A visit to the squats of Brussels several months ago revealed the power of community at the heart of a devastating living situation. Several months later, one of these squats has shut its doors. The Brussels Times spoke to a former inhabitant to understand the impact of the removal.
Squats have appeared all over Brussels in recent months with a view to using some of the city's many vacant buildings as accommodation for struggling asylum seekers. Belgium's reception crisis has triggered the proliferation of squats, as over 4,000 people are waiting for asylum and decisions such as suspending reception of single men have left some with nowhere else to go.
Mustafa alYazouri is one such individual. The 30-year-old Palestinian came to Belgium last year and found himself on a lengthy waiting list. He was forced to fend for himself and sought shelter in a squat in the city centre, which has since closed.
"There was a sense of community in the squat," alYazouri told The Brussels Times. "We try to keep in touch because if we don’t meet regularly we won't have much of a social life."
Mustafa alYazouri. Credit: The Brussels Times
The initiative provided temporary accommodation for around 40 single men but closed on 1 June when an agreement with the property owner ended. The latter party paid for the evicted residents to stay in a hotel for two weeks, but after that, the tenants were on their own again. Some went to other squats, some sought help from homeless organisation Samusocial and others resorted to sleeping rough.
Since the closure, "no housing solution has been provided, not by the Federal Government nor by the region, meaning they will end up on the streets again," the collective running the squat stated in a press release. "There is no shortage of space but no constructive solution is being put forward by the government."
'It feels like the authorities are against me'
AlYazouri moved out of the squat before it closed. After months of waiting, he received a place in a reception centre in Hotton (Luxembourg province). However, his situation has since deteriorated: the centre turned him away for failing to show up five days consecutively (residents must notify the centre when they spend the night away). AlYazouri denies that this occurred and says his social assistant was aware.
While the centre is not ideal, it provides a roof over his head and brings a sense of stability. "Hotton is 3.5 hours away from Brussels and there is no sense of community. But it is a good, clean place." He works in Brussels as he only receives €57 a week from Belgium's asylum reception agency Fedasil and needs to earn more money to send to his wife and two-year-old son in Gaza.
AlYazouri is now reapplying to Fedasil and hopes they will give his file priority in light of his difficulties in Hotton. "It feels like the authorities are against me, but I don't cause problems and I have a good relationship with social assistants," he said.
People waiting to apply for asylum in Brussels. Credit: Belga / Eric Lalmand
Belgium's reception crisis is having a devastating impact on mental health and well-being: some on the waiting list even resort to self-harm as Fedasil tends to prioritise people with injuries.
The situation is particularly severe for Palestinian asylum seekers with relatives back home. "Waiting for news from their families in Gaza, waiting for housing, waiting for a decision on their procedure: the psychological pressure on Palestinian refugees is becoming untenable," the collective stated.
Despite the lamentable circumstances, AlYazouri remains irrepressibly cheerful and optimistic: "I have to feel hopeful so I can get through the day and live for tomorrow. We [Palestinians] love to live. My journey has been tough and long. If I had the chance to explain my situation to a judge, they would grant me residency."
