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SWITZERLAND: Undocumented Migrants Run Their Own School By Ray Smith ZURICH, Oct 13 (IPS) - Switzerland is a tough place for asylum-seekers and undocumented migrants. In
Zurich, they have been running a remarkable campaign for the past year,
challenging the canton's asylum policy. Now, they have opened their own school.
"Please show me your homework!" Bah Saidou tells his students. Some hand
in their papers, others haven't done anything, and a few are new in the class.
The classroom is packed full. The lesson of the day focuses on grammar.
This isn't a regular school though, Saidou isn't a usual teacher, and the
students aren't quite common either. The class takes place in a squatted,
autonomous school, and Saidou is a so-called "sans-papiers" - an
undocumented migrant. The more than 60 students in the class are asylum-
seekers, immigrants with temporary admission, and people whose stay is
illegal under Swiss law.
It is estimated that Switzerland is home to 100,000 to 200,000 sans-papiers.
Among them, three main groups can be distinguished: the first group
consists of those who entered the country on work permits, didn't get them
renewed but decided to stay. Those who came to Switzerland looking for
clandestine employment make up the second category.
As a consequence of Switzerland's harsh asylum policy, a third group is
steadily growing. It contains migrants whose asylum request was rejected or
not even looked into, and refugees who've lost their temporary admission
when they were asked to leave because their countries of origin where
considered "safe to return".
Saidou, one of the teachers at the school, is from Guinea. He came to
Switzerland in September 2002. A few months later, he received a so-called
NEE, a "non-admissibility-decision" on his asylum claim.
Despite being obliged to leave the country, he stayed, and has been living in
Switzerland illegally for the past six years. When in January 2008 the new
asylum law came into effect, Saidou's living conditions drastically worsened.
No longer receiving social aid, he was placed in an emergency centre and has
been surviving on minimal assistance provided by Zurich's Department of
Social Affairs.
The new Swiss asylum law left a tiny door open for illegalised migrants: The
"provision for cases of hardship" allows sans-papiers, who have lived in
Switzerland for at least five years and have "integrated very well", to file a
request for a residency permit.
The cantonal authorities of Zurich, however, put extremely difficult conditions
for applicants, such as comparatively high skills in German language. At the
same time, undocumented migrants have neither opportunity nor the means
to visit language classes.
In December 2008, a group of sans-papiers squatted at a church in Zurich
for more than two weeks, demanding their right to stay in Switzerland, and
better living conditions. "Shortly after the occupation of the church and the
talks with the canton's council, we and our supporters decided to establish
language classes on our own," says Saidou.
The project started with about 30 people. Today it serves more than 150
students. Classes for three different language levels - A1, A2 and B1 - are
held.
Berhanu Tesfaye is one of the students at the school. Born in Ethiopia, he fled
to Switzerland in 2000 and was issued a NEE twice. Then he filed a request
under the hardship provision, but failed: "My application was rejected
because my German language skills weren't good enough", Tesfaye explains.
"Then I came to the school. Three months later I successfully passed an exam
in A2, and four months later in B1. The certificate allows me to hand in an
application again."
Waiting for the class to begin, Joao Antonio from Angola says he's happy with
the course. He's been living in Switzerland for the past 15 years, most of the
time illegally. His situation worsened when the new asylum law came into
effect: "I lost my job and my home. Now I live in an emergency centre. I want
to apply for a residency permit under the hardship provision and improve my
language skills, that's why I've come to the school."
For undocumented migrants, the school is the only way to learn German. A
woman from Nigeria who prefers to remain anonymous explains: "I came here
in 2002. In 2003 I was allowed to attend classes, but this was stopped in
2004. I received a NEE and was no longer permitted to attend language
classes. This school is my only way to learn the language properly."
Another student, Sayyed Mohammad Mumi, says learning German facilitates
his daily life. He fled from Somalia and came to Switzerland in 2008. His
asylum request was rejected, but he obtained temporary admission to
Switzerland because he currently can't be sent back to his homeland. "For the
first six months of my stay, I could attend classes," Mumi says. "Because the
follow-up course is booked up, I decided to join the class at the autonomous
school."
Bah Saidou, Mumi's teacher, seems to enjoy teaching German. He's assisted
by a lady from Zurich. Irene Holliger says she's amazed by the students'
motivation to learn and the joy in their eyes. She regards her engagement as
an act of solidarity: "I'm retired. I have free time and want to support the
refugees. All of us work as volunteers."
Although the autonomous school is in a squatted building, some expenses
accrue. Berhanu Tesfaye regrets that some students can't attend all three
classes per week.
"Many students live in emergency centres far away from the school. We've
raised some money with fundraising meals and a party. This allows us to
cover travel expenses for many of the students, but it's not sufficient."
Sans-papiers receive the equivalent of 60-70 Swiss francs (about as many
dollars) per week if they register at the Department of Migration in Zurich.
The amount isn't paid in cash, but in cheques for the biggest Swiss
supermarket chain Migros.
Hardly able to survive on their cheques, the sans-papiers are bound to spend
all of the money at Migros. More than a year ago, they and their supporters
started to undermine the authorities' practice. Once a week they gather at the
Refugees Welcome Café in Zurich, where they can sell their cheques for cash.
This allows the migrants to spend their limited income a little more freely, for
example for train tickets.
Bah Saidou is disturbed by the fact that Swiss politicians keep demanding
foreigners' integration into Swiss society, but don't give them an opportunity
to do so. His colleague Berhanu Tesfaye agrees: "Integration consists of
different aspects such as access to education, the labour market and decent
housing. However, we have no chance to visit a school, are forbidden to work,
and live in fenced-off emergency-centres often far away from towns and
villages."
The autonomous school sent letters to communal authorities, asking for
financial support to cover people's travel costs. The call has remained
unanswered so far.
Undocumented migrants live in constant fear of being arrested, imprisoned
and deported. On the blackboard of Saidou's classroom, a picture reminds
students of Maria Dennis Díaz, a fellow sans-papiers who was deported to
Colombia on Sep. 20. Diaz had lived in Switzerland for 12 years. Her 17-
year-old son Juan Jacobo was also arrested. Despite being under-age, he was
separated from his mother and is currently in custody.
Nevertheless, Tesfaye says he isn't afraid of a police raid at the school. "The
police know that I live in an emergency centre. If they want to arrest me, they
can come there or send me a summoning. Learning a language isn't a
criminal act anyway."
Zurich's authorities are aware of the school. Hans Hollenstein, the canton's
security director, admits the school is doing something positive. "They allow
the migrants some integration for the time being. We can tolerate that.
However, I want to make clear that these people are illegally here and have to
leave the country as soon as possible."
For the activists, the school isn't just about the language classes. Bah Saidou,
a major contributor to the sans-papiers' campaign, explains: "This is my way
to struggle. We have realised that we have to stick together. The school is part
of our struggle."
Since squatting the church last winter, Zurich's sans-papiers have kept
demanding better living conditions. "Unlike Zurich, governments of other
cantons have proved more flexibility with sans-papiers," adds Tesfaye.
"That's why we've started to establish our own structures. After squatting the
church, we've talked to a lot of politicians and succeeded in raising awareness
for the conditions we're living in, but on the ground nothing has improved so
far."
In mid-August, one of the sans-papiers' busiest activists, Ishmail Fayé, was
arrested. The man from Sierra Leone had prevented several deportation
attempts. For the past year, he lived under Zurich's emergency regime and
was forced to move from one emergency centre to the next on a weekly basis.
Currently in custody at Zurich's airport prison, Fayé speaks of the canton's
policy: "They want us to leave the country. That's why they're applying this
strict regime. They try to make your life unbearable, so you leave."
The campaign for collective regularization, the right to stay for all, faces a
rocky path. While other European countries such as Italy or Spain have
repeatedly granted collective regularisations for thousands of undocumented
migrants, Switzerland's government remains far from even considering it an
option.
(Ray Smith is a freelance journalist and activist with the anarchist media
collective 'a-films', which has documented the sans-papiers' campaign in
Zurich for the past year.) (END/2009)
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