It is widely acknowledged that Germany is shouldering a significant portion of the burden that the worldwide and ongoing refugee crisis has placed on Europe. In 2015, German authorities registered more than a million migrants. That is 587 refugees for every 100,000 citizens. A further 1.5 million are expected to arrive throughout the course of 2016.
The current situation is radically different to that of September 2015, when German Chancellor Angela Merkel held her rousing “Wir schaffen das” speech and suspended Germany’s application of the Dublin III-system, a system that establishes a structure for determining if an EU member state is responsible for processing applications from migrants fleeing war-torn situations who are asking for international protection from non-EU countries.
That atmosphere of bright optimism has largely been replaced, however, by one of overwhelming uncertainty and fear. Dissatisfaction amongst Germany’s citizens with Merkel’s open-door policy spiked after the New Year’s Eve attacks Cologne, while calls from within the chancellor’s own party to restrict the flow of migrants into the country have increased significantly. The show of European solidarity that Merkel might have been hoping for is failing to materialise, with Brexit the most tangible example of a rejection of free movement and a longing for stricter borders.
Erlenstraße is not a place of worry or of mourning, but a place of hope where relationships develop and where residents are facilitated, empowered even, in the reconstruction of their lives
Despite these growing difficulties, many towns and cities throughout Germany have continued to welcome refugees fleeing war and bloodshed in their home countries. One such town is Bühl, located in the southwestern state of Baden-Württemberg, nestled neatly within the Black Forest. It is a picturesque region, where vineyards and fruit plantations dot the the surrounding hills and on a clear day one can marvel at the beauty of the Rhine Valley that stretches right across into the Alsace region of France. Yet, this town has more to it than its idyllic rural landscape. It is home to a community that has been working hard at integrating refugees and helping them to rebuild their lives. I spoke to the town council’s integration officer, Sabrina Braun, and the director of the refugee centre, Stefan Schneider, as well as two of the centre’s residents, Mawdo and Mercy, to find out more about the inner workings of Germany’s asylum system.
The directions Schneider gave me led me through a relatively quiet industrial area. I cycled past a meat manufacturer, several mechanical engineering firms and finally an Aldi supermarket before arriving outside the Erlenstraße refugee centre. Children’s laughter and cheerful chatter greeted me as I walked through the gates and into the yard outside the centre. A group of young men repairing bicycles in the shed stopped their work to eye me inquisitively. Children chasing a ball around the back of the building ceased playing, throwing me cheeky smiles. I walked towards the centre’s entrance and was intercepted by a tall, burly, middle-aged fellow who asked me coarsely what I wanted. It became clear that visitors are a rare sight, provoking suspicion amongst staff and residents. Nevertheless, once I gave my reason for coming, my presence was soon forgotten and the tension of the moment evaporated, allowing me to witness the warm and tranquil atmosphere of the centre.
Schneider gave me a guided tour of the building in his thick, melodic “Badisch” accent. He is spectacled and dressed casually in a short-sleeved polo shirt and dark denims. After completing a degree in administration, Schneider first worked in social services before becoming the Erlenstraße centre’s director a year ago. The refugees trust him with their problems and anxieties. During our chat, a female resident knocked gently on the balcony glass door and asked timidly to speak to him for a moment. She had received a letter from her husband who remained back in their home country and she wanted to discuss its contents with him. He is a director, problem-solver and mentor all in one.
As we made our way through the many corridors, sounds of goodhearted banter emanated from inside the bedrooms and I was struck by the building’s astonishing similarity to a student dorm. I had come expecting a subdued atmosphere, of grief for past lives and longing for absent loved ones. But, Erlenstraße is not a place of worry or of mourning, but a place of hope where relationships develop and where residents are facilitated, empowered even, in the reconstruction of their lives. How has this come to be?
An emotional support base is vital if the refugees are to gain the confidence to engage in German society
I mentioned my surprise at the sociable atmosphere of the place to Schneider and he explained how the refugee centre is not only there to cater for the physical well-being of the residents. An emotional support base is vital if the refugees are to gain the confidence to engage in German society. One of the centre’s two janitors joined the conversation and explained how his work involves much more than the upkeep of the centre. “Everything”, he answers with a smile when I ask him what his job entails, “chatting with the residents, discussing problems and finding solutions to these form just as big a part of my working day as the maintenance of the centre”. Such emotional support becomes even more essential when one considers the extensive trauma that many of the centre’s residents have suffered: forced departure from their homes and family, death of loved ones and brutal torture are just some on a long list of things these individuals have been subjected to.
Emotional guidance is of particular importance to the young adult refugees between 20 and 30 years of age, who make up the majority of the centre’s residents. At a time when many of them are still developing their identities, their need for guidance and support in making good life choices is strong. People like 20-year-old Mawdo Bah from Gambia and 23-year-old Olatoye Temitope Mercy from Nigeria, who moved into the centre a year ago, agree wholeheartedly with this. They have left all they know behind them and sacrificed everything they had to arrive in Germany and require emotional support as well as practical help in setting out on their new life. Children also require special attention. According to Schneider, these are the most vulnerable members. They have seen and experienced things that no child should and it is imperative that they are allowed to live out the rest of their childhood free from the worries that have accompanied them on their journey to Germany. Schneider praised the invaluable support offered by the charity, Caritas, who organise trips and activities for the children, as well as provide children’s books and drawing materials. Annual summer camps run by the youth branch of the German Red Cross encourage friendships and help to settle the children into their new life in Bühl.
If fostering social interaction is the first step in the centre’s integration of refugees into the German way of life, receiving education and gaining employment are next on the list. They are crucial in promoting feelings of self-worth, a sense of independence, and providing refugees with a means through which they can develop themselves. Although asylum seekers are only allowed to enter proper employment after three months into the asylum process, they have the option of receiving small payments for chore-like work in the centre before this time. Such activities include gardening, cleaning the facilities, washing laundry and repairing bicycles and machinery.
Yet, Braun admitted that finding work after the three months presents a significant challenge for the refugees. Sitting in her office in the town council’s headquarters, Braun explained how a lack of proficiency in the German language combined with a low education level hold many refugees back. Furthermore, choice of employment is restricted by German regulations that state that a job can only be offered to an asylum seeker if a German or EU citizen has not applied for the position already.
I asked Schneider how the centre helps its residents develop their skills in order to overcome the aforementioned barriers and gain a foothold in the labour market. German language classes that are held at a local vocational college are paid for by the regional authority, while members of the local community also volunteer as language tutors. Connections with local businesses and institutions are also established to make internships and apprenticeships available for the centre’s residents.
Mawdo is not willing to “sponge off” the state for the rest of his life, a commonly held preconception amongst a significant section of the German population
It is clear that employment is of extreme importance. Mawdo and Mercy lit up when asked about their future careers. Both are working towards a career in nursing, a German job sector desperately in search of new applicants. Since last February, Mawdo has been attending the local Berufsfachschule (vocational college), which teaches business and foreign language courses. He proudly informed me that he has already achieved the A1 and A2 grades in the German language, which will allow him to take up an apprenticeship. Although initially hoping to start training as a car mechanic, he admitted that a high demand for such courses has compelled him to contemplate accepting a career in nursing. Despite having made such progress, his future is not yet completely secure: “I could be returned to Hungary at any moment because it was the first country in which I was registered.” Yet, he is hopeful that if he can secure a position in an apprenticeship programme and show his intention to become a valuable member of society, he will be granted permanent stay in Germany. Should this happen his goal is “to earn money so that [he] will be able support [himself] and develop [his] skills”.
Mawdo is keen to become independent of state support as soon as possible. He is not willing to “sponge off” the state for the rest of his life, a commonly held preconception amongst a significant section of the German population (a recent statistic has shown that 64 per cent of Germans believe that refugees present a burden on the country’s welfare system). For Mercy, it is not a lack of practical skill that is holding her back. Before she was forced from her home, she had been receiving a high-quality education: “I had a bright future ahead of me.” She has previous nursing experience, having worked as a geriatric nurse for a year in Libya, but her job prospects are limited by her lack of fluency in the German language. She complained that the weekly German language classes are “not enough” and she is set to start German language classes during the new school term.
Schneider stressed how the work the centre does in integrating the refugees would not be possible without support from the local community. Immense generosity has been shown by the town’s natives since the first arrival of refugees at the beginning of the crisis. Community events like football matches, swimming competitions, concerts and parties are organised with the idea of providing an opportunity for the two sections of society to meet and get to know one another. In fact, on the day after the interview, one such party was being held, one which I was fortunately able to attend. It was a warm, sunny evening. A game of ping pong was being played in the centre’s courtyard while at a nearby table children from both the locality and the centre were enjoying having their faces painted and indulging in arts and crafts. A small tent serving refreshments and finger food was set up in the corner whilst adults gathered around in conversation. Anyone walking by could have easily mistaken the event for a summer garden party with friends and family.
Cooperation with community associations, like sport and music clubs, provides refugees with a wide range of recreational activities to choose from
“Patenschaft” (godparenthood or sponsorship) is another initiative whereby locals are paired up with a willing individual or family from the centre. Schneider explained how “the volunteers invite their partners on day trips to the swimming pool or an ice cream in town, and offer to accompany them to the doctor and on official appointments”. This programme provides the refugees with valuable contact to the local community. Furthermore, cooperation with community associations, like sport and music clubs, provides refugees with a wide range of recreational activities to choose from. Also, each resident has access to a bicycle donated to the centre by locals. Schneider couldn’t stress the importance of this scheme enough: “It gives them their independence and a much-needed escape from the confines of the centre.” Whether it is travelling to the shops, to the gym, to school or simply to explore the surrounding landscape, the availability of a bike is something the refugees do not take for granted.
Despite such amazing generosity, I asked whether there is any anger amongst locals towards the centre’s work on behalf of asylum seekers. I commented on the current trend of racially motivated attacks on refugee centres across Europe and enquired whether there had been any similar hostility shown towards the centre’s residents. Schneider was pleased to say that there had been no demonstrations and no incidents of verbal or physical attacks: “In contrast to Sachsen (east German federal state) we count ourselves very lucky.” Braun was less optimistic. She was made aware of negative posts on social media sites like Facebook and admitted that the 150 local residents who are members of the working groups may not seem impressive when you put it in the context of Bühl’s population of 30,000. Furthermore, the current situation regarding local support is extremely fragile and could change at any moment. In order to keep the present peace, the centre’s staff need to make sure that refugees “behave themselves” as Schneider warned how a negative comment about only one resident’s behaviour can damage the reputation of the entire group.
Given that the number of refugees arriving into Germany is unlikely to decrease any time soon, the question on everyone’s mind is how German cities and towns like Bühl are going to cope with the increased pressure. Do Schneider and Braun believe there will come a time when Germany is physically unable to take in any more refugees? Both agreed that the right to asylum is a basic right and a central clause in the German constitution under article 16a: “No matter whether they are fleeing for political, economic or another reason they have a right to seek asylum in the country.” Nevertheless, Braun admitted that Germany cannot be expected to carry the entire burden of the refugee crisis and a more equal distribution of refugees amongst European states must be put in place. Schneider shared Braun’s sentiments but is more hopeful of Germany’s ability to cope under the present strain. He pointed out that this is not the first time that Germany has been faced with a refugee crisis. In the 1990s, Germany agreed to take in refugees fleeing the conflict in the Balkans. He explained: “When the crisis ended and refugee numbers dwindled the centres were closed, staff were laid off, and the budget dedicated to the running of the asylum system decreased. But now with claims for asylum into Germany rising once more, the government is beginning to resurrect this infrastructure.”
While Mawdo narrowly escaped such an attack, his friends were stabbed during such moments of racist aggression
Schneider was convinced that with a re-establishment of these facilities, Germany is able to ensure “a good deal”. But he also recognised the organisational difficulties currently plaguing Germany’s asylum system: “On the one hand, we have wealthy states like Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg that cope very well, while on the other hand we have states like Saxony where authorities need to take care that refugee centres aren’t burned to the ground!” Lack of financial support from regional authorities to fund the running of asylum services combined with the growing support for far-right political parties like Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) have left the eastern state struggling to cope with the record inflow of refugees.
Mawdo came to the Erlenstraße centre a year ago. He told me that political persecution by his native government forced him to flee his home and family and make the treacherous journey to Germany. The Gambian president, Yayha Jamme, who has been in power since a coup in 1996, is notorious for his brutal treatment of political opposition, human rights activists, journalists and homosexuals. “I was 18 years old when I set off from Gambia with my uncle by bus to Senegal”, he said. After a few months spent acquiring visa papers, the pair left for Turkey. While his uncle decided to remain in Turkey, Mawdo continued his journey and made his way to Greece where he was stranded in poverty for about a year. He has only painful memories of Greece’s capital with its cramped and dirty refugee centres: “I was forced to spend the nights in the city’s parks and church grounds.” This is a very risky affair, as attacks on refugees sleeping rough by right-wing racist thugs were common. While Mawdo narrowly escaped such an attack, his friends were stabbed during such moments of racist aggression. Even accounts of police violence against refugees in Greece have filtered through the press and Mawdo explained how one had to be wary of the Athens Police, who patrolled the streets at night and arrested any undocumented foreigners they met.
It was clear to Mawdo that Greece would not be able to afford him the fresh start he so desired and with the services of human smugglers, he and a group of others crossed the border into Macedonia. He raised the money needed to pay for the crossing by collecting empty bottles (in Greece and some other European countries a “pfand” or deposit is paid on top of the price of a bottled drink and can be redeemed upon return of the empty plastic or glass bottle). He said: “In Macedonia we stayed with natives who had been paid by the smugglers to provide us with shelter.” Yet, Mawdo remembers how fear and a sense of danger plagued him still. The threat of being captured by police units scouring the border territory and of the subsequent return to Greece or prison was too high. His worries proved justified after crossing the border into Serbia as Mawdo and other members of the group were caught by the authorities and taken to a holding camp: “I was released after a few weeks when the camp’s management allowed me to leave if I promised to continue my journey and leave the country immediately”, he says. Mawdo made his way to the country’s border with Hungary spending his nights in abandoned houses and making do with almost no food or drink. He was keen to mention the generosity of local people he met along the way who would give him bread and water. Fortunately, Mawdo found someone willing to drive him and others to an area just short of the boundary line after which they would walk the rest of the way into Hungary. Again, a nasty surprise was waiting for them across the border. The group was seized by police and taken to an asylum processing centre where their fingerprints were taken. This centre was by no means a safe haven. It comprised of cramped, squalid living quarters and limited educational opportunities. He knew he must get to Germany where he had heard that asylum seekers were treated well.
Mercy fled her native Nigeria three years ago after militants from the Islamist extremist group, Boko Haram, launched an attack on the local Christian community to which she belonged
Mawdo’s first taste of Germany was in the city of Frankfurt. After spending two days in the Karlsruhe “centre of first instance” (Erstaufnahmelager), Mawdo was relocated to the Erlenstraße centre in Bühl. He enjoys his new life and praised the German government and its people for allowing him to continue his studies and giving him the opportunity build the life that he was deprived of in Gambia.
While national news reports on the growing anxiety amongst the German population over their country’s ability to handle the constant stream of refugees from Africa and the Middle East, I wondered if Mawdo is aware of this. He said he is and understands that there are many in Germany who reject Germany’s open-door policy, but stresses that the refugees arriving in the country do so involuntarily and out of fear for their lives. He added: “They only come to Europe because they have no other choice.”
Mercy fled her native Nigeria three years ago after militants from the Islamist extremist group, Boko Haram, launched an attack on the local Christian community to which she belonged. In the frenzy that ensued, Mercy and her younger brother were separated from their parents. They joined up with their cousin, the cousin’s husband and three others and escaped to Libya. “I worked as a geriatric nurse there but then the civil war broke out in 2014”, she explained. Once more, the group set out in search of safety. “We paid smugglers $700 to bring us to Italy”, she said. Her hopes of a future were dashed when not far from the Libyan coast the rickety boat capsized, leaving 600 of a total of 800 passengers dead. “My younger brother was one of the dead”, she said with quiet anger in her voice. However, she had no time to mourn. The situation in Libya was deteriorating quickly and the time left to escape was running out. “We were put on another boat to Italy which arrived safely on the island of Lampedusa”, she finished.
“I had never even heard of Germany. I was happy where I was”
The reception given to arriving refugees by authorities in Europe’s border states of Italy and Greece has been heavily criticised by the international media, and Mercy’s experience is no different. She explains how they were neglected and left to fend for themselves during the five months that they stayed there. An attempt by her cousin’s husband, a “bad man”, to force her into prostitution was the last straw and early one morning Mercy left the only people she knew from home and continued her journey alone to Germany. Mercy has been in Bühl for a year and told me she is enjoying the opportunity to rebuild her life. She explained how much her attitude has changed since arriving. She never would have imagined that she would ever again feel safe and at home. Although Mercy’s future is more than she had ever expected when she fled her native Nigeria three years ago, she cannot help but long to return home. Many of the accusations currently being directed against refugees are that they are fleeing for financial reasons and have set their sights on Europe because of the high standard of living offered there. Mercy asserts how she never intended to flee to Europe before Boko Haram turned her world upside down: “I had never even heard of Germany. I was happy where I was.” She came from a well-off family who were able to send her to school and give her a bright future. Like Mawdo, Mercy’s journey to Europe was one made out of sheer anguish.
Not all are as lucky as Mawdo and Mercy to have been able to flee the instability of their home countries and find asylum. Everyday 8,000 migrants come streaming across into Europe in search of refuge, yet what welcomes them is far from the humane treatment guaranteed to them by the 1951 Geneva Convention. Their journeys are borne of desperation and their lives in Europe are little better. Since this article was researched, the backlash at the influx of refugees into Germany, and Europe as a whole, has only grown, with the rate of deportations of refugees out of Germany only increasing. The work of those like Schneider and Braun, however, provides a light in the midst of darkness.
