Everything was going well until I got to immigration. “What’s your reason for coming to the UK?” I gave them my passport and told them that I was doing an unpaid internship and that I would be staying for 10 weeks. I was expecting him to stamp the passport and life would just move on. Not so fast.
“You need a Visa, do you have one?”
“No, I am not getting paid, it is an educational experience so I do not need a Visa. Or at least this is how the situation was explained to me.”
“I’m sorry sir, can you just sit down over here please? I will be back.”
Alright, so I sat down and started playing Brick-Breaker on my “service-less” Blackberry. About 45 minutes later a woman came over and asks me to come with her to retrieve my luggage from the baggage claim. We then brought my bags into this special room where she told me she was required to examine the contents of my luggage. This woman then proceeded to go through all of the stuff I had packed. I was very confused. I then had to sign all these forms and we had to count the amount of money I had on my person (I forgot to mention the dollar t-shirt, uh oh!), and fill out information about all of my credit/debit cards. “Sir, I am going to bring you back to where you were sitting, and then you will be met by a security guard and taken to the Immigration Detention Center for interrogation and investigation.” Wait, seriously?
So this guy comes over and takes me to the Immigration Detention Center; a not so friendly place. First they took mug shot photos of me, both sitting and standing. Then they took my handprints, each finger print and then I had to roll my fingers on this screen to get all the possible partial prints. Maybe a little over the top? I then was taken to another room where a guard with rubber gloves gave a very invasive body search and then sent me into the room where I was to be detained.
This detention area was just a lovely room. A bunch of chairs all chained to the floor, a t.v. behind what appeared to be bullet-proof thick glass, a table with a few books, and a pay phone. When I asked how long I could be detained for the response was “I can’t be sure sir, could be one hour, could be five hours, maybe even ten. You will be served a hot meal around noon and 5:30 if necessary. It is at this point that I release that I might be in a less than ideal situation. Honestly, I felt sick to my stomach. One of the most miserable moments of my life. What the hell is this bull shit?
About fifteen minutes later the door opened and the guard brought in another man, who I later found out was from Uganda. This guy was wearing a button down shirt, a blazer and a nice pair of jeans. He was also very dark skinned and appeared to be in his early thirties. The guard told him he could sit wherever he would like. In a deep African accent he said “I’ll sit with my fellow comrade right here.” He seemed like a nice guy. Here’s how our first conversation went. “So, why are you here?”
I told him how I didn’t really fit any of the Visa qualifications, and I was told I didn’t need one. Now they are not letting me into the country.
“Those bastards! They should just let you in.” I couldn’t agree more.
“So, how about you?”
“Well, I have been working in England for over a year now, but I forged my documents coming over here. They finally found out that my papers were illegitimate, and now they are deporting me. These people make me sick. They are treating me like a terrorist. I’m no fucking terrorist, I am a man who went looking for work to feed his family.”
I honestly wish I talked to this guy more. I probably could have learned a good amount. However, at the time I felt like a was literally going to throw up. This guy from Uganda was telling me stories about his home when he was called back by one of the guards. When he returned I asked him what that was about. “They asked if I wanted a trial. I told them ‘Fuck that, send me home.” What a guy!
It gets a lot less interesting and a lot more confusing after this. Basically I got called into the interrogation room and had a very intense discussion with the immigration officer. We argued for a while and I may have shared a few too many negative opinions about the UK. Whatever. I am in my flat in London as Visitor. They called the Parliament’s office and told them it was illegal for me to work. So I do not have an internship anymore.
Ill share more with you later. I am going to bed!