Lost and Found in Transit

When seven-year-old Sasha spoke to her mother on the phone, she begged to go home.

Tears ran down the girl's cheeks as her mother explained. But, Sasha (not her real name) could not understand.

She had arrived in Canada from Angola with her two teenage sisters as refugees. It had cost almost $10,000 to arrange visas and the smuggler. The mother couldn't afford passage for herself.

The mother knew the girls would fare better in Canada. So, she sent the girls alone.

But, Sasha believed she had been abandoned.

"We knew going back was not good for her," says Francisco Rico-Martinez, co-director of the FCJ Refugee Centre, who took the sisters in. "But for the first two or three years, she was confused."

Sasha, an unaccompanied minor, is just one child who sought refugee status alone. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees estimates 12,800 like her traveled to industrialized countries in 2003, not including the United States. That's between four and five percent of all asylum-seekers.

It's a tricky situation for the system - what do you do with a lone, child refugee? More importantly, how do you ensure their needs are met?

The first challenge is obvious at the airport.

Anyone can claim refugee status in-country - including children. Upon arrival, the child just needs to ask for protection. Then, an officer interviews them and assigns legal representation for the claims process. If under 16, they contact Children's Aid to find a foster home.

That ideal isn't reality.

Many children travel with smugglers who are either ill-informed or fear arrest. They tell the kids to say the smuggler is a relative otherwise risk deportation. Then, the smuggler either abandons the child or drops them off at a shelter.

That's how Sasha found Rico-Martinez.

The sisters entered Canada through the United States using fake visas to land in New York. A smuggler then drove them to a Buffalo shelter specializing in helping refugees into Canada. The shelter called Rico-Martinez for Toronto accommodation.

"When we told them they would stay with us, they started crying they were so happy," he says. "But, with the youngest, she didn't understand why her mother sent her."

Like most unaccompanied minors, Sasha felt abandoned. Others tried to explain Canada offered more opportunity. But, Sasha couldn't grasp the danger posed in Angola. At school, she met other refugee children whose parents had accompanied them.

Sasha tried creating a new family, insisting everyone call Rico-Martinez her father. They obliged. But Sasha still deeply missed her true mother.

"She always asked, "What am I doing here?" says Rico-Martinez.

For the first few years, Sasha had trouble. Now 15, she is adjusting. Her mother has still been unable to afford her own ticket to Canada. Plus, the girls' own refugee claims took years to be approved so reunification has been slow.

Through Rico-Martinez's efforts though, she made friends and excels in school.

Most don't get this attention.

Unaccompanied minors have rights to services like schooling and healthcare - though sometimes not immediately. Most find lodging in foster homes or homeless shelters. These places help but are not equipped with services like translation so the children can understand these rights.

Without help, they risk deportation, dropping out or miss out on these opportunities altogether. Worse, many become involved in gangs for protection, money and survival.

When that happens, the hope for a better life is dashed.

Canada does not keep accurate statistics of how many unaccompanied minors arrive each year. But, based on past evidence, there could be hundreds congregating in Vancouver, Toronto and Montreal this year.

Whatever the number, they risk being lost in transit.