BANNED FROM WORKING WAS FRUSTRATING !

Dear friend...

An exiled Zimbabwean journalist recounts his experiences settling in the UK, through letters home to a friend. Innocent Sithole came to the UK in 2004 as a scholarship student at Leicester University. He intended to return to his job as the editor of the Sunday Mirror newspaper in Zimbabwe, but his plans fell apart when his colleagues advised him not to return for his own safety.

Below are extracts from letters he wrote to a close friend in Harare, which follow his eventful journey from student to asylum seeker.

SEPT 2004
Dear, Tafadzwa, A big hello from your old friend and now scholarship student, Innocent. It's all-go here on my MA course. Last week I moved into one of the newest halls of residence at Leicester University, complete with telephone and broadband internet. There's large mix of local and international students on campus giving it an impressively cosmopolitan feel. My own housemates are from England, Greece, India and China!
This is a hard letter for me to write, but I want to tell you in my own words why I've taken a rather major decision Off campus Leicester is much more multicultural than I expected. There are even a few Zimbabwean corner shops and a few Zimbabwean-owned pubs as well. When I feel a little homesick I'll head down to one of them to relax and dance to some Zimbabwean music.
You know, it's funny but I don't miss my old newspaper editing job. As much as I enjoyed the thrill of getting the latest edition of the Sunday Mirror, out on to the street, for the moment, I'm loving having more time to develop my thoughts. I'm sure I'll be restless to be writing articles before my study year's finished.

JAN 2005
Dear Tafadzwa, Just a quick note, but I had to let someone know, I've just come back from Highbury Stadium in London where I saw my first live football match in the English Premiership! I know it wasn't Manchester United and you don't care about football but it was the Premier League. I never thought I'd ever see those guys play.

MARCH 2006
Hi Tafadzwa, This is a hard letter for me to write, but I want to tell you in my own words why I've taken a rather major decision. I know you've been following the story of the government's intelligence authority's secret takeover of my newspapers. I remember the e-mail you sent telling me how frightened you were by reports in the press saying the authorities didn't want me to return to the papers even though I was still the editor.
I suppose it didn't help me that while here I've become a regular political commentator on the Voice of America's programme on Zimbabwe: Studio 7. Mugabe views those guys at the radio station as subversive.
Anyway, I've come to the conclusion that it's no longer safe for me to return to Zimbabwe. So, today I formerly applied for asylum in the UK.
You can imagine how livid my Mum is: she always warned me to stop my political commentary, but you know me, I can't be true to myself and stay silent.

NOV 2006
Hey Tafadzwa, How's the business? Me? I'm not so great. It's not easy living as an asylum seeker. Firstly, you don't get any choice where you live. I've been moved from my friend's house in London to Leeds. I'm in a house with four other guys, though sometimes the numbers swell, as friends who've had their asylum claims rejected come to stay. Although it puts a strain on the house, you'd rather your brothers were inside than out on the street.
I'm right at the top and I've a padlock on my door to keep out any unwanted guests. In the corner I've got a wardrobe on its side where I store all my food. One good thing is I can get the maize meal we all love from a store down the road: so at least I can cook myself some proper comfort food.
It's in here that I read my politics books and when I've had enough of that, pump iron. No surprise there, I'm still into weight training. I've shrunk a bit since you last saw me as there aren't many gyms around here, only football pitches.

JUNE 2007
Dear Tafadzwa, How are you? I've just come back from my volunteering shift at the refugee centre. I'm tired but the most exasperating thing about this experience is living with uncertainty. I have been waiting for an initial decision on my application for over a year. Meanwhile, I can't make any major plans about my life whatsoever. I feel stuck, trapped in a system. I even applied to work, which you're allowed to do after a year's waiting time but guess what? I've yet to hear back on that decision as well.
No-one talks to you on the bus. People listen to their i-Pods or read the paper What really bugs me is that each day I read more and more about the growing chaos at home and I can do nothing about it. I can't work in the papers over here. I'm forced into inactivity which drives me up the walls. It's really crushing to my sense of self-worth as I love to work but until the British government decides on my case, I'm banned from doing so. It's maddening.
When I feel like I'm beginning to lose it, I head into town. Being on the bus reminds me how much I miss the sociability of home. No-one talks to you on the bus. People listen to their iPods or read the paper. I miss the raucous debates you get in the taxis in Harare: 16 people crammed into a minivan, all pitching in with their comment about the events of the day. Here you're left to your own thoughts and the drone of the bus engine: it really emphasises your loneliness.

The letters reveal his observations on UK life. There is something that will make you smile though. When I get really down, do you know where I go? Church. When everything material is taken out of your control, it's amazing how important the spiritual becomes.
I can hear you laughing. I can count the number of times I went to church in Harare on the fingers of one hand. Well, these days I'm the first in the pew. It's because of this, coupled with my continued faith in the British sense of fairness, that I believe all will be well with me, ultimately.
There is something else that keeps me going. James, my friend from uni days, is in Leeds doing an MA. It's great to hang out with James. But although he makes me laugh, it's hard to see him moving on whilst I remain in limbo.
I'm lucky having the room at the top. I get to daydream looking out over the tightly packed "train houses" as you and I would call them. You know the rows and rows of British-style houses all joined together in a line so that their windows look like those of train carriages.
I often find myself looking wistfully out on to this landscape and imagining myself relaxing on the balcony of my flat back in Harare's jacaranda-lined avenues.
I miss you and my home. I'd love to come back and take up my old job but for now, with the threats journalists suffer at home, I'm staying here.
My dream is to return home and become a writer and I am determined to make this a reality but for now it's out of my hands.

Letters Home is a five-part series on Radio 4 at 0930BST Thursdays from 19 July. Hear the latest episode at Radio 4's Listen again page.
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