She will meet you at 12.30pm. But it’s now 12.50pm and the worries are starting to creep in.
She, is the Nigerian woman, Pamela Izevbekhai, whose story has cast a spotlight on the issue of asylum seekers in this country.
My worries are eased when a text arrives on my mobile. She apologises for running late and will see me soon.
In hindsight, her late arrival was a good thing. While waiting, the details of Pamela’s story churn over and over in my mind like a water wheel. What it must be like to have experienced what she has and how she sleeps at night with such worries about the future on her mind.
An article, printed in a national newspaper also comes to mind, mainly for the gruesome indepth detail it gave readers on the barbaric procedure of female genital mutilation.
Pamela’s daughter, Elizabeth, was only 18 months old when she bled to death after this procedure was carried out on her.
As I keep an eye out for her, a young couple and their daughter admire the beauty of the seagulls as they fly over their heads.
This girl looked the same age as Pamela’s youngest daughter, three-year-old Jemima. Apart from their age, the two girls come from vastly different worlds.
One has a carefree, happy-go-lucky existence, like every child deserves. The other is faced with an unknown future with worries that belie the very reason why your childhood years should be amongst the happiest of your life.
Pamela arrives. Straight away she tells me what delayed her. Her daily life now involves signing on in Sligo Garda Station. This is part of her release conditions from Mountjoy Women’s Prison after a High Court hearing on her case that took place last week. A huge queue at the Sligo station meant that what should have been a relatively quick procedure turned into a longer ordeal.
That said, she is overjoyed to be back in Sligo and is adamant that she will be abiding by the conditions imposed on her.
Pamela (36) said: "I am delighted to be back in Sligo and to be with my children. We have been doing everything together since I got back from prison. No words can describe the moment that I saw the smiling faces of my two daughters."
The defining moment came though when she gave the girls their Christmas presents – two bicycles. Pamela had gone into hiding before Christmas after she was issued with a deportation order. "I was bursting with joy when I told them they have Christmas presents to unwrap. It was the best moment for me as a mother."
Christmas Day was a lonely day for Pamela. "I didn’t have a Christmas. You could be surrounded by a million people and still feel all alone in the world."
With half of her family, her husband Tony, who has his own printing business, and son Adrian (14) thousands of miles away in Lagos, does she still feel alone?
"I do feel lonely at times but I am not alone anymore." Evidence of this is strong when she tells of the 112 letters of support she received while in prison.
"Those letters make me cry. There is such goodness out there and I will always be grateful for that, whatever the future holds for us."
Telephone conversations are what sustains her relationship with Tony and Adrian. She shys away from speaking of how she met her husband by coyly telling how she will reveal that story when he is sitting next to her.
Back in Nigeria, her parents are still alive and she has four brothers and two sisters. One of her sisters died a number of years ago. Pamela’s life there involved the juggling of home and work life. Pamela had a supervisory role in a bank.
"It was difficult leaving all this behind. I miss my family and I miss my job. My work was my life. Now, I am not allowed to work but I have tried to make up for that."
Pamela does this by working voluntarily for up to 30 hours a week. She plans to get back to this work once she has settled back in Sligo. Despite her own difficult circumstances, she can still empathize with others who find themselves in a tough situation.
"There are people who are in need in this world and it is a sin not to help them. I can’t walk past someone that I know I can help. If a blind person is crossing the road, I will approach them and say can we walk across the road together."
Despite what could possibly lie ahead and the threat of deportation back to Nigeria, Pamela’s belief that she and her family will be happy is an infectious one.
"I don’t know what will happen but I do pray a lot. I have a God who answers prayers.
"No one can know what it’s like when you are not free, free to be normal and free to be who you should be. It saps you of your character."
Yet, she doesn’t regret having her daughters.
"I think God had a hand in sending me here. Sligo is called the ‘Land of Heart’s Desire’ and the people here have been true to these words.
"They have shown me that they have hearts and despite what happens in the future, I will never forget that."