Remembering Sir Ralph Kohn

We were deeply saddened to receive news of the passing of Sir Ralph Kohn, on 14 November 2016.

Sir Ralph Kohn was well known as an innovator in the pharmaceutical industry, an accomplished baritone, and a generous philanthropist. He set up the Kohn Foundation supporting medical, scientific, artistic, and humanitarian causes and organisations, and we were delighted that he also agreed to be one of the first distinguished friends of the Migration Museum Project. Ralph was a pivotal supporter of the Migration Museum Project, contributing financially both to our 'Great Minds' series of discussions, which shone a spotlight on the contribution that migrants have made to British intellectual life, and also to our Germans in Britain exhibition, memorably opened at the German Historical Institut by Neil MacGregor, then director of the British Museum. Ralph's personal enthusiasm, energy and generosity will be sorely missed by us at the Migration Museum Project, as well as by a very much wider public whose lives he touched in so many ways.

A Nepali in Victorian England

Gurkhas occupy an interesting place in British folklore. Universally recognised as ferociously loyal, heroic and determined fighters in the British army, they were only recently (in 2009) given right to settle in this country, and then only after a high-profile media campaign. In this guest blog, Krishna P Adhikari recounts what is known of one of the first Nepali visitors to Britain, Motilal Singh, who came to the country halfway through the 19th century.

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Motilal Singh: soldier, crossing sweeper, chronicler

This year marks the bicentenary of the establishment of diplomatic relations between Nepal and Britain. Although the recruitment of the Nepalis (as Gurkhas) into the British Army started 200 years ago, restrictions on Gurkha migration to Britain were eased only a decade ago, in part the result of a memorable public intervention by Joanna Lumley. Nepalis are now a fast-growing minority group, estimated at around 100,000 people and spread across the UK, with a tendency to cluster around towns with strong links to the British Army, such as Aldershot and Folkestone. Many non-Gurkha Nepalis in the UK work as doctors, nurses, academics and entrepreneurs. Overall, Nepalis form a culturally diverse and economically active group.

The first Nepali to set foot in Britain was long thought to have been Nepal's prime minster Jang Bahadur Rana, who visited Britain and France in 1850, along with 24 other Nepalis, and who met Queen Victoria on three occasions. He was recognised as an ambassador and was believed to be the first Nepali to set foot in the British Isles. An article in The Economist on 1 June 1850 wrote, 'He is the first Hindoo of so high a caste who has ever been presented to the Queen.'

This turns out not to be the case, however. When I was studying and writing a book about Nepali migration in the UK (Nepalis in the United Kingdom: An Overview), I came across a substantial 18-page article called 'Some Accounts of Nepaulese in London' in the July 1850 edition of the New Monthly Magazine and Humorist. This article, written by a man called Motilal Singh (whose name was anglicised as Mutty Loll Sing), reveals that he reached Britain several years before Jang Bahadur arrived in London. Motilal Singh had previously been unknown to Nepali historians, and his article unveils important information about himself, his encounter with Jang Bahadur and life in the UK.

Junga Bahadur Rana (1817–77), the first Nepali prime minister to visit Great Britain – but not the first Nepali to do so.

Motilal Singh was  born in Bhaktapur in the Kathmandu valley, and was 19 when he fought in the Anglo-Nepali war. He was wounded, captured and imprisoned. Appreciating the bravery and valour of their opponents, the East India Company formed the first battalion of Gurkhas in 1815, which Motilal joined. There he learnt to speak English. Later, he married in Calcutta (Kolkata) and had several children.

Motilal would have lived happily with his family if it were not for an English captain who persuaded him to move to Britain. Those days lascars were needed to sail the ship or to work as militiamen, and they thus formed the first group of migrants from Asia in Britain. Motilal was given the false impression that he would be able to collect huge amounts of gold and return home. Instead, he lost his money and was left 'neglected and despised in a strange land … in the cold streets of London, hungry often, often athirst … '

In a surprising turn of events, Motilal came across the members of the Nepali mission on 27 May 1850 and soon after was rescued from London's St Paul's Churchyard, where he had been living for years as a crossing sweeper. In Victorian times, the beggars in the street of London included those from poor families, children and also 'Hindus, Lascars, or Orientals of some sort'.

 

Charles McGee, a crossing sweeper in Ludgate Hill and one of the 'St Giles Blackbirds', London's first black community. 'Blackbirds' was a term used during the 18th century to describe black beggars who were often freed slaves. Charles McGee was working 30 years before Motilal Singh. © Camden Local Studies & Archives

Several newspapers sensationalised the story: 'Everyone who has passed through St Paul's Churchyard to Cheapside on a rainy day, when birch brooms are very much in requisition, must have noticed the well-known Hindoo crossing sweeper … He now appears in the carriage of his Excellency every morning arrayed in a new and superb Hindoo costume … ' Motilal was taken to Richmond Terrace in Westminster, where the Nepali Embassy was housed. He was a valuable member of the mission and visited many places as an informal interpreter. It is safe to say that meeting Jang Bahadur in London changed Motilal's life altogether.

Motilal mentions several events which give some idea about Victorian London. The London underground system, which came into operation much later, was already being built. The party crossed the Thames using a tunnel constructed by a 'clever Frenchman'. Motilal describes a steam train, in which the Nepali mission travelled from Southampton to London, as a 'fire-driven monster'.

The tunnelling shield, invented by Marc Brunel, father of Isambard Kingdom Brunel. The shield was used to construct the first tunnel under the Thames at Rotherhithe, which is the tunnel that Motilal Singh visited as part of the Nepali mission. Marc Brunel, the 'clever Frenchman', was a refugee from France.

They visited Epsom in a horse carriage to see the horse racing, which they were told was the 'chief pleasure' for English people – the Derby being 'the greatest of all' in England.

Epsom racecourse in Surrey during Derby week. 'A' Division, Metropolitan Police, 1864.

They also visited the world's largest brewery of the time, operated by Barclay Perkins in Southwark. Nearby was the Phoenix Gas Works, where the city's light was generated. Motilal describes passing through a 'thickly populated town' (which, because of the tanneries, was very smelly) and reports the water of the 'pious' Thames as being dirty and polluted.

 

The Grange Tannery, Bermondsey, 1876. Tanning and food processing were the two main industrial activities in the area, both giving rise to some highly unpleasant smells.

The Nepali team visited the St James Theatre (according to his account, the British liked the plays but relied on French actors because they were 'unable to act them') and attended several grand parties, including one hosted by Benjamin Lumley (no relation), who managed the theatre. Strict cultural differences meant that the Nepalis did not eat or drink anything in these gatherings, which their English hosts (including the Queen) must have found difficult to comprehend. The reason for this was that the Nepalis were teetotal, and their faith in ritual purity meant they refused meals cooked by people they deemed 'polluted'.

Racial epithets were common in Victorian society, and went both ways: the Nepalis were referred to as 'the blacks', and Motilal himself uses phrases such as 'white as cauliflower' and 'red-faced' to describe the English.

Motilal accompanied Jang Bahadur's party to Paris, and it is likely that his desire to return home was ultimately fulfilled.

Although an ordinary man, Motilal is an important historical figure because of his travel from Nepal to India and then to Britain and later France, and also because he was the first Nepali known to have visited the UK, and to have published in English.

Perhaps surprisingly to our current-day sensitivities, Motilal's difficult circumstances in Victorian Britain were in no way helped by his being a Gurkha. Today the context is very different – Gurkhas are held in high esteem – and yet the lives of ex-Gurkhas in Britain are not without problems. Former Gurkhas continue to fight for equal pensions, family visas and other welfare entitlements, and continue to face occasional racial prejudice. A greater appreciation of the long history of Gurkhas living in the UK, going as far back to, and perhaps beyond, Motilal Singh, could help to address some of these issues.

 

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Dr Krishna P Adhikari is a research fellow at the Institute of Social and Cultural Anthropology, University of Oxford, and was previously executive director of the Centre for Nepal Studies UK (CNSUK). Among his publications are Nepalis in the United Kingdom: An Overview (2012) and The Mysterious Life of Motilal Singh: The First Nepali in Britain and His Historic Article (2013, in Nepali, with a 2nd edition due to be published in both Nepali and English). He is also a co-author of CNSUK's British Gurkha Pension Policies and Ex-Gurkha Campaigns (2013). He did his PhD at the University of Reading (2007).

 

Imprints: London Migration Walk

On Sunday 16th October 2016, over 120 intrepid walkers joined the Migration Museum Project for our inaugural Migration Walk –  an epic trek across London, from Cutty Sark in the east to Hyde Park in the west. The walk took approximately 9 hours, and covered 15 miles, and through the unpredictable weather, our expert guides illuminated hidden stories of migrants and refugees, following in the footsteps of those who have shaped the city throughout history.

Thank you to all who took part, and contributed towards our fundraising goal of £20,000, which which will support future activities, such as a new exhibition, and our long term goal of creating a new national Migration Museum. We're incredibly close to reaching our goal, if you'd like to help us achieve this, please donate here.

If you took part in this walk, we would love your feedback on your experience, and how we may be able to improve the walk in the future. Please take a moment to fill out this short anonymous survey.

If you would like to take part in a guided section of the walk with a group of up to 15, we are able to organise a specifically tailored experience which would be perfect as a corporate team building activity, or to entertain clients. In order to facilitate this and to contribute towards our fundraising, we would request a donation of £1,000. Please contact Andrew@migrationmuseum.org for more information.

Please see the gallery below for some images from the walk.

The Wiener Library's timely exhibition

'The sympathy and freedom and liberty of England'

With wonderful timing, the Wiener Library opened its new exhibition, 'A Bitter Road', on the reception of Jewish refugees in the 1930s and 1940s, on Thursday 27 October, the day that the Calais 'Jungle' was dismantled and its residents dispersed. The coincidence didn't escape the speakers at the exhibition's launch, two of whom drew comparisons between the numbers of Jewish refugees taken in by the British government in the war years and the numbers of refugees who have been granted asylum since the Syrian conflict began. As Dan Stone (one of the speakers) said, 'The number of children admitted through the Kindertransport scheme – although not their parents – was quite large: the same as the number of people in the Jungle.'

The third section of the exhibition, presenting the individual testimony of refugees. © Morag Macdonald

Much of the fascination of the exhibition, sub-titled 'Britain and the Refugee Crisis of the 1930s and 1940s', lies in the documentary evidence of ordinary people's reactions to the experience of emigration and arrival in a new country. Booklets of advice on how to avoid drawing attention to yourself ('Refrain from speaking German in the streets … the Englishman greatly dislikes ostentation') make interesting reading, and raise the question of what those booklets would advise now; the complicated process of vetting and vouching for the refugees reveals a national paranoia that feels very contemporary. The suspicion Jewish refugees came under – being predominantly from Germany and therefore seen as potential enemy agents infiltrating Britain – inevitably brings to mind the suspicion currently directed at Syrian refugees and the fear that a refugee may be a terrorist in disguise.

Advice to refugees from Germany on how to behave in England . . . how much has changed? © Wiener Library

The bureaucratic formality of the reception process, which from this distance looks more obstructive than well-intentioned, contrasts with the more personal correspondence and diary entries presented elsewhere in the exhibition, one of which, written by Ruth Ucko, the first diary entry she wrote in English, announces her impending wedding as an emergence from a period of turmoil. A further section of the exhibition examines the media's response to the refugee crisis, jumbling together headlines from the 30s/40s with today's headlines in a way that shows how little has changed over the last 70 years.

A diary entry from Ruth Ucko, her first written in English.

At Thursday's launch, Ben Barkow, director of the Wiener Library, introduced the three speakers, two of whom – Rabbi Harry Jacobi and Lord Alf Dubs – arrived in this country as refugees, from Holland in 1940 and from Czechoslovakia in 1938 respectively. Rabbi Jacobi spoke movingly about the circumstances of his escape on the last evening before the Dutch surrender to the Germans, a 14-year-old boy in a boat under fire from German bombers. He paid tribute to the woman who saved him, Gertuide Wijsmuller-Meijer, in a similar way to Alf Dubs's recognition of the intervention of Sir Nicholas Winton (one of whose letters is part of the exhibition). Alf Dubs – the author of the Dubs' Amendment, whereby unaccompanied refugees are to be offered safe refuge in this country – drew parallels with the current refugee crisis (the jury is still out, he claimed, on how his Amendment was being implemented), parallels that are a firm part of the exhibition, too, and on which Dan Stone, professor of modern history at Royal Holloway, University of London, focused in his talk:

Of the world's 65 million refugees, some 10,000 tenaciously made their way to Calais, where they were stopped from proceeding to the UK and where, until a few days ago, they set up camp in the Jungle, a place which should never have been allowed to exist in one of the richest corners of the world (I'm talking of Europe as a whole, not Pas-de-Calais). Ten thousand is a six-hundred and fiftieth of 65 million, or 0.015%. These are not people who lack initiative or talent; they have determinedly made their way across dangerous terrain and ugly encounters with people smugglers and border guards in order to fulfil their dream of entering Britain. This country, with its 'proud tradition of helping the oppressed', has denied them entry and, with the exception of a few hundred children hurriedly allowed in as the French were sending in the bulldozers, refused even to allow children with relatives in the UK and, under Lord Dubs's amendment, unaccompanied children, to enter, leaving them exposed to the dangers of the camp. Words such as 'cynical' come to mind.*

The exhibition is open until 17 February 2017. If you find yourself with half an hour to spare in the Russell Square area, I urge you to visit it. In fact, go and visit it anyway!

 

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'A Bitter Road: Britain and the Refugee Crisis of the 1930s and 1940s' is open to the public between 10am and 5pm, Monday and Friday (10am–7.30pm on Tuesday), at the Wiener Library for the Study of the Holocaust & Genocide, 29 Russell Square, London, W WC1B 5DP. It runs until 17 February 2017.

*For more of Dan Stone's speech, visit the University of East Anglia's website.  

Nigerian country guidance case strengthens protection for trafficked women

In HD (Trafficked women) Nigeria CG [2016] UKUT 00454 (IAC) the Upper Tribunal considered the position of victims of trafficking returning to Nigeria. Under the previous country guidance case, PO (trafficked women) Nigeria [2009] UKAIT 00046, in order to demonstrate a real risk of persecution on return to Nigeria, a victim of trafficking needed to […]

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Imprints: our first London Migration Walk

We went on a walk last Sunday, along with about 130 others.

It started in the cold, grey and wet, at a time when many of us would still be, if not in bed, certainly doing nothing much more energetic than turning the pages of a Sunday paper and slurping coffee. It ended in glorious early-evening light, with a rainbow over the Serpentine and, if not actual gold at the end of the rainbow, then the next best thing – cakes and prosecco.

Somewhere over the rainbow … Looking east from the Lido café in Hyde Park, the end-point of our Imprints walk. © Faiza Mahmood

It started in Greenwich, where so many migrant stories have started in the past – George I prominently among them, borne to his disembarkation at the Old Royal Naval College aboard the ship Peregrine, but also, though much less regally, Ignatius Sancho, born on a slave ship and later a lobbyist for the abolition of the slave trade. It ended in Hyde Park, just short of the Albert Memorial, flamboyant statue to one of the most-loved migrants of the nineteenth century and the inspiration for the cluster of museums and institutions – Albertopolis – that now draw so many visitors to our capital.

The outline of the route the Imprints walk took through London. © Brandingbygarden

Not all migrants migrate from east to west of the city, of course, but it's a useful hook to hang an event of this kind on. It's certainly a long walk, that walk from arrival to establishment, and not all migrants make it with equal success, happiness and good fortune. And it was a long walk, literally, on Sunday, a full 15 miles and counting, which not all participants made with equal success, happiness and comfort of foot. But the overwhelming majority of those who started the walk completed it, and there was a sense of euphoric satisfaction in Hyde Park at the end of the day that may have had something to do with the prosecco on offer, or possibly with the sheer relief of the walk now being at an end – but which was mostly down to the sense of fulfilment and enjoyment of a day spent in good company, learning something about the myriad migration stories that make up the history of London, and of the multiple layers that make each street and region a palimpsest of the migratory experience: whether it's the Brick Lane Jamme Masjid mosque, in a building that had previously been a synagogue and was, before that, a Huguenot chapel; or the building in Old Jewry, now housing the visa office for the People's Republic of China but almost eight hundred years previously the site of the first synagogue in this country; or 25 Brook Street, home to George Frideric Handel in the 1700s and the more raucous stomping ground of Jimi Hendrix in the 1960s.

The Jamme Masjid mosque in Brick Lane – previously a synagogue and, before that, a Huguenot chapel. Spectacular minaret sadly not shown. © Aditi Anand

Divided into groups of 10 to 15, each led by an incredibly well-versed volunteer guide and supported by one of our magnificent volunteers, we walked along the south bank of the Thames to Tower Bridge, meandered through the East End, Brick Lane and Spitalfields, wandered through empty and storm-soaked streets in the City, rising again into Clerkenwell and Holborn – passing through the world of clockmakers, jewellers, lawyers and artists, before moving westwards through Covent Garden, Soho, Kensington and Mayfair. In Postman's Park, Bill Bingham (our very own Ian McKellen) appeared out of nowhere, surprising us with a rendition of Shakespeare's Thomas More speech ('Grant them removed, and grant that this your noise / Hath chid down all the majesty of England … '), delivered (in theory) in the early 1600s to quell riotous discontent at the arrival of the Huguenots. We stopped along the way to hear the story behind particular buildings, or about individuals who had lived in that area, or whole movements of people; and in-between we talked to each other about our own stories, about plans for the Migration Museum Project, about how our country would change in the wake of the recent referendum decisions.

Emily Miller, the MMP's education manager, in Chinatown with Isabel Morrison. © David Wigram

We liked it so much we are already planning to do it again next year – at least once more in full length, and maybe on a number of other occasions, in a shorter form. And already we're thinking, if this works so well in London, why wouldn't it work just as well in any number of other cities: Newcastle, Manchester, Glasgow, Liverpool, Belfast, Bristol, Leicester? Get in touch with us if you want to help us plan how to extend it.

Oh, and we raised hugely important funds for the MMP's work, too. Our target was to raise £20,000 to enable us to continue delivering exhibitions, events and education work in schools as we build the case for a permanent Migration Museum for Britain. At the time of writing, we are still a little short of our target – the equivalent of finding ourselves in Regent Street, when we need to be in Hyde Park. If you would like to help us reach our target or destination, please go to our MyDonate page.

And, just in case you can't quite take our word for it, have a look at what some of the walkers had to say about the experience:

Epic day with informed guides – great fun despite the rain!

What a fab day! Like walking through a spread of London's amazing history!

A wonderful way to explore London and discover how migration is a fundamental part of the city's identity.

Amazing experience, informative and enlightening. Highly recommend it

I enjoyed seeing so much of London in one go, and learning about all the little histories and significances that would have gone unknown otherwise.

I loved the content and it's great to have the map as a momento. Lots of highlights that I have been boring my nearest and dearest with: Mayflower pub selling US stamps – Rotherhithe tunnel used to have shops! – De Hems pub history … and of course the wonderful performance in Postman's Park, a speech which I didn't know and now love.

Very interesting, and I learned lots! Like the fact that it was easier to be black than Catholic in Tudor England! It made me think about things in a totally new way – I hadn't thought of Paul Reuter as a German immigrant to London before!

We went on a walk last Sunday. It was a huge success, raising funds and fun in equal measure. Why don't you come on the next one we organise?

 

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The first Imprints: London Migration Walk took place on Sunday 16 October 2016. Huge thanks to our team of volunteer guides, all of whom were mines of information, wit and inspiration – and to the volunteers who supported them. Without you, this project would be struggling! But the biggest thank you goes to the 130 participants who so good-naturedly and energetically gave up their Sunday to support us on the walk, and did so without complaint, even when the skies emptied their load on us in the early afternoon. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Here's to the next one!

Moving Stories: Cirla

Young people on the IWM Moving Stories Summer School interview Holocaust survivor Cirla Lewis about her experience of displacement as a result of the Second World War.

JCWI crowdfunding for challenge to the five-fold increase to immigration tribunal fees

The Government is raising immigration and asylum tribunal fees by an unprecedented amount, in the face of almost universal opposition. Help us ensure that not only the rich are able to challenge incorrect Government decisions, by contributing to this urgent legal action. You can donate here: Challenge to the five-fold increase to Immigration Tribunal fees

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The poetry of migration

Michael Rosen, compering the 'Poetry of Migration' event at Londonewcastle Project Space earlier this year, drawn by Nick Ellwood.

One of the first events we held in the course of our three-week residency at Londonewcastle this summer (where more than 4,000 people visited our exhibition Call Me By My Name: Stories from Calais and Beyond) was the 'Poetry of Migration' on Tuesday 6 June. Michael Rosen (distinguished poet, writer, entertainer – and distinguished friend of the Migration Museum Project) compered the event, at which Ruth Padel and Jackie Kay were fellow guest speakers.

When we'd advertised the event, we had also asked people to let us know if they would like to present their own poems, so the evening was less about studious, respectful listening to the panel poets – though it was that, too – and more about participation. People presented their poems from the floor – Sophie Herxheimer and Karen McCarthy Woolf, PJ Samuels, Antoine Cassar and Elizabeth-Jane Burnett among them – and the audience expressed the full range of response you might have expected from an evening of poetry based around the theme of migration: tears, laughter, some anger, some despair. As a curtain-raiser for the exhibition itself, it was perfectly judged.

Nick Ellwood, the artist behind the panel drawings of Jungle residents in the middle room, sat in the audience and drew portraits of some of the performers. We've reproduced his drawings in this blog, together with some of the poems read out by the people he was drawing. It's a rich combination: one of the artists we were privileged to work with for the exhibition producing beautiful sketch drawings of some of the incredibly talented writers we were thrilled to have perform at the event. We hope you enjoy this memento of the evening.

 

Ruth Padel

Purple Ink

She has waited three years for this. Too ashamed

to even half-tell the young woman in spectacles

tapping a purple biro on a desk

exactly what the soldiers did to her, each versatile

in his turn, she gets wrong Date your mother was born

and sees a stamp the colour of desert night descend on her file.

 

The Prayer Labyrinth

She went looking for her daughter. How many

visit Hades and live? Your only hope

is the long labyrinth of Visa Application

interviews with a volunteer from a charity

you're not allowed to meet. You've been caught:

by a knock on the door at dawn

or hiding in a truck of toilet tissue

or just getting stuck in a turn-stile.

You're on Dead Island: the Detention Centre.

The Russian refugees who leaped from the fifteenth floor

of a Glasgow tower block to the Red Road

Springburn – Serge, Tatiana and their son,

who when the Immigration officers

were at the door, tied themselves together

before they jumped – knew what was coming.

Anyway you're here. Evidence of cigarette

burns all over your body has been dismissed

by the latest technology. You're dragged

from your room, denied medication

or a voice. You can't see your children,

they're behind bars somewhere else.

You go on hunger strike. You're locked

in a corridor for three days without water

then handcuffed through the biopsy

on your right breast. You've no choice

but to pray; and to walk the never-ending path

of meditation on not yet. Your nightmare

was home-grown; you're seeking sanctuary.

They say you don't belong. They give you

a broken finger, a punctured lung.

 

Ruth Padel, reading her poem 'Time to Fly', drawn by Nick Ellwood.

Time to Fly

You go because you heard a cuckoo call. You go because

you've met someone, you made a vow, there are no more

grasshoppers. You go because the cold is coming, spring

is coming, soldiers are coming: plague, flood, an ice age,

a new religion, a new idea. You go because the world rotates,

because the world is changing and you've lost the key.

You go because you have the kingdom of heaven in your heart.

And the kingdom of hell has taken over someone else's heart.

You go because you have magnetite in your brain, thorax, tips

of your teeth. Because there's food over the hill

and there'll be gold, or more likely bauxite,

inside the hill. You go because your mother is dying

and only you can bring her the apples of the Hesperides.

You go because you need work.

You go because astrologers say so. Because the sea

is calling and your best friend bought a motorbike

in America last year. You go because the streets are paved

with gold and your father went when he was your age.

You go because you have seventeen children and the Lord will provide;

because your sixteen brothers have parcelled up the land

and there's none left for you. You go because the waters are rising,

an ice sheet is melting, the rivers are dry

there are no more fish in the sea. You go because God

has given you a sign – you had a dream – the potatoes are blighted.

Because it is too hot, too cold, you are on a quest for knowledge

and knowledge is always beyond. You go because it's destiny,

because Pharoah won't let you light candles at sundown on Friday.

Because you're looking for

an enchanted lake, the meaning of life, a tall tree to nest in.

You go because travel is holy, because your body

is wired to go, you'd have a quite different body and different brain

if you were the sort of bird that stayed. You go

because you can't pay the rent: creditors lie in wait for your children

after school. You go because Pharoah has hogged the oil,

electricity and paraffin so all you have on your table

are candles, when you can get them.

You go because there's nothing left to hope for;

because there's everything to hope for and all life is risk.

You go because someone put the evil eye on you

and barometric pressure is dropping. You go because

you can't cope with your gift – other people can't cope with your gift –

you have no gift and the barbarians are after you.

You go because the barbarians are gone, Herod

has turned off the internet and mobile phones, the modem

is useless and the eagles are coming. You go because the eagles

have died off with the vultures and the ancestors are angry

there's no one to clean the bones. You go in peace, you go in war.

Someone has offered you a job. You go because your dog

is going too. Because the Grand Vizier sent paramilitaries to your house last night

you have to go quick and leave the dog behind.

You go because you've eaten the dog and that's it, there's nothing else.

You go because you've given up and might as well. Because your love

is dead – because she laughed at you; because she's coming with you,

it will be a big adventure and you'll live happily ever after.

You go in hope, in faith, in haste, high spirits, deep sorrow, deep

snow, deep shit and without question.

You pause halfway to stoke up on Omega 3 and horseshoe crabs.

You go for phosphorus, myrtle-berries, salt. You go for oil

and pepper. It was your father's dying wish.

You go from pole to pole, you go because you can,

you have no feet, you sleep and mate on the wing.

Because you need a place to shed your skin

in safety. You go with a thousand questions but you are growing up,

growing old, moving on. Say goodbye to the might-have-beens –

you can't step into the same river twice.

You go because hope, need and escape

are names for the same god. You go because life

is sweet, life is cheap, life is flux

and you can't take it with you. You go because you're alive,

because you're dying, maybe dead already. You go because you must.

© Ruth Padel from The Mara Crossing, Chatto and Windus, 2012

Sophie Herxheimer

London

Not zo mainy Dais zinz ve arrivink.

Zis grey iss like Bearlin, zis same grey Day

ve hef. Zis norzern Vezzer, oont ze demp Street.

A biet off Rain voant hurt, vill help ze Treez

on zis Hempstet Heese vee see in Fekt.

Vy shootd I mind zat?

I try viz ze Busses, Herr Kondooktor eskink

me … for vot? I don't eckzectly remempber;

Fess plees? To him, my Penny I hent ofa –

He notdz viz a keint Smile – Fanks Luv!

He sez. Oh! I em his Luff – turns Hentell

on Machine, out kurls a Tikett.

Zis is ven I know zat here to settle iss OK. Zis

City vill be Home, verr eefen on ze Buss is Luff.

Sophie Herxheimer, drawn in full flow when reading 'London', by Nick Ellwood.

 

Vosch by Hendt, Lern by Hart!

Ze yunkest off my grayt grayt

Grent-Childtrenn is lynink up

her Dollse oont Behrs for Klarse.

Ven zay slump in rekggitt

Exhorstschon, she arraintches zem

to lean on ze Kupboart. Zit up ztrate!

She Kommarnts.  If Enny Vun

off you nose ze Aanser, don't

schout out; poot up your Hendt!

Ze Svetter zat zis Teacher

vairs, looks ottley familiar.

Ze Vun Aunt Frieda sent from Vienna

for my Girl ven she voz small.

I see ze Vool still hess some Bountz.

Oont amazinkly, no Moss Holse!

Funny Frieda alvays sett she dittn't

leik to knit: I heffnt ze Payschunz,

she leidt. Zis Svetter hess en intrikett

Pettern off blue Skvairs, raist in a Ridch

ofa nice veit Stokkink Stitch –

I marfellt et it zen, ven it arrifte, springink

like a Lemm from stiff brown Paper.

Vizzin Veeks of zat, Frieda, leik zo Menny,

voz seeztd, imprissont, murdtert.

Now zis endurink Laybor off hurze

iss vorn ess a Keint off Uniform:

kommarntink All who are born, or eefen

stufft: Make Sinks. Make Sinks up! Play!

© Sophie Herxheimer

'London' first appeared as no.22 in a series of concrete poetry broadsides from Brazil, called POW, subsequently appearing in Jewish Quarterly and Long Poem Magazine, and was also made into a film.  

'Vosch by Hendt, Learn by Hart' has just been published in the Vanguard Anthology.   

Nadia Faydh

Things I miss

When I wake up to the cloudy sky

Of London,

I feel overwhelmed:

A fit of yearning.

It is not that I want to go back,

but simply miss the way it was:

The sunny mornings,

The fresh smell of Cardamom

My mother used to make with tea

Or the smell of fresh bread,

When my father is back from the bakery …

Maybe I miss those Fridays,

When all the sisters gather around;

Voices of playing kids

Filling the air with delicious noise,

“the house can't take us all,”

I would say,

My mother would stop me…

She likes it when we're all there.

Maybe I miss dad's big smile:

when his granddaughters

Greet him with a kiss.

I miss watching all the girls

Working in the kitchen,

Or Sit to the table laughing loud …

Dad would come in, take a picture,

To remember those moments I miss!

© Nadia  Faydh

Guest readers at the event – Nadia Faydh on the right – drawn by Nick Ellwood.

Michael Rosen

Madame le Pen

Mme Le Pen,

la raison pourquoi

on a donné une étoile jaune

à l'oncle et à la tante de mon père

la raison pourquoi

on a demand qu'ils devaient attacher

une affiche disante 'Enterprise juive'

à leur étal de marché

la raison pourquoi

ils ont fuit leur asile

dans la rue Mellaise à Niort

la raison pourquoi

ils se sont réfugiés à Nice

la raison pourquoi

on les a arrêtés et on les a transportés

à Paris, à Drancy, à Auschwitz et à leurs morts

est parce que

les officiers de Vichy

ont fait un 'Fishier juif' des juifs étrangers

et l'a donné aux Nazis au moment exacte

que la Résistance a dit bienvenu aux juifs

bienvenu aux étrangers

et c'est ça, la raison pourquoi

je vous dis ces choses

Mme Le Pen.

Michael Rosen, reciting his poem 'To Madame le Pen', drawn by Nick Ellwood.

Mme Le Pen,

the reason why

they gave a yellow star

to my father's uncle and aunt

the reason why

they told them they had to fix a sign

saying 'Jewish Business' on their market stall

the reason why

they fled from their refuge in the rue Mellaise

in Niort

the reason why

they took refuge in Nice

the reason why

they were arrested and transported

to Paris, to Drancy, to Auschwitz and to their death

is because the officials of Vichy

made a 'Jewish File' of foreign Jews

and gave it to the Nazis

at the exact moment

that the Resistance was welcoming

Jews and was welcoming foreigners

and that's the reason why

I am telling you these things

Mme Le Pen.

 

Mother Father Cable Street

You Connie Ruby Isakofsky

From Globe Road in Bethnal Green

You Harold Rosen

From Nelson street, Whitechapel

You Connie with your mother and father

From Romania and Poland

You Harold with your family from Poland

You Connie

You Harold

your families working in the rag trade

Hats, caps, jackets and gowns

Hats, caps, jackets and gowns

You both saw Hitler on the Pathe News

You both saw Hitler Blaming the Jews

You both collected for Spain,

collecting for Spain

When Franco came

When round the tenements,

the whisper came

Mosley wants to march

Here, through the East End

So what should it be?

To Trafalgar Square to support Spain:

No pasaran?

Or to Gardiners Corner to support Whitechapel:

They shall not pass.

Round the tenements

The whisper came

Fight here in Whitechapel

The whisper came:

Winning here

We  support

Spain there.

These are the streets where we live

These are the streets where we go to school

These are the streets where we work

They shall not pass.

You Connie

You Harold

Went to Gardiner's Corner

You went to Cable Street

You piled chairs on the barricades

The mounted police charged you

A stranger took you indoors

To escape a beating

And thousands

Hundreds of thousands came here

Fighting Mosley

Supporting Spain

Thinking of Germany

And

Mosley did not pass.

You Connie

You Harold

Said, today the bombs on Guernica in Spain

Tomorrow the bombs on London here.

And you were bombed

the same planes, the same bombs

landing in the same streets

where you had said

they shall not pass

And the bodies

piled up across the world

Million after million after million after million

You Connie, your cousins in Poland

Taken to camps

Wiped out

You Harold, your uncles and aunts in France and Poland

Taken to camps

Wiped out.

But you Connie, my mother

You Harold, my father

You survived

You lived

We were born

We grew

You mother

You father

told us these things

I write these things

And today,

I tell you these things

We remember here together

Thanks to you

And we say:

They shall not pass.

 

© Michael Rosen

June 2016 immigration update podcast

Welcome to the June 2016 edition of the Free Movement immigration update podcast. June 2016 is a month I would rather had not occurred. Inevitably perhaps, I start by discussing next steps for EU nationals following Brexit. I move on to discuss a number of asylum and refugee issues and then end with some procedural and other […]

The post June 2016 immigration update podcast appeared first on Free Movement.

Outline of Theresa May's UN summit speech on refugees

As UN countries gear up for 2 years of negotiations on new politically binding compacts on refugees and migrants, the PM will seek to put down an early marker by proposing three specific principles that should guide our approach: A first safe country. This would help to ensure that refugees claim asylum in the first […]

The post Outline of Theresa May's UN summit speech on refugees appeared first on Free Movement.

Visas to Australia – Call Salvo Migration on 1300 644 788

First published on ISH Blog

BREAKING : Migrants Attack UK Truck Drivers Heading For UK

First published on www.visa.immigrationsolicitorhelp.co.uk

Moving Stories – exhibition competition with OCR

Education Manger Emily Miller speaking at the launch of the exhibition competition in partnership with the OCR exam board

We are excited to be pursuing our partnership with the OCR exam board on a new exhibition competition.

The OCR exam board have identified us as an innovative heritage partner to work with on their new history GCSE, which contains units about Britain's migration history. This is an exciting step for the revised curriculum. Teams of students will focus on one or more aspects of their migration topic, and enter exhibition plans for how this could be displayed in a national migration museum to engage wide audiences. A high-profile panel convened by MMP and OCR will judge the most inspiring and creative entries and announce the winners and the prize at a final event in London.

The teachers briefing pack is being produced at the moment. For more information, please contact our Education Manager, Emily Miller at emily@migrationmuseum.org