End of November 2006

End of November 2006

It is a windy, rainy day. Every time the door opens it blows back and a huddled figure, hood pulled tight around the face shuffles in with a windswept look of surprise.

What is there to follow up? A pregnant woman just arrived in the country was transferred from Dungavel to Yarlswood, a detention centre in England. She has been called to give her names of lawyers to try. Did we manage to get in touch with the woman who didn’t cross her name off the list yesterday? How do we know she wasn’t detained and is out safe from signing at the Home Office?

A man comes in wearing only denems, he is soaked. I switch the heater on and turn it towards him. He huddles up close to it. The door blows open, the door is pushed shut.

One woman is more anxious than usual.

“I went to the post office to get my money and I had signed as usual but there was no money. This isn’t my signing day, I’ve come to see what’s happenning. I’m scared, I’m shaking.”

She writes her name down and goes to the Home Office.

I sit and alphabetise some of the files. People come and go. A family who are early to sign come and sit on the sofa to wait. They have received a letter saying they must report to the consulate of another country. Probably to force them to get travel documents, but the wording is vague. There is no appointment time stated, only the opening hours and strong wording and a threatening tone. The mother of the family walks up to each of us in turn and offers a spicy fried patty which we each take from her hand and put in our mouths. A copy of the letter is faxed to the lawyer for advice on how to respond.

The woman who didn’t cross her name off yesterday is reached, she’s fine. She was in a rush to pick her children up from school and forgot to come back.

The roof starts leaking, we move the fax machine over and get a bucket to catch the drips.

The woman who was shaking comes back.

“How did it go?”

“There was a problem with my card but it should be fixed now. It is my baby’s birthday today and I have no money.”

I give her a bag and point to the back room where we keep the toys and clothes people donate. She leaves with a full bag and a smile.