Shattered Dignity: A Refugee’s Plight Against Systemic Injustice

The unauthorized demolition of my seventh shelter on April 23rd, 2024, by municipal authorities outside the UNHCR office, devoid of a judicial mandate, unlawfully stripped me of essential items and human dignity. The Ombudsman’s July 9th response, relying on misleading police and politically skewed UNHCR narratives, disregarded irrefutable evidence of my lawful position, perpetuating denial of refugee rights and exemplifying severe abdication of duty and systemic failure.

On July 16th, 2024, driven by an unyielding pursuit of justice, I meticulously composed resolute slogans, expressing profound anguish over the UNHCR’s colossal failures to restore my freedom, dignity, and fundamental rights. Positioned on the grimy pavement outside their main entrance while enduring acute starvation, debilitating exhaustion, and excruciating heat, the staff’s deliberate and evasive use of the side street back entrance rendered vigilance excruciatingly tedious, impeding my efforts and disrupting my overwhelming workload.

A fleeting opportunity emerged on July 17th evening when a male employee briefly appeared at the main entrance, conversing with a woman holding a large white envelope. My approach prompted their swift evasion along the curbside, with the man perilously crossing the busy street far from traffic lights, thwarting my pursuit at about 20 meters from their initial position. The saga unfurled on July 18th, marked by sustained avoidance.

A brief encounter with a female staffer exiting the adjacent supermarket around 11 AM ended with her re-entering the store and later exploiting my brief absence at the entrance to re-enter the building via the back entrance. At noon, two other female staffers initially approaching the main entrance after crossing the traffic lights with grocery bags, diverted to the back entrance upon noticing my vigilant presence, ignoring my calls and chants, vanishing into the garage. Their indifferent ingress, paired with a receptionist’s mocking vocal gestures, epitomized the agency’s pervasive apathy.

Despite rigorous efforts, my reliance on a note for accuracy, meticulous documentation, and camera management led to occasional chanting mistakes as I chanted, “End my starvation, my captivity, restore my rights, my dignity. Ten years of torment, cease this spree. Where is justice and aid I seek? Free me from this serpent’s bite, end this Greek captivity plight. Justice, food, and freedom’s fight, end oppression, bring the light. Neglect is a crime, let it cease, human decency brings peace. Lift me from this endless fray, restore my dignity and freedom today.”

Brutally quelled by the UNHCR’s indifference, the sequence culminated in aggressive police intervention mere hours later. Seated steadfastly beside my emblematic banner on the grimy pavement, the atmosphere simmered with tension due to the abrupt incursion of four officers in pairs on two motorcycles, including a female officer. Clad in authoritative black uniforms with their intent unannounced, they demanded identification without so much as an explanation for their intrusion, brusquely disregarding my pleas for a UNHCR representative.

Presenting a tattered A4 slip from a harrowing 47-day unwarranted detention over two years ago as a substitute for identification, I unwaveringly voiced my slogans directly to their impassive faces, demanding that Greek officials address my prolonged captivity. Yet, as my pleas fell on deaf ears, they surrounded me and sternly demanded I cease documenting the ordeal. Facing my protest, their aggression swiftly culminated in the forceful confiscation of my cellphone, abrupt handcuffing, and a prompt transfer to a waiting patrol car, leaving my belongings abandoned outside the UNHCR office.

Once again thrust into a small, dark cell—devoid of basic amenities and enveloped in neglect and squalor, a familiar venue of unjust detentions—I languished for hours amidst ambiguity surrounding the unfolding aggression, as deceitful assurances about my belongings’ safety further compounded the oppressive isolation. Hours passed in this grim limbo without clear insight into my supposed transgressions. Eventually, an ascent to the station’s fourth floor revealed two officers divulging an outdated 2022 court document with an enigmatic two-month sentence, lacking case specifics, and misleadingly assuring me of a mere 10-day term while denying any tangible evidence of the document for my records, further compounding an already opaque situation.

Despite the looming specter of imminent incarceration, I tirelessly reiterated my earnest pleas for the issuance of an official police communique to the pertinent Greek authorities, seeking resolution to my agonizing ten-year ordeal of captivity within their borders. Yet, the desolate echo of indifference met my entreaties, compelling persistent requests for officers’ identities—names, ranks, and badge numbers—as a safeguard for accountability. Yet, these requests, too, were met with stonewalling, magnifying the profound opacity and flagrant disregard for my fundamental rights.

Cuffed to a chair in their office for hours, the grim evening descended into darkness, culminating in my transfer at half-past ten to a foul, degrading basement—devoid of privacy, basic sanitation absent with exposed toilets and showers, trash strewn about, and hygiene products utterly lacking—akin to a squalid stable, perpetuating an unending degradation and systemic neglect endured collectively with other fellow foreign detainees.

Supposed judicial procedures to learn case details, appeal, and seek legal aid promised clarity but like many assurances, dissolved into mere rhetoric, proving to be a mirage the following day. A fleeting court visit revealed nothing and left me bereft of case details as the anticipated courtroom session and judge vanished into thin air with no opportunity to appeal or seek legal aid ever materializing.

Instead, the twisting shadows of procedural injustice thickened, shuttling me first back to the police station, then to Police Headquarters, where nine agonizing, interminable days elapsed in the ossified grasp of uncertainty until two plainclothes officers facilitated my transfer alongside another individual to yet another police enclave, where we joined many other foreign detainees in a dismal garage cell amid squalid conditions, with a floor strewn with filth and litter, and a door-less toilet lacking water.

This stark testament to our dehumanization reached its nadir when officers attempted to spray pesticide in our confined space, prompting fervent protest from detainees. In defiance of our objections, some of whom challenged the disdainful rebukes of officers who arrogantly decreed that citizenship in their country was an unattainable dream for us foreigners, exposed their twisted pride and prejudice. “You will never become Greek, no matter the years you stay,” they taunted, their words striking with the venom of racism, revealing an entrenched fascism and arrogance, as though any among us sought citizenship amongst these self-styled custodians of an unwelcoming habitat foreign to decency.

As tensions subsided, police vans systematically removed detainees, transporting groups to their ultimate destinations to meet their fate, culminating in my transfer alongside 10 other foreign detainees, ferried unwittingly to Crete Island, further unraveling the grim reality of my plight, with no procedural justice or opportunity to contest, eventually shackling me to the stark revelation of having to endure the stifling full two-month sentence within the cavernous confines of prison walls, instead of the earlier misleading police assertions of merely ten days.

Despite multiple attempts to submit a complaint while imprisoned, my efforts were systematically thwarted by prison authorities who denied access to critical resources such as computers and official communication forms. Although numerous unused desktop computers were available in the library, access for any purpose other than briefly borrowing books was strictly prohibited. This blatant suppression of inmate communication further exacerbated my distress and highlighted the institution’s disregard for procedural fairness.

The living conditions within Neapolis Penitentiary were deplorable. The facility was plagued by a severe and persistent bedbug infestation, which resulted in considerable sleep deprivation and health issues among inmates. This issue had been present during my previous imprisonment in 2018, indicating a troubling lack of effort from the prison authorities to eradicate it, suggesting continuous neglect or potential malicious intent, exacerbated by unverified and ineffective monthly insecticide treatments.

The overcrowded quarters, accommodating more than 22 individuals in a 50-square-meter space, provided little over 2 square meters per person. This grossly inadequate space, coupled with limited access to hygiene products and restricted use of sanitary facilities, created an unsanitary and inhumane environment. The authorities either outright denied or made extremely difficult the use of laundry facilities needed to clean bed-sheets and blankets.

Medical care within the prison was alarmingly deficient. The medications provided were ineffective, and access to necessary specialist consultations was systematically denied, aggravating health issues. The prescription drugs, essential for achieving even minimal sleep, often came with side effects that further disrupted sleep patterns and mental well-being. The doctor’s refusal to arrange appointments with specialists in nearby hospitals, alongside inconsistent drug administration, added to the distress.

The penitentiary’s haphazard electrical and satellite wiring posed palpable safety hazards; dangerously suspended and unprofessional, these wires were potential tools of harm or violence. Having endured threats from an inmate who intended to misuse these wires, the looming risk was undeniable.

Incarceration finally ended as mysteriously as it began, yet, even then, detailed clarity eluded me as critical documentation remained withheld, leaving me unaware of violations or penalty specifics and fostering an unabated quest for answers about my purported offenses and punishment rationale, underscoring a harrowing ordeal of systemic neglect and oppression further perpetuating my plight as acute starvation and the devastating loss of my remaining belongings awaited me outside the UNHCR office on September 11th.

Caught in a labyrinthine bureaucratic maze, my journey to Athens unearthed further harrowing challenges despite possessing valid prison-issued documentation. An opaque harbor process saw shipping companies insist on a fictitious coastguard clearance, a demand steeped in duplicity. The coast guard office, in turn, maliciously redirected me to a desolate building, only to unearth the deception through persistent treks, claiming the document could be obtained there.

Terminal security ultimately affirmed my documents’ sufficiency, unveiling a deeply rooted malaise and the futility of this ordeal amidst echoes of systemic neglect. Only one company, requiring me to obtain the ticket from a container office at the shipyard, acceded to furnish passage—a stark symbol of unyielding systemic indifference that, though despairing, renewed my indomitable resolve amid persistent adversity.

Upon my return to Athens, I was aghast to find my essential belongings, including my banner, sole blanket, and sleeping bag, missing. The police at the station during my arrest two months earlier had verbally assured me that these items would be left untouched; however, their assurance proved hollow, as these items were now nowhere to be found. The UNHCR receptionists exacerbated my distress by refusing to provide any communication, information, or assistance while also threatening further police involvement, ultimately compelling my yet another outreach to the UNHCR Inspector General.

Upon reclaiming my older banner and spare blanket, previously stashed away, I found myself embroiled in yet another senseless confrontation with systemic injustice. With measured determination, I sought to display my banner anew outside their office, only to be met with immediate police intervention, thrusting me back into the oppressive confines of that grim detention room, emblematic of institutional disdain.

Beyond verbal pleas, I fortified my arguments with a formal communication directed at the Greek Ministry of Immigration, beseeching for intervention amidst simmering disillusionment with systemic misconduct. However, deceitful reassurances and bureaucratic inertia prompted a crescendo of frustration, weaving a quagmire of systemic failures. Thus, I reached out to the Greek Ombudsman on September 16th, imploring for action against entrenched discrimination, echoing whispers into the abyss of systemic injustice. Yet, amidst echoes of bureaucratic deceit and racial bias, my plea reverberates unanswered, leaving me ensnared in solitude forged by unyielding injustice, as I await what seems an implausible resolution.

Lodging a formal complaint with the Ministry of Citizen Protection on September 18th, detailing egregious human rights violations and grave procedural injustices during my incarceration, with a pressing demand for the procurement of pertinent court documents, has brought no response either—an echoing void within a bureaucratic labyrinth where the silent walls testify to systemic oppression, underscoring entrenched injustices, as I await in vain, engulfed by frustration and despair, the elusive court documents essential for my pursuit of justice.

In light of the Ministry’s deafening silence, I submitted a separate complaint to the Greek Ombudsman on November 19th, seeking recourse for the Ministry’s failings. Yet, this also remains unanswered, further exacerbating my plight amid a sea of bureaucratic apathy and underscoring the entrenched discrimination besieging my quest for justice within an unyielding system of deceit.

My harrowing ordeal, marked by targeted repression and ongoing indignities amidst my unyielding pursuit of justice, necessitates urgent global recognition and imperative redress of these grievous injustices. The visceral torment I continue to endure demands robust corrective measures against pervasive negligence, urging an uncompromising and relentless pursuit until truth and accountability prevail, aiming for the restoration of dignity within a tangled system of oppression and ineptitude. Immediate intervention is crucial; silence cannot persist in the face of such targeted repression and ongoing indignities.

Gracefully entwined within the furious winds of injustice stands a testament of resilience—the footage from July 16th to September 11th, 2024, bears witness to my enduring protest atop the unforgiving terrain outside the UNHCR office. Bereft of shelter in the biting cold, every day becomes a trial of survival, underscored by the loss of sanctuary, humble resources, and essential dignity.

The financial strain from demolished shelters escalates further as rebuilding demands a substantial €500. Your contributions to my Fundraising Campaign are an unequivocal necessity—each Euro a stepping stone towards reclaiming lost fortitude and resisting relentless adversity. Coupling this with your signatures on my Petition and their dissemination throughout your network, we collectively forge a path towards justice and restoration.

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Yours Sincerely,

* Also Read:

1) “Seventh Shelter Demolished at UNHCR Doorstep,” here.

2) “UNHCR Silent on Repeated Shelter Demolitions,” here.

3) “Urgent Appeal to UN Post Shelter Demolition,“ here.

4) “UNHCR’s Dark Intentions: Neglect or Plan?” here.