Hi Jarl, you were in Ter Apel all day yesterday. What did you find?
‘I’ve been there a few times in the past few weeks and this was the busiest day. Estimating exact numbers is difficult, but there were certainly hundreds of people waiting outside the fences on Wednesday. It was over 30 degrees and the sun was shining brightly, so everyone was looking for tufts of shade, between trees or behind hanging canvases.
“It’s a miserable place. For all those people there are eight dixies as a toilet. People don’t even use them anymore, they’re too nasty. Volunteers bring extra food and blankets, but there are also truck drivers who honk and shout ‘go home’.
‘If you visit more often, you start to recognize people. Last week I saw someone with a silver bracelet, that’s what you get when you register with the IND (Immigration and Naturalization Service, red.) reports. On Wednesday, he also had a yellow bracelet on: that’s what you get when your fingerprints have been taken. That was the only step taken in those seven days. Some have to wait as long as two weeks.
‘A big difference compared to last week is that cameras have been installed everywhere and there is a lot more police on the road. He is doing a preventive search because the area was renamed a security risk area last Friday. Asylum seekers told me they feel safer.’
What’s the insecurity in him?
‘You have a group of what they call safelanders, asylum seekers who mainly come from Morocco and Tunisia. Most of them have no chance of asylum, they know that themselves, so some have been roaming Europe for years. They try to end up in asylum processes to at least get food or shelter for a few months. At Ter Apel there are about twelve or thirteen who belong to this group and who cause the most problems.
“Last week I witnessed a stabbing. Now that there are cameras, the police can act much earlier. I spoke to asylum seekers who said that fights still break out in which these safelanders are the instigators, but less.’
What about the asylum seekers waiting outside?
‘Mostly left. It’s hard to wait if you don’t know what. Think of it this way: suppose you have an eight-hour train ride. Then you adjust to that, then it’s okay. But if you have a one-hour train ride and fifteen minutes are added each time without it being clear what’s going on, you’ll go crazy when it’s eight o’clock. These people experience something like this, but much more extreme: it is not about a trip to a touristic place, but about their future. And not at eight o’clock, but at fifteen days.
‘It is also not the case that if you arrive as number 238, you will also be the 238th’s turn for the next step, such as taking fingerprints, being allowed to sleep inside and the start of the actual asylum procedure. I couldn’t really see a system. Sometimes people who wait five days are allowed in while others have been there for two weeks. That is why asylum seekers also stick to the fences and do not always want to go to emergency reception locations, if that option is available at all.’
Camping gear is packed. How do the asylum seekers react to this?
‘Last week I saw two hundred tents that had been donated by a Groninger. Most were taken by the police that same evening. Someone was present who spoke Arabic and gave explanations to the asylum seekers. Today, after an emergency ordinance banning camping gear, the last few tents have also been removed.
‘That while it is very hot during the day and it can be cold at night, you wake up with dew on your body. But the police say: there is a fire risk, we are afraid that pegs will be used as a stabbing weapon and we cannot keep an overview when people are sitting in small tents.
‘Asylum seekers let it happen freely. Another factor is that there are many Syrians, who know that they have a good chance of asylum because they come from an unsafe country. They think: if we are now having trouble with the police because we don’t want to hand over our tent, it won’t help us.’
How did the death of the three-month-old baby arrive in a sports hall on the grounds of the application center?
‘A lot of people had heard of it and of course they were very sorry. But no one knows exactly what caused the baby to die or whether it had anything to do with the reception conditions. The people I spoke to can’t get in, so they don’t know what’s going on there either.’
Have you seen any employees of the Central Agency for the Reception of Asylum Seekers (COA)?
“Last week they were on the other side of the fences. Three weeks before that, they often came onto the field to have a chat or to take stock of how long people had been waiting outside. Today I have not seen anyone. That may be due to my observations, but I also spoke to people who said: I haven’t seen anyone from COA for three days.
‘Many asylum seekers see COA somewhat as an enemy. But I fully understand how difficult this situation is for the COA employees. They make long, hard days. Physically heavy, for example because you have to tow with crush barriers, but also mentally heavy. These are often people who want to help migrants and who are now constantly having to say no. This situation was not created by them, but by those above them. And then another child dies in their care. I can’t even imagine how she must handle that.’