We met Aloysius at a refugee story-telling event back in February 2017, where he was sitting on an 'expert by experience' panel, discussing his journey to the UK, and his life since being granted asylum here. We were moved by his resilience, startled by what he'd had to go through to get here, and inspired by what he was now giving back.
In 2003 Aloysius was a university student in Uganda, studying to be a businessman. Although he identified as gay, he had a wife and two children living in a nearby village, and he was living a closeted life. Gay people in Uganda experience some of the worst human rights in the world, and being gay is currently illegal and highly stigmatised.
However, while at university, Aloysius became involved in the LGBT liberation movement on campus, leading to dangerous run ins with the university, police and local church. Some of his friends in the movement were arrested, and others "disappeared completely".
For his safety, Aloysius transferred to the UK to complete his studies, and came here legally on a student visa. By 2005, he had finished studying, and returned to Uganda, hoping things would have settled down during his time away. However, within three days of his arrival in the country, he was arrested on an outstanding warrant for 'spreading homosexual propaganda' in a cafe:
“I had this bag when they arrested me. Unfortunately, they found some leaflets…from Guy’s and St Thomas’ hospital about safe sex between gay people. And I wanted to give these leaflets to my friends to understand…Back home a leaflet about same sex education is a dangerous thing.”
Aloysius was taken to a 'safe house' where he was tortured for four days by the police. To leave, he had to pay a £50 bribe. Fortunately, he had his passport hidden in his sock, so on his release he was able to go straight to the airport and return to the UK on the remaining three months of his student visa.
Between 2005-2010, Aloysius became an 'illegal immigrant' in the UK, and was working below the radar for a distribution company. He had to work hard to conceal his illegal immigration status from his employer, who could face heavy fines if discovered by the Home Office.
“The visa runs out but life has to go on. I was educated enough to do the work. But, when you are in that kind of situation you lose every sense…I couldn’t perform anymore. I became so disturbed.
As the stress of his insecure immigration status began to take hold, Aloysius' mental health and work productivity suffered, leading him to change jobs in 2008.
“You know the problem with asylum is that the Home Office says that if you have a problem in your home country and you can’t go back you have to claim asylum within 72 hours. If you don’t that means you are not genuine.”
But in 2010, Aloysius experienced a mental breakdown as a result of the pressure of being undocumented:
“I could see my life disappearing. My dreams, aspirations. Everything was going. There was a false sense of hope. What happens when you are an asylum seeker or refugee in a country like Britain… nobody is hurting you. Maybe nobody is looking for you. So you think you are ok. You want to protect the little freedom that you have. But you have two questions that is bothering you: you either seek asylum and are granted protection, or you seek asylum and be deported. So, what happens is asylum seekers they tend to be on the side of not to seek asylum, but just to stay in the country. Because even though they are living rough, they are alive. Nobody is killing them. Nobody is beating them. So you stay like that.”
In May 2010, Aloysius applied for asylum on the basis of his sexuality. By filing his application, the Home Office were now alerted to the fact that he had overstayed his visa.
To comply with the regulations around asylum, Aloysius had to resign from his job as you are not allowed to work while being an asylum seeker. He lived off his savings initially, but these soon ran out:
“So you leave the job. Lose your income. Have nowhere to live. You almost become homeless. During that time I was in a bad shape. I was even scared to go to a GP. I was very depressed. Stressed. I didn’t feel as if I was living anymore. I was just surviving.I was just living with guys in Enfield. Going from one place to the next. They also have their own issues. Some of them were doing drugs.”
Two weeks later the Home Office arranged an asylum screening and interview for Aloysius. His screening interview was very brief.
“If you miss an appointment for interview, that could mean deportation. During the screening, the Home Office will ask if you need accommodation. But if you say you need accommodation, that’s a problem. As an asylum seeker you qualify for support from the Home Office. But when you say you want that, there’s another department who deal with support applications. And when they see that you’ve been in the country since 2005, that means you’re okay. You’re not a priority. They don’t want to listen to whether there’s been a change of circumstances.”
In June 2010, the Home Office sent Aloysius a letter for interview. He waited four hours to be seen, but instead of being interviewed he was arrested and taken to Hammondsworth Detention Centre without warning.
"The first time I went for the interview, which they said they had arranged, what they actually meant was that they’d arranged to put me into a detention centre. All those hours I was hungry and starving. They take away your mobile phone. Everything you have... and they put it away into a little bag. And you can’t call a friend. For me that the worst part of that situation was that the people you trust to listen to you treat you as a piece of crap. An asylum seeker almost doesn’t have any rights.
I began to feel as if I’d made a mistake to apply for asylum. When you apply for asylum, it shouldn’t be a mistake. I began to realise why people don’t come out to seek help. Why they run away from rape and violence, and they come into a safe country, and they still don’t apply for asylum. Or go out to organisations to seek help. I’d lost my small freedom that I’d had before, and now I’d given it away.
Just when you think the worst has come to an end, then you get into nightmare situations. It is a prison, but you don’t know what crime you’ve committed. Or how long you’ll be there for. You don’t know who your case worker is. Or when they will come. It is a place of mental torture. You can hear the planes flying over. And you know that they can deport you at any time. It is a very short distance from the airport.I knew that deporting me could end my life."
Aloysius stayed in detention for four days. However, some of the other detainees had been there for over nine months. Some had no contact with a solicitor, had exhausted legal aid, and many were being held indefinitely.
After 4 days Aloysius was told he would have an interview, but he had no access to a solicitor or any time to collect evidence to support his case. His interview went ahead as planned, but within the fifth hour, the interviewer couldn’t continue with the interview because she was too overwhelmed. She had never had any experience or training in working with LGBT asylum seekers. Fortunately, she decided to grant Aloysius' release from the detention centre.
In June 2010, Aloysis was released from detention with state-provided accommodation. He was taken to Barnsley in Yorkshire for 4 months. As an asylum seeker, he was not allowed to work and so he lived off a £35 weekly support grant, which he collected from the post office. He didn’t know anyone, and was 'cut off' from his community while awaiting a decision on his case.
In October 2010 Aloysius was granted asylum after a second interview with the Home Office.
Upon being granted refugee status, he was given 28 days to leave his state-provided accommodation, and his £35 weekly support grants were immediately stopped. He was advised to find a job to support himself in his new life. But this was an administrative struggle for Aloysius: although he was discharged with an official form with a special refugee visa, no banks or housing associations would recognise it to open an account, and he also didn’t have proof of address. Also, in order to have a bank account, you must have stayed in the borough legally for three years. Small loans of £500 were available from the government to new refugees but they are generally only provided to new arrivals in the country.
“The first thing they tell you is a threat. There is no welcome. Confidence. Support. There are no kind of projects to integrate you. The first thing they tell you is to get out of this property. Lots of refugees have status but cannot begin a new life.”
In November 2010, Aloysius returned to London to stay with friends, and was fortunate to get a temporary job back with his previous employer.
In 2011, Aloysius formed the 'Say It Loud Club' in London: a support group for LGBT asylum seekers and refugees to help integrate and rehabilitate in the UK.
People get referred by Doctors of the world, GPs, detention centres and their friends.
“I was still haunted by what I experienced as an asylum seeker. Women end up in bad relationships. Just for survival. I even met lesbian refugees with status living with men in straight relationships. Not because it was a proper relationship, but because of their vulnerability. The community was failing them. When I was granted I had to go back and help the communities.
The major drive was because I met lots of LGBT refugees in London. And most of them were living underground. It is difficult for any refugee, but for LGBT refugees, it’s even worse. There are not so many charities who can understand the cultures, traditions. Black African gay men are still haunted by their growing up experiences. So they need help, they need to be given some kind of support. So I said I’m the one who can understand these people.
I’m using London Friends facilities. Before when I came here they never had a refugee department for gay refugees. Until they saw me as their number one example, they didn’t realise. Now I meet 200 people a month. I’m not funded. I use my own salary to visit people in detention centres. The people who are there don’t speak to anyone except the guards. I’m doing this because of those young boys who died, who disappeared. I have to carry this on.
People come to me because they need help. And fortunately, every case I’ve been involved in has been granted. I go to the courts, and I support and speak on their behalf. And fortunately the judges agree.
“This country has the capacity to change the world with whatever they say. So if they promote hate, it’s going to spread like wildfire in Africa. The biggest challenge is to find recognition. To be recognised as an asylum seeker, a refugee. Because refugees are humans. But the problem is that the government is looking at the number, instead of the human inside.
This is the same country that helped so many Jewish chidren, and it is the same people saying we are not responsible now. Because all refugees is need is an environment. And opportunities. People can be doctors. Nurses. Judges. Teachers. With the right opportunities, they can be anything."
Speaking of nurses- Aloysius is currently studying to be a nurse! Keep an eye out for future posts, where we'll update you of his progress (and maybe even snap a pic of him in his NHS uniform!).
If you'd like to help Aloysius develop his web presence for Say It Loud, contact us here.