Sometimes I wonder if luck exists. Sometimes I wonder if
destiny exists. Sometimes I wonder if our path in life is shaped and we just
need to follow. I never wondered, because I always knew, my life and future was
not in Venezuela, and I would love to tell you how I ended up in beautiful
Dublin.
I finished my last job in Venezuela as a
co-ordinator/manager of an Italian Pastisserie. I started as “sales
assistance”, but in a short time I made my way up. That was an opportunity
after being unemployed for around 3 years and I needed to prove to my bosses I
was – like L’Oreal would say “worth it”. Because of my enthusiasm, loyalty and
dedication they offered me the position of coordinator/manager, therefore a pay
rise came with the offer (this was a big deal for me because a pay rise meant
like 20euro extra a month which was basically a bonus) but you know “every
little helps”. So I set a goal and tried to pretend that extra cash didn’t
exist and started saving it. I knew that this poor extra amount of income was
not going to get me anywhere (our Venezuelan currency is very devalued, so
getting an airplane ticket was very expensive).
I met someone who was also ambitious –
he had some financial resources, more
than I had anyway, so I proposed him a “business plan”. The business consisted
of buying and selling clothes. No stall or shop, we were just telling our friends
and acquaintances we were selling clothes and they would buy, obviously if they
liked what you were offering. The purpose was to double or even tripled what we invested. In Venezuela, this is
called “informal economy” and you get away with not paying taxes which is a
huge advantage. We would by stock for 5 euro and we would sell it on for 10 or
15 euro. Sometimes, due to my cheeky business head, we would sell it
for 20 euro. The profit sounds good, yes it was, but even so it was not enough
to afford a plane ticket. Also, my intention was to leave Venezuela, at the
latest the following year. Anyway, in the end I managed to nearly afford it, and
my friend helped with the rest.
In the meantime, when all this was happening I connected
with people on the internet, I made a few “online friends” and told them about
my ambitions, my dreams, intentions and my fears. One of the guys, whom I’m
still in touch with and lives in England, put in my head the idea of coming to
Ireland and seek for asylum. I did some research about this potential
possibility and realised that I could have a case of discrimination and
persecution for being a homosexual in Venezuela, given the circumstances I
faced as a gay man.
I remember being at the travel agency purchasing my ticket
to Dublin, very excited, but scared at
the same time because I was once deported from London, something that could
happen again. These mixed feelings were hard to deal with, but there was no way
I’d allow them to stop me and my ambition, so I organised all I had to do and
set up my trip to Ireland.
Dublin here I come…
I arrived in Dublin airport the 9th of June 2003,
with my Venezuelan passport, very little money, a small suitcase with my
clothes and a huge suitcase that contained a bundle of dreams and hopes. When I
approached immigration my heart was pounding, I don’t know how I managed to
maintain my composure myself and not to give away sings of my nervousness. I
was asked the usual questions and I told them I was coming on holidays. I had a
month plane ticket, the officer checked my documents and said “Welcome to
Dublin” and stamped my passport for a 3 months stay. 
As I am typing this, I am having those emotions again, you
have no idea the sense of relief I had. Having got through customs was the
beginning of my Irish dream come true. I remember waiting for my suitcase and
screaming in my head “I got through, I got through, I got through” and that
horrible deportation feeling was lifted from my shoulders.
13 years on, here I am, living in Dublin, Castleknock Dublin 15.
Marlon/Marlife
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