William from Cameroon
At three o'clock in the morning, a bang on the door jolted William awake. When he answered, four men pushed their way inside his dorm. They struck him, chained him and in the middle of the night, drove him to the capital city where he was to spend the next eight months in a military prison. He received no trial. He was not even charged with a crime. William simply disappeared. William is a young man whom I represented pro bono at his hearing for political asylum. It might be said that providence brought him to America, for he did not know or even desire to come here, but when he did arrive, one of his friends put him in touch with the Human Rights Initiative (www.hrionline.org), an organization devoted to helping indigent immigrants obtain asylum. As a university student William organized-and ultimately, led-a small group of students that peacefully advocated the rights of the English-speaking minority in Cameroon. Strange as it may seem, language can be a tool to disenfranchise a people. By withholding resources to teach the dominant language of French, the regime in power effectively blocked people of the southern provinces from any hope of betterment. This is what William hoped to change. At the prison, William was interrogated for the names of the members in his group. When he pretended he didn't understand the interrogator's French, he was beaten. And then again. And when it was over, he was dragged down to an underground cell with about 50 other prisoners. For eight months, William lay in the dark. The cramped cell was bad enough. So were the insects. The hard concrete floor for a bed, the open sores that refused to heal. All bad. But even worse was the unrelenting dark. In the dark, you couldn't see who you were talking to, you couldn't pick the rot from your food. In the dark, a dead friend might go unnoticed for days, and worst of all, you didn't know when it would end. After twelve months in prison William became deathly ill and he was transferred to a prison-hospital. Do not mistake this for compassion, William warned, for with the world's attention on Cameroon's human rights record, it looks better if a man dies of illness in a hospital, instead of injuries in a jail. William eventually escaped. When his uncle learned William was still alive, he paid a visit. At the hospital, he nodded to the guard, who left the room for a smoke, leaving William unshackled. Then, William's uncle suggested that William use the toilet outdoors. Puzzled, William did as he was told only to find another man waiting. He took William by hand and they disappeared into the forest. William asked who he was, but the man ignored him. He asked where they were going, but the man's furtive glances silenced him. At the other end of the forest waited a car. After cleaning William up, they took him to an airport, and he boarded a plane. The plane stopped in Equatorial New Guinea, but the man held William from exiting the plane. Not yet, he said. They flew on to Geneva, Switzerland, but again, they stayed in their seats. Then, their plane landed once more and the man ushered William out. The man handed William two coins and a slip of paper, and pointed William to a pay phone. William looked down; scrawled on the paper was a number. Wait, William said, whose number is this? But as he looked up, the crowds parted just in time for him to see the man disappear into a cab. William was alone. A sign dotted the wall: Dallas/Fort Worth International. William was in America. * * * The Human Rights Initiative took William in, filed his application and called us. In late February William received his results: his application received recommended approval; pending a routine background check, he will receive final approval. And so in the end, perhaps what is most remarkable is how meager an investment can pay such rich dividends. All I was asked to do was to practice skills familiar to any attorney, and in return, a young man was granted his freedom. - Michael Chu, attorney with Haynes and Boone, LLP in Houston, Texas
|
