Anastasia (not her real name) was 17 and terrified when she arrived alone in Dublin last spring to seek asylum. "I was sent where I'll be safe, where they'll take care of me. I didn't know what a refugee was. I didn't know Dublin was the capital of Ireland. I thought, where am I? What language do they speak?" A short time earlier, the young girl had left everything she had ever known, (in a republic in the former Soviet Union), her parents had been killed and her house destroyed. "I have nothing left," says Anastasia, who is now in limbo, waiting for an appeal since her application for refugee status was rejected. Using a false passport, Anastasia passed through immigration and waited in the airport for a man who spoke Russian: "I gave him my passport and he gave me the address of the Justice Department. I stayed awake all night in the airport. At Justice they asked me to fill in a form but I was in stress, in panic, and I forgot everything. I couldn't remember English. They asked me how I came here but I couldn't even remember the name for train; I said choo-choo."
The confused teenager was given a map with directions to St James's Hospital ("I got on the wrong bus," she remembers) where a fellow refugee helped her explain her personal details to staff at the Refugee Unit, who sent her to a bed and breakfast. Anastasia, who was from a sheltered background and had rarely been allowed out alone, has been forced to grow up quickly and become self-reliant. "I was very quiet before. This is a big change." Determined to continue her education, she walked into a local junior school - the principal took her along to the nearby secondary school, and Anastasia went into fifth year where she has settled in well. She hopes to go to college to study business.
Despite Anastasia's evident need, it was over six months before she was assigned a social worker ("She's getting me a coat, because I'm freezing," she says) - although, she was allocated grants for books and school uniform. Compared to most teenagers, Anastasia is remarkably adult - chatting cheerfully about managing her "dole", making new friends and trying to find peace and quiet - and a table - in the bed and breakfast to do her homework.
During her four-hour Justice Department interview for refugee status, Anastasia broke down and had to take a break. This is not unusual, says Sara MacNeice, of the legal unit of the Irish Refugee Council, who accompanies teenagers to interviews as part of an emergency service. In the case of one 17-year-old boy: "The interviewer was extremely sympathetic, but it was the first time he had ever gone through it step-by-step. He had never said to an official before: `My parents were murdered'. He just walked back out into the street. There is no easily accessible psychological or social back-up to pick up the pieces - and there is a lot of trauma." Separated children should not be treated in the same way as adult asylum-seekers, believes MacNeice. Interviews for refugee status, which can last up to six hours, can be traumatic: "In some cases, minors don't know what they are being assessed for. The current process has to be refined, and the interviewer should be aware of the age and circumstances of the child, both in the questioning and in the drawing of conclusions. They should also be aware of the child's educational and social background.
Currently, 29 unaccompanied minors are seeking asylum in the Republic, and on average three arrive at the Eastern Health Board/ Department of Justice one-stop shop every month. The youngest is 13, one is 14, one is 15, and there are nine aged 16, but the majority (17 of them) are 17 years old. These children tend to come from the more desperate situations, such as Somalia, Nigeria, and the Congo, says MacNeice. According to guidelines on the treatment of unaccompanied children seeking asylum laid down by the UN High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR): "Unaccompanied children have all experienced separation from family members and they have also in varying degrees experienced loss, trauma, disruption and violence . . . Reports constantly reflect the existence of profound trauma in many children, which calls for special sensitivity and attention in their care and rehabilitation."
The UNHCR recommends that a specially-trained legal guardian, a legal representative and a social worker are appointed for all unaccompanied minors. In the Republic, an unaccompanied child seeking asylum is the responsibility of the local health board. According to Hugh Carr, of the Eastern Health Board's Asylum Seekers Unit, the EHB is working towards adherence to the UNHCR guidelines and is awaiting the appointment of a social worker who will be responsible for several thousand asylum seekers, plus any unaccompanied minors. In the absence of a dedicated social worker, explains Carr, the community welfare officers do their best to find appropriate accommodation for minors, selecting bed and breakfast landlords who are "caring people" and will provide a hot meal, packed lunch and study room for teenage refugees.
At present, a child seeking asylum alone in Dublin makes an initial claim for asylum at the Department of Justice, then is referred to the EHB community welfare officer, who refers them to the duty social worker at Clonskeagh community welfare office, who makes recommendations on accommodation and social welfare payments.
This, however, falls short of the UNHCR guidelines, and at present no guardian is appointed, although Carr is keen to introduce new procedures so the EHB will be responsible for the health, welfare and education of minors: "We are under an obligation to follow the guidelines and are heading towards it". The Irish Refugee Council, says MacNeice, is not aware of any procedures to ensure a social worker from the EHB attends a Department of Justice interview with a minor. She gives the example of a newly arrived, "vulnerable" 17-year-old boy seeking asylum in February who was not allocated a social worker or accommodation by the EHB and was referred to the Irish Refugee Council, where he sat for six hours while efforts were made to get the EHB to accept responsibility for him. "Minors are pushed through the system without legal or psychological support, and I have not seen any clear evidence that shows a designated person is there for their needs on a regular basis," says MacNeice, who is involved with a new Europe-wide project to evaluate services provided for "separated children".
The UNHCR guidelines recommend the provision of "culturally appropriate mental health care" and "qualified psycho-social counselling" and point to the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child which says states have a duty "to provide rehabilitation services to children who have been victims of any form of abuse . . . or armed conflicts". The Irish government, however, has not yet implemented this convention and no unaccompanied children are receiving counselling.
The youngest asylum-seeker is a 13-year-old boy. "This was the first case where we insisted a social worker took part," says Carr. The boy was placed in a home for homeless boys on Dublin's north side but dropped out of sight the next day when adults claiming to be his cousins took him from the shelter. "This highlights the problem," says MacNeice. "Services should be in place to ensure people cannot turn up and take a boy away without an in-depth investigation to see whether they are suitable individuals to take care of a child."
MacNeice acknowledges progress is being made: "We welcome any positive developments and any moves towards making sure children are well protected in the system, but there is a long way to go. The first step would be to ensure a guardian for each separated child.
"If section 8 of the 1996 Refugee act was implemented, then we would have legislation in place to protect minors."
Some months ago, leave was granted in the High Court for a case calling for two negative decisions on refugee status to be overturned because UNHCR guidelines were not followed. It remains to be seen how this matter will be resolved in terms of giving increased support to separated children, but it may come too late for Anastasia - who may soon have to leave the country she now calls home.
