The Asylum Hearing & Resolution
The Asylum Tribunal
The final scenes bring Alem face to face with the asylum tribunal — the legal hearing that will determine his future. Everything Alem has experienced in England leads to this moment. The warmth of the Fitzgeralds, the friendships at school, the racism from Sweeney, the slow rebuilding of normality — all of it hangs on the decision of a panel of strangers.
Sissay stages the tribunal as a formal, intimidating space. The language shifts from the naturalistic dialogue of the home and school scenes to the cold, procedural language of the law. Alem is questioned about his family, his reasons for being in Britain, and the dangers he would face if returned. The contrast between the bureaucratic tone of the hearing and the life-or-death stakes of the decision is deliberately unsettling for the audience.
The asylum tribunal reduces Alem’s complex, human story to a series of legal questions. Sissay highlights the contrast between the cold formality of the process and the emotional reality of Alem’s situation, forcing the audience to question whether justice is truly being served.
Alem’s Testimony
The most powerful moment in the tribunal is Alem’s testimony. He must explain his story to people who have no personal connection to his suffering. He describes the violence in Ethiopia, the persecution his family faced, his father’s decision to bring him to England, and the fear of what would happen if he were sent back. For the audience, this is not new information — we have lived through these events alongside Alem. But hearing him articulate his story in the formal setting of the tribunal gives it a different weight.
Sissay may use direct address during or around the testimony, allowing Alem to speak directly to the audience about what the hearing feels like. This technique breaks the fourth wall and makes the audience complicit — we are no longer passive observers but witnesses to Alem’s plea. We become, in effect, another tribunal.
Testimony on stage works differently from testimony in a novel. When Alem speaks in a theatre, a real person stands before real people and tells their story. The audience cannot look away, skip ahead, or close the book. This immediacy is one of the key reasons Sissay chose to adapt the story for the stage. The tribunal scene exploits this theatrical power: Alem is simultaneously speaking to the panel and to us, and our response — empathy, anger, helplessness — mirrors the response the play wants us to have towards real asylum seekers.
The Decision
The tribunal’s decision is the climax of the play. Sissay builds suspense through pacing: the hearing concludes, there is a wait, and then the verdict is delivered. The outcome carries enormous emotional weight because the audience has spent the entire play investing in Alem’s welfare. Whether the decision is positive or ambiguous, it forces the audience to confront the reality that real people’s lives are decided in exactly this way.
The play does not present the asylum system as straightforwardly evil. The tribunal follows a legal process; the panel members are doing their jobs. But Sissay shows that even a well-intentioned system can be dehumanising when it reduces a child’s life to paperwork and procedures. The tension lies not in whether the system is corrupt, but in whether it is adequate — whether bureaucratic processes can ever fully account for human suffering.
The asylum system in Refugee Boy is not presented as deliberately cruel. Instead, Sissay shows it as a process that is structurally incapable of fully grasping the human cost of its decisions. This is a more subtle and powerful critique than simple villainy.
Loss and Resilience
Regardless of the tribunal’s outcome, Alem has already experienced profound loss. His father is gone. His mother, Mrs Kelo, is dead — killed in the war. His home country is a place of violence and persecution. Even if he is allowed to stay in England, he can never return to the life he had before. The play is honest about this: some losses cannot be undone.
But Alem is also resilient. Throughout the play, he shows intelligence, adaptability, kindness, and courage. He does not collapse under the weight of his experiences — he endures. Sissay presents resilience not as a superhuman quality but as a quiet, daily act of survival. Alem gets up, goes to school, makes friends, and faces the tribunal. His resilience is ordinary and extraordinary at the same time.
The ending of the play offers a note of cautious hope. Alem has survived. He has found people who care about him. He has demonstrated that he can adapt and thrive. Whether or not the tribunal grants him asylum, the play argues that Alem — and people like him — deserve the chance to build a life. The hope is not naive or sentimental; it is hard-won and realistic. Sissay leaves the audience with a question rather than a neat resolution: what will we do to support people in Alem’s situation?
This open-ended quality is typical of political theatre. The play does not just tell a story — it asks the audience to act. Zephaniah’s activist purpose is embedded in the play’s structure: we leave the theatre not just moved, but challenged.
The Emotional Arc of the Final Scenes
Refugee Boy is not divided into acts. It runs as a chain of short scenes, played straight through, and it moves back and forth in time. Even so, the shape is clear: the early scenes establish loss (the father’s departure), the middle scenes explore the possibility of belonging (the Fitzgeralds, school, friendship), and the closing scenes put that belonging to the test. The emotional trajectory is designed to mirror the asylum seeker’s experience: arrival, adjustment, judgment. The audience feels the weight of the final act because they have been through the journey with Alem.