It was Wednesday when I first met Mohammed. A 37-year-old Muslim asylum seeker from Sierra Leone, an impoverished and ideologically conservative West African country. He was restrained, skeptical and sparing in his conversations. He avoided looking me in the eyes and kept looking down. I tried to catch him talking and find out things about him. I did not have much difficulty to be honest. As soon as he realized that I was there, ready to listen to him, then he “solved”. As if he needed to talk to someone, to tell his story. The story of his life shocked me, shook me and made me think how ungrateful we are sometimes in this life, but also how lucky we were to be born in a place that has literally everything.
Suddenly you run away
Growing up in a conservative, Muslim house with rules and principles, Mohammed learns to hide from an early age. Adolescence begins the first difficulties and oppression in his life, as he realizes that he is gay, which for his religion is a red cloth. Around the age of 17, at the school he goes to, he learns that he has a relationship with a classmate. The following are recommendations, voices and expulsions for the fact that he has entered into a relationship with a person of the same sex (in Sierra Leone homosexuality is a crime and punishable by imprisonment). Eventually he is expelled from school, with his family learning about his sexual orientation and expelling him from home, unable to manage the situation. Mohamed wanders left and right for a while, while trying to find a way to stand on his own two feet. Somewhere there he meets his second partner. A prominent man of politics who lives a double life. They make a bond and Mohamed moves to his house, with the label of “friend”. Time passes relatively calmly, with the two of them sharing the secret of their relationship and Mohammed opening his own shop and finally setting up his life. The story of their relationship is revealed at some point, leaving Mohammed and his partner exposed to a scandal and “flirting” with imprisonment because of their homosexuality. Escape is the only way. They both decide to leave and go to Guinea, a neighboring country of Sierra Leone that is less conservative but can offer them a temporary shelter.
“I did not even know where he was on the map”
Guinea's solution is good, but temporary, as their lives are still in danger due to the Muslim environment. Europe is now on the plan, as the West is the only one who can provide them with the coveted security and physical integrity. In Guinea they know a carrier who as a machine god presents the solution of Italy, with the cost for the rescue trip amounting to 3,500 euros each. Although they do not know exactly where Italy is on the map, they accept the offer, with Mohamed's partner nevertheless becoming seriously ill and dying. So once again alone, Mohamed decides to take the big step and be saved. First stop is Turkey, while a second flight would follow where it would take him to his final destination, Italy. As soon as he lands and from the second flight, he realizes that he is not in Italy where the original agreement was, but in a Muslim part, with his life still in danger due to the fact that he is gay. There he meets another carrier, who, asking for 250 euros, tells him that he can pass him on the opposite side, which is Christian. Mohammed accepts and begins his journey to the side that holds the key to his freedom. In his attempt to cross, he falls on the Police, who tell him that he is in Cyprus, that he has come to the country illegally and that he can not continue his course. Somehow he is transferred to Pournara, not having practically realized where he is or what exactly has happened.
A life in the air
The first time is difficult, with him trying to get caught somewhere and stand on his feet after the deception he received. Having only the clothes and shoes he wears as his property, Mohamed is still trying to adapt to the new reality, two or so years after his arrival in Cyprus. Since October 2019, he has applied for asylum and until today he is waiting, not knowing the stage of his application. Now, he lives with 12 other people in an apartment that has been given to him by the Welfare Office and every month he receives 261 euros for his expenses and his food. “I just want a job. Whatever it is. “In any province,” he would tell me again and again that Wednesday when I met him, almost begging me to let him know if I knew anything. I promised to publish his story and I really felt his gratitude.
“This is my family”
From our huge conversation, however, what made the biggest impression on me was when he mentioned his family. “I have no family,” he told me. “My family kicked me out of the house when I was 17 when they found out I was gay. I no longer know what they are doing, or whether they are well. “My real family are these children here.” he told me, and showed me the people who work at MiHub, the place where we met. MiHub is an immigrant service office that helps these individuals find the backbone of bureaucratic procedures. Their goal is to facilitate the lives of migrants and put it in order, making it a practical mediator with the relevant government agencies.
The people who come to this office are so attached to the people who work there that they now consider them – like Mohammed – their stable, their refuge and their family. If you go to the MiHub office in Nicosia, you will meet three young smiling children. Konstantinos Kyprianou, Leandros Kyriakidis and Margarita Antoniou, social workers and psychologist respectively. “The job is not easy,” all three of them told me in one voice, “you have to deal with aching people whose lives have literally been blown up. “What we are doing is making it a little easier for them.” MiHub is not a simple information center that provides information. It is much more. It is a home and a sweet feeling that there is someone there for you, even when everything else next to you has collapsed. It is the hand that will show you the way when you are completely lost. “This is my family,” Mohammed told me as he left, and I felt somewhere inside that there was still hope.
