Racism: My Experience at the Ukraine, Polish Border

So on December 31, 2011, my Guinean friends and I began our journey from Odesa by train to Lviv—where we would later board a bus to Warsaw, Poland. As the world was awaiting a new year, we were excited to begin our new year in Schengen Europe.

In Lviv, we boarded the bus going to Warsaw. We were the only black inside the bus—the three of us. We were prepared for an interrogation at the border. We had booked and paid for our hotel rooms in Warsaw, received a letter of permission from our university’s international dean, had our international student ID cards with us, and also had enough dollars to prove our means of survival in Warsaw. We did all this because we had heard stories of black people being deported back to Ukraine even with a valid Schengen tourist visa. The Polish border guards’ claim has always been that many black people use Poland as a point of entry to other Schengen countries to seek asylum. And, to be fair, they’re right. But the challenge is, how can they distinguish genuine tourists apart from intended asylum seekers or illegal migrants? That’s where the interrogation comes to play. Still, they’re wrong in the way they treat black people, justifying their actions with “they’re doing their job.” Because I know for a fact that other white people also run to Schengen Europe to seek asylum or work there illegally.

As we arrived at the Polish border, the guards stopped our bus for checking. They checked the bus and then later entered the bus to verify our travel documents and visas. I monitored their pattern of checking: they would look at the white people’s passports once or twice and collect them for entry stamp. So when it was our turn, they checked our passports like five times, looking at our faces for any resemblance. When they weren’t satisfied, they asked us to get down the bus. It was winter and very cold. We got down and so the interrogation began. Where are you guys going? Where are you guys staying? How many days are you guys staying? Who is sponsoring your trip? Any letter of approval from your university? When will you guys return to Ukraine? How much do you guys have in cash? (Credit or debit cards would not be accepted, because they had had people use that when they had nothing). We knew all this beforehand and we had prepared for it.

After almost an hour of questioning, they stamped two of us and told us our third friend would not be allowed in but follow them to their office. They told the two of us to enter the bus and we left. We were worried. We didn’t know what our friend did wrong and we couldn’t communicate with him. When we finally got the chance to communicate with him, he told us they’d return him to Ukraine. Our earlier excitement turned sour. All the plans we had planned together got shattered but we had to move on.

Later that midnight, it was already new year across Europe, we tried to reach our friend again but this time, luckily, he was already on his way to Warsaw. How did you do it? We asked.

The problem was with his passport. He was asked whether he had travelled out of Ukraine before. He answered in the negative. The guards didn’t believe him. They asked him if he had been to Spain before? Negative again. The guards weren’t convinced. So they contacted Interpol in Spain to confirm his passport. Interpol confirmed it. Yet, our friend stuck to his words, insisting that he hasn’t been to Spain before. To be sure, the guards asked Interpol to send the picture of the person who had committed a big crime in Spain and had been on the run. Interpol did. It turned out to be someone else. So what was the problem? The criminal on the run has the same data as our friend’s. The same first name and surname. The same date of birth. The same country. The same state. In Guinea, many people have similar first names and surnames. Surnames like Diallo, Cisse, Kombassa and Keita are very common.

Another thing that saved our friend apart from the picture sent by Interpol, was the number 1 added as a suffix to his first name. He had been using it that way since his primary school days. When he was young, in his class, they’re two bearing the same name. So it confused the class sometimes. And because our friend was a brilliant student, the teacher added 1 to his name, and since then all his documents carried 1 as a suffix to his name.

When we finally reunited in Warsaw in the morning, we were excited and our plans of exploring Europe together came alive again. On January 2, 2012, we decided to travel to Paris and experience the overhyped city. I had wanted to see the Eiffel Tower and, as a book lover, to go to the Shakespeare Bookshop in Paris. We didn’t plan for our Paris journey before we left Ukraine, so in Warsaw, we were looking for a cheaper means to get to Paris. But then, we realized that Berlin is just 5 hours away by train, we then decided to go to Berlin first and later to Paris. A big mistake.

When we got on the train to Berlin, we were happy, taking pictures and enjoying the views. As we were almost close to Berlin, a police officer approached us. Then racial profiling and travel control were common. The police officer asked for our passports. He then asked us some questions. When he wasn’t satisfied, he then called their office in Berlin to verify our data. Unsatisfied, he told us we would follow him to the police station. As the train halted at the Berlin Main Station, we followed him to the police station. Which, to us, wasn’t a friendly and human way to welcome tourists to a country. But we’re black. We could be welcomed anyhow. We had no political and economic power to challenge such treatment.

At the police station close to the train station, the officers there began to check our passports, punching our data into their system. They didn’t check mine for long. But they checked my friends longer than usual. Then began another questioning. This time, it wasn’t for the friend who was delayed at the Polish border but the other one. Similar case. In the end, they found them innocent and let us go. We explored Berlin for a day and returned to Warsaw to enjoy the rest of our winter holiday.

In 2014, when the war in the Donbas region of Ukraine was going on, I applied for a Schengen tourist visa to Poland again. I planned to enjoy my summer holiday in Warsaw but also apply for a student visa to the US. Killing two birds with one stone? That’s my intention. But with my previous experience at the Polish border in 2012, I decided to take a flight, thinking that it’d be much easier and better. I was wrong! As as I landed at the Chopin International Airport in Warsaw, waiting in line to be stamped in, the immigration officer began to interrogate me. Not again, I muttered.

The immigration officer called one of his colleagues and asked me to follow him. All eyes followed me. I felt like a criminal. The immigration officer took me inside a room and the interrogation began. I was speaking both Russian and English at the same time, explaining why I took a bus the last time I travelled to Warsaw and why I was travelling by flight this time. They kept asking me questions. After a while, they left me. But I was calm. If it was at this time with the knowledge and confidence I have now, I would have exploded. But I was calm like still water, praying they let me in and not shatter my American dream.

They left me in that room for 2 hours, perhaps monitoring my reactions and body language. A friend who lived in Warsaw at the time had offered to pick me up at the airport. He waited in vain. When he didn’t see me, he left. After two hours of delay, they finally stamped me in. They had confirmed my stay at the hotel I booked and also confirmed my return ticket back to Ukraine. When I look back at that horrible experience, I question the place of the black man in the 21st century? Whether you’re a privileged or learned black person, you still carry the black body that will make people question your humanity and your rights to freedom of movement. The black man is cursed and until our leaders strive to empower us economically, only then will other people take us seriously. And respect us.