The Migration Collective

Barbed Wires, Fences and Borders

Barbed Wires, Fences and Borders

There’s barbed wires everywhere, 

Inside homes. Outside of them too. 

Pieces of glass placed on the walls so no outsiders can come in

Security cameras and electric wires that companies install

If there are any trespassers within minutes a fleet of guards will come in

Barbed wires are essential for security 

I don’t fear them

I don’t have to trespass them. 

In British clubs in colonial India there were no Indians allowed

Restaurants in Lahore say ‘right of entry reserved’ 

This is for our protection of course

To protect against the wandering poor

The thieves, the troublemakers

So the ambiance of the restaurants can stay clean 

No one laughs too loudly or chews with their mouth open  

It would disturb the other guests at the restaurant

I take my son to the park 

There are security guards and metal fences with spiky edges

The gates are closed

The guard at the gate pushes one open for us  

Another guard is busy telling families to not sit on the grass 

Telling children with tattered clothes and no shoes that they can’t play here 

I make two friends

One’s father is a cook in one of the neighboring houses 

The other is his uncle’s son who has come to visit him from the village 

We eat icecreams that melt too quickly in the summer heat 

Bought from the shop next to the park that my new found friends are not allowed in 

The shop has air conditioning 

They wait outside as I pay 

They want to give my child swings in return for the half-melted icecreams 

Nothing is free and available in their world 

The security guard rushes towards us

The boys run and climb the fence to go out before he gets to them 



He tells them eating is not allowed inside the park 

I eat my icecream under the shade of a tree inside the park 

 

They stand outside 

Waiting to come in 

Waiting to be told off and run out again 

To the boys it has become a game 

We have barbed wires everywhere 

And borders 

Escaping the wires to live life and take swings becomes the destiny of some 

For some of us, we walk through the doors 

Some climb over walls with guards running behind them telling them to leave 

Some have passports that get stamped 

After a security check and a few questions you are welcomed 

For some it is a ‘game’

 

Each border a new one 

With new hurdles and challenges 

They climb over the boundary walls 

And are constantly told to get out 

The guard comes to me and tells me I have created trouble for him 

His expression solemn 

“They pluck flowers

Run astray 

They are uncontrollable

The park is not for them bibi”. 

The news tells us migrants come 

They are lawless criminals and fugitives 

They create trouble

Europe is not for them 

Barbed wires at home 

Boundary walls outside 

climbing over both perpetually–endlessly

 I ask the boy who came from a village close to okara what his father did

He is “gone to german”

One day I too will go, he says.