Our member Imam (name changed) reflects on his journey from Sudan to London, and the agonising wait to be reunited with his family.

Last year the government decided to pause refugee family reunions causing huge pain and placing families in further danger. Imam’s story is powerful reminder of the collective nature of safety. Safety cannot be isolated, we need family.

This is a rally cry for a full reinstatement of the refugee family reunion scheme.

‘We are made of Branches’ is part of our Stories beyond Borders series, an archive of survival and solidarity.

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I come from Sudan. I used to work as a teacher, and was also interested in politics. I had also protested the government in Sudan during the revolution in 2018- in peaceful ways for democracy. 

Most people are now aware of the war in Sudan. They say it’s a ‘civil war’, but actually it’s a war of dictators. Everything and everyone in between is being burnt. 

The Sudanese people are the victims, and for this reason we cannot stay there. Early in the war, it felt that everyone was trying to get out.

A couple of months after the war broke out we decided I would leave; the plan was for me to leave first and then for my family to join me when it was safe.

It was not easy, but there was no choice.  People were trying to escape but they didn’t know where to go. 

I remembered the days we had marched for freedom. We said we wanted justice. But now we were dying. 

We walked almost 1000 km from Khartoum to Port Sudan. 

It took many days, travelling from village to village, eating with other people. Lots of people walked together. It was a long, sad journey. 

Separation  

When we arrived at Port Sudan, we decided that I would leave my family- I would go first.

My mind was torn – “why am I leaving them?”

The next minute I’d think  “no, I need to survive- if I survive I can help them”. But I didn’t know how they would survive- where would they eat? Where will they sleep? I had no idea. 

My wife told me “please get out, it’s dangerous for you”.  I was trying to unlock the future for us;  trying my best for them, to bring them to safety. 

I knew it was compulsary to leave. I found a way and I came. 

This was the way we had to do it. But it wasn’t easy. At every step I was thinking of my wife, my daughters, my son, my sister and my nieces. 

Finding safety in London   

I managed to fly out of Sudan from the only airport still open. When I put my feet in London I understood that I am in a safe place.

I had an interview at the airport there. My concentration  was very weak- I could barely tell them my name.  But I knew I was claiming asylum.  I was seeking sanctuary, seeking peace. 

But, I didn’t know what would happen next. 

I couldn’t sleep at all on that first night- I was consumed by worry. The immigration officers gave me a mat for prayer. 

To leave my family, to be alone,  I was shocked by everything that had happened.

I stayed at the airport for one night and then the next day  I was transferred to a hotel. 

Sometimes I felt selfish- to leave them with bombs falling on their head, but I was trying to unlock the future for us, trying my best for them, to bring them to safety. 

When I arrived at the hotel, one of the first things I did was ask someone if I could use their phone. I wanted to call my wife- reassure her. 

She’d been so worried about me, and I’d worried about them more. They were trying to stay in touch with lots of people- without much money or signal. She was sometimes borrowing other peoples phones to all- it was like this, ‘will we speak or won’t we?’.  It was so difficult. 

The first night in the hotel I became very tired- I hadn’t slept for three days.  The food I couldn’t eat.

I was being controlled by the feeling of doing my best for my family. 

Gradually, I managed myself. I promised myself  “if I can save myself, I can save my children” this was my promise to myself and I kept reminding myself.”

Hotel life: life through my phone 

When I was alone in my room  I was watching these horrible videos of home on my phone – I was distraught.

Everyday I am wondering how my family is- ‘are they eating? Are they safe?’ But they weren’t safe- people were dying around  them, people having things taken and stolen from them

I was wondering how my friends, colleagues were- and the people I marched with, then I would find out they were killed. Murdered. I had many different difficulties and sadness. For everyone I knew. 

It was monotonous in the hotel. But, the people I met became important to my journey. 

I remembered meeting the staff at Migrants Organise. I explained my problems, I had no clothes, no money, no anything. I needed a sim card. 

“Yes yes,  we will help you” Francesca at Migrants Organise said.

She gave me a lot of advice about different things- how to call the Home Office, how to find more money- £9 per week. She told me how to do it, and to call ‘Migrant Help’. She told me ‘you need a solicitor- but it’s rare these days, but we will help you.’ 

There were lots of Arabs in the hotel that day-  she asked me if I could help with translation. It was helpful for me, she knew it would help, I needed it for my mind. 

I learnt that I could volunteer, just anything to take my mind off the worries for my family. So, I started volunteering at Migrants Organise: doing the reception desk, a little translation.  They didn’t give too much responsibility because they knew about my stress.

Sometimes they’d ask me to give SIM cards to others in the hotel and help out. I would help people in the hotels to prepare themselves too. I told them not to stay in the hotel, to go out, to try the football group and be active. Many of them have trauma. I also went to the storytelling group to minimise my stress. 

But all this time, I was thinking about home, family, friends. 

Refugee Status 

It took me about 15 months to get refugee status. 

I didn’t find a lawyer for a long time, but in the last week I managed to find out through my friend. As soon as I got the news I thought straight away about my family. Being safe meant nothing without my family. 

I was safe, but they weren’t, people were dying around them, people having things taken and stolen from them. My wife and my children, my dear daughters and beautiful son.

I thought ‘ I need them to join me. I can’t live alone’. The staff at Migrants Organise helped me to apply for a family reunion. 

For us  to complete a family reunion application you need to enrol your biometric data- which you have to do at an approved visa application centre. They submitted their application online but my family and I decided for them to travel to Ethiopia to get their biometrics. In Sudan the embassies were closed, nothing was easy to get to. 

So, first my wife and children had to get out of the country.

From Port Sudan they travelled to Addis Ababa. When my family arrived at the airport they didn’t know where to go, so I said to sleep near the airport. It was dangerous there too. In the end, we managed to find a place to stay for a few nights in Addis Ababa. It was here that they got their biometrics done and we waited for news on the reunion application. 

Back in London I became very thin at this point- eating one meal a day, I wasn’t paying for heating or food so that I could save all my money to save for their flights here. This was what I had to do to get them out. 

This feeling of not being able to live- when you are in this situation it’s very terrible. 

This is the same for refugees all around the world. 

It cost thousands of pounds for them to leave Sudan and come here- it’s a cost I’m still paying back. 

Back together 

I’ll never forget the day when Francesca (from Migrants Organise) messaged me to say she had good news, the family reunion application had been accepted. Finally!

After many months they came here. 

We tried twice- the first time we booked a flight, I spent a lot of money, but they were told at the airport that they didn’t have VISAs for a stopover country. It felt so cruel. My youngest child cried a lot. 

We tried again soon after. This time, they were able to fly  to London. 

When I first saw them at the airport- they were across the road from me.

They were crying hysterically, I didn’t know what to say, it was so emotional. It’s hard to describe my feelings on this day. 

We had to go through many procedures to find a place to live here, but life feels much better now. I was so worried about them. 

For one year they had not studied. They were always asking me when they will  go to school. My kids are studying- my daughter is great at english, my son is great at maths. My wife is studying too. 

They are getting more settled, but we can’t forget what has happened, we carry this 

Sometimes my son draws big guns and soldiers- he is showing his memory. Sometimes they hear the door close gently even, they jump. They remember. 

But it’s better than the first days- they wouldn’t let go of me, until now my little daughter is still coming to hug me every night in bed. 

Branches

Isolation is a sorrow, this is common in all humans. Protection is not complete without family, we want to be vivid, be connected, we are made of branches. 

When we heard that the government had paused the family reunion programme my wife was crying – we know so many people stuck all over the place- stuck in Addis, stuck in Uganda. Stuck in many different ways. 

Family reunions are most important for refugees- people can’t live alone. 

We think of the people back home: we shared food together, walked together, shared sorrow together, I listened to peoples experiences- their bad situations- my safety is not complete when these people are in bad situations.  Our pain remains.  

It’s most important to look at this from humanity at the core- not just focus on an economic angle. Without humanity, this machine is functionless.  If you have the power to save their lives, do it, it’s better than saving their economic system.

This planet, in the future: these borders will be eliminated and deleted. This moment will be a bad record and a bad history for us.  

I need peace everywhere in the world. Life is changing for all of us. We don’t know the future- it’s hidden for us. But my hope has kept me alive. 

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Artwork by Rada Lewis

Illustration Esme Hemmings Studio