I left Guyana in 2008 for approximately four years to study in Wales. It was one of the most freeing periods of my life. Living independently from my parents and starting to make decisions solely based on my own needs was liberating. It was also a period where I was completely removed from all my comforts.
To put it short, I was thrown into a world where all sorts of privileges I was once accustomed to somewhat vanished, but yet I was still in a position to not be overly worried about finances. Rather, among my concerns were how I would meal prep effectively so as to give myself enough time to study. Classes were all day long and scattered around the campus. Most of my course mates were British and without the help of student loans most said university wouldn’t have been an option.
The girls I shared halls with and I would go on to live together in shared student houses. We were all foreigners, some hailing from varying countries across the African continent. Most were privileged and some had barely scraped together the resources to make furthering their studies overseas a reality. A condition for student visas issued then required us to put our tuition fees in a bank account belonging to the applicant for a specified period. Some students had borrowed part of the money from friends and relatives for the application process with the hope that once they arrived, they would manage to secure a part-time job and everything would fall into place.
University gave me a brutal reminder of the lengths people will go to secure a chance of improving their lives and the lives of their families. One of my colleagues, who was the first of their family to study in the UK, fell into a situation similar to this. My friend’s time there was deeply isolating.
While we were just flushed with the stress of assignments, my friend worried about assignments and getting more shifts on their zero-hour contract with Clarks. My friend maximised her university holidays (there were no limits on working hours as opposed to term time) to save and work while we would be off back to our home countries seeing family and friends.
Some of us, including myself, worked but it was never under the same pressure as our friend. My friend was employed from the very first year in university. Iceland was a student favourite because most of the food required little effort and it was ideal party food because it was so cheap. My friend lived off of huge packs of French fries from Iceland that cost around £2, always adding a little humour as to why they preferred them as they were ideal for vegetarians.
So many of us rush off to first world countries to study or work because they offer us higher salaries and more academic prestige (increasing our chances of employability). Some of us rush off to the United States of America to make sure our children are born there despite the social care being absolutely rubbish but because we want to ensure our children can move freely around the world, having chances and opportunities that we ourselves know they may probably miss at home.
Some of us rush to add new life into this world with partners from overseas because we view it as security. Some of us save and pay for eligible foreign partners for our children (commonly termed business weddings), so they could have a way out. So many of us leave as tourists and willingly run the risk of working off the books because in our eyes it feels like a fair trade off for decent healthcare and social care.
When I learnt this week of the Guyanese man who was refused entry to the UK, I remembered my friend and the stories of so many others who run and try so hard to make a better life for themselves. I wonder about their lives at home and what factors would drive them to such levels of desperation. I reflect on why we are hell bent on ridiculing people as opposed to the systems that drive them to desperation.
