The asylum seeker's letter from a London prison

A short humorous story by Brian Moyo

Dear Father Thompson in London. If you are at this moment holding this missive and reading it, it means you are still alive and kicking well.

That makes me happiest person in all world, including all small villages, towns and cities and all continents and islanders I never seen or heard of. And if such good fortune is upon you, Father, that you are alive, well and can read with your own eyes, I will praise the almighty for a long time.

As you know, many old peoples do not see good at all. Some can read only with big glass that make small letters big. Others have to carry white sticks to tap around them as they walk to shops or bus stop. That is why you be very lucky Father if you can still see good, because I think you are now somewhere between 80 and 85 years.

Anyway, just to know that this missive has finally reached your hands after the postman has delivered it to your address will not fail to fill my heart with joy, love and hope.

It really funny Father, but as I hold this biro and making it spill out the words on writing paper, I am trying to think what you now look like.  I saw you last when you was standing in front of worshippers at our Roman Catholic church in Luveve township in Zimbabwe. I remember too good that you was wearing your church collar, holding your bible, preaching and preaching until you run out of breath and out of words.

The funny thing in my head, when trying to think of your face Father, is that you look the same way you did twenty years ago, your face doesn't want change even a little bit. Ah! and I start remembering too the lessons you taught me from the old bible you never put down.  You remember those many years ago also, Father when I was a picanini?

Heee! Heee! Father I sure hoping you remember me!  I was naughty boy number one, always cause trouble by fights with other boys or sometimes run away from school to ride donkeys in the forest.

You remember well the tallest boy in church you catch drinking blessed wine behind altar? That was me. But I am grown up man now. I wish I had listen very much to your good words of wisdom and learnt and learnt until I could learn no more. But I run away from school and join band where I play guitar. Many girls liked me very much when I play in band.

But first let me tell you why I am writing this missive and where I am as I note down the words you are reading now. I am in a prison in London, at a place they call Brixton.

I arrive in London three years past now with the band. We play everywhere, here and there and make many people dance like crazy monkeys. Many times white people come and smile at me and say my guitar sound like Jimmy Hendricks. When it was time for band to return home, a girl I love say to me. "Don't go back, Jabu, stay with me. You can go to college and improve your learning because you can't play guitar until you are old man."

Many people also tell me education is good in London and afterwards you get job with more and more money. But to tell the whole truth, my papers are not in right order to stay and work in London. But I found job and work hard before police found out and arrest me for immigration reason.

The thing that I want to ask you Father is this - can you help to get me out of this Brixton prison?

Not just me. I am including two friends, Jamal and Abuja. They want to get out prison also. Jamal is thin tall man from Somali and Abuja is big and strong, he comes all way from Nigeria in Western Africa. Abuja tell me when I first know him that he come from a village near Ibadan, but now he say he come from Lagos.

Together, we three, are good friends who come to England to look for work, study hard at college, go to university, find best work so to send money home to our families and then go back after some years.

Jamal and Abuja are always with me. Even before they put us three in Brixton prison cell, we were together in working place, and in flat we share and also in church where we pray.

Jamal and me are also sad about cold weathers in London. We talk many time, saying whoo! London is so cold and not like hot Africa where fish can cook in river water when the sun is hot like oven! But Abuja say: "Hot sunshine in Africa where we come from never for one day put food in any belly, that is why we come to cold place, to escape hunger and dizziness after hunger hit you many times."

But in serious talk we talk about plans to save big moneys for buy big houses in Zimbabwe, Somali and Nigeria. You see, Father we are really good people. We not trouble no one. So for all us jail is hard and baddest place. Please, please, please, Father, help get us out! Help, Help, help now quick!

We done nothing bad, like stealing, robber or murder someone. The biggest truth to you is we have done not a single sin. God is witness to us together.

We was arrested right in middle of night. We was very fast asleep as we was tired like old donkeys that work all day in the fields and not eat even one grass. We work hard for five days in one week in building sites. Me, Jamal and Abuja work there with building men who wear hard hats. Before I find work there, I never seen a building where no bricks and cement were used.
Ha! These building men use wires, panels and frames made of metal and long and short pipes to build very tall buildings. For all day long me, Jamal and Abuja carry these things from lorries to the builders. It is no joke when I say the work is hard.

When I tell Abuja I am too tired, he say. "Sing song like me when you carry heavy building things. You feel less tired when your ears enjoy music."

Abuja always sing a song called; Sweet mother I never forget you for suffering you suffer for me. Sometimes tear come down him eyes and I say, why a big man like you cry like this? He say: "I missing my home and mother." Jamal just shake head and say: "Let's work faster, guys."

Jamal is clever chap and talks more English than Abuja and me. But when I tell him not call me or Abuja "guy" because the word means someone not with a good heart, he shakes his head and just laugh and laugh!

But I must tell you the story about how the three of us were arrested. Four policemen broke into our flat door in the middle of night. I don't know what time, but I think even witches had gone to bed. Hey! The police pull us rough from our beds and make us wear our trousers and shirts. Their leader say to us: "You are under arrest for being illegal immigrants. After you go to court, you will be sent back to Africa."

Oh! How we cry and beg the police to feel sorry for us! But the police leader just shake him big head and laugh and say. "Don't  waste your time and your breath begging me."

To tell you the whole truth, Father, we don't want to return to Africa now. May be a few more years when we have save some money we can return with some things for our families. We can't just go with empty hands. People will laugh at me and say: "There is Jabu the guitar man who came back from London town without a suitcase or one pound in his pocket."

Jamal doesn't want to go back to Somalia because bad people there are waiting to hit his head with a knobkerrier. Jamal tell me better to die in London first than go Somali and meet bad men who like to kill others. He say they always hit heads with big stick or with butt of big gun until a person drops dead.

Abuja don't want to hear about going back to Nigeria. He is afraid of a juju man with powerful bad medicine. The man wait for him there forever because he say Abuja not finish yet to pay him money for sending him London way.

Juju man say that he made Abuja reach London safe without arrest, because he use powerful magic to make passport people think Abuja was a white man when he walk into Heathrow airport from Nigeria plane. Abuja has send too much money already but Juju man phone and phone all time wanting even more money still.

So if Abuja go back to Nigeria Juju man will make bad things happen very quick to him. For example all males in Abuja family, including their dogs, can go blind and see no more. Or all men in Abuja family, including his brothers, cousins and brothers-in-law, can fail to produce any babies, not even a one eyed baby.

As for me, going back home is big mistake and will present huge problems. For sure no job can come to me there. I saw someone fresh in London from home who tell me sad stories. He say many many people are looking confused walking around streets looking for jobs that are not there.

My old friends who went to school until they grew big beards are still looking for work. Even those who learn big courses and degrees at university are loafing about, or making little money selling sweets, oranges and tomatoes in the streets.  

Father, do you remember Ngwalo-Ngwalo the man with big head who used to headmaster a primary school in Luveve? He was to be seen in Bulawayo town walking without shoes until he go South Africa. They say him wife left him after he was retire from school.

If you know how pride Ngwalo-Ngwalo was, you maybe cry for him a little bit. He was always in smart suit and knew about all English jaw breakers. I know that not many white people can speak their language better than him.

Now Ngwalo-Ngwalo get a job in South Africa working hard as waiter and toilet cleaner in restaurant. This is honest truth! Sipho, my little brother who live in Johannesburg saw Ngwalo- Ngwalo with his own eyes working in the restaurant. Sipho tell me he nearly faint when he saw Ngwalo-Ngwalo washing the floor.

So if big education man like Ngwalo-Ngwalo work as waiter and cleaner in South Africa, how can low education guitar man like me find job in Zimbabwe?

Now I am in big trouble. All three of us is in big trouble. But if you talk to immigration people and tell that you know me as good person they can maybe think again. Jamal say when white men talk jaw-to-jaw they agree on many things. He also say because you are big priest who work for Africa many years, what you say will be listened to very careful.

Please Save me, Father. Save us all three together. My hope grows big and bigger when I know you read letter. Remember where I say they keep me and Jamal and Abuja? It called Brixton prison.

Brixton is place in London with many many black people live at. You see them everywhere. If you never been to Brixton prison ask some people in street, even a little child and may be tell you: "Oh, yes Brixton prison is not far far away. You walk that road, then take that next road, pass big shops and travel for some time. Then you see big building standing alone with high wall."

I will be so happy to see you enter Brixton prison to get me and my friends out. All of us want to leave the place and go to our flat. I promise now and forever and ever that if you get all us out, I will pray like no body business.  

Sometime I think I am like Daniel who was thrown into lions den for praying to God. That story you told so well Father, long time ago in Luveve township has stayed on and on in my head even today. When I think it, your picture come in my head.

You are like King Darius who asked Daniel if God had protect him. I am like Daniel when I reply with wise words you said many time. "My God sent his angel, and he shut the mouths of the lions. They have not hurt me, because I was found innocent in his sight. Nor have I ever done any wrong before you, O king." (Daniel 6:22


With help from you Father, I will be cast out of my stinking cell. I will walk free like Daniel and may be later we can all kneel and pray hard, together with Jamal and Abuja. Make no mistake about Jamal and Abuja, they have strongest Christian hearts, they smile a lot also, talk a lot and laugh a lot. When I told them i know a big priest Father Thompson who now lives in London they don't believe me first.

But I repeat and repeat until my serious truth is clear to them like sunshine. But I swear to God I no tell them about the little baby born for you by that girl Angelina who used to wash many times your shirts in church before you pregnant her.

Before I leave Zimbabwe, I saw your sonny. He has grown big, Father. I saw him walking with Angelina. He has blue eyes, just same like you Father, but he become very naughty too quick at school and beat a teacher.

Angelina cry and cry and say: "Oh! my baby make trouble too much. If Father of him, Father Thompson was there he pray for boy to become right and proper."

When I tell Angelina I was going overseas to be in London, she show me picture of your house and say may be I visit you and tell you she cries many cries thinking about you. She say you have big house next to Barking Palace where Majesty Queen and she husband stay in peace with tiny dogs and big horses.

Angelina say she likes you to send money for she and your boy sonny. Together they buy aeroplane ticket and come and live with you so she can wash wash your shirts again. She make me laugh when she say you may talk to Majesty Queen and ask her and husband if they have job for her in Barking Palace.

He! He! he! The things Angelina tell me about you and she in church make me laugh many time, Father. But I am no talkative man, specially about things such as that. I make promise to Angelina never to say anything to any soul about you and she making baby who is now trouble number one.

Now let me say a few words about Jamal, about Abuja and about me too. We are very afraid in prison. We are surround by murderers, killers, stealers of cars and stealers of money from banks. Some of men have red eyes, you think pepper has been put inside them. Abuja say one big man called Jah Rasta can scare the devil himself if he came to Brixton prison even for the shortest time.

If you just imagine that, you see straight away why Jamal say he sleep with one eye open in here, Father. That is why Abuja say I write strong letter for you before too late and say "we are in shit." But I disagree because such word as "shit" not nice. Do you know that ever since I born and learn talk talk I never talk such bad words as shit?

I only talk words that hurt no body, shock nobodies and have no insult or sin in them. Even jaw breakers I don't use at all, although I can spill them out like no body's business if I wanted. A teacher who learn me English many years ago say it many time to me; "Jabu you write well because you always use simple and good words."

So now I write simple words to you and let my biro dance across the page as I inform you my learned Father Thompson that the biggest problem for us is that we have fallen fowl of British immigration rules and regulations.

As I write, Jamal and Abuja are looking with eyes full of big hope. I make promise to them, "don't worry, Father Thompson is good and Godly man. He will come like Angel of mercy and get us out."

Abuja want to know why you pregnant Angelina if you are like Angel of Mercy so I tell him it was not your fault. I tell him Angelina tempt you badly with her short skirt and nice thighs. That is all I tell him Father. I leave out many things Angelina told me you two were doing when you were alone in church. You can trust me keep the secret forever and forever!

Before I put this missive in envelope with your address, I ask Jamal and Abuja to place hands on it. Together we pray and pray for safe journey for the letter to your holy hands, Father.

Your obedient servant in Brixton prison.

Jabu Mlilo

*The asylum seekers letter will be published in a book of five short stories by Brian Moyo, in February 2016.

For more information contact the author on:  bmoyo27@gmail.com