In the first of a series looking at the lives of asylum seekers and refugees in Nottingham, 36-year-old Zimbabwean Tendai tells JO ROBERTS why he was forced to flee his country for a new life here

THE horror of being dragged from his classroom by an aggressive political gang, locked up and thrashed repeatedly, is one that Zimbabwean teacher Tendai will never be able to put behind him.

It changed the course of his life forever. "I was arrested, beaten, and, as it became worse, I gradually realised 'this is not going to end'," remembers the 36-year-old of the two years before he fled to the UK to claim asylum.

Tendai, who cannot be identified further for fear of worsening his situation should he ever return to Zimbabwe, was recently granted the right to remain here for five years and now lives in Lenton with his wife and two young sons, both born in the UK.

It's a far cry from his last years in Zimbabwe before he made a desperate escape in 2002.

Under the oppressive regime of President Robert Mugabe and his ZANU-PF party, Tendai was working as a teacher in the farming region of Chinhoyi in 2000.

He remembers:"There was an election campaign by war veterans who were giving beatings and forcing people to become supporters of ZANU-PF.

"I don't really know how or why the information was passed on that I was supporting the opposition – I wasn't politically active, I thought I'd rather stay out of it.

"But the war veterans came to our school and myself and six other teachers were interrogated.

"They forced us to pledge our allegiance. We were beaten," said Tendai, who understandably finds it hard to go into the details.

"After going through torture, we eventually just said what they wanted to hear so that they would release us.

"I was moved to another school in a bigger town. But those same people found me again and followed it up. This time it was much worse, much more intense.

"My house was burgled and I reported the case to the police, but they said my name was on the blacklist because I was supporting ZANU-PF's opposition. There were more beatings.

"The threats got worse and worse, and that's when I realised 'this thing is not coming to an end. I have no protection from the law. If I leave for a while, when things settle down I can come back'.

"That's how I decided to get away from Zimbabwe."

Fortunately, Tendai was living some distance from his parents, so he didn't feel they were in danger by association.

He had just married Patience, but she was teaching in a different region to Tendai so she didn't face danger either.

The couple came to the painful decision that Tendai should flee as soon as possible, even if that meant temporary separation.

Speaking of his departure, he said: "It wasn't well planned. I heard from a friend that he could help me. He gave me money to get to South Africa and to get a plane from there to the UK.

"I couldn't stay in South Africa, it is very close to Zimbabwe and they were just deporting people back. They had no asylum structure.

"I thought England would be best because we speak the language in Zimbabwe, and because I knew someone there. Also, my father had studied at Bristol University and so he had told me a lot about the country."

Tendai didn't have chance to visit his parents first.

"They didn't realise I had fled until I got to South Africa and called them. It was a very painful situation.

"Later, in 2006, my father passed away and that was a very tough time for me. I couldn't even go back to bury him or to be with my family. I was just stranded here."

But saying goodbye to Patience was the hardest thing. "She felt it even more, I think; when I left she became depressed and several times she had to be hospitalised. It was partly the uncertainty and separation, because the political situation in Zimbabwe wasn't getting any better."

On his arrival in the UK at Heathrow Airport in September 2002, Tendai found his reception was not the kindly one he desperately needed.

"I thought this would be a friendly place. My father had told me good things about England. I had high hopes that I would get the protection that I needed," he said.

"The first harsh reality was the cold – it was freezing on the day that I arrived and I had only jeans and a shirt. Then, when I went through Immigration and claimed asylum, I was told I would be released that same day after interviews.

"Instead, I was taken to a detainment centre in Oxfordshire and kept there.

"I thought, 'Here we go again! Why am I being treated like a criminal?' Compared to where I had come from it was better, but at the same time, deep down I felt, 'How can this be? They have an asylum system to deal with people who have been subjected to persecution, so why am I being treated this way?'

"I was kept in detention for one week. We couldn't go out, I couldn't even get a lawyer. I had only $25 in my pocket."

Tendai says that a comprehensive explanation of how to proceed through the asylum system was not offered through the official channels. Instead, he learned what he could from other detainees.

He said: "At first, because of what I had been through, I found it very difficult to trust the officials and to explain fully the answers to all their questions. Later you find out this damages your asylum application when it gets to your hearing – they base it on the facts that you gave immediately on arrival."

When Tendai was eventually released, he was provided with a train ticket to Leicester, where he had a friend he could stay with.

"Others were put in a hostel anywhere in the country where there was space, but because I could provide an address in Leicester, they let me go there," he explained.

In Leicester, Tendai was able to collect National Asylum Support Service (NASS) tokens of about £42 for food and drink each week while he endured the lengthy wait for a decision on whether he could stay. He didn't contemplate working illegally for fear of endangering his application.

Two years later, Patience, who had eventually been located and targeted by Tendai's former persecutors, also fled to the UK. Reunited, the couple were transferred to NASS accommodation – which is not general council housing stock – in Lenton.

But it wasn't an easy time.

"When you see people going about their day-to-day activities, going to work, and you can't go to work or even to college or university, it was difficult. We were used to going to work to teach every day.

"I always thought, 'Why can't I also do something? I could just work two or three days a week to support us, and then the authorities could cut back on the vouchers they provide'. Just sitting down and doing nothing, you start to think of your situation and these things really weigh you down.

"You feel like you are a burden on people, which is not a good feeling at all."

Sadly, Tendai's situation was made worse by the reaction of some local people.

"Some are sympathetic and understand why I had to come here, but some people were very unfriendly – they would say 'You're a scrounger!' It could happen in the street or if you started talking to someone who asked about your accent. There was hostility, yet they all know about Robert Mugabe," said Tendai.

In order to do something productive with his time, Tendai got involved with local charity Refugee Action, based in Castle Boulevard, in 2006. With a British volunteer, he visited local schools and community groups to raise awareness of asylum issues.

"If the economy is not performing well, asylum seekers become scapegoats," he said.

"Visiting schools and community groups, some people were still hostile. But when you visited church groups, it was like talking to the converted and they were very friendly."

In recent weeks, Tendai and Patience have been granted leave to remain for five years.

It means they are now free to seek work or regain qualifications through education since their teaching qualifications are not recognised in the UK.

They can make a semi-permanent life for themselves and their two boys, Vambai, four, and Tom, two, who were both born in the UK.

But after five years is up, their future is uncertain yet again. "People are still being victimised in Zimbabwe, especially in the farming areas, so I wouldn't say it's safe. But home is where the heart is; it's something that you can't take out of you. There is that part always missing that you had when you were back home."

jo.roberts@nottinghameveningpost.co.uk