Many young Eritreans seek exile at all costs
August 30, 2007 (KAMPALA) — Sitting side-saddle on the back of a moto-taxi whizzing through the Ugandan capital, Zelalem breathes in lungfulls of freedom after parting with most of his savings and risking his life to sneak out of his native Eritrea.
“I want to be able to make plans and choose my own life,” says the 27-year-old.
His perilous flight from Eritrea started with a 2,000-dollar (1,500-euro) fee. It was paid to a smuggler who spirited him through the border with Sudan, a huge sum for Zelalem who earned around 100 dollars a month as a bank employee in one of the world’s poorest countries, still recovering after long years of war.
He remembers every minute of his terrifying journey out of Eritrea, hidden in the back of a pick-up van driven at breakneck speed by the smuggler. “It was going so fast that it felt like we were flying.”
Zelalem, who requested to use a pseudonym, was not allowed a suitcase and had only a few hours to bid farewell to his country, knowing he may never see it again.
“I didn’t tell my mum when I left. She would have worried,” he recalls.
Eritrea — one of the most hermetic countries in the world — imposes heavy punishment on any of its nationals who attempt to leave the territory illegally.
Zelalem knew the risk he was running trying to slip through the tight-meshed net of the Eritrean regime. One of his brothers has been behind bars for more than a year after a botched escape.
Earlier this year, a journalist died and another went missing after trying to slip over the border with Ethiopia.
“Johnny (Hisabu) was one of the hundreds of Eritreans who each month try to flee the hell on earth created by one of the world’s most authoritarian regimes,” Reporters Without Borders said in a recent statement.
It is unclear exactly how many Eritreans make it into exile each year, but NGOs believe the trend is on the rise and the United Nations recently spoke of tens of thousands over the past four years.
What convinced Zelalem he should try his luck was a scholarship he was granted to study in the United States, and the knowledge that his chances of clinching the compulsory exit visa were slim.
After spending a few weeks in the Sudanese capital Khartoum, he flew to Uganda. There, he hopes at best to obtain a US visa or alternatively to settle down and pursue his studies in the capital Kampala.
Young Eritrean refugees are scattered over several neighbouring countries and Zelalem knew he would find fellow refugees in Kampala.
Tewodros is also 27 and fled the reclusive Horn of Africa country in October 2006 for the same amount of 2,000 dollars.
“The fact that we cannot go back is very painful,” he says.
“Day after day, it is getting worse in Eritrea. The living conditions, life is getting expensive, there is no business, no job opportunities,” he explains.
Locked in a bitter standoff with arch-foe Ethiopia, Eritrea hosts a myriad of rebel groups from neighbouring countries and is increasingly isolated amongst Western nations.
The country has only one party, headed by Issaias Afeworki, who has been president since he led the nation to independence in 1993.
Asmara systematically denies accusations by foreign powers and NGOs of rights violations and minimises the scope of the exodus.
“Migration is not more than a few hundred a year and does not compare in anyway with the reverse annual flow — for temporary stay or repatriation — of our citizens from the diaspora,” Yemane Gebremeskel, director of Issaias’ office said in a recent interview.
He argued that some Eritreans were compelled to leave even without permission because of the lingering threat of renewed conflict with Ethiopia.
“Naturally, some can’t cope in the face of pressure and the tension generated by a looming war,” Yemane said, nevertheless describing the phenomenon as very temporary.
Yet the office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees in Uganda was adamant that the number of Eritrean asylum seekers was swelling fast.
“Most of the asylum seekers claim that they are fleeing from Eritrea either for religious reasons or from recruitment in the national army,” says the UNCHR’s spokesman in Kampala, Roberta Russo.
Military service in Eritrea officially lasts 18 months, but anyone — men and women — can effectively be called up at any time.
Kaleb, another young Eritrean who arrived in Uganda in 2006, fled his country because of his affiliation to a Protestant evangelical church.
“I left because of my religion. My church is closed, I cannot worship… As a result, my sister is in prison. I didn’t feel safe, so I decided to leave,” says this soft-spoken 26-year-old.
Religion is a particularly sensitive subject in Eritrea, where the g overnment wants national unity among its 4.2 million people, officially split equally between Islam and Christianity.
It recognises four religious denominations: Islam, Orthodox, Catholic and the Eritrean Evangelical Church.
Eritrea is listed by the US government as a country that has “engaged in or tolerated particularly severe violations of religious freedom,” accusations Asmara strongly denies.
“It is not an easy decision to make, you leave behind the people you love,” Kaleb adds.
All Eritrean refugees betray deep melancholy when they talk about their native country but Zelalem and friends Tewodros and Kaleb — also pseudonyms — seem sure they made the right choice.
“I can’t imagine that I would give up what I’ve got now,” says Zelalem.
(AFP)