Some detained refugees hear about the World Passport and manage to write to the World Service Authority. Their letters often require interpretation-either because they are written in their native language or in the most rudimentary English. Always, the writers detail the appalling treatment they are subjected to and the dreadful conditions they live in, while making heart-wrenching pleas for help and expressing profuse appreciation for any assistance provided.
To most, the World Service Authority is a last hope.
Yugoslavia-born (name withheld) fled for his life to the Philippines in April 1990. He soon realized he was not welcome there, yet all his attempts to leave have been thwarted, principally by the local office of the United Nations High Commission for Refugees. In the following issues of World Citizen News, WSA's responses to (name withheld) and officials will be printed.
This refugee's first letter to us arrived November 24, 1993.)
Dear Mr. Garry Davis,
I am writing to your office because I want and need protection from murder, torture, starvation, and being taken hostage.
I will explain to you my life through a story of what happened to me here for about 5 years. I'm Yugoslavian nationality and a war service resister. I fled my country of origin to escape imminent war service. The reason why I am here in Philippines is that I fear to go back to my country because my country has no freedom. There is racial discrimination and, because of communist dictatorship, there is no freedom of religion, social group or religious or political opinion.
I arrived here as an asylum seeker after crossing many borders at night and on a cargo ship from Italy. Because I was a strong anti-communist and was struggling against them ideologically, it is very dangerous for me return. Many times I was detained solely because of my beliefs, ethnic origin, or religion, and it's a reasonable risk I will be again imprisoned as prisoner of conscience, tortured, or executed if I am returned home or deported.
I know there is no amnesty given in case I am deported to my country because I was a high-ranking military officer who deserted.
As a stateless person with no place to go, I decided to ask protection from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). The local High Commissioner, Mr. Sijaravatne (from Sri Lanka) told me that I needed to go back to my country to get a machine gun to kill people or to kill me, because I was a military officer. He said to me, you need to give your life in your home country-nice human advice from UNHCR. I cannot forget that UNHCR representative.
From then, I was thinking I don't have a chance to apply for asylum here. I slept in the airport for some hundred nights. One Japanese couple, travelers, helped me get a one way ticket for Korea. I went to Korea in 1992, and I applied for asylum in Seoul. The same result. No chance.
During my time waiting, I was staying in a hotel, Rokjan. On December 25, 1992, early morning, five officials from Seoul immigration kicked opened the door of my room. They opened my bags and scattered all my things, looking for brochures about communism. After that, one of them pointed his pistol at my back and said to me, "You are communist bastard who likes to stay in this country. This is not a country for communist bastards."
I was then brought to Seoul investigation jail. My hotel room was left open, and my attache bag, opened by them with a knife, was left inside. In it were all my important documents, some money, my watch, my wedding ring-all were lost.
I was held in investigation five days. Every day, three to four times, they interviewed me about a communist list, military politics, military tactics in Yugoslavia. During my investigation, they gave me food once a day only and a glass of water twice a day. During my last day of detention, one investigator threw my passport in front of me and stomped on it many times.
December 30, 1992, the same people told me to come with them to the airport without my personal belongings. I stayed in the airport from morning until midnight, when I was made to board a plane back to Manila. I called UNHCR, and told about what happened in Korea. After an interview they accepted me as a person of concern and started giving me allowance in April 1993.
But the UNHCR doesn't want to help me leave this country; nobody cares about the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. The UNHCR office here in Manila has been accused of favoritism and unfair screening of applications for asylum due to its priority to resettle Sri Lankan refugees.
I need assistance from your office, sir, in getting out of this country. I like to live peacefully. Sir, please answer my letter immediately, please.
Can you imagine my life? My allowance is 2850 pesos ($100 U.S.) a month. $80 pays for a cement room with nothing in it for 30 days. I sleep on a cement floor with no pillow or blanket. One kilo of bread costs 80 cents. One kilo of chicken feet (what I'm eating here) is $1. I'm hungry here. I have lost 21 kg. (45 lbs.) while staying here...
(And in another letter...)
Last year (1994) the Ministry of Aliens in Norway sent UNHCR a letter requesting documents about my case. I can go in Norway, but UNHCR here never replied to the letter from the ministry in Norway.
New Zealand's Ministry of Immigration requested New Zealand's Embassy here in Manila to contact UNHCR about my case. I can go in New Zealand. But UNHCR here, again, rejected my request to go to New Zealand. I know UNHCR plans to send me back to Yugoslavia after the war there ends.
My family is suffering and without hope. My father died April 6, 1994. He died hungry. I never saw him during the last five years. My family is dying of hunger. If I am sent back to Yugoslavia I will die without the chance to kiss my two sons, my mother, my wife. My oldest son began serving in the military before he was 18 years old. My property is being held by the government.
For foreigners like me, the Philippines is a murderous country, where there are combinations of extreme poverty, universal carrying of guns or bladed weapons, cheap alcohol, and an underlying resentment of foreigners. I have never lived in a country where murder is so commonplace or where human life is held so cheap.
My address: (name withheld), PO Box --- MCPO, Makati, Metro Manila, Philippines.
This is my last hope, that the WSA office will work on my case.
Thank you very much,
/s/ (name withheld)