Free at Last!

Above: At the door of the court room. Drawing by Ros Tanton.

In 2017, ATD Fourth World invited people around the world to document real-life “Stories of Change” starting from situations of injustice and exclusion caused by extreme poverty. These stories, from activists, community leaders, and others, show that when people work together, real change can happen. For more about the “Stories of Change” blog, click here.

Citizens coming together to prevent Badis being deported from France.

By Denis Gendre (France)

On Saturday I receive a phone call late in the afternoon: Badis informs me that he is in detention following an ID check. His court hearing will be on Monday morning and he may be deported from France in the following days. I am shocked.

Badis arrived in France almost 10 years ago. Like so many other migrants, he filed an application for a residency card and within six months received a receipt allowing him to remain, but without the right to work. How can one live in dignity in such conditions?

Badis worked illegally in several jobs, and that situation was an open door to all possible forms of abuse by his various employers. After being hosted by relatives for some time, he found accommodation in hotels whenever he could afford it and when he could not, he slept in cellars, garages, or cars.

I got to know Badis two years earlier. He used to live in a hotel prior to being kicked out and then he found shelter in a squat. When I mentioned ATD Fourth World to him, he immediately said he wished to join. Sometime later he told me, “There I found my thoughts, my freedom, and my dignity, which I had lost for a few years. I found the family I had lost for a long time.” Badis is very active in ATD Fourth World. He fascinates me because he thinks deeply, because he is tactful and very attentive to others. This is also the case in the town where he has been living as a refugee since his arrival in France. Badis extends his hand to very poor people when he himself leads a very hard life.

“I have been living in such conditions for nearly ten years now,” he says. “But I feel I have lived for forty years since leading a life of deprivation makes us age much more. The day is longer than when you lead a normal life. You have to be very strong to resist.”

After waiting for nine years, Badis was given a negative answer from the Prefect and had to leave France. He appealed the decision, but in the meantime he was an illegal refugee, which made him even more anxious. I had told him that if, unfortunately, he was arrested, he had the right to call a person of his choice. And that is what he did late one afternoon from the police station.

A call chain is immediately set up to tell as many of Badis’s social contacts as possible, and a network of solidarity develops. Those who are activists for migrant’s rights share their expertise and organise a response.

On Monday morning, we are a group of seventy people gathered in the court gallery to support Badis, but in the end he is driven directly from the police station to the detention centre.

We find out that he will be summoned to another court at a later date. In the meantime, the solidarity network grows to include more than one hundred people. For one week, each person receives a daily email to keep them informed of any developments concerning Badis’ situation. Amongst them is a senator, an MP who is also a mayor, the mayor of the town where Badis has found refuge, one of his deputies, a parliamentary attaché, etc.

Each one is invited to write to the Prefect to attest to Badis’s integration in France. We also contact a specialist lawyer to defend Badis in court and organise visits to the detention centre. Those who cannot go there support him over the phone.

For four days, Badis is visited like nobody before him according to the guards. When I meet him, he tells me about the very hard conditions inside, especially for families with children, some of who are very young. Badis explains that he immediately circulates the sweets, biscuits, and cigarettes his visitors give him, hoping they will bring some peace to this place, little though it may be. He adds, “The policemen spend more time talking to the people and the people are less aggressive than in the beginning.” When I ask him how he manages to express this solidarity when his own situation is a real anxiety for him, he answers me: “It enables me to be free.” Moreover, a guard tells me, “What we need is a hundred people like him for the centre to be a haven of peace.” It is obvious that the support he was given has spurred his courage to overcome this extremely painful trial.

On Thursday, there are more than forty of us waiting in court. As an exception and because the policemen got to know him, they agree to bring Badis inside the court a little bit earlier so we can welcome him. Emotions are very high: Badis spends time embracing each one of us, asking for news, and joking. Badis also asks to have his photo taken in the middle of us all while giving a V sign to celebrate a hopeful victory.

Yet he still does not know what his future will be in a few hours. Then, due to a police administrative error when he was arrested, the liberty and custody judge sets Badis free. As the Attorney General decides to appeal this decision, Badis will have to wait until the following Saturday to know for sure that he will not be deported.

After a week’s rest to help recover from his ordeal, Badis relies on several members of the solidarity network to carry on the fight that is ahead of him. He activates his application again and eventually is granted his residence card. Now, at long last, he can make plans and start building his own future.

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