The Illegal Immigrant

By L. A. Brand

Patrick, a young Nigerian graduate, travelled to Europe hoping to start life as an engineer. But on getting to Munich, he realized that to avoid being deported on expiry of his visa, he has to become an asylum seeker.

But life as a refugeewith no right to work, limited freedom of movement, constant harassment from the police and having to queue for food every day was not what he wanted. Feeling trapped, he resorted to peddling drugs and doing illegal jobs to raise money to buy a passage to London.

He arrived in London on borrowed documents only to realise that he has simply traded his status as an asylum seeker to that of an illegal immigrant. Nonetheless, he was able to secure jobs with forged documentations with relative ease. Living in the UK was easier although tainted with the constant reminder of his illegal status, which he tried many times to overturn but with no success.

Then the European Union expanded, bringing to a stop all he was enjoying. Suddenly, illegal immigrants became hunted, and with a looming long jail term if caught, he decided to end it all by moving back home.

While in Nigeria, he secured admission to a university in Norway and, for the first time, was able to live legally in Europe. Sadly, neither his new legal status nor educational achievement was able to stop the subtle racist behaviors he experienced in everyday life in Europe.

Finally, he decided to relocate back home where at least he wouldnt be treated as a second class citizen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Sep 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477219232

Book preview

THE ILLEGAL

IMMIGRANT

PETER BELTUS

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AuthorHouse™

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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© 2012 by Peter Beltus. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/24/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-1922-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-1923-2 (e)

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

TO MY FAMILY

CONTENTS

MUNICH

LONDON

BOGNOR REGIS

LONDON

MOLDE

OSLO

MUNICH

1

It was in the evening of Saturday, February 15th that the Lufthansa Boeing plane I boarded from Lagos touched down at Frankfurt International Airport. I heaved an audible sigh of relief. I have never been on a plane before and as such, the experience of being airborne for more than six hours, has somewhat unnerved me. When the ‘all clear’ signal lit up, I took my small suitcase down from the luggage compartment above my seat and like the other passengers, slowly made my way out of the plane to the passport control area. In the hall, two separate queues were forming ahead and I instinctively joined the one nearest to me. Then I noticed the neon-lit signs flashing on the headboard above the control counters. One of the signs read European Union while the other was showing Rest of the world. Luckily, I was on the right line—Rest of the world. The queue was moving slowly thus giving me enough time to take in the surroundings. The hall was completely unlike any where I had set foot on before. The opulence and cleanliness of the whole place made a complete mockery of what I saw earlier at the airport in Lagos. Then my turn came and I handed in my passport to the immigration official behind the counter before me. He opened and glanced at it. No cause for worry. My passport was in order. He stamped and handed it back but as I took the passport from him, our eyes met and within that fleeting second, I somehow detected a faint wisp of resentment in them but I couldn’t care less. With my passport in my hands, I walked through the barrier and immediately began searching for ‘gate 16’ for my connecting flight to Munster. It wasn’t hard to find and a glance on my watch showed that I had a quarter of an hour to wait before boarding. Gratefully, I sat down on one of the many seats around and once again began drinking in the gracefulness of the area around me. Thirty minutes later and right on schedule, we were on board.

It was a short flight to Munster but nonetheless as eventful as the earlier one and by the time the journey was over, I was accustomed to being on a plane. As I made my way towards the luggage collection point, I became aware of a tall black guy standing next to the belts. I remembered seeing him on the flight from Lagos. He was carrying a briefcase and seemed to be waiting for his luggage. I ignored him. Moments later, my bag rolled out and I picked it up then followed the other passengers out into the arrival hall. Then again, I saw the black guy with his luggage beside him and it looked as if he was waiting for someone. I passed him and made for the airport exit. I did not actually know were I was going but I had to get a hotel room for the night. The briefings I had earlier gotten from my director in Lagos ended right there at the airport and as such, getting a place to stay was entirely my problem. Then a voice behind me said,

em, I don’t know but I was wondering if you know of any cheap hotel around.

It was the black guy. The light from the electric bulb overhead was directly on his face and I could clearly see confusion written all over it.

I am looking for one myself I replied.

please don’t mind my asking but are you a Nigerian? he asked.

"yes I am… . but why?

because I am also and this is my first time here in Europe. I really do not know what or where to go from here, he explained.

this is my first time here too, so if you wouldn’t mind we could look for a place to stay the night together I said.

that’s absolutely alright by me. I really didn’t know what to do on arrival

Together, we made our way out of the airport building. That was when the cold hit me. The air outside was so cold that within seconds, I was freezing. I immediately put down my suitcase, unzipped it and took out the winter jacket I brought with me. I had been warned about the cold but what I was feeling now was way beyond what I imagined it would ever be. There was no way I could have known what to expect since I have lived all my past years in the hot, wet equatorial country of Nigeria. Away from the warm and comfortable interior of the airport building, I felt as if I had been stripped naked and thrown into a deep freezer. With the jacket on, I felt slightly better but only enough to last me a few more minutes out in such cold. Outside the airport, a little from the entrance, was a long row of taxis and beside one of the cars was a small group of men huddled together, chattering. They were all white and I instinctively knew they were taxi drivers. I boldly approached them. I have never spoken to a white person before but if I plan to start a living in Europe, then the sooner I start getting acquainted to them, the better.

hi guys I began, "we are looking for a place to stay the night. Do any of you know of a reasonably cheap place we can stay?

depends on how cheap you want it one of the men replied.

the cheapest will do quite alright I said.

that will be a hostel then

fine by us. Could you please take us to one?

The man that talked to us detached himself from the group, made his way to one of the cars and opened the booth. We followed, dumped our bags into the open booth and slid inside the car alongside him. He was a slender looking man and inwardly I was happy with the knowledge that the two of us can handle him if he tries any funny trick.

The journey through the streets of Munster was completely overwhelming. The almost deserted but well lit and clean streets were in sharp contrast to the crowded and polluted ones I still couldn’t believe I have left behind. But it wasn’t hard to understand why the streets were deserted though since no one in his right senses would be outside in such a horrible cold. Fifteen minutes later, the car pulled outside a two storey building that looked as if it was deserted in the darkness. We got out, paid him and stared at the house before us. A single shinning electric bulb hung just under the entrance door giving the house an uncanny haunted appearance. We approached it, pushed the door open and walked inside. We were in a small hallway that led to a sizable room with a counter at one end. A slim looking guy sat behind a huge desk and I realized we were at the reception. Cautiously, we approached him. The room was relaxingly warm and in complete contrast to the freezing cold outside. I sighed contentedly.

we want a room for the night I said.

a two bed room? he asked.

yes please I answered.

that will be €15 he said.

I got out a €20 note and handed it over.

we will stay for only this night I explained.

He asked for our passports and we handed them over. He made copies of both of them and handed them back. After filling some forms, he took us down a narrow corridor into a room. It was quite small but exceptionally clean with a double bunk bed on one side. Thankfully, it was also comfortably heated and smelt of freshly cut lavender leaves.

breakfast is from 8 to 10 in the morning he said and was gone.

I sighed again contentedly and slumped on the bed. Then I looked at the guy with me. All these while, I really had not given much thought to him until now. Apart from the initial greetings, we had not said much between us. He was a nice looking guy, well built and clean shaven.

I am starving. Had nothing to eat except the food on the plane I said.

same as me. Maybe we look for something to eat he replied.

We went back to the reception. The young guy at the desk was reading a book and he glanced up as we approached.

do you serve dinner? I asked him.

sorry no. We only serve breakfast

where can we get something to eat? I asked again.

at the Hauptbahnof

"what’s that?

it is the train station.

And he proceeded to give us directions.

Hauptbahnof or where ever it was that the guy described involves a trip out of the hostel and as such I braced myself for the cold outside. The streets were erringly quite and deserted. We walked down the end of the boulevard without meeting anyone. The freezing air outside was gaining the upper hand on my body regardless of my thick jacket. Soon enough, I was shaking quite visibly. The tram stop was as the guy had directed. It was a two-line rail but we soon found out we could not make out which direction leads to the train station. The tram stop was deserted too otherwise I would have asked. I tried reading through the words on the wall but could not make out anything resembling the word the guy have used in describing the train station. Instinctively, I crossed to the other side and went through the writings. I was rewarded. One of the names on the line was Hauptbahnof. It was written in bold letters while the others were in lighter characters. Immediately I guessed the places shown were names of tram stops. Luckily, the Hauptbahnof was not far, just four stops from where we were. We waited. Fifteen minutes later, the tram pulled to a stop and we entered. It looked like a train but significantly smaller. We got out at the fourth stop. It was the Hauptbahnof alright. We descended the stairs into a relatively warm and very large mall. There were many cafés and people were seated in many of them, some eating and drinking while some simply sat chattering among themselves. I scanned the place, saw a Macdonald’s and we walked over. The sitting area was comfortably warm compared to the temperature outside. We ordered burgers and soft drinks. That was the first food I’ve had in five hours. For one complete hour we simply sat, relaxed and contented, looking at the crowd of people and families huddled together in cafés trying to keep warm. I drank in the scenery. Everything, even the odour wafting from the restaurants was completely different from those back home. I could have gladly stayed were I was for the rest of the night but the cold was already having an uncomfortable effect on me. It was time to get back to the hostel. We strolled back the way we came, up the steps and out onto the tram platform. I knew that to get back to the hostel, we have to go the opposite of the place we came. We were right and within twenty minutes we were walking up the boulevard back to the hostel. Inside, I had a hot shower, and with a contented sigh, stretched fully back on the bed.

My journey to Germany was one hell of a hectic affair and had lasted throughout the entire week. It all started exactly five days ago, precisely last Monday. I had woken up that morning without any inclination of what was in store for me. As usual, I got ready and went to work at the Textile company in Surulere where I was an assistant production manager. As I walked into the office, I was told by the secretary that the Director would like to see me as soon as I come in. Immediately, I put my briefcase on my desk and made my way down the short corridor to the Directors office, all the while wondering what or why he was looking for me but I was unable to come up with any reasonable answer. I knocked on his door, waited for his answer, then went in. I greeted him and sat down. He immediately took out a white envelope from his drawer and slid it across the desk to me. I didn’t know what it was or what to expect. I took it and looked it over. Nothing exceptional save for an emblem on the top left corner of the envelope.

this letter arrived this morning and I want you to follow it up the director said, obviously wanting to keep the contents a mystery as long as possible. The envelope was already opened so I took out the letter and quickly read through. There was an instant lurch in my stomach and immediately my heartbeat quickened. I knew immediately what it was but I couldn’t make out how I was concerned. The letter was addressed to the Director and it said,

"Dear Sir,

As one of our highly esteemed customers, we are happy to invite your company to this year’s world’s Textile trade fair in Munster, Germany. It is scheduled from Friday 14th to Sunday 16th Feb. at the International Trade fair Center, Munster. Would you be interested to attend, please contact our agent in Lagos on 080 626 80 444.

Thanks"

sorry Sir but I don’t understand I blurted out, I really did not know what you want me to do with this

you will represent our company at this year’s fair in Germany he explained in a matter-of-fact manner.

The letter was short and straight to the point. I looked again at the sender’s address on top of the letter. Quite right, it was an address in Germany.

what I want you to do is to get in contact with them and let them know of our intention to be at the fair. Inform me when you have done that but as you can see from the date, there is not much time to waste so you have to be quick about it if we are to make it he explained.

I took the letter, went back to my table and immediately put a call to the fair organizers agent here in Lagos. It was answered by a lady.

yes

my name is Patrick and I am calling from Surulere in respect to a letter our company received concerning the forth coming textiles trade fair in Munster I explained.

okay, what is the name of your company?

Olufsen Textiles Surulere

Just a minute please

As I waited for her to be back on line, my heart was making a total mess of itself. I was sure it has gone up to more than five hundred beats a minute. Even my stomach wasn’t helping either. It has begun churning and somersaulting faster than a drum on a free run down a steep hill.

Patrick?

yes

I have confirmed it. But we would like you to come to our office as soon as possible to arrange it. Okay?

yes, it is okay

And she proceeded to give me their address which is located in Victoria Island area of the city.

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The company I worked for, Olufsen Textiles is quite a successful one and has always been invited to many fairs, both local and foreign ones. Nevertheless, overseas fairs were always an exclusive reservation for the top managers of the company and as such for me, an assistant production manager, representing the company at a foreign fair was only utopian. That not withstanding, the desire to travel overseas has been with me from an early age. While growing up as a young child, I had taken a likeness to most things Western. Now as a university graduate, it had become more of a necessity due to the country’s miserable living conditions which were becoming more un-habitable by the day. Relocating to a western country was every young mans dream of which I wasn’t an exception. Nonetheless, I was aware of the many odds against me and that was same for majority of the guys out on the streets. Most of my school mates back in the university nurture the ambition of travelling out after graduation regardless of the fact that only very few really do actualize it. Travelling abroad at least guarantees a job and as such steady income—things which were locally more utopian than real. I had tried many times in the past to obtain a visa to Europe but none of the embassies I visited found me worthy of one that I became tired of applying. I knew of so many visa agents who could have helped me obtain one but their services do not come cheap. The huge amounts of money they demand were completely out of my reach. I had equally applied to so many western schools for post graduate studies. Yes, I was always offered admission but then where do I get the millions of naira needed for tuition and living expenses? Worse still, the embassies require applicants to pay such fees upfront before the visa is issued. Therefore, for an average Nigerian, getting an American or European visa, on your own, is like searching for a needle in a hay sack.

I have been working at Olufsen Textiles for two years now and right from the day I was employed, the Director had taken an immediate liking to me. I had, on the many occasions I had been with him, told him of my desire to leave the country but he was clever enough not to allow himself to be drawn in. I had also pleaded with him to give me a chance to partake in some of the overseas trade fairs, even if I have to pay my way out, but the reply has always been the same—wait for your turn. Therefore, I was not completely surprised by my director’s action but I must admit it never did occur to me it would be this sudden. That afternoon I went to the agent’s office with my Director and from the moment we walked in, it was very obvious that things will be different for me this time around. As it turned out, they were responsible for arranging most of the past fairs which our company had attended in the past.

we will like to be part of this year’s fair in Germany my director began after exchanging pleasantries with the trade fair agent.

"very well then, we