I spent a large part of recent months translating what has turned out to be a highly topical book: Hoffnung im Herzen, Freiheit im Sinn (“Hope in My Heart, Freedom on My Mind”, as I have suggested the title be translated). This is the real-life story of Zekarias Kebraeb, a young Eritrean who fled his country in search of a better life in Europe and was eventually granted leave to remain in Germany (where this book was co-written with German journalist Marianne Moesle).
There’s not a huge deal to remark on when it comes to the translation process: it was a fairly straightforward text (other than the surprising difficulty of rendering the crucial term “Flucht” in English – “flight” is often ambiguous, “migration” too technical, “exodus” too biblical, “journey” too non-specific …). But the story the book tells made a very powerful impression on me as I was reading. It touches on a number of themes around immigration and refugees that have become especially pertinent as anti-immigrant politics continues to ratchet up in the UK. I hope it will eventually find the wider audience it deserves in English translation, but here are a few of my own thoughts on it while it’s still fresh in my memory.
There’s not a huge deal to remark on when it comes to the translation process: it was a fairly straightforward text (other than the surprising difficulty of rendering the crucial term “Flucht” in English – “flight” is often ambiguous, “migration” too technical, “exodus” too biblical, “journey” too non-specific …). But the story the book tells made a very powerful impression on me as I was reading. It touches on a number of themes around immigration and refugees that have become especially pertinent as anti-immigrant politics continues to ratchet up in the UK. I hope it will eventually find the wider audience it deserves in English translation, but here are a few of my own thoughts on it while it’s still fresh in my memory.
The book describes Zekarias’ ordeals as a refugee as he flees from Eritrea to Germany, crossing the Sahara and the Mediterranean before ending up in the purgatory of the European asylum system. I was particularly struck by the extremes of humanity on display: on the one hand, he and the other refugees encounter cruelty, contempt and aggression on both sides of the Mediterranean (especially from people smugglers, police and asylum officials – one ghoulish German official, Herr Mayer, is particularly infuriating). But on the other, rarer acts of compassion shine through, ranging from a benefits caseworker who spontaneously gives Zekarias some of her own money when she realises he has not had any money to live on for months, to the priest who risks his life to escort refugees illegally through Sudan. The solidarity, transcending all religious and cultural bounds, displayed by people living in unimaginable poverty was also striking: for instance, Sudanese immigrants earning less than fifty cents per hour donating a quarter of their pay to a fund to help newly arrived refugees. The authors find the contrasting tales of the nearby Italian towns of Rosarno and Riace to be a powerful symbol of these extremes.
So although the book portrays a catalogue of horrors and acts of callousness that might make you despair of humanity, it is also replete with acts of love and friendship. This human warmth is especially apparent in Zekarias himself, whose lively and vividly realised narrative voice is one of the book’s great strengths. By turns naive, idealistic, angry, numb, nostalgic, playful, resigned, thoughtful, he guides us through his journey from a perspective almost entirely neglected in our society’s dominant narratives of immigration and refugees: that of one of the refugees themselves.
Through this perspective, the book offers a powerful challenge to the notions most recently encapsulated in the “First World problems” meme (though the events in the book predate the meme itself). While ostensibly a mockery of spoiled rich Westerners, this meme amounts to a denial that certain types of things could be problems for people from the “Third World” – and hence denies ascribing to them the same richness of inner life (see here for a good discussion). To be sure, Zekarias and his compatriots and fellow refugees have to endure a fair share of problems that would be unimaginable for rich Westerners – they are often vulnerable to brutal violence and deprived of food and shelter. But, as the book recounts, they also face precisely these problems in “First World” countries like Italy, Germany and Switzerland, where refugees (both documented and undocumented) live a precarious parallel existence. Having reached Europe, Zekarias must endure a long period of homelessness, and much longer periods in detention centres. Moreover, it is clear that Zekarias does care very much about issues beside material deprivation: socialising, music, romance, creativity, self-expression, freedom. And the nasty flipside to the “First World problems” meme and the wider attitude that it expresses becomes apparent when Zekarias is chided for not finishing his unpalatable food at an asylum centre, or for complaining about his restricted right to movement: he is told he should be “grateful” for what he’s being given when so many live in poverty in his home country. Fussy eating, boredom, loneliness, depression – those are “First World” problems, not problems for asylum seekers.
In addition, Zekarias’ first-person narrative is interwoven with more general reports on the situation of refugees and with a variety of folk stories and Biblical narratives. This is an effective combination, showing how Zekarias’ particular story is representative of much wider experiences and drawing on a rich tradition that emphasises virtues of hospitality and compassion. It makes a striking comparison with the mealy-mouthed, technocratic defences of immigration that we are more used to hearing, which get bogged down in debates on the statistics of economic benefits and immigration rates. While the book does include some arguments at that level (such as the potential for immigration to reverse the major projected shortfall of skilled workers in Germany in coming decades), above all it makes a refreshingly unabashed case for immigration as a matter of human freedom: a case for the right of refugees like Zekarias to leave countries where they lack basic democratic protections and live a better life elsewhere (a right enshrined, as he reminds us, in the UN Declaration on Human Rights). He directly confronts the consequences hidden behind euphemisms like “controlling” or “tackling” immigration:
I write this as numerous countries throughout Europe, including the UK, have voted in large numbers for parties that are viciously opposed to immigration and immigrants. Some centrist politicians and commentators are proposing to respond by conceding ground to anti-immigrant attitudes. But Zekarias offers a powerful example of an alternative: a voice of hope that challenges these attitudes in our society (which are by no means confined to extremist political parties). Such voices need to be heard now more than ever.
So although the book portrays a catalogue of horrors and acts of callousness that might make you despair of humanity, it is also replete with acts of love and friendship. This human warmth is especially apparent in Zekarias himself, whose lively and vividly realised narrative voice is one of the book’s great strengths. By turns naive, idealistic, angry, numb, nostalgic, playful, resigned, thoughtful, he guides us through his journey from a perspective almost entirely neglected in our society’s dominant narratives of immigration and refugees: that of one of the refugees themselves.
Through this perspective, the book offers a powerful challenge to the notions most recently encapsulated in the “First World problems” meme (though the events in the book predate the meme itself). While ostensibly a mockery of spoiled rich Westerners, this meme amounts to a denial that certain types of things could be problems for people from the “Third World” – and hence denies ascribing to them the same richness of inner life (see here for a good discussion). To be sure, Zekarias and his compatriots and fellow refugees have to endure a fair share of problems that would be unimaginable for rich Westerners – they are often vulnerable to brutal violence and deprived of food and shelter. But, as the book recounts, they also face precisely these problems in “First World” countries like Italy, Germany and Switzerland, where refugees (both documented and undocumented) live a precarious parallel existence. Having reached Europe, Zekarias must endure a long period of homelessness, and much longer periods in detention centres. Moreover, it is clear that Zekarias does care very much about issues beside material deprivation: socialising, music, romance, creativity, self-expression, freedom. And the nasty flipside to the “First World problems” meme and the wider attitude that it expresses becomes apparent when Zekarias is chided for not finishing his unpalatable food at an asylum centre, or for complaining about his restricted right to movement: he is told he should be “grateful” for what he’s being given when so many live in poverty in his home country. Fussy eating, boredom, loneliness, depression – those are “First World” problems, not problems for asylum seekers.
In addition, Zekarias’ first-person narrative is interwoven with more general reports on the situation of refugees and with a variety of folk stories and Biblical narratives. This is an effective combination, showing how Zekarias’ particular story is representative of much wider experiences and drawing on a rich tradition that emphasises virtues of hospitality and compassion. It makes a striking comparison with the mealy-mouthed, technocratic defences of immigration that we are more used to hearing, which get bogged down in debates on the statistics of economic benefits and immigration rates. While the book does include some arguments at that level (such as the potential for immigration to reverse the major projected shortfall of skilled workers in Germany in coming decades), above all it makes a refreshingly unabashed case for immigration as a matter of human freedom: a case for the right of refugees like Zekarias to leave countries where they lack basic democratic protections and live a better life elsewhere (a right enshrined, as he reminds us, in the UN Declaration on Human Rights). He directly confronts the consequences hidden behind euphemisms like “controlling” or “tackling” immigration:
- Armed border forces to repel immigrants back to countries where they will be held in concentration camps (the book takes note of the cynical Newspeak of an EU technical mission describing this situation as “difficult” but ultimately “acceptable in the light of the overall general context”)
- Asylum proceedings geared to finding any excuse to deport refugees back to countries where they will be tortured or killed (however underhand – conveniently losing supporting evidence, withholding information, exploiting lack of knowledge of the legal system, extracting false confessions under pressure)
- Thousands of people dying in attempts to cross the Mediterranean (with the potential of legal action against any captains who go to their aid)
- Undocumented migrants living off the radar who are exploited and left without access to healthcare while the migrants who go through the official system are left to rot in squalor for years on end
- Endless microaggressions (constant cavity searches and night raids by police, officials who deliberately ignore people standing in front of them or pretend not to speak English, hurled insults or cold indifference from passers-by on the street).
I write this as numerous countries throughout Europe, including the UK, have voted in large numbers for parties that are viciously opposed to immigration and immigrants. Some centrist politicians and commentators are proposing to respond by conceding ground to anti-immigrant attitudes. But Zekarias offers a powerful example of an alternative: a voice of hope that challenges these attitudes in our society (which are by no means confined to extremist political parties). Such voices need to be heard now more than ever.
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