The last year has been eventful. After receiving my refugee status, my main focus is rebuilding and putting my life in order, now that the restrictions that held me back for 17 years have been lifted. This delay was not by choice, but due to the immigration system; I was stuck in it for that long.
In 2025, I opted to take a one-year course in the Minority Ethnic Leadership Programme, just to prepare for the next step of my life. Freedom feels sweet and overwhelming at the same time. I was finally able to open a bank account in my own name and even applied for a provisional driving license. At last, I have my name on something, and it feels wonderful.
I wasn’t thinking of looking for a job yet, as my mind has constantly been on my children, whom I had not seen for 16 years. I am forever grateful to the Good Samaritan who has stood by me for the past 7 years. They even sponsored my round-trip to Kenya. In October, I travelled to see my son and daughter, who currently live there. The trip lasted three weeks, and those were the best days of my 17-year wait. They went by so fast, but I made use of every minute I spent with them.
This experience has made me realise that living with restrictions makes a human being cherish the moments they are actually able to do something. I feel like this deep hole—or void—is filling with beautiful moments, but I always feel short of time. Those 17 years have passed, and I cannot get them back; I should focus on moving on and staying in the present.
I have not forgotten those who are still waiting for their status. Campaign and advocacy work is never finished until a humane and fair system is created. Now, there is another hurdle. The struggle is far from over; it is just a new challenge. I wonder where I should start: looking for employment, furthering my education, or continuing to volunteer with organisations that support women navigating the asylum system?