Upon approaching the boarding gate at Addis Ababa airport in Ethiopia on 25th March, I realised the airline employees in front of me were expressing denials. I was on my way for a journey to Rwanda’s capital, Kigali. However, the staff informed me I couldn’t proceed.
The staff explained that an email from Rwandan officials detailing my name had been sent to the airline, two hours earlier, barring me from the flight. I was instructed to withdraw and wait, with my passport kept by the staff.
Subsequently, I was led to the airline’s office where I enquired about the next steps. They had zero information about the reason for my restriction, advising me to consult with the Rwandan officials. It shouldn’t have surprised me when they mentioned that I needed to buy my own ticket elsewhere and my stay in the airport was limited. They retained my passport until I complied.
I’ve conducted journalism in Rwanda thrice over the previous ten years. At the young age of 24, I was tasked with reporting on the commemoration of the 20th genocide anniversary. Throughout the assignment, I engaged with Mary Robinson who talked about the stringent media regulation there. I recall that a reporter who had offended the government vanished during my stay, only to reappear in governmental custody. Some Rwandan journalists also reached out to tell me they had escaped the country entirely; Rwanda is notorious for persecuting its critics both domestically and overseas.
Towards the end of 2019, I returned to Rwanda to interact with refugees transferred from Libya, under a plan backed by the EU and UN Refugee Agency to eventually relocate them to western nations. Still residing in Uganda in early 2020, I decided to revisit them. On both these occasions, I was operating on a one-year accreditation which, the officials claimed, was issued solely because they thought I would produce “positive stories”.
The prohibition to board the flight led me to question if the officials had meticulously reviewed the flight logs and examined everyone’s details, or whether my name was already on a blacklist.
My contributions regarding the refugee predicament in Rwanda have seen light in media platforms in both the UK and US. Content about the subject is echoed in a chapter of my book, “My Fourth Time, We Drowned: Seeking Refuge on the World’s Deadliest Migration Route”. This publication was not only acknowledged as the An Post Irish Book of the Year in 2022 but also secured Britain’s leading political writing award, the Orwell Prize. This work is primarily drawn from meetings held in 2019 and 2020. It was then that I witnessed the palpable fear amongst those willing to disclose their stories, which led us to opt for secluded locations to ensure complete confidentiality.
Even after departing Rwanda, I continued to receive updates from refugees. They also sent complaints, which seemed to be overlooked, regarding their treatment. One such grievance pertained to an alleged attempted sexual misconduct towards a minor. I proceeded to publish a report only after the Rwandan authorities prematurely rebuked the young individual publicly, without formally concluding any investigations. This provoked criticism, with the spokesperson for President Paul Kagame condemning me for producing “refugee porn”. Additionally, the government-friendly New Times newspaper labelled me a fabricator of mistruths.
Subsequently, my investigative work in Rwanda was presented as evidence during the legal appeal against the UK Home Office’s Rwandan deportation scheme. This input was particularly significant considering the Home Office was utilising the EU-backed evacuation programme to justify their approach.
I had planned my latest journey to align with the 30th commemoration of the genocide, with intentions of reconnecting with individuals I conversed with back in 2014. Although my media accreditation request had not yet been confirmed when I departed for Rwanda – a common occurrence as other reporters had entered before and after me in the same situation – I anticipated being barred from working until clearance was granted. I did not expect, however, to be denied entry into the country.
Interestingly, Rwanda allows Irish nationals to obtain a visa upon arrival, a process where I faced substantial confusion when I was prevented from boarding my flight. I ponder if either my name was flagged on some list or there was a comprehensive scan of all passengers’ details. I needed several weeks to process the incident privately, attempting to remedy it to facilitate my visit. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to get a satisfying explanation behind my barring.
Before the incident, I was a part of a European Young Leaders conference hosted by the think tank Friends of Europe in Paris. The focal point of our discussion was the escalating right-wing political swing in Europe, especially with the European elections programmed for June. The heated discussion on migration formed a significant part of our dialogue.
Around the globe, particularly in the West, harsh migration policies are increasing, with their inhumanity intensifying progressively. In the UK, I am acquainted with individuals currently threatened with deportation to Rwanda. After gruelling journeys across oceans and deserts, detention experiences, and the loss of loved ones, they now live in fear. The crucial point overlooked here is that most of these individuals escaped oppressive regimes and persecution – relocation to a similar situation is a terrifying prospect.
As a journalist, my role is not to advocate policies. However, on being queried about the UK-Rwanda deal, I express my concerns about the possibility of undertaking a genuine assessment in a country that stifles criticism and opposition.
A limitation on the freedom of expression doesn’t equate to silence for everybody. Notably, Rwanda is infamous for deploying orchestrated pro-government online trolling mechanisms against journalists.
UK media regularly question me on alternate strategies the country should adopt to limit migrants’ influx, almost implying that the UK alone is a migration beacon. Recently, I stood at the Sudan-South Sudan border, witnessing an average daily southward migration of more than a thousand people for over a year. South Sudan continues to adhere to an “open door” policy. Yet, the conflict in Sudan is merely one of countless conflicts remotely acknowledged in the Western consciousness.
Rather than acknowledging the inevitability of experiencing the tremors of worldwide pain, developed nations are further fuelling oppressive dictatorships, militant groups and exploitative systems with ever increasing financial contributions. This common discord is unwavering. I found it incongruous, when in the past week, I was persistently confronted with the “visit Rwanda” slogan, whether it was during a football game on the TV, plastered on Arsenal footballers’ shirts, on the sides of football fields, or even in my own kitchen on a friend’s team jersey. I recall saying, “Feels like it’s mocking me.”
An absence of free speech doesn’t equate to silencing everyone. Rwanda has been notoriously reported for orchestrating pro-administration digital campaigns against the press. As far back as 2014, a Twitter handle that notoriously attacked dissenters was traced back to the Presidential office.
After putting my personal experience out in the open, I found myself inundated by tweets, some of which labelled me a white supremacist and a typical complainer, or suggested that my actions were merely for social capital or recognition. Some tweets were relentlessly copied onto multiple accounts, one of which chillingly read, “In Rwanda, dogs are caged when required.”
Should this transaction proceed, it is difficult to imagine how anyone dispatched to Rwanda wouldn’t have their story dominated by Rwandan and British government representatives and PR agencies, while simultaneously facing potential backlash for expressing dissent.