Ismahan, Somalia "I didn't know I was coming to Europe"

Ismahan's story

At the height of the war in Mogadishu Ismahan spent more than a year in Kenya and Ethiopia trying to get out to Europe. Her family made a number of attempts at the airports to get her out, initially without success. When she finally arrived in Sweden, she was forced to become a different person.

"My relatives tried to get me out in 1992. I was the only girl, and they were fearful of what might happen to me. I was brought up by my grandparents, as my mum was only 16 when she had me, so I knew her as a member of my family rather than my mother...I didn't know I was coming to Europe. I didn't want to leave my grandmother - I loved her, she was the whole world to me. He [the agent] came and took me from home, but no one told me exactly where I was going.

"He gave me a different name and age. I was 14 at the time, but he told me to say I was 11, and gave me a different name, and even told me the street where I should say my home was. He left me with someone and I learned my story over two days. Then he collected me and took me to the airport. Here [Sweden] we went through the passport control together. Then he took me to his relatives and I slept there for one night. The next day he left me at the door of a police station, and told me not to describe his face or talk about him, and that he would be in contact with me later. I never heard from him again. The police asked a lot of questions, in English: Where were you born, how did you come? They took fingerprints, my picture, and took me in a police car to an asylum centre. I was there for two days, then they took me and told me I would be allocated a guardian in the asylum process...I hadn't met any Somalis at that point, and I was miserable. I regretted leaving home. I expected a better life to come instantly, but I found instead the people very cold, and the weather awful. I didn't trust anyone; I couldn't really speak.

"I ended up in Carlslund refugee centre. With my own room, at first it feels a bit like detention. There are many rules, what time to get up and have breakfast, what time to go to sleep, what to do. But at last I met lots of Somalis. Then I started to move more freely, and I found it a nice atmosphere. There was a group of us that kept tightly together, like a family - Somalis, Iraqis, Bangladeshis, and people from different countries. If someone was in trouble we would protect each other. If someone was outside, we would look out for them.

"Everything was fine, but I missed my grandmother too much. I felt neglected and sad. Later I was able to contact my grandmother, and eventually I also contacted my mother in Italy. I took my own apartment, but it was tough. I was alone, at 17, dealing with the bills and trying to study. You are encouraged in Sweden to be alone, that is the idea here - your classmates are always talking about moving out, and some leave their families by 16.

"My aunt went to my teacher and said I needed support, which I was given. I had a good relationship with my teacher and I liked my independence. But I didn't have such a good relationship with the Somali community. I went to Italy in 1997 to see my mother. That was great, but I remember my mother as being tall, but when I saw her she had shrunk and she had become just like granny. I now live in an apartment in Stockholm, and I would like to go back to Somalia."

Relative in Hargeysa, on decision to send 14-year-old girl overseas alone.

"We are forced to send her away because of the poor education here. We want her to get a good education so as to secure her future. Her parents are poor, but we, the relatives, can foot the expenses involved… We will use the passport of people who have already got travel documents in the country abroad. We are being helped by people who have experience … We will first send her with relatives who have proper documents, then when she reaches her destination, there are other people waiting for her.

"Yes, she will miss her parents because she is a young child, but it cannot be avoided - there may be peace here, but there is no education. We are even breaking with tradition by separating a daughter from her mother. But it is well known that whatever a woman possesses is not out of the reach of her parents and relatives; a young woman has more responsibilities than a young boy and is more settled. It is our hope that she will support her family.

"We believe we must do this, even at great cost. There is a proverb that goes 'what you see is what you believe'. We have seen other people doing this and we have to believe that she will go safely and accomplish her goals."

Somali parents are paying smugglers up to US $10,000 to take their children abroad, as part of a lucrative and exploitative international child-smuggling business. Faced with desperate choices, many parents who see no future in their own country allow their children to be abandoned by "agents" at airports and railway stations in European and North American countries. These separated children - mostly teenagers, but some as young as two or three - arrive burdened with a false identity. Most have been coached or intimidated into assuming a new name, a different age, and an imaginary history. Some are used for benefit fraud in welfare states; others - in the more extreme cases - are used as domestic labour, for prostitution, or fall into the hands of international criminal gangs. While some end up in the competent care of relatives, all, to some extent, struggle with serious psychological problems and identity issues.
For more information refer to the IRIN In-Depth: A Gap in their Hearts: the experience of separated Somali children.