Cameroonian Lionel came to Lithuania in July 2021 with the largest wave of irregular migrants crossing from Belarus. He says he left Cameroon because his life was at risk. In Belarus, he was granted asylum but did not receive any help from the state, so he used the first opportunity to get to a safer country. In Lithuania, his asylum case has been rejected and Lionel is facing deportation despite having a fiancée and a son here.
“When leaving Belarus, we didn’t know the precise country we were going to. We didn’t know if it was Poland, Latvia, or Lithuania – we just wanted somewhere which is better than Belarus,” Lionel says about his journey to Lithuania.
Lionel arrived in Belarus with a student visa. He says he fled home in the south of Cameroon not in search of a richer life in Europe but because of the ongoing conflict between the country’s Armed Forces and the separatist rebel groups.
“My father was a cacao and coffee farmer. I’m not a poor kid. I came from a very rich family. But as a result of the war, my dad was killed, he was shot right in front of us,” he says.
According to Lionel, the Cameroonian soldiers killed his father because they accused him of sponsoring the war. “My father used to give the rebels money because these people threatened him with weapons, so he had no other choice but to pay them off.”
Moreover, Lionel says, the rebels, some of whom he had known since childhood, encouraged him to join the war on their side, “but this was not what I wanted for myself”. So, it got to a point where both sides “were after our lives”.
“I came to Belarus with my cousin. My mother used the remaining savings she had to smuggle us out of Cameroon. [...] The place which was fastest and easiest to go to was Belarus because we had the visa within two weeks,” the man explains.
In Belarus, Lionel told the migration officers his story and was granted asylum as a result. He says he hasn’t been able to contact his mother since leaving Cameroon and has no idea if she is still alive.
Meeting in Lithuania
Despite Lionel having the status of an asylum seeker in Belarus, the state did not provide him with any support, the Cameroonian man says.
“I was an asylum seeker in Belarus for six months, and it wasn’t easy. I used to sleep on the streets, I had no accommodation, I couldn’t get a job because I didn’t speak Russian. So I had to leave, and when I heard that the borders were open, I told my friends, I’m going,” he recalls.
Lionel says he and four other migrants met a driver in one shopping mall who took them to Belarus’ border with Lithuania, charging 50 dollars each.
“He took us there, but we didn’t know the roads, we didn’t know anything. We were too scared to go to the border control because we thought they would send us back. So we just entered the forest and started running,” he explains.
“When the border guards met us, we were in the forest for almost a day. They brought us into a centre, took down our names, dates of birth, and the following day, we were all brought to Pabradė [Foreigners’ Registration Centre],” he adds.
In Pabradė, Lionel met D. from Eritrea, who asked for her full name not to be used in this article. She crossed into Lithuania from Belarus at around the same time but with a different group of migrants.
D. says she first fled Eritrea, where she was facing compulsory military service, to Ethiopia.
“At that time, a lot of young people were going to Ethiopia, which was at least better because you wouldn’t be in the military, you could just look for any small job,” she explains.
But then a civil war started in Ethiopia, and the Eritrean officials used it as an opportunity to go to the neighbouring country and look for young Eritreans who could be brought back home and called up for military service.
“The Eritrean soldiers were coming to Ethiopia and taking us back. So I was looking for a way to leave Ethiopia, and luckily, I found an agent who said that I could use all my documents and go to Belarus as a student,” D. says.
“I was in Belarus as a student, but I was looking for a way to be in a safer country because I knew that Belarus was not safe for me either,” she adds. “Then, one day, we heard a rumour that the Lithuanian border was open. I used the opportunity to come to Lithuania, and I asked for asylum here.”
‘Mentally draining’ conditions
D. spent two months in the Foreigners’ Registration Centre in Pabradė. She was later moved to the Medininkai migrant camp where she stayed for a month until her asylum case was accepted.
Lionel, meanwhile, spent 15 months in Pabradė. His asylum request was rejected, motivating that he didn’t provide enough evidence to back up his case, that not enough people died in the war in Cameroon, and that he could go back and stay in other parts of his home country, the man says.
The Migration Department did not share information about Lionel’s case with LRT, as “the data collected in the files of asylum seekers is considered confidential”, it said.
Talking about the conditions in the migrant camp, Lionel admits that the time he spent there was challenging mentally because of the restrictions on the foreigners’ freedoms.
“For the first four months, we were in an open camp, and we could mix with other people. [...] After that, the camp was closed, and we were kind of like in detention. Mentally everybody was drained because we couldn’t leave, so it was not a good experience,” he says.
On August 8, 2022, Lionel was allowed to leave the Foreigners’ Registration Centre when the Lithuanian government decided to grant the rejected asylum seekers freedom of movement and a right to work after 12 months of detention. He then moved to Vilnius where he reunited with D.
Looking for job
The couple now has a six-month-old son, who was born in Lithuania and was issued Lithuanian documents. Nevertheless, their life is complicated by Lionel’s lack of legal status in Lithuania.
They could not get married because Lionel’s name is not in Lithuanian registers. It is also difficult for him to find a job in Lithuania because he cannot open a bank account here, and most employers refuse to pay in cash.
“Coming out of the migrant camp in August, I was granted a work permit. At least that eased things a little for me because I could work. But working without having the opportunity to open a bank account makes things really difficult,” the man says. “It’s like they want us to be free and they don’t want us to be free at the same time because our privileges are reduced.”
Lionel has already worked as a pizza chef, at the construction site, in social care, and at environmental management companies Ecoservice and Ekonovus in Vilnius. But none of these jobs lasted more than a couple of months, and the Cameroonian man has now been unemployed for three months, which, he says, has started to put financial pressure on the family.
“It cannot be a permanent job because we work under an agent, and this agent treats you the way he wants because it’s not direct employment,” he explains. “But I’d like to work because I need to provide for my family.”
According to the Interior Ministry, the migrants who were refused asylum in Lithuania can exercise their right to work, as an exception was made for them in the Labour Code. The main issue, therefore, is employers’ refusal to pay in cash.
“In view of the fact that asylum seekers who have been refused asylum face difficulties in opening bank accounts because they do not have identity documents and/or residence permits in the Republic of Lithuania, Article 139 of the Labour Code has been amended and an exception has been made to allow them to be paid in cash,” Mindaugas Bajarūnas, head of Strategic Communications Department at the Interior Ministry, said in a written reply.
D. also worked in social care for some time after Lionel was laid off from his last job. As an asylum seeker, she had more rights and could open a bank account, so it was easier for her to get employed. But with a newborn baby, working was not easy, so she quit, the Eritrean woman explains.
Deportation case
Lionel and D. say they would like to continue living in Lithuania.
“That’s why we’re still here. A lot of our friends, a lot of the people, who came to Lithuania together with us, left,” they say.
Only a handful of around 4,200 migrants, who crossed from Belarus in 2021, have stayed in Lithuania, while the rest fled the country, mostly to Western Europe. The Cameroonian man admits that his friends urged him to go with them to France or Germany, but he stayed in Lithuania because he now has a family here.
The couple says that it is difficult for them to think about the future because of Lionel’s lack of legal status in Lithuania, but they hope that at least his deportation case will be withdrawn.
“They told me I was up for deportation until February,” Lionel says. “This whole thing, as I understand, is politics. Yes, I moved into Lithuania illegally, but I think I’ve paid for that crime because I was locked up for 15 months. Now, I really want them to approve of me being in Lithuania because I have a family – my fiancée and my son – here.”
“I’ve been in Lithuania for a long time now. In my time out of the migrant camp, I was working, I paid my taxes, I didn’t commit any crime. I don’t cause trouble, I’m friendly to the society, so I don’t know why they just can’t grant me asylum and give me the possibility to stay in this country,” he continues.
The NGO Sienos Grupė (Border Group), which provides assistance to migrants, is now helping Lionel and D. by covering the Cameroonian man’s legal costs in his battle for the right to stay in Lithuania.
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