This Hostel Life

by Melatu Uche Okorie

Genres: General Fiction; Literary Fiction; Short Stories; Women's Fiction

Synopsis

SHORTLISTED FOR THE AN POST IRISH BOOK AWARDS SUNDAY INDEPENDENT NEWCOMER OF THE YEAR THIS HOSTEL LIFE tells the stories of migrant women in a hidden Ireland. From a day in the life of women queuing for basic supplies in an Irish direct provision hostel to a young black woman's depiction of everyday racism in Ireland, Melatu Uche Okorie's nuanced writing shines a light on the injustice of the direct provision system and on the insidious racism experienced by migrant women living in Ireland. Another story, set in a Nigeria of the past, tells of a woman's life destroyed by an ancient superstition and her fierce determination to carry on, a quality Okorie believes is universally shared by women. An essay by Liam Thornton (UCD School of Law) is also included, explaining the Irish legal position in relation to asylum seekers and direct provision. Praise for This Hostel Life 'Melatu Uche Okorie has important things to say - and she does it quite brilliantly' Roddy Doyle 'A landmark book by an important new voice in Irish writing' Emilie Pine 'A marvellous book' Sebastian Barry 'I loved them' Marian Keyes

Release date: July 4, 2019

Publisher: Virago

Print pages: 112

Sample

 

 

The state of affairs in ******direct provision hostel:28/03/2013 00:51

For years, the direct provision hostel based in ****** has been acknowledged as the best maintained direct provision hostel in Ireland. However, this hostel has changed drastically in recent times and everyone has turned a blind eye to it. Residents are now mainly asylum seekers who were transferred from other hostels. For this new set of residents, having a bit of privacy makes up for all other issues they had to face in their previous hostels and thus, they are unwilling to complain over the way things are run here. Most have probably protested against the management in their former hostels and are hesitant about being labelled troublesome here. But direct provision is like being in an abusive relationship. Abuse in itself is homogenous, no matter what race, class, or in this case, the hostel of the abused.

****** is made up of rules that are almost Machiavellian, inane in nature. You never know what you’re going to wake up to each morning. It’s either that the management has given the order that the quantity of washing powder for each resident will be reduced to half of the white plastic cup or an essential provision has been withdrawn.

The worst hit is the dining room. The lunch, which was usually served between 12–2 p.m., was changed to 12–1.30 p.m. while dinner, which was usually served between 5–7 p.m., was moved to 4.30–5.30 p.m. We swallowed it, as the management knew we would, even after we had complained and they had promised to ‘look into it’, the recurrent answer.

I, like other residents, have learnt to live under these almost tyrannical conditions. After all, no one would like to be moved as the devil you know is always better than the angel you don’t. Apart from the arbitrary changes to our daily routine, the security men also try to intimidate residents like myself who they know will complain about the food options. I would usually find two of them standing directly behind me whenever I’m in the queue for food. It became obvious to me that it was a way of breaking my spirit more than anything else. There are tons of cameras in ******, but I would find these security men trailing after me, sometimes, as I walk to my room. I was ready to endure the intimidating and bullying behavior of some of the security men and the condescending tone of some of the staff, however, my frustration has grown so much in the past few weeks, I stopped going to the dining room in the evenings. I tried hiding away in my room and buying my own food just to avoid seeing them, but with a child and €28.70 as weekly money, I could not sustain that.

I came to Ireland from Nigeria twelve years ago. Everything about my life in Nigeria, my upbringing and why I came to Ireland is all in my stories. I find it easier to talk about myself that way. I’m not a natural sharer. I’m really thankful to God that I’ve found, in writing, a medium through which I can comfortably talk about myself. At first, I was very grateful for a safe space to lay my head, a bed, a roof over my head, anonymity. All of that, I was very grateful for. But as with everything in life, needs change and the place you once regarded as a safe haven can soon start to feel restrictive. I spent eight and a half years in direct provision. In May of 2014 I got ‘leave to remain’, and as I held the letter in my hand, I felt fear. I asked myself ‘is this it?’ Living in direct provision was the only life I had known since coming to Ireland, so I was genuinely scared.

Since leaving direct provision, life has been a struggle. I think there should be more support for women parenting alone and, perhaps, immigration flexibility for grandparents and other family members to visit Ireland to see their loved ones. A lot of women parenting alone, especially those without family support in Ireland, are struggling mentally, financially and emotionally. This family group is often ostracised in society and can experience intimidation and condemnation. Generally, Ireland could benefit greatly from people becoming kinder towards each other.

Sometime in 2007, not long after I was put into a direct provision hostel, I told my friend, Audrey Crawford, who was working for Spirasi at the time that stories were running around in my head. Her response was simple, ‘write them down’. I can’t remember if I acted on her advice immediately, or perhaps I was encouraged to do so after she handed me an ad for a writing competition. But, what I do . . .