*Jean Paul is a pseudonym. All names have been changed to protect those identified in this story.
I hail from Cameroon, a beautiful country tucked away in Central Africa that’s sometimes called “Africa in miniature” for its diverse geography, culture, food, and languages. Sadly, since 2016, this diversity has also contributed to conflict between the majority Francophone population and the Anglophone minority — folks including me and my family.
Growing up in Cameroon, I wanted to be a doctor and help people. As a student, I joined other fellow students in peacefully protesting the government’s marginalization of Anglophone Cameroonians. I was arrested for my efforts. The police broke into my house in the middle of the night and took me to a prison where they held me for weeks and tortured me. I was beaten and kicked, my legs were broken and I could not stand. I ate only when my cellmate’s family brought him food, which he shared with me. Cut off from my family, filled with fear and pain, I thought that death was imminent. In fact, I welcomed death as the only escape from this torture.
Thankfully, one day a guard at the prison helped me escape and connected me with my aunt. I felt immense relief, but knew little of the new struggle that awaited me. I was still in danger in the Francophone part of Cameroon, so my family put me on a plane to Ecuador. From Ecuador, I went to Colombia where I connected with other Cameroonians and together we decided to travel to the U.S. on foot and ask for asylum.
Making this journey meant crossing the treacherous Darién Gap between Colombia and Panama. For four days I walked through the jungle without food or water. We saw dead bodies in the road, we saw bodies floating in the river of those who had drowned. I, too, nearly drowned, but no one noticed. When you’re in the water drowning people don’t know you're drowning. I thought I might not make it, that death might be my only release, but thank God there was one man who stayed with me when I was struggling. When I had to stop and sit, he would stay. I am so thankful he didn’t abandon me, because anyone who stayed behind lost their life. Families would have to leave behind their loved ones who passed away and continue their journey. Sometimes, they would have to drink water from the very river that people drowned in.
Eventually we made it across Panama, and the rest of Central America, through Mexico all the way to the border city of Tijuana. Then-President Donald Trump’s immigration policies meant that we had to wait months before crossing the border to seek asylum. When it was finally our turn to enter the U.S., Mexican officials handed us over to the U.S. Border Patrol. Those agents processed us and immediately we were detained.
I was sent to a detention center in Southern California, where I stayed for nine months in Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) custody waiting for my case to be heard. During my stay there, some of the ICE officers treated us like animals. We slept in bunk beds, and sometimes people sleeping on the top bunk would fall off. The food we ate was terrible; you didn’t eat adequately unless you had family members sending you extra money to buy food. No matter how much we complained about the conditions, most ICE officers didn’t listen to us. They said, “if you don’t like it here, go back to your country.”
After nine months in detention, I was allowed to leave and continue my long journey to attain asylum. I stayed in Southern California, where, today, I’ve built my life. I bought a car and found work as a rideshare driver. I recently graduated from college with a master’s degree. I’ve come to love my newfound home in Southern California. I love trying new restaurants. I’ve even taken up surfing in my spare time. I still try to help people where I can; I’ve helped deliver food to community-run food banks during the pandemic and have served as a volunteer translator for other Cameroonian asylum seekers over the years.
Now, my only dream is to have a successful life here in the U.S. I just want to get a good job and open a business that I can use to help other people and employ them. Living in Southern California, I see a lot of immigrants who struggle, and I’ve had a lot of people help me and support me a lot. I pray that I’ll win my asylum case so I can help work towards a world where everyone has equal opportunity to live and work freely.
