Omar, Ethiopia

“Everyone has a story and a journey. Our lives are shaped by where we are born, the people we meet, and the events we experience. Some lives are filled with adventure, joy, and excitement; others are scarred by trauma.
I was born in Eritrea and moved to Ethiopia as a child. Eritrea gained its independence from Ethiopia after a prolonged armed struggle and referendum. Since then, Ethiopia has had historical grievances and ethnic tensions with Eritrea and continues to oppress Eritrean migrants within its borders.
While studying Biomedicine at university, I joined a protest meeting. Afterwards, I was arrested, tortured, and imprisoned for a year. When I was temporarily released, I took the chance to escape to the UK in search of safety.
After arriving in 2002, I faced hostility and rejection, not being allowed to work as a ‘failed’ asylum seeker. I had no funding or support, not even stable housing. I am not a ‘failed’ anything. I am a human being.
In 2012 I was accepted into university, but my status prevented me from getting a loan. The restrictions imposed on me made me feel unable to move forward with my life. My education, along with my mental and physical health, suffered.
I was tortured at home and came to the UK seeking safety. Years of bureaucracy, and the long wait to regain rights that many others take for granted, only made that suffering worse. Now, at last, I am a British citizen with a partner and two wonderful children.
I chose a picture of my daughter holding the old Ethiopian state flag with the imperial symbol of the lion, to be projected over me. The Emperor of Ethiopia was known as the “Conquering Lion of Judah.” Imperial Ethiopia ended in 1974 when Emperor Haile Selassie was overthrown by a military dictatorship.
My daughter was born in the UK but did not gain citizenship by birth, as she and my other child were born to parents without rights. Although they had lived here all their lives – over a decade – they didn’t have citizenship rights until I got my status.
Some reading this might say, ‘why don’t you go back to your country if you feel you don’t belong here?’ But they fail to understand that I don’t feel at home anywhere.
This leaves myself, my daughter and the whole family confused as to our identity and to where we belong. Under which flag have we been welcomed and protected? The flag of Imperial Ethiopia is a symbol of a land my family has never known; it suggests a vision of a place undivided and unconquered, in which we might have felt welcome. But it’s a lie.”