“Direct provision is a system of dealing with asylum seekers in Ireland. It is how the State meets its obligations with regards to accommodation of asylum seekers.”
This is the definition of direct provision you can find on Google. But, to me, as a 14- year-old girl in direct provision, it is where you are moved from one place to another and basically being told how to live your life.
You are told when to have breakfast, lunch and dinner. You are given a certain amount of toiletries a week. It’s basically like prison.
You know those prison shows they sometimes play on TV, with prisoners lining up in long queues to get food – with security keeping people in check?
That’s what living in direct provision is like.
Living in direct provision as a teenage girl means always having to come up with excuses as to why I can’t go with my class on trips.
The truth is either because we don’t have enough money or I can’t get transport because the time we would come back would be around six or nine.
The transport that is provided to us only operates from 8am to 5pm so, if you miss the last bus, you will have to take a Bus Éireann bus which you have to pay for yourself.
In doing so, you are wasting money when you could have put it to better use.
Being in direct provision also means losing control of your life, handing that control to the Government. They decide if you stay in this country. They can move you whenever they want. They can deport you.
Horror movie
It’s like sitting on the edge of your seat when watching a horror movie because you have no idea what’s going to happen next.
Being an asylum seeker means being dependent because you don’t do anything yourself. If you’re an adult you just collect food from the kitchen, that the accommodation centre cooks for you, and go home and do nothing.
We live in a house with a big kitchen but my mum is not allowed to cook for me and my sister – it’s a health and safety issue.
If you’re a teenager, like myself, you go to school, come back and do homework, eat and sleep. You can’t do any after-school clubs or activities because there’s no transport and you can’t afford it.
The worst thing about being in direct provision is being blocked off from the rest of the world.
My accommodation centre is 30 minutes from town. The centre is huge and located in a secluded area.
Being in direct provision makes me very sad and depressed. My older sister, who got amazing results in her Leaving Certificate, couldn’t attend college because of our situation.
It seemed as if all her hard work had gone to waste so it made me not want to work hard because what’s the point of even working hard if I’m not going to get the chance to go to university and get a successful career?
My friends at school think it’s sad that I have to live like this.
They think no human being should have to live like this.
Removed from society
Being in direct provision stops me from reaching my full potential. When I finish my Leaving Certificate, I would like to study medicine to become a doctor but I probably won’t be able to because of my circumstances.
Since this year is my Junior Cert year, I would have liked to do evening study after school but I can’t because it’s too expensive and also I won’t have transportation to get back home.
I think people’s cases should be decided upon quicker so people don’t spend a long time in direct provision.
It might seem like I’m being impatient, I know the authorities have other stuff to do, but people spend an unreasonably long amount of time in this system.
I’ve been in direct provision for five years and this is my fourth centre in five years.
The longer you are in direct provision, the more you become far removed from society, so that once you are granted citizenship you don’t know how to act in a normal environment.
My dream, as a girl in 2016, is to be granted permission to stay in Ireland so we can start a normal life as a family.
Name and address of Mary* with editor
