My name is Jake*, I am from West Africa. My life since I arrived in the UK – one that spans over 12 years now – has been a polarising journey. But way before then, let’s start from the beginning.

I love football. Football has always played a huge role in my life. Some of my happiest memories is playing football with my mates. As I got older, I began to get more involved in politics and became incredibly passionate about human rights and personal freedoms. But where I’m from -  human rights are hard to come by.

I wondered what I could do to help my country transition to a more free and prosperous society. I decided to pursue an education. I believed studying at a reputable institution – maybe one in the United Kingdom – would help me learn English, receive a quality education, and gain experience living in a diverse, democratic society so I could bring that knowledge back home. I went for it.

In 2013 I moved to the UK beginning a foundational degree at a college in London. I had never lived anywhere outside of my home country but I was thrilled about a new challenge and opportunity. I first settled in London and really enjoyed it. However, it was hard to be away from my family and friends. Over the next three years, I went back home often.

Everything changed in 2016 when I was back home for almost a year. Even though I always knew I would be returning to the UK to finish my degree, there were many peaceful demonstrations that I wanted to be part of. However, demonstrations that year turned violent. Peaceful protestors were getting arrested, and some even killed. I was arrested and tortured in prison. My cousin was killed. It was a very distressing and traumatising time. I consider myself so lucky to have escaped. I had a visa to the UK, so many didn’t have that option.

However, things took a downward turn when I returned to the UK in 2017. I was still reeling from the disturbing events of the last year. I didn’t know what to do or who to turn to. I knew I couldn’t return home. I tried to finish my degree, but I simply couldn’t. I dropped out. I decided to apply for political asylum and start to build a life here in the UK.

After the substantive interview for my political asylum claim, it took the Home Office 8 days to reject my claim. I couldn’t believe it - it was a really difficult time for me. I couldn’t pay my rent, and affording food was an everyday issue. I got thrown out of my flat. I was destitute and needed to make a change. I had heard that everyday expenses up north were a bit cheaper, so I decided to move to Manchester.

Manchester seemed like a good fit. I got a job at a local café and found a small one-bedroom flat that I could actually afford. In addition, I managed to get a solicitor for my asylum claim and was getting ready for a further submission for my application which got delayed because of the pandemic. I was finding ways to sustain myself and I started feeling like my old self again. I used to walk by a local pitch where I saw some guys playing football and, one day, I took the bold step of approaching them to ask if I could join. Little did I know I had just made a horrible mistake. 

At first it was great, playing football with a new group of friends. We got close, I explained my situation including where I was from, my immigration case, all that – after football they would offer to go get food. At first they supported me especially during the pandemic as I wasn’t working anymore. Then one day something weird happened. I got a call from one of the guys asking me if I was home. I said yes and he said he’ll be over in a minute. When he arrived, he said he needed my help. He asked if I could hold onto this bag for him. We had a discussion about what was in the bag, which he was refusing to say. I smelled cannabis, and I confronted him about it, but that’s when things turned really sour.

The man, who I thought was a friend, became agitated. He told me in a threatening way to do as I was told. He added “I have helped you many times, you could do this little favour in return it’s not that deep.” He explained that tomorrow somebody was going to pick up the bag and he just needed someone to watch it for the night. He said I had no other choice, this was to repay for the favour of him helping me with food and other small things. I was scared. I had no other option.

From there things really spiralled out of control. I was being asked to do more and more for them, eventually I was getting beaten and threatened with knives. I would see guns on them. I had no idea what to do. I had trust issues with the police due to my experience back home. It was a living nightmare.

Then, one night while I was at one of the houses where they stored and bagged drugs, the police raided the place. I remember it was four, maybe five in the morning as I sat in the back of a police car being driven to the station. It was weird - there was a feeling of relief to finally be away from them, yet also incredibly nervous and distraught at what came next.

In jail, I told my solicitor everything. When they charged me, I plead not guilty. I explained how I was being forced to do all this illegal activity. Again, another mistake.

After I finally opened up about my story, the police summoned the crime group that I was naming. Of course, they denied everything. But what the police don’t understand is that this crime group – one of the biggest in Manchester – has connections in jail. I started getting beaten up constantly. I was stabbed. They moved me from wing to wing, but none of it helped. Finally, I was moved to a different jail completely. I am lucky to be alive.

When I arrived at the new jail away from Manchester things started to get a little better. The staff were friendlier, people in general were more helpful. I began seeing a health practitioner who advised me to speak to people at the National Referral Mechanism (NRM). I spoke with them and made a submission. A few days later, I received a positive reasonable grounds decision. I had no idea what that meant, but I was told it was good news.

After I was finally out of jail, I got a call from Migrant Help. I received a tremendous amount of support – life changing support – from Migrant Help. They helped me realise the amount of trauma and suffering I went through, and the steps I needed to take to rebuild my life. I began working with Migrant Help as a Lived Experience Advisory Panel (LEAP) member, and I am currently chair of the Modern Slavery LEAP. I am now back in the London area with a work permit, working in construction.

I am still waiting to hear back from the Home Office on my political asylum claim that I submitted in 2017. I was able to submit further evidence in June 2022, and I understand Covid caused some delay, but the amount of time it has taken to get a decision has caused an overwhelming amount of stress and confusion. I hope I get an answer soon.

Regardless, the reason I wanted to share my story is to help people better understand the turmoil one can go through when seeking asylum. I now know that I was in a vulnerable position. People – bad people – saw that and took advantage of me. Nobody chooses to be a refugee and to not return to their country of origin. Life circumstances force us into displacement. I first came to the UK with the hope of returning to my home country. Every day I still wish that was the case, but unfortunately there are factors you can’t control.

The UK should be proud to be safe haven for people. When you look around and you see all the diversity, that’s the UK. That was part of the reason I wanted to come here in the first place. The UK’s diversity, it’s multiculturalism. We are here together, no matter where you come from. Care, learn and share with each other. That’s what I hope we can build. I hope my story can be a small step towards that goal. 

*Jake’s real name has been changed to protect his identity.