“In Switzerland it doesn’t matter how much effort someone puts into integration”

“I was standing here. I was so happy. “I had finally arrived,” Solomon says in impeccable Swiss German. He is standing in front of a small window in an old wooden barracks. His hands on the counter to indicate how he had presented his documents to the asylum authorities. Back in January 2007.

Who would have thought that seventeen years later he, the refugee from Eritrea, would receive unaccompanied minor asylum seekers (AMV) in the same asylum center where he had once been received? “I certainly don’t,” Solomon says and laughs loudly. But he is grateful to Switzerland for it. He has found his calling.

Solomon is a social worker for the Peregrina Foundation at the asylum center in Frauenfeld.

Asylum applications are no longer accepted in the part of the barracks where Salomon is located. Instead, the UMA is taught here. The timetable includes “transport”, “legal system”, “food”. Posters designed by the UMA hang on the walls. They introduce their homeland using keywords and images, drawings and recipes. In German.

A young person painted the Kurdish flag on one of the posters. The term ‘culture’ means: ‘Playing Halay’. And: “Be human.”

Solomon nods as he reads this. Many young people who arrive here are doubly traumatized: by their experiences in their home country and by their escape. He could feel how they felt. «When I was on the run, I often didn’t feel like a human being. Because I wasn’t treated that way.” Then he starts telling the story.

Solomon was twenty years old when he left Eritrea for good. Escaping was the most difficult decision of his life. But it was clear to him:

Salomon does not want to go into detail about the bad things he experienced in Eritrea. For fear of consequences for his family, who still live there.

It was 2005 when Solomon was on his way to Libya, where he paid smugglers for passage across the Mediterranean. Destination: Italy. But for a moment, in the middle of the ocean, on a small boat, packed with far too many people, he stopped believing that he would ever see land again.

The boat showed cracks. Water came in. In panic, Solomon and the other refugees scooped water from the boat for hours. With everything they had: hands, containers, clothes, spoons. “I prayed to God that we would survive.”

They survived. All. But instead of Italy they reached Malta, “where the harsh reality caught up with us”.

The Maltese authorities placed him in a refugee camp where he was largely left to fend for himself. “They treated refugees like serious criminals,” says Solomon. So he was taken away in handcuffs to a doctor’s appointment. Only thanks to aid organizations did he receive warm clothing.

Ultimately, after six months of waiting, Malta rejected his asylum request. There was a risk of deportation back to Eritrea. “This decision felt like a death sentence.” So he had no choice but to flee again. This time with a new destination: Switzerland.

At that time, Switzerland had not yet signed the Dublin Agreement with the EU. A rejected asylum application in Malta does not automatically mean repatriation to this country – which, fortunately for Solomon, he knew.

With the help of a preacher working in Malta, Solomon managed to escape to Germany. From there he traveled to Kreuzlingen in the canton of Thurgau, where he immediately applied for asylum. “Then I thought: now I’m safe.” But Solomon was wrong.

Swiss authorities handcuffed him in a police car and drove him back to Germany, where German police took him into custody. There they tried to get him to apply for asylum. But Solomon refused. He knew that he would then be taken to Malta and from there back to Eritrea.

Finally, after eighteen days of German custody, an aid group forced Switzerland to take back Solomon. Because the actions of the Swiss authorities were illegal.

This was the only way Salomon ended up here, in Frauenfeld. In front of exactly this window in the barracks of the asylum seeker’s house where he now stands in front of as an official Swiss citizen.

He has had a Swiss passport for four years. He now lives with his wife and two children in a small village in Thurgau.

Enough talking. Salomon points to the barracks next door. He now has to check with his ‘colleagues’ whether everything is going well. He means the UMA.

It’s Sunday afternoon. A day of rest, also in the asylum seekers’ house in Frauenfeld. The teenagers and young adults have free time. Unless they suffer from scabies, which recently became rampant in the asylum seeker center. Infected people must temporarily stay in their room to prevent further spread.

The barracks, which currently house 18 unaccompanied minors, is sparsely furnished and poorly insulated. The young people share a bathroom, a kitchen and a common room. Their rooms are along a long, dark corridor.

Salomon runs down the hallway and knocks on the bedroom doors. Some young people open their tired eyes, nod skeptically at him, wanting to quickly return to their rumpled beds. Staring into her phone. For the rest of the day.

Others open with a broad smile, greet Solomon with a handshake and joke in Arabic.

The rooms are dark, stuffy, small. Barely ten square meters designed for four residents – although only two young people currently share a room. There is a double-decker bed on the right and left and a table in the middle. There is a window above.

For two and a half years, Solomon lived in a room as small as the young people he cares for today. That’s how long he waited for his asylum decision. The wait is grueling and frustrating for many asylum seekers:

The federal government wants to take action against this potential for frustration. In November 2023, a pilot project was launched at the federal asylum center in Zurich: the 24-hour procedure. It is aimed at people from countries that have little chance of asylum. However, asylum seekers from countries where the investigation is more complex – as in the case of Solomon – can remain stuck in asylum centers for two years or more. Waiting. Hoping.

Solomon advises asylum seekers to keep one goal in mind. He did it this way himself. Concentrated on learning German and trying to complete an internship. When he received the positive asylum decision, he could immediately start his new life. Started training as a plate layer.

What if Switzerland had rejected his request? “Then I would have learned a new language and gained professional experience. Either way, my efforts would not have been in vain.” Salomon tries to pass on this perspective of his time in the asylum center to the young people. He has no other motivating arguments. Because:

Solomon tells how he has already had to painfully say goodbye to countless integrated, motivated asylum seekers whose applications Switzerland had rejected. And at the same time he saw how other asylum seekers who showed no interest in Switzerland, its culture, its language or learning a job, were allowed to stay. “At this point I don’t think our asylum system is fair.”

The problem is that the fate of asylum seekers is determined by people who know absolutely nothing about the person. “Asylum seekers are just a number.” Of course that is demotivating. Dehumanizing. But he couldn’t change that.

It’s dusk outside. And in the UMA barracks, two young people from Afghanistan start preparing dinner. Solomon joins them and lends a hand.

The three talk about the trial internship with a plumber in Thurgau that the 17-year-old, self-proclaimed chef is going to do. He says he is happy and excited to see if he will like the job.

‘I was there too. “I didn’t like it that much,” the other teen interjects. He himself would prefer to go into logistics. Or IT. Solomon believes he should definitely try both professions. See what he likes more. But: “Logistics and IT are both good. Switzerland could use someone like you in both areas.”

The teenager beams. “Solomon is my role model,” he says later. Thanks to him, he learned German so quickly and wanted to complete his internship as quickly as possible. He says it in almost perfect standard German, even though he has only lived in Switzerland for a year. Solomon is not moved by this compliment, but rather proud. “Like a father,” he says himself. The young people giggle.

The two unaccompanied minors make a motivated impression. Especially thanks to Salomon? He shrugs.

Solomon emphasized several times that day that – despite his background – he could not perform miracles. Whether someone integrates well still depends solely on himself. But he will always support those who are willing to work towards a better future. Because: