Mr. Bulelani Mfaco:

I applied for asylum in 2017. I am from Cape Town, South Africa. Most people's reaction when they hear this is that there is no war in South Africa. They expect the person seeking asylum to come from a war-torn country. That is the general misconception. International law has held that one must have a well founded fear of persecution that may arise, for instance, from politics, religion, race or membership of a particular cultural group. I am a queer man, a gay man. In South Africa it becomes very difficult to live openly as a gay man, particularly if he happens to be from a very poor background or a township. Rich people experience the same persecution, but black people in townships experience it much more. There are more targeted killings of queer people. I had stones thrown at me and have been spat at. I have been called all sorts of name. At one point I was held in a shopping centre and humiliated by security guards. They picked me up and made fun of the way I was dressed. I used to be very effeminate; apparently, I am now manly. Gay people go through all of the trauma of having stones thrown at them just because of their sexual orientation. In January 2017 in South Africa I heard about what had happened to a lesbian woman who lived down the road from where I lived. She was the third person on our street who was openly gay; the other was another man. She was abducted and shot dead for no other reason than her sexual orientation. At that point I decided that that was it; I was not going to wait and hang around to be the next one to be killed.

When I got to Ireland, I was placed immediately in Balseskin, just like everybody else who was seeking asylum. We stayed there for about five weeks. What happened in the very first week frightened me because for the first time in my life I was not allowed to work. I had been working since I was ten years old. I used to help my grandmother to sell fruit at the taxi rank back home. Now I am told that I cannot work. What do I do? I sleep, wake up, shower and eat every single day. Days become weeks, weeks become months and months become years. It is very disheartening. One begins to lose hope the place where one has sought sanctuary is actually the compassionate place one thought it was.

I was moved from Balseskin to Knockalisheen where I was placed in a room with a homophobic man. When he heard that I was gay, he said, "I don't like shit in here." I am sorry for my language, but that was how he said it. We still had to share a bedroom and live together. In the first few weeks in Knockalisheen, when I was queuing in the canteen, I heard homophobic slurs from other asylum seekers from the same region, the same homophobic slurs I had heard in South Africa. That created a lot of anxiety that I might be killed. Many people who are murdered because of their sexual orientation will first hear those slurs before they being attacked. When I told the international protection officer in Knockalisheen, they could not be bothered to do anything about it. One then begins to lose a sense of hope. I did not trust anybody and still do not trust anybody in Knockalisheen. When having food in the canteen, I often sit on my own with my back against the wall. I will not sit there with somebody behind me because I do not feel comfortable being in that space. However, I have no choice because I have to queue for food in the canteen. It becomes very difficult to go through life when one has live in such a situation and I do not control when I will be out of it. I had my first interview only this year to assess my claim for asylum. For all of that time I was sitting there and my file was gathering dust in the international protection office. I was finally called for an interview in March, but I am still waiting for a recommendation. I am told that if it is positive, I might even have to wait longer for a declaration from the Minister in order that I can get out and live independently.

We are subjected to petty bureaucratic processes in direct provision centres. Recently a notice was put up indicating that we were required to produce an ID card if we needed to receive our post. I have been in Knockalisheen for over a year and receiving my post without having to produce an ID card. No asylum seeker in this country is issued with an ID card. No Irish person has an ID card, but I am being asked to produce one. They use the permission to stay in Ireland card as an ID card. That card was issued for the purposes of showing a police officer or an immigration officer that I had permission to stay in Ireland.

Yet, every single day that I need an ironing board or need to check my post or get a tissue or any petty everyday thing that people use in their houses when they are living their lives, I have to produce all kinds of things. It becomes disheartening.

One of the issues is privacy because we do not have much privacy. We may be forced to share a bedroom with someone who may happen to be homophobic. For a person who is gay and seeking asylum because he has been persecuted on the basis of his sexual orientation to be subjected to the same kind of treatment is cruel from the State side. We have staff members in direct provision who undermine the right to privacy for individuals too. I was sitting in my room one day and someone knocked once and then opened the door. It was a lady who worked Knockalisheen direct provision centre. She knocked once and opened the door. I was sitting in my room getting ready to have a shower, so I only had my underwear on. The next time it happened because a manager in Knockalisheen walked into the male showers in the men's block. We have a block specifically for single men. There are several of them. She opened the door to the male showers. She looked and then closed the door and said she was sorry as she walked away. It was the men's shower - what did she expect to see? Privacy means nothing to them. We have had similar incidents in Hatch Hall accommodation centre, where a staff member and another resident have walked into a room where a person was naked. We have heard the experiences of children who feel unsafe because of the creepy way that men look at them. It has been reported in the news that direct provision centres have women who feel unsafe sharing intimate living spaces with other people. Some of the women would have suffered torture or sexual violence. For such a person to be placed in a position where she feels unsafe again is very cruel. It shows we are not really responding to the person's call. When a person comes here and declares that he is seeking protection, he needs protection. To place such a person in a position where he feels unsafe is very cruel on the part of the Government.

We have had these experiences along with many other lived experiences from people who live in direct provision. I am not the only gay person who has experienced homophobia in direct provision; there are many others. It is apparent across the board. One woman locked herself in the gym in Knockalisheen because she felt unsafe sharing the gym with men. Now, they have decided to reserve certain hours for women only in the gym. The problem is that the woman will still have to share other intimate spaces with everyone else. That minor tweak does not really change the situation when it comes to personal safety very much, especially for people who have had traumatic experiences.