I’m not a crook!

I have been traveling throughout the UK now for almost 4 months. I’ve seen so many lovely places and met so many lovely people and really enjoyed my time there. My British fixer and good friend Simon has added to this enjoyment by allowing me to use his house in Bebington, near Liverpool, as a sort of base so that I could come and go as I  pleased. When I met him in February I had no idea what a good friend he would become and how much his friendship would benefit my life. He’s an inspiration and a rock, and though I sometimes don’t realize and often complain, I don’t know what I would have done without him when Mother England decided she no longer wanted me in the country and deported me.

Shocked? I was too. Let me explain so that you understand exactly what happened and what an injustice it was.

Simon and I decided to travel to Rovinj, Croatia, where his brother had an apartment, to get some sun. The English summer had been disappointing to say the least so sun was a much needed therapy for us both. I was really excited to be able to see a part of the world I probably wouldn’t have seen otherwise. We bought cheap tickets via Ryanair and would stay 5 days, long enough to see a lovely town, get some sun and just relax.

I’ll definitely write a blog post about my time in Croatia, seeing as it hasn’t quite ended, but this post is dedicated to my experience upon returning from Rovinj to London Stansted Airport.

As per usual, when returning to one country from another, we had to pass through Customs. By the looks on their grumpy faces we suspected that the Customs’s agent would be somewhat difficult. The one we got just looked mean and unfriendly. He proved us right by red-flagging my passport because it hadn’t been stamped when I returned to the US from my trip to the UK back in February. This was suspect to him and, so he thought, proved that I hadn’t gone back to the US because the Customs agents in America would never forget to stamp a passport. Then he accused Simon and me of having a serious romantic relationship, even though we both said otherwise, and wondered why I wanted to stay in the UK for so long.

I wasn’t answering the questions to his liking, so he made me sit down in some chairs near his desk and he alerted his superior. She then asked me similar questions and decided that I was suspicious and needed to be detained. So they took me and my bag through the airport to a checkpoint where both I and my bags were to be searched. I was then led to an office where my picture and fingerprints were taken and I was sent to a waiting room to await an interview with a senior Immigration Officer.

Simon and I had been separated and I was not allowed to see him. One of the Customs agents informed him of my situation and he was told it would be at least 3 hours before I would be released. I don’t know how long I was sitting in that waiting room, scared and alone, until a short, weasel-like man interviewed me. He asked me about Simon, WWOOFing and why I was using England as a base for my travels. I could tell that he didn’t like my answers and I honestly think that he decided that I was to be deported before the interview even started.

The waiting room was an office somewhere in the depths of the airport where the staff, not part of the Immigration department at all, were extremely nice and accommodating to me. They listened to my story and tried to be supportive and make me comfortable.

Eventually I was informed that I was to be deported… back to Croatia! Why Croatia? Because they simply send you back to where you have just come from. Once the officer informed me that I would be sent back to Croatia I went a little hysterical. I called Simon to let him know the situation, and then asked to speak to the head of the Immigration department. This fat, ugly, and obnoxious little man came into the office and then took me and one of his colleagues into an interview room to listen to my story.

I was distraught and in tears and I could tell by the stony look on his face that he would not be swayed by a crying woman. I sensed this immediately so simply spoke my mind, rather than begging him to change his. He was being so disagreeable and heartless that I asked him to have a little compassion and treat me like a human being. He coldly explained to me that because I had “worked” (remember, I was NOT PAID A PENNY) in the UK, I had breached the restrictions of my tourist visa, and therefore I must be detained and deported. He was not willing to exercise any discretion or take into consideration the fact that I had booked expensive onward flights that would see me leave the UK in just 2 weeks.

Because I had worked on farms, even though on a strictly unpaid basis, they considered this paid work because they said it allowed me to extend my stay in the country, even though this wasn’t the case as I had always planned to leave in December regardless.

In my opinion, he should have simply allowed me to return to Liverpool to collect my things, let me leave to Nepal, then asked me to change my ticket so that I would return once I was back from Nepal, rather than staying another week as I had planned.

It was pointless talking to the immigration officer; he wasn’t prepared to believe that I wasn’t some immigration criminal who was looking to live in the UK illegally. So, after 7 ½ hours since my flight from Croatia landed in the UK, I was taken, in a caged van, with 4 other women to an “Immigration Removal and Detention Center” in Yarl’s Wood, about an hour north of where I was.

Once we arrived at Yarl’s Wood, we went through 2 large steel gates, barbed wire topped walls and a security checkpoint. We were led into a waiting room, which was then locked, and forced to wait another hour until we were led to another waiting room. We must have waited another hour or so before we were each interviewed and had our bags searched… again!!

By now it was 2 a.m. and we were all just exhausted and just wanted to go to sleep. They kept locking us in the waiting room, but honestly I can’t imagine that 4 women, one with a 3-yr-old daughter, were going to do anything which required them to secure us in a room. I was as uncooperative as possible and didn’t smile in my picture, gave vague answers and wouldn’t smile or joke when they attempted to lighten the mood.

It was 4:30 a.m. by the time I was led to my room. Breakfast was served at 8, but I couldn’t imagine being up by then. I was however wide awake by 7:30 because I had a roommate that left at 7 and I was feeling a little lonely and anxious.

It was only a few days ago, but I have honestly blocked out what happened that first day in detention. Simon came and visited me and brought me my stuff: the clothes and possessions that he had driven all the way to Liverpool to pack and bring back to me. He had driven 4-5 hours both ways just to bring me my stuff so that when I left for Croatia on Monday, I had everything with me. Damn Immigration agents.

I only spent a total of 42 hours in the detention center, but it was longer than I ever hope to be held against my will again. I felt lonely, lost and upset almost the entire time I was there.  I cried every time I was alone and never felt comfortable. How could I? I was basically in prison.

I left for Zadar, Croatia on Monday evening and Simon was kind enough to come with me. He has been a great help not only with planning things so that we had a place to stay and transportation while in Croatia, but he’s been a rock and been more supportive than I could ever have hoped for.

I haven’t decided what I’m doing once Simon leaves on Saturday, but an option is to go to Zagreb and the UK Embassy there and appeal this decision. I simply want to be heard and explain to them the injustice that has occurred.

If anyone reading this would like to help in any way, please write a letter to the UK Embassy or the appropriate representative to let them know that this was an unfair way to treat someone from a country that is supposedly a friend. I just ask that they treat each person fairly and with compassion. Perhaps I made a mistake, but couldn’t they have just slapped my wrist, seen that I was leaving for Nepal in 2 weeks, staying there for 6 weeks, then leaving England for the US in mid-December?

I’m still upset that this happened. Not just to me, but to numerous other people who enter the UK for a holiday and are turned away because the Immigration officers see a law-breaker rather than a human being. How many more times does this have to happen before someone realizes that it’s no way to treat people?