Janine GriffithsFor seven years, he was trapped in limbo—unable to work, unable to return home, and struggling to survive on the streets. Originally from Cameroon, he fled his homeland after being imprisoned and threatened by government officials. But in the UK, instead of finding safety and stability, he found himself homeless, begging for food, and feeling stripped of his dignity.
“I couldn’t work. I couldn’t get somewhere to sleep. No food. Not even the basics,” he said. “I turned into a homeless beggar. And yet, I’m a trained truck driver. I have skills. I could have contributed to society. But instead, I was watching people live their lives while I was stuck outside of it. It was like being on the other side of a window, watching the world go by, but never being part of it. I didn’t fit. I wasn’t included in the community—I was just an outsider, looking in.”
His nightmare began when his asylum claim was wrongly refused. The Home Office, he says, failed to understand the true context of the dangers he faced in Cameroon, where he had been targeted for refusing to misuse charity funds at the request of government officials. Imprisoned and later smuggled out of the country, he arrived in the UK seeking safety. Instead, he found a system that left him destitute and without hope.
“I felt dehumanised, like I didn’t deserve to be on this earth. I was traumatised, struggling with my mental health. I sought support, but what I really needed was my dignity—to work, to provide for myself, to pay my taxes like everyone else.”
He describes a system that forced him to “fight for life”—navigating shelters, winter night accommodations, and support from charities just to survive. The experience left him feeling diminished, as though his identity had been erased. “I felt like a homeless beggar, sitting on the streets, asking for scraps, while knowing I had a trade, a skill, something to offer. But none of that mattered. I was reduced to nothing.”
He eventually submitted a fresh asylum claim, presenting new evidence of his persecution. After 13 years of uncertainty, he was finally granted the right to stay and work in the UK.
But the toll has been immense. “I should be relieved, but I’m exhausted. I’ve used all my energy just to survive. I’m feeling tired, I’m feeling cut off—from my land, from my home, from my country. I couldn’t see my family, my mother. And now, I have no motivation left. I’m a hard-working person, but I feel like all my strength is gone.”
Now living in a one-bedroom housing association property with his children, he is still facing struggles. He sleeps on the floor so his daughter can have the bed. But despite everything, he shares his story in the hope that people will better understand the plight of asylum seekers.
“I don’t blame people for not knowing. That’s why I speak out. Awareness is key. If more people understand, we can be stronger, and our voices will be heard. There are genuine people facing these situations, and they need to be seen.”
