Refugee turns his life around until red tape gets in the way

MY NAME is Richard Hakizimana. I was born in Burundi’s north-wester n province of Cibitoke, which borders the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and Rwanda.

With recurring conflicts in my country, my brother and I were sent to the then-Zaire to further our education and I managed to matriculate at the Jesuit College of Bukava in eastern DRC in 1993. I then joined the Brothers of Charity and was trained as a teacher at the Institut supérieur pédagogique de Bukavu, where I obtained a teacher’s qualification.

I was preparing to go to Belgium to further my education when the war that swept Laurent Desire Kabila into power broke out in November 1996.

I was advised not to risk returning to Burundi, so made my way to South Africa. In Joburg, I met different people who helped me to learn English and organise me piece jobs. I was befriended by a woman, Lesley Holmes, who intro- duced me to the Hubbard College where I did many courses and met more people. One was Alan Murray, a seasoned trainer in management services, who arranged for me to join his business, where unemployed commerce graduates were further trained and placed with different companies.There were 30 recruits and at the end of the course only the top 10 were hired. I was among those. Within a year, I was promoted to the management team.

The time I spent at the company was the most productive, enjoyable and happy time of my life. The job entailed the recruiting, selection, training, assessment and placement into different accounting firms of our graduates.

Eighty percent came from townships, who had given up their dreams and taken jobs as cleaners, packers in shops and so on. We saw lives changed. Unfortunately, the Department of Labour insisted that the company could not employ me as I was a foreigner, a refugee.

My boss tried to convince them of the value and services I had to offer, but to no avail. They wanted a South African to do the job.

I have struggled to get back into teaching.

It’s difficult because I don’t have certificates of graduation from the DRC, although I have tried for years to have them replaced.

I now live on odd jobs, including tutoring, driving, painting, as an au pair, housekeeping, dog-walking and translating, but still have hope.