbone. He cannot walk. Neither should he get tired. So, I must look after my entire family on my own.

I am a woman, softer than flowers, but this life makes me harder than rocks.

Every day, as the sun rises, my mission starts. I wake up at 5am. I spread the blanket over my children. Then I go to get food. I walk 800 meters to the food line. The line starts at 6:30am, but I want to be up front, the first one among a thousand women.

All this waiting for just 5 cakes and one litter of milk, which I suspect is mixed with water.

My boy has a kidney infection for five years now. He cannot tolerate hunger. I must go back as fast as I can.

When back, I gather all the blankets and spread them on the tent’s floor.

I sweep in front of my tent. With my own hands I made a broom from tree branches. I wet the soil with water to prevent the dust and dirt from coming inside.

I hardly finish and, once again, I must run to the food line for taking lunch. The queue starts at 11:30am although they distribute the food only at 13:00pm. So the whole waiting process, under unbearable conditions, starts for me again. In the line for hours, I do not know what happens to my children: Are they well? Are they safe? Has my son’s pain started?

We have been here for 200 days. And every week, we eat the same food – repetitive, tasteless, with no spices, little salt and oil. Three times a week beans, once meatballs, once chicken and once rice with sausage, which we don’t know for sure if it is Hallal. But I force my children to eat so they won’t stay hungry.

Parwana

p.s. For all the mothers!

…This is only an Abstract of the letter.

Letter to the World from Moria (No. 8)

Author: A migratory girl

My pen won’t brake, but borders will

I didn’t know that in Europe people get divided in the ones with passports and the ones without. I didn’t know that I would be treated as ‘a refugee’, a person without papers, without rights. I thought we escaped from emergencies, but here our arrival is considered an emergency for the locals. I thought our situation in the camp is an emergency, but in Europe the meaning of emergency for people like ‘us’ is to be dead.

Under the conditions we live exposed to heat in summer and rainfalls in winter, in the middle of garbage, dirt and sewage water, unsafe in permanent stress and fear facing the violence of the European Asylum System in this small world of 15,000 people – we are all emergency cases.

In fact in Moria, most arrived already with injuries in their souls and sometimes on their bodies. But here everyone gets ill, also the healthy, and our situation let our sicknesses turn to emergencies very fast.

Consider the story behind life in Moria hotspot: Having spent days, weeks or months walking up and down hills, over rocks and in between trees while living in a forest. Standing in queues for hours. Lost between what we think of as protection and what they create to hinder us reaching it.

…This is only an Abstract of the letter.

My pen wont brake unless we won’t end this story of inequality and discrimination among human kind. My words will always brake the borders you built.

Parwana

Letter to the World from Moria (No. 9)

Author: A migratory girl

copyright: Salinia Stroux

I am mother

I am mother of three children and  wife of a sick husband. He has a hernia on his backbone. He cannot walk. Neither should he get tired. So, I must look after my entire family on my own.

I am a woman, softer than flowers, but this life makes me harder than rocks.

Every day, as the sun rises, my mission starts. I wake up at 5am. I spread the blanket over my children. Then I go to get food. I walk 800 meters to the food line.  The line starts at 6:30am., but I want to be up front, the first one among a thousand women.

All this waiting for just 5 cakes and one litter of milk, which I suspect is mixed with water.

My boy has a kidney infection for five years now. He cannot tolerate hunger. I must go back as fast as I can.

When back, I gather all the blankets and spread them on the tent’s floor.

I sweep in front of my tent. With my own hands I made a broom from tree branches. I wet the soil with water to prevent the dust and dirt from coming inside.

I hardly finish and, once again, I must run to the food line for taking lunch. The queue starts at 11:30am although they distribute the food only at 13:00pm. So the whole waiting process, under unbearable conditions, starts for me again. In the line for hours, I do not know what happens to my children: Are they well? Are they safe? Has my son’s pain started?

We have been here for 200 days. And every week, we eat the same food – repetitive, tasteless, with no spices, little salt and oil. Three times a week beans, once meatballs, once chicken and once rice with sausage, which we don’t know for sure if it is Hallal. But I force my children to eat so they won’t stay hungry.

Securing meals is only one of my tasks. I must also wash my family’s clothes. As my children are all the day outside, their clothes get really dirty. Trying to clean the stains my hands get all chapped, the skin cracks. I need to rub them with oil every night.

I hang the clothes and, tiredly, I walk, once more, to the line for dinner—dinner only by name. Dry bread, one tomato and one egg. We must wet the bread to chew it. This is no dinner. When we have nothing to eat, we have to eat onion with bread (it’ s hot for children but we try to eat it cheerfully).

When my day finishes, I am really exhausted. But I do not want my family to notice. I fix my face. It should show no sadness, no fatigue. I hide my chapped hands from my husband and my children.

Sometimes, I don’t make it to the food line, because of the long queues, which I have to stand in to visit the clinic. I go there at 7:00am, but the process is very slow and, usually, every patient takes about 20 minutes inside. Then, the situation of my child gets worse than it normally is, because of his exposure to the sun and the polluted air outside. We need a specific permit to go get some drinking water.

Waiting in queue for four hours, without any toy or game, is very hard for children. It is equally hard for pregnant women like me. I know my husband is not happy when he sees me trying to manage on my own every day. But there is no other way. We don’t have anyone to help. Only ourselves. And he cannot.

I am my family’s strength, their courage, their hope. If I lose hope, who will stand by them? Who will help them? No one.

When the sun sets and darkness spreads, I am filled with fear. I fear also when it becomes cloudy and it rains. I fear the wind, I fear the cold. How will I protect my family? With what will I protect them, when we do not have anything?

When you don’ t have any resources, what are you going to do? I collect the blankets from the floor and spread the cardboards instead. The blankets are our covers at night and the carpets during the day.

I am a mother and wife. My children are the pieces of my heart and my husband is my blood. They are all I have in my life. But who am I for myself?

I don’t have time to even see myself in the mirror. I don’t have time to comb my hair once a day. I don’t have time to brush my teeth in 24 hours.  I can’t take care of my skin. I can’t be a woman .

I am content to sacrifice myself to make a comfortable life for my children and my love, my husband. Because I am a woman. It is my choice to be like this. Life is hard here and there is nowhere good to go.

I was given the documents to go to the mainland. But I canceled my ticket. On the mainland, the authorities will put us in a hotel, far from hospitals or clinics that we depend on. What am I going to do there with my sick child and my husband and myself pregnant? We need (specialised) doctors. We need protection and care. 

I am sorry that I don’ t have time to speak with my family as a mother, as a wife and as a friend. Because I don’ t have more power. I can’ t do more in 24 hours, than bring food, go to clinics, stand in lines.

I have had enough. I can’t continue anymore. Truly, if I didn’t have my children, I would have committed suicide. I live only because it is worth living for them. And now, I am pregnant and I carry one more life in me.

I am one for myself, but four for my family. Soon I will be five…

Parwana

p.s. For all the mothers!

Letter to the World from Moria (No. 8)

Author: A migratory girl

My pen won’t brake, but borders will

I didn’t know that in Europe people get divided in the ones with passports and the ones without. I didn’t know that I would be treated as ‘a refugee’, a person without papers, without rights. I thought we escaped from emergencies, but here our arrival is considered an emergency for the locals. I thought our situation in the camp is an emergency, but in Europe the meaning of emergency for people like ‘us’ is to be dead.

Under the conditions we live exposed to heat in summer and rainfalls in winter, in the middle of garbage, dirt and sewage water, unsafe in permanent stress and fear facing the violence of the European Asylum System in this small world of 15,000 people – we are all emergency cases.

In fact in Moria, most arrived already with injuries in their souls and sometimes on their bodies. But here everyone gets ill, also the healthy, and our situation let our sicknesses turn to emergencies very fast.

Consider the story behind life in Moria hotspot: Having spent days, weeks or months walking up and down hills, over rocks and in between trees while living in a forest. Standing in queues for hours. Lost between what we think of as protection and what they create to hinder us reaching it.

In Europe we become like ping pong balls. The authorities shoot us from one office to another, back and forth without ending and without understanding what, where, why – which makes our situation worse and worse. Even the ‘success story’ of receiving finally a residence permit can’t end the discriminating looks we have to live with every day.

We are not another quality of people; another class of humans; another kind. We are different people with thousand different stories. What unites us is just that we had to leave our homes.

So stop treating us different. Stop lying and pretending that people are safe here. Stop saying Europe was a better place, when it is only better for some and not even accessible for others.

We are not treated like being a part of Lesvos’ population, like Greeks, like Europeans. Our destiny depends on a bureaucrats decision, on the economical value of a political decision in favour of migration or not, on the political mood dominant in the continent, on European strategies and plans. It is not build on the foundation of ‘us’ and ‘you’ being one kind.

I am a girl in a tent and I am thinking about this world as the days won’t pass by and I am waiting for the permit to leave this place.

My pen wont brake unless we won’t end this story of inequality and discrimination among human kind. My words will always brake the borders you built.

Parwana

Update: Sea-Watch-Aktivitäten im Überblick | Ringen um Sea-Watch 3

Auch fünf Monate nach der Festsetzung der Sea-Watch 3 durch italienische Behörden geht der juristische Kampf um die Herausgabe des Rettungsschiffs weiter. Während unsere Anwält*innen den Standpunkt vertreten, dass unser Schiff seit Ende Oktober grundsätzlich frei sei, da der Präfekt eine Frist zur Beantwortung unserer Beschwerde hat verstreichen lassen, teilten die Behörden uns zu Wochenbeginn…

Der Beitrag Update: Sea-Watch-Aktivitäten im Überblick | Ringen um Sea-Watch 3 erschien zuerst auf Sea-Watch e.V..

Update: Sea-Watch-Aktivitäten im Überblick | Ringen um Sea-Watch 3

Auch fünf Monate nach der Festsetzung der Sea-Watch 3 durch italienische Behörden geht der juristische Kampf um die Herausgabe des Rettungsschiffs weiter. Während unsere Anwält*innen den Standpunkt vertreten, dass unser Schiff seit Ende Oktober grundsätzlich frei sei, da der Präfekt eine Frist zur Beantwortung unserer Beschwerde hat verstreichen lassen, teilten die Behörden uns zu Wochenbeginn…

Der Beitrag Update: Sea-Watch-Aktivitäten im Überblick | Ringen um Sea-Watch 3 erschien zuerst auf Sea-Watch e.V..

Letter to the World from Moria (No. 7)

Author: A migratory girl

copyright: Parwana

For a bread – for life

Life has normally ups and downs, but my life has always been flat. I have been trapped in a deep valley.

I am getting close to my lives’ end. At an age when every old woman needs to rest, I push my heart to work and earn money for my husband who suffers from heart problems and for our son.

Yet, instead of taking care of my husbands sickness, we must first prove his illness, they say. Our words don’t count, but only papers. Do we need to take out his heart to show he is ill?

After many medical tests we undertook with many difficulties, they told us that his illness should be certified by the doctors of the big hospital. The name of his sickness has to be written in words on a paper. They didn’t tell us, who will cove his transportation costs to go to town? Of course no one will!

When my husbands’ heart suffered, I desired my death as I could not help without a Cent in my pocket…

What if someone in this world would hold my hands, so I could become an ally of nature walking away from the deep valleys, up to the mountains and the sun?

Parwana

This is only an Abstract of the letter. Read the whole letter on infomobile.w2eu.net

Letter to the World from Moria (No. 7)

Author: A migratory girl

copyright: Parwana

For a bread – for life

Life has normally ups and downs, but my life has always been flat. I have been trapped in a deep valley.

I am getting close to my lives’ end. At an age when every old woman needs to rest, I push my heart to work and earn money for my husband who suffers from heart problems and for our son.

Yet, instead of taking care of my husbands sickness, we must first prove his illness, they say. Our words don’t count, but only papers. Do we need to take out his heart to show he is ill?

After many medical tests we undertook with many difficulties, they told us that his illness should be certified by the doctors of the big hospital. The name of his sickness has to be written in words on a paper. They didn’t tell us, who will cove his transportation costs to go to town? Of course no one will!

When my husbands’ heart suffered, I desired my death as I could not help without a Cent in my pocket…

Days passed. I decided to build a tandoor (trad. oven) to bake break and sell it. I thought, I could purchase the necessary ingredients by borrowing some money from one of our relatives, who had a cash card. Just 0,50 euros, that’s all I needed! I touched the fifty cents and my old hands were shaking. Not only because of my old age. Not only because of my worry for my sick husband. They shake at the thought of the thousand year old olive tree that will burn under my tandoor. I tremble with the idea of the axe reaching the old tree. I can feel its crying out. Yet, I must have fire to bake my bread. …

But it is the rule of nature: Eat or be eaten.

How many troubles have I faced in hope of today’s bread to cure my husband. Yet, I need a cure too. My heart burns at the thought of the felled burning trees. But, I must ignore my heart, I must take care of my old husband. I must bake the bread!

With my old hands I shall prepare dough that needs powerful arms, but my arms are weak and shaking. I will do it! I will wake up at 4:00am! First, I will read my prayers. Then I will start the dough. Flour, oil, salt, yeast and water. I will mix them all together. And then. I will let the dough rest. Once raised, I will cut out small shapes and let them rest again. By 7:00am the pieces will be ready for the tandoor.

My son walks far away onto the hills to collect dry wood and start the fire. Oh, how the old trees turn into ashes. My son instead of going to school will go around trying to sell the bread when its ready. From the early morning until the late evening he will call people to buy it. There are a lot of bakeries nowadays in Moria and selling is very difficult.

Hundreds of steps, hundreds of moves, a lot of sweat in respect of life, in respect of the bread and in respect of the trees.

This is our situation and this is how we spend our days. No one knows about it. No one can see. I have always been in the flat valley. No ups in my life. My voice, my cries will never be heard. They are old and weak. My shaking hands will be never held by a stronger hand. In this age, they still have to hold my family.

I want to be a friend of nature, not its enemy. I want to pass my last days with my family in rest, to have some comfort, to sit for days in the shadow of the trees, not to burn them. But life is very ruthless. Sometimes we people are obliged to do things we don’t want to do it. See what life forces us to do…

What if someone in this world would hold my hands, so I could become an ally of nature walking away from the deep valleys, up to the mountains and the sun?

Parwana

Letter to the World from Moria (No. 6)

Author: A migratory girl

copyright: Salinia Stroux

I am a volunteer translator

I am the father of two children. I am the husband of a woman full of emotion. And above all, I am a human being. It is only one aspect of my current situation, that I am also a refugee, one among thousands of others.

Every day, I work for hours to help people access services and solve their problems. Every day, exhausted, I run 900m distance to eat lunch in hurry, and quickly come back to continue help more people.           

On these days where I am helping, my wife carries all the housekeeping responsibilities alone: She looks after the children, waits in endless lines to get some food for us all, washes clothes, puts some order in our abode. She does all these things with pleasure, so that I can help translate the troubles of the people standing in the sun for hours, in need for someone to communicate on their behalf.

What happens to our children when she needs to go away from our tent and leaves them in our neighbour’s tent? Are they safe? They will not be bothered by someone? They don’t miss us? Such questions torture me during all the day.

Today, I am sorry that my name is father. I am sorry, that I cannot be the good father – as I want, that I cannot be the good husband – as I want. I try to be a good father, and I try to help all the others who suffer the same conditions like us.

Today, while I was translating for a doctor the symptoms of a patient, when a familiar sound of crying, reached my ears. I did not have the heart to leave my work half done and check of the person belonging to that voice. So patiently, I continued, trying to keep my attention on the words I had to translate. Yet, that familiar sound set off  an explosion in my brain. Finally, when I was needed no more, stressed-out and anxious, I approached the door. 

What I had feared, a few minutes before, was indeed true. That was the sound of my wife’s crying as she tried to come inside to see the doctor. In her arms, there was our daughter, unconscious. The girl had been vomiting a lot in the tent, she explained, and when they started out for the clinic she fainted. The guard advised me that she should have taken our daughter to the Doctors without Borders (MSF). But I wasn‘t able to open my mouth to  utter the words. 

The sight of my wife‘s eyes, now blood-shot, and the sight my listless daughter in her arm left me speechless and my mind blank. I could not even explain that she was my wife. Only, when she started suddenly, to shake, did I come back to myself. So I turned to the nurse and did what I did for all the other patients: I described what had happened. The nurse went to have a look, only to tell us that it would have been better to bring her earlier. How could they have come all that distance faster? Did she not know our difficult living conditions? When she went to examine our child, I, too, went back to my work. I didn’t want people to stay waiting while sick like my child, in that bad weather.             

When my working time finished, we started out for our tent: my wife, my daughter and me. Feeling a bit better, my little girl lifted herself and asked for a juice. But…

However, the UNHCR, the European Union and Greece get thousands of Euros everyday. In spite of that, they do not hire enough translators to help sick people in clinics inside the camp of Moria and in the big hospital. Lack of translators, even in emergencies, is one of the most common problems of people.

To rely on migrant volunteer translators is shameful. Europe should feel shame. When even in its own hospitals nurses speak no English, how can they expect it from people who come from places where many kids have no access to proper education?

Parwana

p.s. Thanks to the father, husband, human being, volunteer translator, who shared his story and happens to be a refugee today!

Letter to the World from Moria (No. 5)

Author: A migratory girl

These eyes bother me!

I am young girl full of energy, power and self-confidence. Everyday there are a lot of voices inside me inviting me to let this energy out. BUT I am in Moria, between thousands of unclean eyes, that are looking to my body and not to my soul. These eyes bother me. I can not play volleyball. I can not even just walk straight down one path. My head should be down. When I am crossing the roads it is difficult like passing the borders for me.

200 metres to the toilets. 400 metres to the food queue. Again 400 metres back. Along this distance there are hundreds of eyes looking to me.

Girl-molesting is common, is daily. Even when they disturb us we are not supposed to answer them. We are not supposed to turn around. We can not say: ‘Don’t follow me! Stop bothering me!’

While washing my clothes I feel ashame, because boys are looking to me. I can’t look back to them, because they will misunderstand. So all sport places are used only by boys, all playgrounds are used only by boys. And we are locked inside.

Even men in the age of my father look to my body. I don’t know where I am. This doesn’t look like Europe here. When I was at school I learned that Europe is the mother of freedom, but I am living in the middle of eye violence. There are everywhere eyes. There is nowhere freedom. I am a prisoner here and this is the jail. I will not be able to forget these memories.

Instead of playing with other girls, I have to stay inside. Instead of walking proudly, I should walk with my eyes turned down. I am forced to feel shame and fear.

See, I am actually like you. I am thirteen years old. I am a young girl. But I have to wear a scarf because the look of my hair is a source of their lust, they say. Why I should cover my head, because they cannot control themselves? Why I should cover my head at all? Why I have to get limited, punished? I am a human being but they are looking to me like animals, like I was their prey. I am afraid of these wolves. I am afraid of losing my honour, the respect and I start feeling bad just because of my gender.

But it’s enough! Stand up girls! Stand up women! We are not their objects of lust! We are not the prey of wolves! We should shout out that we want to be safe! We want our rights! We want to look up!

Parwana

P.S. I am sorry for all of Moria‘s girls who suffer the same, and specially for my sisters.

Letter to the World from Moria- (No.6)

Author: A migratory girl

I am a volunteer translator.

I am the father of two children. I am the husband of a woman full of emotion. But beyond these, I am a human and, even beyond that, I am a refugee, one among thousands of others. Every day, I work for hours to help people access services and solve their problems. Every day, exhausted, I run 900m distance to hurriedly eat lunch, and quickly come back to help some more people.

On the days I work to help people, my wife carries all the housekeeping responsibilities: she looks after the children, waits in endless lines to get some food for all, washes clothes, puts some order in our abode. She does all these with pleasure, just so that I can help translate the troubles of the people standing in the sun for hours, in need for someone to communicate on their behalf. What happens to her children when she needs to go away from the tent and leaves them in our neighbour’s tent? Don’t they miss her? Are they safe and calm in there? Such questions torture me all the day.

But today, I am sorry for myself, sorry that my name is father, that I couldn’t be a good father, that I couldn’t be a good husband. Today, while I was translating to a doctor the ailments of a patient, a familiar sound, of crying, of moaning, reached my ears. I did not have the heart to leave my work half done. So patiently, I continued, trying to keep my attention on the words I had to translate. Yet, that familiar sound set off an explosion in my brain. Finally, when I was needed no more, stressed-out and anxious, I approached the door.

What I had feared, a few minutes before, was indeed true. That was the sound of my wife’s crying as she tried to come inside to see the doctor. In her arms, there was our daughter, unconscious. The girl had been vomiting a lot in the tent, she explained, and when they started out for the clinic she fainted. The guard advised me that she should have taken our daughter to the Doctors without Borders (MSF). But I wasn‘t able to open my mouth to utter the words.

The sight of my wife‘s eyes, now blood-shot, and the sight my listless daughter in her embrace left me speechless, my mind blank. I could not even explain that she was my wife. Only, when she started, suddenly, to shake, did I come back to myself. So I turned to the nurse and did what I did for all the other patients: I described what had happened. The nurse went to have a look, only to tell us that it would have been better to bring her earlier. How could they have come all that distance faster? Did she not know our difficulties? When she went to examine our child, I, too, went back to my work. I didn’t want people to stay on, waiting, in that bad weather.

When my working time finished, we started out for our tent, myself, my wife, my daughter. Feeling a bit better, my little girl lifted herself and asked for a juice. BUT…….

( However UNHCR, the European Union and Greece itself get thousands of Euros everyday. In spite of that, they do not hire enough translators to help sick people in clinics inside the camp of Moria and in the big Hospital. Lack of translators, even in emergencies, is one of the most common problems of people. To rely on migrant volunteer translators is shameful. Europe should feel shame. .When even in its own hospitals nurses speak no English, how can they expect it from people from third world countries?)

Parwana

25 Jahre Kampf um Selbstermächtigung und Solidarität rufen nach Jena

The VOICE‘s 25-jähriger Geburtstag von Flüchtlingskämpfen in Deutschland
vom 5. Bis 7. Dezember 2019 in Jena

englisch

Mit Stolz und Freude, mit Hochachtung und Dankbarkeit sehnen wir den 25. Geburtstag von THE VOICE Refugee Forum herbei und laden euch alle, Schwestern und Brüder, Freundinnen und Freunde, Weggefährtinnen und Weggefährten ein, mit uns in Jena 25 Jahre Solidarität und Menschlichkeit zu zelebrieren. Wir wollen dort zusammenkommen und erfahren, was wir in den 25 Jahren gelernt haben von den Mitgliedern von THE VOICE African Forum später umbenannt in THE VOICE Refugee Forum.

1994 beschlossen einige Flüchtlinge aus afrikanischen Ländern aus der ihnen aufgezwungene Isolation auszubrechen, die Fesseln des kolonialen Rechts der Residenzpflicht abzulegen, die Zäune und Stacheldrähte der Isolationslager hinter sich zu lassen, sich den menschenverachtenden Abschiebungen nicht mehr hinzugeben. Vor 25 Jahren kurz nach der faktischen Abschaffung des Asylrechts, nur kurze Zeit nach den Brandanschlägen von Mölln und Solingen, nach den feigen Angriffen in Hoyerswerda, beschlossen sie, nicht mehr zu warten, sondern zu handeln und ihre Grundrechte wahrzunehmen. Das Recht auf Bewegungsfreiheit und das Recht auf soziale und politische Assoziation sind seit jeher die prägenden Merkmale des menschlichen Fortschritts und kein Gesetz kann aufrechte und denkende Menschen davon abhalten, diese auszuüben, dachten die damals noch jungen Aktivisten von THE VOICE. Also zogen sie los und tauschten sich mit anderen Flüchtlingen und Menschen aus. Sie wollten ihre Rechte wieder erlangen, die das bundesdeutsche Asylverfahren ihnen entzogen hatte.

In den letzten 25 Jahren hat THE VOICE Refugee Forum durch den politischen Kampf seiner Mitglieder viele Menschen nicht nur in Deutschland inspiriert. Zahlreiche Initiativen und Netzwerke verdanken heute ihre Gründung der aktiven Einmischung von VOICE Aktivistinnen und Aktivisten. Die KARAWANE-Tour 1998 im Vorfeld der Bundestagswahlen war unter anderem auch von VOICE Aktivisten mitorganisiert. Als Resultat dieser Tour entstand später das Netzwerk der KARAWANE für die Rechte der Flüchtlinge und MigrantInnen. Es bezog neben Flüchtlingen auch hier lebende MigrantInnen und deutsche Freundinnen und Freunde ein.

Aber nicht nur Selbstorganisationen verdanken heute ihre Gründung oder Existenz THE VOICE Refugee Forum, sondern auch viele Nichtregierungsorganisationen und Vereine. Diese konnten in dem durch The VOICE Refugee Forum geschaffenen Raum ihren Platz finden. Sie gründeten Vereine, Stiftungen oder Beratungs- und Begegnungsstätten. Bei den unterdrücktesten Menschen jedoch blieb ständig THE VOICE Refugee Forum. Sie förderte überall den Kampf der Flüchtlinge für Selbstermächtigung. Sie forderte konsequent den Platz der Flüchtlinge in den Diskussionen und lehnte kategorisch jede Bevormundung ab. Durch ihren täglichen Kämpfe und den vielen Auseinandersetzungen in den von ihnen und anderen geschaffenen Foren und Begegnungen fokussierten VOICE-Mitglieder stets den Kampf auf Deportationen und ihren kolonialen Charakter.

Sie selbst aber waren immer in der ersten Reihe in den Kämpfen gegen die vom deutschen Staat organisierten Angriffen auf das Leben der Flüchtlinge, egal ob es um Abschiebungen, Einschränkung der Bewegungs- oder Redefreiheit, um Polizeibrutalität oder um das Durchbrechen der Isolation in den Lagern ging.

Nun rufen die Freundinnen und Freunde nach Jena, um ihre Lehren der 25 Jahre mit allen zu teilen und gleichzeitig zu feiern. Gerne leiten wir diese Einladung nicht nur an alle weiter, sondern ergänzen auch diese um die Bitte, zu dieser Zusammenkunft beizutragen. Ihr könnt zum Beispiel eure Erfahrungen mit THE VOICE Refugee Forum in jeglicher Form im Vorfeld zusenden oder eine RefugeeBlackBox-Installation oder ein Foto nach Jena schicken oder mitbringen. Falls ihr jedoch nicht kommen könnt aber etwas Geld spenden könnt, hilft ihr damit der Organisation der Zusammenkunft und auch denjenigen, die die Fahrt nach Jena nicht selbst bezahlen können. Spenden könnt ihr auf das folgende Konto überweisen:

Förderverein The VOICE e.V.
IBAN: DE97 2605 0001 0000 1278 29
BIC: NOLADE21GOE
Stichwort: 25yrs

Falls ihr aus dem Wuppertaler Raum seid, könnt ihr euch mit uns in Verbindung setzen. Vielleicht können wir schon auf der Fahrt dorthin uns austauschen oder über die vergangenen Erfahrungen sprechen und sehen, wie wir sie heute anwenden können.

Programm:

  • Ankunft: Donnerstag, 5.12.2019
  • Beginn: Freitag, 6.12.2019, 10.00Uhr
    Auf dem Holzmarkt in Jena wird es eine RBB-Videoinstallation geben.
    – The VOICE- Symposium zu einer Versammlung der Flüchtlingsgrasswurzelcommunity
    Kämpft zurück! Stört, seid ungehorsam und organisiert euch gegen die durchregulierten
    Dublin-Abschiebungen von Flüchtlingen aus Deutschland
  • Samstag, 7.12.2019: Präsentation | RefugeeBlackBox | Parade | Music | Gyration und Performance
    Am Samstag, dem 7. Dezember wird es eineRefugeeBlackBox-Parade gegen Abschiebungsverbrechen und den kolonialen Rassismus Europas geben. Wir rufen zu dezentralen RefugeeBlackBox-Installationen oder Infoveranstaltungen im Vorfeld der Dezemberveranstaltungen auf.

Weitere Informationen findet ihr auf den folgenden Seiten:

RefugeeBlackBox: https://www.facebook.com/RefugeeBlackBox
The VOICE‘s 25 jähriger Geburtstag von Flüchtlingskämpfen in Deutschland: http://thevoiceforum.org/node/4684

Mit solidarischen Grüßen aus Wuppertal
KARAWANE für die Rechte der Flüchtlinge und MigrantInnen

Kontakt:
KARAWANE für die Rechte der Flüchtlinge und MigrantInnen
Büro Wuppertal, Marienstraße 52, 42103 Wuppertal
Telefon: 0049 (0) 202 27 27 95 34
E-Mail: wuppkarawane@yahoo.de
https://www.facebook.com/caravannetwork/
https://www.facebook.com/karawanewuppertal/

25 years of struggle for self-empowerment and solidarity call for Jena

The VOICE 25th Anniversary of Refugee Struggle in Germany
December 5 to 7, 2019 Jena

deutsch

With pride and joy, respect and gratitude, we long for the 25th birthday of THE VOICE Refugee Forum and invite you all, sisters and brothers, friends and companions, to celebrate 25 years of solidarity and humanity with us in Jena. We want to come together there and experience what we have learned from the members of THE VOICE African Forum over the past 25 years, later renamed THE VOICE Refugee Forum.

In 1994, some refugees from African countries decided to break out of the isolation they had been forced to live in, to break the shackles of the colonial residence obligation law (Residenzpflicht), to leave the fences and barbed wires of the isolation camps behind them, not to capitulate to the inhuman deportations. 25 years ago, shortly after the actual abolition of the right of asylum, only a short time after the arson attacks in Mölln and Solingen, after the cowardly attacks in Hoyerswerda, they decided not to wait any longer but to act and to exercise their fundamental rights. The right to freedom of movement and the right to social and political association have always been the hallmarks of human progress and no law can prevent upright and thinking people from exercising them, thought the then young activists of THE VOICE. So they went out and exchanged ideas with other refugees and people. They wanted to regain the rights that the German asylum procedure had taken away from them.

In the last 25 years THE VOICE Refugee Forum has inspired many people not only in Germany through the political struggle of its members. Numerous initiatives and networks today owe their foundation to the active intervention of VOICE activists. The 1998 KARAWANE tour in the run-up to the Bundestag elections was also co-organized by VOICE activists. As a result of this tour, the network of the CARAVAN for the rights of refugees and migrants was founded. In addition to refugees, it also included migrants living here and German friends.

But not only self-organisations owe their foundation or existence to THE VOICE Refugee Forum today, but also many non-governmental organisations and associations. These were able to find their place in the space created by The VOICE Refugee Forum. They founded associations, foundations or advisory and meeting places. But among the most oppressed people, THE VOICE Refugee Forum remained. It promoted everywhere the fight of the refugees for self-empowerment. It consistently demanded the place of refugees in the discussions and categorically rejected any paternalism. Through their daily struggles and the many challenges in the forums and encounters created by them and others, VOICE members always focused the struggle on deportations and their colonial character.

They themselves, however, were always in the forefront of the fight against the attacks on the lives of refugees organized by the German state, whether it was about deportations, restrictions on freedom of movement or speech, police brutality or breaking through isolation in the camps.

Now the friends are calling for Jena to share the lessons they learned of the 25 years with everyone and celebrate them at the same time. We are happy not only to forward this invitation to everyone, but also to supplement it with a request to contribute to this meeting. For example, you can send your experiences with THE VOICE Refugee Forum in any form in advance or send or bring a RefugeeBlackBox installation or a photo to Jena. If you can’t come but can donate some money, you can help the organization of the meeting and also those who can’t pay for the trip to Jena themselves. You can transfer donations to the following account:

Recipient: Förderverein The VOICE e.V.
IBAN: DE97 2605 0001 0000 1278 29
BIC: NOLADE21GOE
Code: 25yrs

If you are from the Wuppertal area, you can contact us. Perhaps we can already exchange experiences on the way there or talk about past experiences and see how we can apply them today.

Program:

  • Arrival on Thursday 5 December 2019
  • Starts on Friday, December 6, 2019 at 10:00 am: Video installation “RBB” in the HolzMarkt Jena:
    – The VOICE Symposium on refugee grassroots community “Assembly” in Germany
    – FightBack! Disrupt, disobey and organise against the regulated Dublin-deportations of refugees from Germany!
  • Saturday, 7 December 2019: Presentation | RefugeeBlackBox Parade | Music | Gyration and Performance
    There will be a RefugeeBlackBox parade against the deportation crimes and against the colonial racism of Europe on 7th Saturday, December 2019.

For more information please see also:
RefugeeBlackBox: https://www.facebook.com/RefugeeBlackBox
The VOICE 25th Anniversary of Refugee Struggle in Germany: http://thevoiceforum.org/node/4682

With solidarity greetings from Wuppertal
CARAVAN for the rights of refugees and migrants

Contact:
CARAVAN for the rights of refugees and migrants
Wuppertal Office, Marienstraße 52, 42103 Wuppertal
Phone: +49 202 27 27 95 34
E-Mail: wuppkarawane@yahoo.de
https://www.facebook.com/caravannetwork/
https://www.facebook.com/karawanewuppertal/

Letter to the World from Moria- (No.5)

Author: A migratory girl

Their eyes bother me!

I am a young girl full of energy, full of power and self confidence.

Yet, every day, I am surrounded by threatening noises, ugly sounds, anguished screams, which sap my youthful energy away. I am in Moria! Haunted by thousands of unclean eyes. Eyes that stare at my body, eyes that disturb me. I cannot play volleyball; I cannot walk straight. My head down, my eyes averted, crossing roads, even small distances, is like crossing borders.

Walking the 200 meters to the camp toilets, I feel hundreds of eyes fixed on me. Bothering girls is common here. We have to take it silently, the only way to prevent them from following us, bothering us further. While washing my clothes, I am filled with shame sensing the eyes of boys even of older men, like my father, on me. I don’t dare to turn and look back. I don’t want to risk misunderstandings on their part. They may take my gesture as invitation as license.

All sport salons, all playgrounds are allocated to boys. Where am I? This cannot possibly be Europe! At school, I learned that Europe is the mother of freedom. Yet, here, I am persecuted by violent eyes. I don’t have any freedom; I am a prisoner; here is a jail. I will not be able to forget these memories. I could not!

Instead of playing with other girls, I am forced to stay inside. Instead of walking proudly I must walk with my head down, ashamed and afraid . Look at me! See me! I am like you. I am a thirteen year old girl.

I had to wear a scarf, because my hair provokes men’s lust. I resent this. Why should I cover my hair, because they can’t control their lust? I am not responsible for their lust. They should be punished not me! I am a human, but they look at me like a goat, an animal of prey. I am afraid of these wolves. I am afraid of losing my honour, my self-esteem and of becoming a shame to my gender.

But this is enough ! Stand up girls! Stand up women!

We are not instinct of lust ! We are not preies of wolves !

Loudly scream that we want to be safe !

Where is human right?

Parwana

I am sorry for Moria‘s girls, specially for my sisters.

#ElHiblu3: Teenager nach fast 8 Monaten Inhaftierung vorläufig frei.

Drei Jugendliche, die sich selbst und 105 weitere Flüchtende auf hoher See vor der illegalen Rückführung nach Libyen bewahrt hatten, wurden gestern, nach acht Monaten Inhaftierung auf Kaution freigelassen. Die #ElHiblu3 (16, 17 und 19 Jahre alt) sind wegen Terrorismus angeklagt, weil sie die Crew, des Tankers der sie rettete, überzeugt hatten nach Malta zu…

Der Beitrag #ElHiblu3: Teenager nach fast 8 Monaten Inhaftierung vorläufig frei. erschien zuerst auf Sea-Watch e.V..

#ElHiblu3: Teenager nach fast 8 Monaten Inhaftierung vorläufig frei.

Drei Jugendliche, die sich selbst und 105 weitere Flüchtende auf hoher See vor der illegalen Rückführung nach Libyen bewahrt hatten, wurden gestern, nach acht Monaten Inhaftierung auf Kaution freigelassen. Die #ElHiblu3 (16, 17 und 19 Jahre alt) sind wegen Terrorismus angeklagt, weil sie die Crew, des Tankers der sie rettete, überzeugt hatten nach Malta zu…

Der Beitrag #ElHiblu3: Teenager nach fast 8 Monaten Inhaftierung vorläufig frei. erschien zuerst auf Sea-Watch e.V..

Lesung: Zwischen Barrieren, Träumen und Selbstorganisation – Erfahrungen junger Geflüchteter, 21.11.2019

Liebe Geschwister, Liebe Interessierte, liebe Alle,

wir laden Sie/Euch ganz herzlich zu folgender Veranstaltung in Kooperation mit Berlin Global Village im Rahmen unseres Projekts “Schule zieht Grenzen – wir ziehen nicht mit” ein.

Lesung: Zwischen Barrieren, Träumen und Selbstorganisation – Erfahrungen junger Geflüchteter

Do, 21.11.2019 
19:00 Uhr

Berlin Global Village 

Am Sudhaus 2

12053 Berlin

Zwischen Barrieren, Träumen und Selbstorganisation – Erfahrungen junger Geflüchteter“.So heißt das Buch des Autor*innenkollektivs „Jugendliche ohne Grenzen“ aus dem am 21.11.2019 um 19:00 Uhr einige der jungen Autor*innen bei Berlin Global Village Auszüge lesen werden.

In dem Band ergreifen die geflüchteten Jugendlichen selbst das Wort. Sie blicken auf die Jugendhilfe, auf alles, was oft nur scheinbar helfend für die geflüchteten Kinder und Jugendliche zur Verfügung steht. Wie erleben sie, die geflüchteten Jugendlichen, das Aufnahmeland Deutschland und sich selbst in ihm? Wie empfinden sie ihre Situation? Womit sind sie tagtäglich konfrontiert? Was halten sie von Willkommensklassen? Die Autor*innen geben Antworten und berichten über ihren Alltag, der geprägt ist von erschwerten Bedingungen wie Rassismus und struktureller Diskriminierung einerseits und den alltäglichen Anforderungen des Erwachsenwerdens andererseits.

Im Anschluss gibt es die Möglichkeit zu Fragen und zum Gespräch mit den Autor*innen.

Der Eintritt ist frei. Getränke gegen Spende.

Herzliche Grüße,

Tayo Awosusi-Onutor

Öffentlichkeitsarbeit RomaniPhen

Feministisches Romnja Archiv

RomaniPhen

Karl-Kunger Str. 17
12435 Berlin
Fon: 030- 350 50 264

mail: tayo.awosusi-onutor@romaniphen.de


www.romaniphen.de

Solidarität mit Adam Baher – Rassistische Kriminalisierung stoppen!

Aufruf zur solidarischen Prozessbegleitung am Di, 19.11.2019 um 13:45h im Amtsgericht Tiergarten

5 Jahre nach der gewaltvollen Räumung des Protestcamps am Berliner Oranienplatz eröffnet die Berliner Staatsanwaltschaft einen Prozess gegen den bekannten Refugee-Aktivisten Adam Baher. Adam engagiert sich seit Beginn der selbstorganisierten Protestbewegung für die Rechte von Geflüchteten, gegen Rassismus und Polizeigewalt. Nun muss er sich selbst gegen polizeiliche Willkür unter dem Vorwurf des Widerstands gegen Vollstreckungsbeamte vor Gericht verteidigen.

Die Anklage gegen Adam kommt mit mehr als fünf Jahren Verspätung. Zufall ist dies wohl kaum, denn er hatte vor kurzem die deutsche Staatsbürgerschaft beantragt. Dies wurde seitens der Berliner Staatsanwaltschaft offenbar zum Anlass genommen, Ordnung in ihre Aktenberge zu bringen und gleich noch ein Exempel an einem bekannten politischen Aktivisten zu statuieren. Solange das Strafverfahren offen ist, ist der Weg zur Staatsbürgerschaft für Adam erstmal blockiert.

Das Protestcamp am Oranienplatz erlangte zwischen 2012 und 2014 weit über Berlin und Deutschland hinaus an Bekanntheit und symbolisiert bis heute einen zentralen Ort des Protestes von selbstorganisierten Geflüchteten gegen das deutsche und europäische Asylregime. Die Bewegung nahm ihren Anfang 2012, als sich Geflüchtete aus unterschiedlichen Ländern in einem Protestmarsch von Würzburg nach Berlin aufmachten und ein Protestcamp mitten in Kreuzberg errichteten. Sie forderten die Abschaffung des Lagersystems, einen Abschiebungsstopp und die Abschaffung der Residenzpflicht. Das Camp war ein zentraler Ort, von dem aus tägliche Widerstandsaktionen geplant wurden und politischer Druck ausgeübt wurde.

Den politisch Verantwortlichen und den staatlichen Behörden war das Camp bald ein Dorn im Auge. Im April 2014 begann die Berliner Polizei unter Aufsicht der Grünen Bezirksbürgermeisterin Monika Herrmann und der damaligen Sozialsenatorin Dilek Kalayci (ehem. Kolat, SPD) mit der Räumung des gesamten Platzes. Zuvor hatte der Senat mithilfe einer Teile-und-Herrsche-Strategie eine “Einigung” mit einem Teil der Geflüchteten herbeigeführt. Selbst der Infopunkt, für den eine unbefristete Genehmigung vorlag, die in den Verhandlungen nochmals bestätigt worden war, wurde geräumt: Adam bestand auf seinem Recht, an diesem Infopunkt über den Protest und die politischen Forderungen der Geflüchteten zu informieren. Die Beamt*innen der Berliner Polizei nahmen ihn unter Anwendung von physischer Gewalt in Gewahrsam. Ein Jahr später, 2015, wurde er auf dem Oranienplatz erneut willkürlich und scheinbar aus dem Nichts gewaltvoll festgenommen und in Handschellen gelegt.

Wie in so vielen Fällen von Festnahmen von People of Color ging die Polizei unverhältnismäßig gewaltsam gegen ihn vor und informierte ihn nicht über die Gründe für seine Festnahme. Wie in so vielen Fällen von Polizeigewalt wird er zudem nachträglich kriminalisiert, um die polizeilichen Angriffe gegen ihn zu rechtfertigen. Wie in so vielen Fällen wird versucht, Migrant*innen davon abzuschrecken, sich für ihre Rechte einzusetzen.

Die jetzige Anklage gegen Adam ist ein weiteres Symptom für ein rassistisches System, in dem der Protest und die politischen Forderungen von geflüchteten Menschen in Deutschland kriminalisiert werden. Strafrecht wird systematisch dafür missbraucht, rassistische Polizeigewalt zu vertuschen, Migrant*innen mundtot zu machen und ihnen Möglichkeiten auf aufenthaltsrechtliche Sicherheit zu verbauen.

Adam: „Es ist schwierig, sich in die deutsche Gesellschaft zu integrieren, wenn der Staat die Wege dazu immer wieder selbst blockiert. Schwarze Menschen müssen in Deutschland tagtäglich gegen Racial Profiling und buchstäblich ums Überleben kämpfen. Aber unser Kampf wird weitergehen.“

Wir stehen Seite an Seite mit Adam und allen, die von rassistischer Polizeigewalt und Kriminalisierung betroffen sind. Kommt zum Prozess am Amtsgericht Tiergarten, Turmstraße 91, 10559 Berlin, am 19. November um 13:45 Uhr im Raum 672! Wir treffen uns bereits eine halbe Stunde früher, um 13:15 Uhr, vor dem Gebäude.

Für die Begleichung der Verfahrenskosten sind wir auf eure Solidarität angewiesen. Bitte spendet an die unten angegebene Kontoverbindung!

Gegen rassistische Polizeigewalt!
Rassistische Kriminalisierung stoppen!
Solidarität mit Adam Baher!

Verwendungszweck: Adam

Rote Hilfe e.V.

IBAN: DE55 4306 0967 4007 2383 17

BIC: GENODEM1GLS

Daily Resistance #6 is out!

The new issue of Daily Resistance is out (#6) – coming along with articles from Women in Exile & Friends, International Women Space, The Voice Refugee Forum, City Plaza Athens and many more.

Grab your copy or a pack of newspapers to spread from your local distributor in Neukölln, Café Karanfil (Mahlower Str 7, U Boddinstr) – or write a mail to dailyresistance@systemli.org. Email us, if you want to distribute Daily Resistance in your city, in your initiatives, spaces or other contexts.

The PDF version can be read and downloaded here:

You can also read several articles of the issue online (with more texts to come) on oplatz.net, e.g. an interview in English with Adam Bahar on the revolutionary situation in Sudan (you can find the text in Turkish in the new issue): https://oplatz.net/sudan-revolution-interview/ , or the farewell statement of City Plaza in English (the Greek original has been printed in the newspaper): https://oplatz.net/39-months-city-plaza/

Looking forward to your feedback, comments, suggestions, and articles for the next issues! Come to our regular meetings, every second Thursday, and become part of the editorial team of Daily Resistance!


Daily Resistance is a periodical newspaper on actual paper written by activists aiming to reach people in lagers. We want to inform them on the state of resistance in Germany and to empower them for their everyday resistance against the system. Together with local supporters, we look to inform and invite as many people as possible to break the isolation.

Let’s Mobilize to Jena: The VOICE 25th Anniversary of Refugee Struggle in Germany

We invite you to join us in celebrating our 25th anniversary!

Call to participate in the preparation of the 25th anniversary and call for participation in the celebration on the 6th and 7th of December 2019 in Jena

You are part of this history – a quarter of a century since the break-up of isolation
25. The VOICE Refugee Forum Silver Jubilee Anniversary, 1994 – 2019
Founded in Mühlhausen and Established in Jena / Thüringen

The VOICE Refugee Forum for a quarter of a century is still at the forefront of dignity and self-determination, carrying a heavy burden of a quarter of a century – because many have been relieved of their journey – many have been able to find their place, a heavy burden must be placed on the ground so as not to lose themselves as a source for the next RefugeeBlackBox.

Breaking the Culture of Deportation – Deportation is the last ring of the slavery chain | RefugeeBlackBox – Solidarity (initiated in 2017)

You are part of this history as you are part of the future, do not forget yourself and neither the one who needs support in his struggle.

How to contribute: Contribute to the VOICE’s jubilee, choose and send a photo on The VOICE for the public exhibition, contribute to the RefugeeBlackBox. Refugee and migrants’ activists and asylum seeker activists are invited and everyone is welcome to give a few words about their experiences and their testimonies in the box. We have all it takes for peoples’ new world order of solidarity with the refugee! Every refugee is the story of RefugeeBlackBox-installation, it is also a certain power of knowledge and the wisdom to find your fight; to empower your presence and your issues in solidarity with the refugee struggles and movements.

Stop deportation! Defend the RefugeeBlackBox Solidarity, your silence is killing!
Each Deportation stop pulls down the mask, that covers the human face!
The fight against deportation and isolation has always been in the center of the VOICE‘s political activism. Fighting deportation means fighting against nationalism, white supremacy, and colonial racist injustice!

Next step: Arrival on Thursday, 5 December 2019

Starts on Friday, December 6, 2019 at 10:00 am: Video installation “RBB” on the Holzmarkt Jena:

– The VOICE Symposium on refugee grassroots community “Assembly” in Germany
– FightBack! Disrupt, disobey and organise against the regulated Dublin-deportations of refugees from Germany!

Saturday, 7 December 2019: Presentation | RefugeeBlackBox Parade | Music | Gyration and Performance

There will be a RefugeeBlackBox parade against the deportation crimes and against the colonial racism of Europe on 7th Saturday, December 2019. Calling for decentralized RefugeeBlackBox installation or info event before in the run-up of the December events.

facebook.com/RefugeeBlackBox

The VOICE Refugee Forum Germany
Jena: Tel.: + 49 (0) 176 24568988 (Whatsapp), E- mail: thevoiceforum@gmx.de
Berlin: Handy :+49 (0)170/8788124 (Whatsapp), E- mail: the_voice_berlin@emdash.org
Thevoiceforum.org


Mobilisons-nous ensemble à Iéna – Le 25e anniversaire de la lutte des réfugiés en Allemagne !

Nous vous invitons à vous joindre à nous pour célébrer notre 25e anniversaire !

Appel à participer à la préparation du 25ème anniversaire et appel à participer à la célébration des 6 et 7 décembre 2019 à Iéna .

Vous faites partie de cette histoire – Un quart de siècle depuis la fin de l’isolement
25. VOICE Refugee Forum Jubilee Anniversary Forum, 1994 – 2019
Fondée à Mühlhausen et basée à Iéna / Thueringen

Le Forum des Réfugiés “The VOICE” est à la pointe de la dignité et de l’autodétermination depuis un quart de siècle, portant un lourd fardeau d’un quart de siècle – parce que beaucoup ont été soulagés de leur voyage – beaucoup ont pu trouver leur place, un lourd fardeau doit être placé sur le terrain afin de ne pas se perdre comme source pour la prochaine boîte noire des réfugiés.

Briser la culture de la déportation – La déportation est le dernier cercle vicieux de la chaîne des esclaves| RefugeeBlackBox – Solidarité (Initié en 2017)

Vous faites partie de cette histoire comme vous faites partie de l’avenir, ne vous oubliez pas vous-même et ceux qui ont besoin de soutien dans leur lutte.

Comment contribuer:
Contribuer au jubilé de The VOICE, choisir et envoyer une photo sur The VOICE pour l’exposition publique, contribuer à la RefugeeBlackBox. Les activistes réfugiés et migrants et les demandeurs d’asile sont invités et chacun est invité à donner quelques mots sur ses expériences et témoignages dans la boîte. Nous avons tout ce dont nous avons besoin pour le nouvel ordre mondial de solidarité des peuples avec les réfugiés !
Chaque réfugié est l’histoire de l’installation RefugeeBlackBox, c’est aussi un certain pouvoir de connaissance et de sagesse pour trouver votre combat, pour renforcer votre présence et vos enjeux en solidarité avec les luttes et les mouvements des réfugiés.

Chaque fois qu’on arrête la déportation, le masque qui recouvre le visage humain tombe!
La lutte contre la déportation et l’isolement a toujours été au cœur de l’activisme politique de The VOICE. Lutter contre la déportation, c’est lutter contre le nationalisme, la suprématie blanche et l’injustice raciste coloniale!

Etape suivante:
Start on Friday, December 6, 2019 at 10:00 am: Video installation “RBB” in the HolzMarkt Jena:

– Le Symposium VOICE sur l'”Assemblée” des communautés de réfugiés en Allemagne
– À bas les rebelles ! Désorganiser, désobéir et s’organiser contre les expulsions réglementées de Dublin – Arrêter l’expulsion des réfugiés de l’Allemagne

Samedi 7 décembre 2019 : Présentations | RefugeeBlackBox Parade | Musique | Gyration et performance

Il y aura un défilé RefugeeBlackBox contre les crimes de déportation et le racisme colonial en Europe le 7 décembre 2019.

Appel à l’installation décentralisée de RefugeeBlackBox ou à un événement d’information avant les événements de décembre.

Facebook.com/RefugeeBlackBox/

Le Forum des réfugiés “The VOICE” Allemagne

Jena: Handy Tel : + 49 (0) 176 24568988 (Whatsapp),
Courriel : thevoiceforum@gmx.de
Berlin: Handy Tel : +49 (0)170 8788124 (Whatsapp)
Courriel : the_voice_berlin@emdash.org
Thevoiceforum.org

Secret Agreement Between Armed Forces of Malta and Libyan Coastguard to Intercept Migrant Vessels Sailing Towards Maltese SAR Zone

The Sunday Times of Malta reported yesterday that “Malta has secretly negotiated an agreement with Libya that sees the Armed Forces of Malta [AFM] coordinating with the Libyan coastguard to intercept migrants headed towards the island… [A] senior government source [said] … ‘We reached what you could call an understanding with the Libyans. When there is a vessel heading towards our waters, the AFM coordinates with the Libyans who pick them up and take them back to Libya before they come into our waters and become our responsibility[.]’ … A spokesman for UNHCR office in Rome said they had reached out to the Maltese authorities for an explanation and were still waiting for the relevant information to be handed over….”  Reuters reported that “The Malta deal appears to go a step further by encouraging the Libyan coastguard to intervene beyond its own coastal waters, which extend some 22.2 km (14 miles) from its shore, and into the broad search-and-rescue zone operated by Malta.”

Moonbird koordiniert Rettung, Alan Kurdi wird mit Waffen bedroht und Sea-Watch 3 weiterhin festgesetzt

Der Kampf gegen die Festsetzung der Sea-Watch 3 geht weiter: Unmittelbar vor dem Verlassen des Hafens von Licata am Montagnachmittag erklärten die zuständigen Behörden das Schiff für weiterhin beschlagnahmt. Eine formelle oder gar juristisch plausible Erklärung gibt es nicht. Hintergrund: Seit mehr als 120 Tagen sitzt die Sea-Watch 3 inzwischen auf Sizilien fest. Vier lange…

Der Beitrag Moonbird koordiniert Rettung, Alan Kurdi wird mit Waffen bedroht und Sea-Watch 3 weiterhin festgesetzt erschien zuerst auf Sea-Watch e.V..