Return To Splendour

Martin Sheen must have been wondering what was going on as he negotiated the arrivals section of Dublin Airport. As the West Wing star walked through the gate, only a couple of camera flashes went off. All the nation’s TV stations were there, yet none of them approached the actor. A sea of cameras and microphones, all switched off. Journalists’ notebooks unsoiled by ink. He’d have been forgiven for thinking it was some kind of April Fool’s Day joke. Look, there goes the President. Fuck him!

Half an hour later there was pandemonium. A small black man, dressed in a school uniform emerged through the arrivals gate. Olukunle Elukanlo was back in Ireland, receiving a hero’s welcome. Shouts of ‘Welcome home Kunle’ rang out. Two of his closest friends, Anthony Mayne and Neil Burke, were the first to embrace him. A scrum of photographers surged forward, whirring and clicking as they moved. In the ensuing scrum, cameras were dropped, people were knocked over. Even Kunle himself received a blow to the head – but no one lost their cool. In any event the twenty year old didn't seem all that bothered.
Snatched three weeks previously by the Garda National Immigration Bureau as part of a deportation run that would see 35 Nigerians unceremoniously rounded up and shipped out on a specially chartered flight, he was now back in the country he regards as his home. Back amongst the students from Palmerstown Community School, who had campaigned so effectively for his return, and who were overcome with joy. A self-effacing smile exploded across his features. Olukunle was back in Ireland!
Other groups had joined the students in their cause. Rosanna Flynn of Residents Against Racism had been instrumental in co-ordinating the protests that had drawn attention to his plight – and forced the Minister For Justice Michael McDowell into an undignified volte face. Emotion lit up her face when she saw Olukunle, her voice becoming hoarser with each shout of “Welcome home.”
Olukunle was overwhelmed by the reception, his wide smile captured in a myriad of camera flashes. Friends hoisted his tricolour-wrapped frame up onto their shoulders, as the airport police attempted to clear a passage for him towards a waiting bus. Microphones, dictaphones and mobile phones were thrust in his face. From atop the shoulders of his friends he attempted to answer reporters’ questions.
No, he would not be returning to Nigeria, he said as he boarded a bus to Palmerstown. His school friend Anthony Mayne switched from the role of Leaving Cert student to ad-hoc PR, telling journalists that Olukunle needed to rest and would not be dealing with the media today.
And then the bus started up, whooshing forward to take Olukunle away – home first, and then onwards to a date on The Late Late Show later that evening.

For Mayne too it has been an extraordinary month. At the start of March, he was planning his Easter study schedule ahead of his final preparations for the Leaving Cert. He had no idea that, instead of studying, he would spend the best part of the month campaigning outside the Dail, meeting with politicians – and generally pushing the campaign for Olukunle's return forward – as it happens, demonstrating a surprising level of media savviness in the way that he and the Palmerstown Community School group kept their campaign on the front pages of the national newspapers.
“I haven’t slept too much over the last couple of weeks,” said Mayne. “It’s been all over the place. Everyone’s been ringing. I’m trying to organise stuff and then having to work, and of course study in the meantime. It’s mad.”
Extraordinary circumstances provoke extraordinary responses. Mayne and his friends worked tirelessly and effectively for their friend. In his three years in Ireland, Olukunle had become part of their lives.
“Kunle is a great guy,” says Mayne. “You can’t say a bad word against him. He’s spot on. He’s one of these people that always looks on the bright side of life. He’d stop and talk to anyone. He loves Ireland, here is his home. I mean, his favourite place in the world is the Spirit nightclub in town. Jaysus, he loves that place. You should see him, he’d just go in there and dance to his heart’s content. You know, he’s not like some of us who might need a drink to get out on the dance floor. Give him a glass of water, entry into Spirit, and he’s a happy man!”
Like many other ‘non-nationals’, Kunle’s integration into the local community had been a successful one. Prior to his initial deportation, he was making the best of the educational opportunities afforded him. Now, returned to Ireland, he hopes to do get a good Leaving Cert – and take it forward from there.
“He’s Irish now,” says Mayne. “We don’t see him as Nigerian. He’s like the rest of us, just doing his studies and hoping to go to University. You know he hasn’t come into Ireland to sponge. He’s anything but a sponger. He has a job. He works hard, both in his part time job and in school, and he’s paying taxes. You know, you do get people who come here from Nigeria to sponge off the government. Let’s be realistic about this. Kunle, though, is not one of those people. Like others, he believes he has a chance now to better himself and he’s going to work hard to achieve that.”
On March 14th last, that must have seemed like a mirage. Along with 34 other failed asylum seekers, Olukunle was unceremoniously deported from the country. It was three o’ clock in the afternoon when he was told he was returning to Nigeria. By midnight, he was on a chartered flight, destined for the Nigerian city of Lagos, the fourth most dangerous city in the world. He arrived there with nothing but the school uniform he was wearing. So swift was his exit that it was not until the following morning that his friends learned of his departure.
“I was devastated,” says best friend Neil Burke. “I mean, I was in class and I got this call to say he was in Nigeria. I was just heartbroken.”
His friends immediately decided that they needed to do something.
“We read an article in The Irish Times by Kitty Holland, and I rang her,” says Anthony Mayne. “She told us there’d be a protest held on the Wednesday outside the Dail. When we went down there was nothing organised, but we went anyway and we sort of turned it into a protest. The night before, we stayed late in school making signs and that. For the second protest we got more organised. We met with Residents Against Racism and they helped us. We gave it our all, making banners and that.”
By the following week they’d achieved a result. Against all the odds, the Minister for Justice Michael McDowell made the unprecedented move of reversing his decision to deport Olukunle.
Olukunle was lucky. His story found sympathy with the public, and his fellow students at Palmerstown Community School ensured that everyone was aware of his plight – but there are many other deportees who can point to extenuating circumstances on a par with or greater than the completion of the Leaving Certificate. They have not been so lucky, and Minister McDowell insists the Olukunle case is a once off.

Such deportations are not new in modern day Ireland. Since 1999, some 2,000 people have been forced to leave this country, and the government has secured 1,200 deportation orders against 'illegal' immigrants still living here. Only 77 of these have so far been executed. Such is the delay in processing the backlog of asylum applications, many immigrants have spent up to six years in the country. Insecure in their future, they have settled into life in Ireland and become part of their local communities.
Though not allowed to work, many contribute voluntarily to the community. Their children have settled, attending local schools, making friends, growing up immersed in Irish culture.
Amongst such people are Nkechi Okolie and her three young children, who lived in Castleblayney, Co. Monaghan for four years. Nkechi’s children attended the local school and her eldest, Ike had come first in his class in the Junior Certificate. They were on the same March 14th deportation flight but currently remain in Nigeria. Iyabo Nwanze and Elizabeth Odunsi were also on that flight. They lived in Athlone for three years and as a result of their deportation have been separated from their children, the youngest of whom is eight years old. Those children are now in hiding, fearful of also being deported.
Both these cases, along with Kunle’s, have sparked outrage and anger amongst local communities and refugee support groups.
“I think the public outcry over the current cases has seen people wise up,” says Rosanna Flynn of Residents Against Racism, a group who have campaigned for the last six years for an overhaul of the asylum system.
“People assumed that the government was dealing with this in a proper manner. It’s now being exposed that they are not. We want all those people on that flight brought back. The mothers who were taken, and their children (being) left behind is absolutely terrible. These people had been members of society, some of them for up to six years, with children in schools. It’s an enormous time out of a child’s life."
Michael McDowell, however, remains unmoved, insisting that won't be "blackmailed" into reversing deportation cases.
That the government would take such such a hardline approach to such a painful decision for these families is central to the current debate on deportation.
“I accept the reality that there has to be deportations,” says Mary King of the Dun Laoghaire Refugee Support Group, “but I think the system needs to be more humane, however one can do it. There have been people here for maybe five years and are still waiting for a decision. I think the new system where the backlog is being cleared is very good but I think that people who have been here longer have to be dealt with in a very different way than someone who has been processed within the last six months or year.”
The manner in which this backlog is dealt with causes the most anger among asylum seekers and support groups. As the current system stands, those who come to this country to seek asylum must submit to an interview as part of their application. Should they be denied permission to stay after this first interview, they can then appeal the decision. If that fails they can apply for humanitarian leave. Should they fail to achieve that, they face deportation.
The system has become more streamlined. New applicants are now usually given a first interview within six weeks, whereas previously they may have had to wait for anything between six months to two years. In part this change has to do with the overwhelming majority in support of last year’s referendum, which was taken as indicating that the electorate favours a restrictive approach to asylum seekers.
Rosanna Flynn agrees the referendum changed things. However she is not satisfied that people know what they were voting for.
“That referendum result was based on false figures, false information and dreadful racist propaganda about non-Irish citizens by the Government,” she says. “We said no to the racist referendum. It was passed and we accept that that is what people want. It has since been put in place that certain countries, such as Nigeria, are deemed safe. It’s totally untrue, but from now on people will be fast-tracked back to those countries. The referendum has done that.
"We pride ourselves on our educational system and the bottom line is that when you have children who have been in it for years, they derive an expectation out of it and it is totally wrong to uproot them from the environment that they know, that is their home, and send them away to what will be, in all probability, a very difficult situation. This is a human rights issue and we believe that the asylum issue should be taken out of the hands of politicians and given to a body such as The Human Rights Commission.”
Mary King also asks for the government to consider allowing some of the backlog remain. “Young people who came here as unaccompanied minors and are now coming into adult service should be considered,” she maintains. “There’s a small minority, only a few hundred, and they are a very specific category because they have no families, because they have put down roots in Ireland and become integrated.
"Very many of them have done the Leaving Cert," she adds, "and they would now like the opportunity to stay and put back into Ireland what Ireland has given them, to repay in the form of taxes and so on. That’s a positive step, and if anything we should draw the positive from this debate, which has shown that these asylum seekers are very much valued within their communities. They have settled and been accepted into the community.”

Since his coming to office, many would accept that on balance the asylum process has improved under Minister McDowell. Yet the biggest criticism levelled at his Department is their tough line on people on humanitarian leave. Last year only 75 asylum seekers were successful at this stage. Eight times as many were deported. The way in which deportation is handled has also come in for criticism.
“The whole deportation (process) is done in the most secretive fashion,” says Rosanna Flynn. “Why, if they have nothing to be ashamed of, do they do it so secretly? It’s usually done near a Bank Holiday weekend. Remember, this recent one was near St. Patrick’s Day. In our long experience, it’s almost always just before Christmas or at a Bank Holiday weekend when it is hard to access lawyers or anyone who can help. It’s also always done in the middle of the night. Many often still have a legal process to go through.
"We had one case where a husband was to be deported. His wife managed to contact their lawyer, which was no easy process. There are only a few lawyers who deal with deportation issues and their phones were jammed all day. I couldn’t get through. She followed her husband to the airport. She finally got the lawyer who rushed to the court and got an injunction to get a judicial view in his case. There were many others on that flight, and on previous flights, whose lawyers would have done that if they could have been contacted.
"That is why we go down with the asylum seekers to the Garda National Immigration Bureau because we can phone the lawyers. We can’t do that when the phones are jammed. There was another guy, a dancer called Ezekiel Bolarinwa, who was taken off that flight by accident really. I was down there at Burgh Quay. Somebody said to me on the phone that Ezekiel was gone. I repeated the name and this lawyer said to me, “Ezekiel! My God he’s one of mine.” He did the same thing and got an injunction for a judicial review – so those two men were lucky to get off that flight. Some of the others could have done that. The problem is getting access to your lawyer and this is often done at the very last minute.”

Portia Osagiede was also amongst those deported last week. She is 19 years old and complied fully with procedure while in Ireland. She remains in Lagos, in fear and without money or permanent shelter.
“In Dublin the Irish authorities were nice to me and very helpful,” she says, speaking from the Nigerian capital. “They were just doing their job and I can’t say I had any problems or disagreements or saw them treat anyone unfairly. When we arrived in Lagos they just came down the plane and we were handed over to the Nigerian authorities. That was the end of any Irish connection. We were given some leaflets and that was it." But while she is generous in her assessment of the Irish authorities, her circumstances tell a different story. "I know no one," she says. "I have no family, no friends, nobody. I was very scared. We were taken to a prison and we had to pay a bribe to be released. This city is so dangerous. There is no security. I have no one or nothing. I just have The Catholic Church and Father Matthew here, who I’ve been to see. Accommodation is available for me there from time to time. So coming down to Lagos has been very hard, very difficult.
"It’s very different from what Irish people think it is. This place is not safe. I don’t feel secure. Life in general, the way of life, the standard of living, quality of life, everything is different. I’ve been afraid the whole time. There is no security. There is no welfare system. There is nothing available.”
Nigeria is a country that Irish citizens are warned is unsafe to travel in. For journalists, it has been named as one of the most dangerous countries in Africa because of the high levels of violence. Yet the Irish Government say it is “safe”. Safe to send Nigerians back there. Safe to refuse to grant them humanitarian leave to remain. “Ha,” laughs Portia nervously. “That is all I can say. They should come out here. Come here for a few days and see for themselves what it is like on the ground. They shouldn’t believe what officials or the government tells them. They should come and see and maybe their perception will change. I’ve seen it from a different point of view. Security here is terrible. I love Ireland. I was happy there. The only thing I didn’t like was being unable to work. Apart from that I loved it. Here I wake up every morning in fear of what might happen to me.”

On his return to Dublin, Olukunle spoke of being attacked and robbed on the first day he arrived in Lagos. Rosanna Flynn too is quite adamant that the country is not safe.
“I’ll give you one example,” she says. “Women have no rights in Nigeria. Before you are married you belong to the elders in your father’s family. When married, you belong to the elders in your husband’s family. You have no rights over your body. The female circumcision issue is enormous. I had a call last night from a Nigerian woman, here with her children, who were born in Nigeria. She had that horrific operation.
"That butchery has been done on her body and she didn’t want it to happen to her daughter. The only way she could stop it from happening was to leave Nigeria. I mean, how can you say that we can’t let that woman stay? How can you say it is safe for her to return there with her young daughters, after they have spent years in this country, years without any real fear.”
The government say they will not review their deportation policy but Rosanna Flynn and Residents Against Racism will refuse to take no for an answer. Mary King asks for more openness and humanity.
“I’d just ask our government to be more humane,” she says. “These are decent people. Above all, they are people. They have arrived here fleeing their homeland and if we must deport some of them then we should do so in a humane fashion. Some form of support should be available on the ground for maybe a week for those who are deported. Using the Nigerian case as an example, you might have people arriving in Lagos who have never been there in there lives. With Portia, she has nothing. Nothing. Our group has had to raise some funding and send it out to her because her bribe had to be paid for when she landed.
"Even for them to get out of Lagos can be problematic. It’s a very big city and a very difficult city. It’s a very frightening experience, especially if you’ve been here for a few years, you have young children or you’re a minor with no family at all in Nigeria. The Government should consider that.” Because what we are doing now – as the events of the last three weeks have shown – is indefensible.