Us deportees land in eswatini prison, mistaking it for louisiana
What began as a hoped-for return to Cambodia ended in a maximum-security prison in Eswatini for Pheap Rom, a man deported by the United States. His story, and those of nine others, expose a disturbing trend: the outsourcing of American justice to third countries with questionable human rights records—a practice critics decry as a callous abdication of due process.
A refugee's unexpected detour
Rom, who arrived in the US as a three-year-old refugee in 1985, had accepted a deportation order following a 15-year sentence for attempted murder. He anticipated returning to Cambodia, a nation he'd never known. But instead, he and nine others – hailing from Cambodia, Cuba, Jamaica, Vietnam, and Yemen – found themselves unexpectedly incarcerated in Eswatini, a small landlocked nation in southern Africa. “Even if you were a convicted felon, at the end of the day we still deserve due process,” Rom stated, highlighting the fundamental issue at the heart of these expulsions.
The initial confusion was palpable. Rom initially believed Eswatini was merely another immigration detention center, perhaps in Louisiana. His reality upon arrival, however, was starkly different: a greeting of armed military personnel and immediate transfer to the Matsapha correctional complex.
The US government labels these individuals as “dangerous criminals,” justifying their expulsion. Yet, their lawyers contend they had already served their sentences within the American justice system. The 10 deportees were crammed into the back of a jet for 21 hours, shackled and with minimal provisions – a single roll of toilet paper and a bar of soap each per week.
The price of outsourcing justice
The situation raises profound questions about the US’s responsibility regarding the welfare of deported individuals. The Trump administration pioneered the practice of deporting individuals to third countries, a strategy now continued, with African nations like the Democratic Republic of Congo, Equatorial Guinea, Ghana, Rwanda, South Sudan, and Uganda becoming reluctant repositories for unwanted deportees. The US government has paid Eswatini $5.1 million to accept up to 160 deportees.
Conditions within the Eswatini prison were reportedly dire. Initially, access to the outside world was severely limited – just 15 minutes of daylight and one phone call per week. One detainee reportedly went on a 30-day hunger strike, highlighting the devastating mental toll of the situation. While conditions have improved slightly, with access to mobile phones and increased time outside cells, the underlying issue remains: the displacement of individuals into a foreign penal system with little recourse.
The US Department of Homeland Security has yet to provide an official comment on Rom’s account. When commenting on the initial group of five deportees, a spokesperson stated, “If you come to our country illegally and break our laws, you will be removed.” The statement, while legally sound, fails to address the ethical implications of exporting criminal justice to nations with potentially lower standards of human rights and due process. The story of Pheap Rom isn't just about one man's ordeal; it's a window into a growing shadow practice, one that raises serious questions about America's commitment to justice, both at home and abroad.