Muhamed Jenjaweed from Kutum to Croydon, south London, the fabricated

Quote: n the toilet, he looked at face. He looked like a homeless. He did his best to look tidy, but he couldn't. He left bathroom to survey the area in search of a big railways station. He went to a group of five persons who looked like Sudanese. They were from Darfur, but they gave him no attention. They have only showed him the direction. "Why they didn't invite to have something to eat?, he asked himself. "I will refuse if they do. They have non halal drink", he answered himself. There at the station, he met a group of Ethiopians, East Asians, Eritreans and other nationalities crowded under one tent which can accommodate one person. The tent erected under the bridge in Medio Campidano. One the fellow immigrants advised him to buy umbrella to protect him from the rain and cold weather. He was penniless. When a truck came, they all hurried including Muhamed. About an hour, he found himself in a big grapes farm. He was paid only 50 euro. He bought umbrella and food. He slept dreaming of a train to take him to Britain. He spent 25 days working in the grapes farms. One day, he took his bag and went to the station. Italy is not a rich country, so he hasn't managed to learn single Italian word. He went to the ticket office. "London", he said "No!", answered the seller He couldn't ask him why, because he doesn't speak Italian. He went to another ticket office where he had the same answer- No with a smile. He stayed for three hours until he a met a young Sudan man carrying an Italian newspaper. He went to him asking for help. Luckily, the Sudanese immigrant had residence permit three months ago. He told him about the difficulties to face for London, so he advised him to leave to France. The Sudanese expat gave him a copy of his residence permit to enable him to buy a ticket to France. He thanked him for that. He smiled as he recalled the difficulties that he encountered along his journey. At this time, he remembered his son. Mustafa who aged five years old at that time. He asked his fellow Sudanese about his name which was written in Italian language. His fellow Sudanese has advised Muhamed to go small French town where it is possible to leave to Britain. When he left he went to the ticket office. He handed him the residence and the money. "Paris", he said. The ticket seller has investigated the document and looked into his face for a while. He returned the residence with a ticket. Before, he left, he had glanced a Chadian man having the same problem. He greeted him in Arabic. "Where are going?", asked Muhamed "To any where" , he answered "What about Paris?", he asked. " Fine" he answered.

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