Issue link: https://maltatoday.uberflip.com/i/791658
14 Last week, the remaining nine detainees from a group of 33, all from Mali, were released from the Safi detention centre: ostensibly because the government of Mali failed to produce the necessary documentation for their deporta- tion. Their predicament illustrates one of the thornier problems of the broader immigration phe- nomenon. As a rule, all asylum seekers landing in Malta undergo an application process for refu- gee status (or some other form of internationally recognised pro- tection) upon arrival. Not all ap- plications are accepted... and as the experience of this group con- firms, the fate of failed applicants is far from certain. Legally, they can be deported as illegal aliens. In practice, how- ever, this often proves difficult (if not impossible) for logistical rea- sons. The group of Malians who were arrested last November are among an estimated 1,200 people who find themselves in a verita- ble 'No Man's Land' as a result of this quandary. Though bereft of any recognised status at law, their presence here is nonetheless an inescapable reality which must perforce be acknowledged. It was to address this problem that the government (under the previous administration) devised a new form of legal status – re- ferred to as 'THP-n' – which al- lowed rejected asylum applicants to live, work and pay taxes here legally. The permits themselves have to be renewed at the Police HQ in Floriana every three weeks. As the name implies, it was never intended to be a permanent solution; yet some THP-n holders have been living and working here through this system for as long as a decade. Diara Diamborou and Sekou Dipa, whom I interviewed last Thursday, have had their THP-n permits for seven years. Both found secure employment; neither has had any form of trou- ble with the police (note: I specify this because it is one of the condi- tions of the permit to be renewed). Yet last November, what should have been a routine permit re- newal like any other turned into a mass arrest and detention of 33 THP-n holders, all from Mali. As confirmed by Home Affairs Min- ister Carmelo Abela yesterday, the cause of this abrupt change of pol- icy – which took them completely by surprise – was an agreement signed last November between the European Union and several African countries (Mali included), to facilitate deportation of failed asylum seekers in exchange for di- rect European investment. "We went to the police [Floriana depot] to renew our permits, and the police arrested us and told us that we were going to be sent back to Mali," Diara begins when I ask him to give an account of what happened that day. "They handcuffed us and took us to the detention centre... they told us we would stay there until a delega- tion came from the Mali govern- ment to identify us and confirm that we came from Mali..." Were they given any indication of how long the detention period would be at the time of the arrest? "No. When we asked [later], they said it could be two weeks, or maybe a month..." But in the end they spent three months detained in the Safi bar- racks, and were only released be- cause the Mali government failed to produce the documentation necessary for their deportation. As Diara later explains, the fact that they were released from de- tention does not signal another change in policy... when (or if) the travel documents are delivered from Mali, they face the possibil- ity of re-arrest and deportation. "The situation is not finished. When they released us, they told us we were free to go... but any time, we could be arrested again." Before turning to the anomaly of the situation itself – all 1,200 of this category of asylum seeker seem to be both legal and illegal at the same time, in the eyes of the authorities – I ask Diara and Se- kou to comment about the condi- tions of their 90-day detention. Encouraged by nods from Sekou, Diara explains that the detainees spent the entire 90-day duration of their detention confined to their cells. "We were not allowed to go outside. For three months we stayed there, in our rooms. Even if you are sick, and want to go to the hospital, they handcuff you. That is the situation in deten- tion." Food consisted of a piece of bread for breakfast – 'sometimes the bread was stale... three or four days old' – pasta for lunch and chicken or other meat for dinner. Visitors were not allowed, though exceptions were made for their lawyer as well as representa- tives of NGOs. This detail proved life-threatening for at least one of the detainees – Diara, who suffers from an allergic condition and needs to take pills on a daily basis. Owing to the surprise nature of his arrest, he was not given the op- portunity to go home and retrieve the pills (though he asked and was refused). And despite repeated pleas with the detention wardens, he claims he was prevented from contacting a friend who could eas- ily have brought him the pills had he been allowed any visits. But didn't he have access to a doctor at the Safi barracks? "Yes, but when I asked the doc- tor for my medicine, he said no. 'The government cannot give you this medicine [through the free dispensation service]: you have to buy it yourself'. I told him that I had the medicine at home, and asked him to inform the Deten- tion Services personnel [note: the word he used was 'police', but he later clarified he was referring to the guards on duty] so that they could take me home to get it. He [the doctor] asked them, but they said no..." Diara also asked whether it would be possible – seeing as he couldn't leave the cell himself – for any of the guards to take 20 eu- ros from his account and buy him the medicine themselves. Again, the answer was no. "So I told them, just call my friend and he will go to my house and get the medicine. He knows where it is. This friend of mine, he is not black; he is Maltese. Again they said no. When I told the doc- tor, he said that he could do noth- ing for me [...] at one point he took me to Boffa Hospital, but there they said no, too. They told me I had to buy it... I said that it was not a problem, I had the money. But not in my pocket. The money was in my account." However, his request for others to access his account and with- draw the money once again fell on deaf ears. To give both sides of this ac- count, the doctor on duty at the Safi detention centre would later say that he offered Diara different medication for the same ailment while in detention. Diara how- ever has no recollection of this. Moreover, it remains unclear why such a basic request should have been repeatedly turned down. As things stand, Diara received no medical treatment for his condi- tion at all while in detention, and his state of health – both physi- cal and mental – deteriorated so alarmingly that he was eventually transferred to Mt Carmel hospi- tal. During the interview, he showed me a photo of his face covered in blemishes. "While I was sick in my cell, eve- rybody wanted to come and see me. They came with torches to look at my face and my body..." Sekou here interjects to explain, because of the unsightly nature of the condition (I can confirm from the photo that the external symp- toms are quite conspicuous) Di- ara confined himself to his bed in order to avoid being seen in that condition. Diara admits he reacted violent- ly when his privacy was invaded. The other detainees feared for his life, too. 'We thought he would kill himself', Sekou says as Diara falls silent. It was for this reason, he adds, that Diara was eventually transferred to Mt Carmel Hospi- tal... where a nurse finally called his Maltese friend who provided the medication he needed. At this point Sekou takes over the narrative. "When we were ar- rested, he [Diara] told the police in front of everybody that he had this problem. He said he was sick, that he needed to take a pill eve- ry day, and he asked to be taken home so he can get the medica- tion... or to call his friend. They [the police] said no; they didn't want to hear. 'It is not our prob- lem, you have to go into deten- tion'..." Moving on from the material conditions of detention, failed asylum seekers also face problems Interview By Raphael Vassallo maltatoday, SUNDAY, 26 FEBRUARY 2017 We know we are illegal here. But when you start to work, when you have a work permit... I think that is authorisation to work, given by the government of a country. We are illegal immigrants, but the work permit is not illegal. We pay taxes LEGAL ILLEGALS I told them, just call my friend and he will go to my house and get the medicine. He knows where it is. This friend of mine, he is not black; he is Maltese. Again, they said no 'THEY SAID NO' No Man's Land