“Guys, I don’t know anything in this place, I don’t know where I am, I don’t know how to leave. I don’t even have money. They looked at each other. One of the guards came with me and showed me the road. He took out of his pocket a crumpled five – euro note and a coin and he gave it to me. A total of seven euros. I went to the station. The woman in the counter gave me the cheap ticket. I arrived to Athens before nightfall.
It has been twenty months since I have been away. Everything seems unknown, difficult to me. Sometimes I can’t breathe. The air seems heavy to me. I was feeling exactly the same when I was in prison sometimes. I don’t know what to do. I want to go away from here. To be elsewhere.
I took off to Belgium, at least there I have relatives, I speak the language. My parents aren’t alive. There have been a lot of people that left with me from the place I was born, near Kinshasa. I belong to the Tutsi tribe, many Tutsi people left with me. It was impossible to stay there. The traffickers told us that we shouldn’t say that we are from Kongo, it isn’t catchy any more, we should say that we are Somalis. If I had known how it would have been, I don’t know what I would have done.
And now? Now what will I do?
