"My dear friend has decided to leave the country
In Africa, life is unbearable and every possibility seems to be blocked
So, my friend has decided to leave his country
But, leaving the country is not easy either….."
"If you're too greedy in life, you risk losing what you possess.
My dear friend has finally been deported back to the country empty-handed.
My poor dear friend is now desperate."

These words of warning were crafted by Kinshasa based musician, Didier "Bill Clinton" Kalondji, in his song Sans Papiers, a hit single that recently topped the Congolese music charts. His rhythmic reality check cautions fellow Africans of the deportation threats, which frequently shatter the European dreams of those attempting to emigrate without legal papers. His message is clear: stay home and make a go of it, or risk worsening your situation. Despite such a dispiriting sentiment, Kalondji is not alone in trying to discourage western migration; in the UK, a tough new stance on immigration has seen a campaign of deportation and destitution as a means of deterring refugees.

Refugees coming to the UK arrive bearing hopes of 'a better life'. A prospect that UK Immigration is now deconstructing in a bid to encourage asylum seekers to turn back voluntarily.

Tim Finch, the Director of Communications at the Refugee Council says: "By no means is it a land of milk and honey arriving here as an asylum seeker. It's increasingly tough. An enormous amount effort is being made, and money spent by the government to stop people getting here in the first place."

But get here they do. The UNHCR reports that in 2005, an estimated 30,500 asylum seekers arrived in Britain. The third highest number received by an industrialised nation. (France was first, with an estimated 50,000.) The reason why the UK ranks highly as a refugee hot spot is not, as argued by Finch, due to a perception of it being a 'soft touch'. He says: "When they arrive a lot of people are not clear even what country they're in. People are often extremely disorientated, a lot of them don't know where they are going to end up."

Those who do end up in the UK can neither air their exultant relief, nor hold their breath, for the asylum system that confronts them is one set at a default position against them. "They're a bit shocked, I think, at how unsympathetic the system is," says Finch. "The bureaucratic procedure of asylum is set within the context of the politics of this country; we want fewer asylum seekers and we want to keep the numbers down. That means that the way the case workers look at this is: let's turn down as many people as we possibly can, not let's provide protection to those who need it. People are turned down on the basis that they're not convention refugees."

Convention refugees are those who fall under the categories outlined in the 1951 Geneva Refugee Convention: persons with a well founded fear of persecution on the basis of nationality, religion, social or political affiliations. Finch believes this is: "Narrowly drawn ground. It leaves a gap in a number of areas. An area that's come up recently is that there have been people claiming refugee status on the basis of their sexuality, something not captured in the 1951 convention."

One aspect of the government's policy, which has sparked criticism and which the Refugee Council is campaigning to change, is its use of destitution as a weapon. Finch says: "If you're at the end of the process, you're not entitled to state benefits. People are effectively required to leave the country. The problem is the government talks tough but doesn't actually act very tough when it comes to removals. In many cases very little effort is made to actually find people."

"What the government does do is cut off all support and remove people from their housing. People are left on the streets literally, in some cases, without food or shelter. And that is part of the process of encouraging them to go back. It would be much better if the process of removing people was swifter, as long as it was safe, than to just cut people off from all benefits and then just do nothing about it."

Despite the risks of deportation and policies of destitution, uprooted persons are ignoring warnings such as those issued by Kalondji, and continue to leave for Europe with their last stash of hope. The country in which he is urging people to remain is still recovering from war and in some areas, still suffering from the activities of controlling militia groups. According to the UNHCR, certain provinces of the Democratic Republic of Congo deny 90% of the population any access to water, 80% of schools have ceased to exist and healthcare infrastructures are on the brink of collapse. Such is the environment which people are desperate to escape and to which they risk repatriation.

Finch explains: "They (the government) are trying to encourage voluntary returns, partly by this process of not giving any support - which is iniquitous. The better side is that they are providing an enhanced financial package; up to £3,000 if you sign up for voluntary return. Not in wads of cash, but to help rebuild; to do some training or something in your country." But for people living in DR Congo, where the threat of civil war looms like a murky backdrop, this type of assistance may not be enough to steady their shaky belief in a successful restoration.

Mindful of this, Finch contemplates Kalondji's dissuasion: "I wouldn't want to be in a situation where you said to people, the situation with claiming asylum in Britain or the rest of Western Europe is so awful, don't even bother. I mean if your life is in danger, you should… You've got a right to."