A Dirty Game

Chapter Thirteen

97 Thirteen ennedy passed the night at a Düsseldorf train station with the police. He handed them his particulars and they took his fingerprints as he declared himself a refugee. Early the following morning, a police car drove him to the German Federal office in Düsseldorf, North West of Germany to start an asylum process. A different life began. That day, there were about a hundred new asylum seekers. They all stood outside the building queuing for asylum declaration forms to fill. When given forms, they were asked to get into the hall and were ushered to various seats waiting for more questions. There was more questioning, fingerprint confirmation, explanations on how the asylum interview would proceed. To Kennedy, it was a lacklustre stuff. On the very first day, they were given one Euro each for telephone calls, which Kennedy didn’t really need. They were also given small plastic bags with some little sandwiches. After midday, a lady came to them and said, ‘It is over for today. You have to descend and get into the buses out there. We will take you to where you will pass the night. There, you will have further explanations on how your asylum process will run.’ Some would be interviewed the following day, while others would have to wait a week or two, like Kennedy. From the German Federal office Bundesamt, they were taken to a ship anchored near the River Rhein. The ship seemed to have been there for some two decades. This could be testified from the moss plant around it. The ship was called an asylum hotel. It contained about four hundred tiny rooms. There was a larger room meant for eating and watching television. Those who had no appointment could sit the whole day watching news and music. K 98 At the entrance of the hotel was a receptionist. He was to receive and study papers of new persons. He saw Kennedy well dressed and it gave him some special attention. ‘Welcome, Sir,’ he said to Kennedy. ‘You are new. Am I right?’ ‘Yes, Sir.’ He looked at the papers for some time and said, ‘You will have your interview on Thursday.’ ‘Yes, Sir.’ ‘Alright, I will give you some bedding now and show you where to pass the night until your interview and subsequent transfer to a transit camp.’ It was 8.30 am on Thursday. Kennedy sat in a waiting room expecting an interview. Most of the asylum seekers were from the West African coast. There were also some white Arabs, but they were not as desperate as those from west and east Africa. Asylum seekers were called to various rooms. Most often, the interviewer was one versed with the political situation of the seeker’s country of origin. A lady walked and stood at the door. She opened and read from a file, ‘Kennedy Foti.’ Kennedy indicated with his hand while rising from his seat. ‘Please come with me. You have your interview today. Are you ready for it now?’ ‘Yes, Madame.’ Within a minute or two, he was ushered to sit in front of a frightful man. The huge figure mumbled a few words and then read from a file. The lady translated to him, ‘I am the interviewer. The lady sitting here will translate to you in English. You will be asked questions on why you decided to leave your country, and you are going to answer them.’ The interviewer was as big as an elephant. He was breathing forcefully as if too much fat was blocking his nose. He yawned and stretched himself, seeming exhausted. Just on his right, pasted on the wall was the map of Cameroon. There were also other documents for reference. 99 For over an hour, the interview continued. He would ask questions and later come back to them. ‘You said the opposition party killed your brother and now they also want to kill you.’ ‘Yes, Sir.’ ‘Talk maturely. The opposition party is not a single person. Am I right?’ ‘Right, Sir.’ ‘Can you name those who wanted to kill you and any of the occasions?’ ‘I escaped an assassination attempt one Saturday on my way back home. I couldn’t identify them.’ ‘That means you don’t know who wanted to deal with you that Saturday since you could not identify any body. Is that right?’ Kennedy was mute and seemed lost. His...