Ana

I remember it well. When I saw this, I knew immediately: this is child abuse. This was one of my very first cases at the National Centre for Forced Marriage and Abandonment (LKHA), and it affected me deeply.

Why not?

It involved two children: a boy who had just turned eighteen and his fifteen-year-old sister. They had supposedly been sent to visit family, but their mother had other plans. She thought: “There, in their country of origin, they will learn how things should be done.” It affected me enormously because that is not where a child belongs if they don’t know anyone there. Not if they end up on the streets. I knew how devastating that could be.
It was impossible to contact the girl. She was staying with family, but the doors were closed. No phone, no means to get in touch. But her brother — he spoke with me almost every day. Even though he no longer had any documents, no permanent place to sleep, and was living on the streets, he kept fighting for her. He said, ‘I’ll take the risk. I’m going to help her.’ Every day, even when we sometimes didn’t hear from him for days. Phones were broken or stolen. No money. No chargers. And yet he kept trying.
I remember the moments when I thought, ‘This is impossible.’ But we kept going. And slowly, step by step, with the help of COA, the consulates, the judge… we got her back.
I will never forget the moment I saw her brother again at Schiphol Airport. His eyes were full of questions. ‘Why did you help me?’ he asked. It touched me deeply. What else could I say but, ‘Why not?’

‘Why did you help me?’ he asked. It touched me deeply. What else could I say but, ‘Why not?’

Duty of care without a safety net

She was taken in by a foster family somewhere in the north. But for her brother — who had just turned eighteen — there was no foster family. Adults were expected to take care of themselves. He was sent to a shelter for adult men, but there he received no structure, no guidance, no future. It was like he fell between the cracks. Eventually, he disappeared from the radar again.
Deep down, I still feel that pain. I brought him back, but what did the Netherlands give him in return? Nothing at all. How is it possible that someone who has been through so much, who has had to survive so much, ends up being left out in the cold like that?

Unforgettable

He was the first. And maybe that’s why he will always stay with me. I was in daily contact with him. He trusted me. And I saw what it did to him. What it means to survive. Every time he lost hope, he had to get back up, persevere, keep going, no matter how difficult it was. We tried to keep in touch, we met up a few times — at the station, somewhere in the city. But one day, there was silence. Since then, I have no idea how he is doing.

What I would like to tell others

We have to stop thinking that it is normal to send children to a country they don’t know, just because they “don’t behave well enough”. Every child has the right to safety. Every child has the right to a future, regardless of where their parents come from.
This is why these stories need to be told. Because it is still happening. Much more often than we think. And because I still miss him.