"But I," continued the old man, "I no longer have the strength to wait. For years I waited and hoped.Then I tried. I have twice sent my children to Greece with the traffickers. They were arrested, beaten and sent back here. I tried to return to Tehran, but Iran is no longer the country where we lived for so long. I tried with the UNHCR, but Ankara no longer respond to the phone for months. "Then he turns his gaze to the ground. "From now on, simply will not do anything."
Gaziantep, southern Anatolia. A must for my journey to Izmir to meet even the frantic search for my destiny with that of Mussa Khan. Junction of ancient thoroughfares, crossing of Arab culture, Turkish, Kurdish and Persian, the former Antep is one of twenty-six "satellite towns" identified by the turkish government as a place of residence for asylum seekers. Here live fifteen to twenty families in Afghanistan, all waiting for resettlement that never comes.
"I am a strong depression. Some very serious. " Hakan, a psychologist of '
ASAM (Association for Solidarity with refugees and asylum seekers) is familiar with the situation of
Muhajirin .
His association, branched in the country, helping them for years. The meeting Saturday morning, after endless night travel by van. It 'came on purpose to meet me at the office, intrigued by the request for an Italian reporter to meet
Muhajirin.
"Europe, the United States and Australia have closed their doors in the faces of Afghan refugees," he says Hakan. "At the time though Gaziantep Iraqi asylum seekers, and within a year are resettled in the West. The Afghans know that the jobs are there, but they see that they are regularly assigned to others. Hence their psychological suffering, they feel abandoned. "
Walking towards the ' Iran Bazaar, the district where all the families of Muhajirin , Hakan offers me his interpretation of the facts. "The Afghans are hard to pin down. Frequently, as a result of secondary movement , that is, after living for years in Iran or Pakistan. It 'hard to establish their identity, their past, their possible involvement in terrorist activities: UNHCR knows that the possibility of obtaining an Afghan resettlement is remote. "He concludes:" Therefore do not even spend more time with them. They wait for better times. Inshalla . "
The ' Iran Bazaar is the center of gravity of the Afghan community. In this narrow stretch of road between rows of shops buses make stops every day of Iranian pilgrims to the holy places of Shiite Damascus mosque Sayyidah Zaynab, daughter of the first Shiite Imam Ali, and that of Sayyidah Ruqayya, rebuilt in 1985 precisely with Iranian funds. Here, guarding a makeshift stall on the sidewalk, we meet Bismilleh, young householder, and Mazar Shariff. Within minutes a dozen Muhajirin gather around me, bewildered by the presence of a European interested in their stories.
They ask questions, exchange opinions. They observe. The presentation of Hakan does not seem enough to appease their curiosity impetuous. At the end is the arrival of the old Abdal Halek to fix everything. Helped in the translation by his eldest son, Muslim, invited me to his house. A result of householders joins immediately.
Muhajirin in front of the map of Afghanistan
Slowly I realize what is happening. A thousand miles from 'Afghanistan, I am going to attend one of the most intimate rituals of ancient tribal culture of Afghanistan: the jirga , a council of elders.
It is an abridged version, mixed, and improvised "in exile", but retains the substance and the solemnity due to him. Nine men sit in a circle, legs crossed. After the presentations and tea, Abdal Halek shall obtain the file from his son yellowed. It extracts the documents from UNHCR, the sentence that condemns him to life in prison to open a temporary asylum.
And 'the beginning of a long and bitter, in which the words of Naqeeb I hammer the mind: "What you see and hear you will not like."
"Omar," said Abdal Halek indicating one of these on his right, "came two years ago with the whole family." Military occupation, in 2003 he enlisted in the Afghan police, until the Taliban forced him to flee. "For a month and a half, however, his wife and two youngest children have disappeared. The police say they can not do anything. UNHCR is not involved. "Omar fixed the carpet, expressionless.The children were with him, five and seven, are the only children admitted to the meeting. They would have nowhere else to go.
"The truth," says the old man "is that the 'vulnerable refugees', for example, a single woman with children in tow, are the only ones who can obtain asylum in Europe. So something must have convinced trafficker from illegally leaving the rest of the family here. It would not be the first time. "Restrictive rules adopted in Europe in terms of hospitality show here all their inhuman irrationality.
Asylum applications rejected
The conversation becomes more participatory.Bismilleh, by my side, vents his bitterness talking about resettlement : "Our appeals are rejected all the time, now do not present them almost. And even when we are recognized as refugees, no country welcomes us. "He continues: "UNHCR has no confidence in us, there are only office in Ankara Iranian interpreters. They only understand Dari, similar to himself. Many of us, however, speak Tajik, Pashto, or Uzbekistan. The result is always the same: our evidence is considered unreliable. "
"Some countries like Norway," Bismilleh again, "give asylum to Afghans who manage to get there illegally. And 'why we continue to flee. I myself, when I have enough money, I will try. Athens traffickers ask four thousand U.S. dollars per person, from then on, I see as an arranger. "
A year ago, in an attempt to send his children to Europe, Abdal Halek spent nine thousand U.S. dollars. He had already paid 25 thousand to get here with the family. "Only a few make it. My have been arrested on a boat along with other 117 people. Algerians, Palestinians, Kurds, Iraqis, Pakistanis, Iranians, Somalis. But at least they came back after a month in prison. Others disappear for ever. "
The entire morning flowing to the rhythm of their painful stories. It seems that the frustration built up over years of futile waiting in my presence has been a vehicle of expression, a catalyst.
After lunch the Jirga will implode in a fierce debate. Morteza, headed by ethnic Uzbeks, pulls from his pocket a piece of paper, turning to me: "We want you to know what happens here."
The memo contains the names of nine of the Turkish merchants' Iran Bazaar . For some time the Afghans are trying to impose the closure of the stalls, accusing them of making unfair price competition. Three days ago they threatened to kill Asif, one of Muhajirin most openly opposes the ban. To add credibility to the threat have attached the list of their names. A true act mafia style.
"The reality," says Morteza, "is that the Iranian pilgrims prefer to buy from us because we speak to do, and why some of us are Shiites, like them." He continues: "The merchants no longer tolerate. They said, Asif consegnateci and everything will be fine. Otherwise we consider all guilty. "Morteza then concludes, disarmed:" They gave us a short time. We need to find a solution quickly. "
I take the time to say goodbye. And 'evening now. A feeling of utter helplessness accompanies me on the journey to Izmir. Nagging questions reverberate in my brain. I have the right to go into the lives of these people? Generates much hope my concern?
The Muhajirin demanded me to take with me a copy of their applications for asylum. "Portal to Ankara. To you shall hearken. "
In nothing has served to explain that my path goes elsewhere. The important thing for them, is put in motion, breaking the hold, find a reason to get by. (Mussakhan.wordpress.com)
