For Armel Ntwari, it's been two years and still there's no word. The 20-year-old came to Ireland from Burundi in 2003 after his father was killed in an attack by a rebel group as his country was in the final throes of a 12-year civil war. His mother had been killed some years earlier and he says he has no close family left in the country.
Armel went to school in Dublin and got enough points in the Leaving Cert to study computer science at UCD, but because of his status he is prevented from taking up the place. He has been refused asylum and is awaiting news of his application for leave to remain.
Armel is one of about 200 "aged-out" minors - young people who sought asylum here as unaccompanied minors and were placed in the care of the State, but who have since passed the age of 18 and face possible deportation. He lives in a State-funded hostel and receives an allowance of €19.10 a week.
After his Leaving Cert, Armel did a web design course, but it was no substitute for the university place he covets.
"It went well, but it's not easy," he says. "Say if you want to buy books, we only get €19 [ a week], so you can't really. And in the hostel there's a lot of disturbances so it's difficult to study.
"I got enough points to get into computer science at UCD. I would have liked to go there. They offered me a place, but you fill in a form saying whether you're a national or a non-national, or what your status is, for the fees. It's frustrating that I can't get in."
For years Armel has been coming to the weekly drop-in centre run by the Dún Laoghaire Refugee Project (DRP), a voluntary group set up in 2001 by local residents to help the asylum seekers - many of whom were unaccompanied children - staying in two hostels in the greater Dún Laoghaire area.
By early last year, the hostels in the area had closed, and most of the young people are over 18 now. However, the Monday night service is still running, with up to 40 of its young "graduates" still coming from all corners of the city for the weekly meeting.
Here, they're offered training programmes and advice on everything from their dealings with immigration officials to their studies to managing their tight budgets.
Last week some of the group were putting the final touches to a film to be screened on World Refugee Day on June 20th, while there was a big turnout for a talk by Sgt Angeline Confrey of Cabinteely Garda station, who has been visiting the drop-in centre for the past few months.
Decisions on whether to deport or grant leave to remain are at the discretion of the Minister for Justice, who is obliged to weigh up factors including age, time spent in Ireland and humanitarian considerations.
Support groups claim the system is inconsistently run and lacks transparency.
Some of the young people at the Dún Laoghaire drop-in centre have been waiting for up to seven years for a decision on their status. One 22-year-old was recently granted leave to remain after reporting for deportation 41 times in just over three years.
Each time, after receiving a deportation letter, he would report to the Garda National Immigration Bureau on Burgh Quay, Dublin, only to be told - without explanation - to present himself again at a future date. This continued for three years until, last February, he was told he could stay.
For these young people, most of whom have been in Ireland since 2001 or earlier, it would be inconceivable to return to their home countries and resume a normal life, according to DRP chairwoman Mary King.
"If you're deported to Nigeria, you go to Lagos. You may never have been in Lagos in your life. You could be from the north of the country. It would be like deporting Irish people from the States back to Moscow and saying, off you go, find your way home," says King.
The DRP's campaign to grant the young refugees leave to remain has found wide support. A cross-party Oireachtas group was established to deal with the case, but so far the minister - Michael McDowell until recently - has declined to meet them. The Department of Justice says the asylum applications of those who are now over 18 but originally entered the State as unaccompanied minors "will continue to be considered within the asylum process on a case-by-case basis".
"For a lot of these young people, they can't get on with their lives," says King. "They don't see a future while they're in a limbo situation. Really what we're asking for is that the cases be looked at with sensitivity."
She relates a conversation she had recently with an Angolan boy who hadn't shown up at the drop-in centre for a couple of weeks.
"I said to him, where have you been, what's wrong? And he said: 'I was sick. I get a pain in the top of my head when I think about things and water comes out of my head. I'm very scared. I can't eat and I can't sleep.'
"That was his physical manifestation of the thought that he might be sent back to Angola. That to me is very scary. That was just one [ person], and he just happened to say it. And if there's one young person feeling like that, you can be sure there's very many."