Survivors' stories

Nigerian-born Stella (45) likes to be busy. Not just because she is industrious, but also because she has to work hard to make ends meet and she would otherwise fall into a downward spiral. Therapy helps her get a grip, but it has slimmed down considerably. The financial help she received to pay her rent was suddenly terminated. No matter what she does, it never seems good enough. A sense of regret prevails: "If only I had made different choices.".

One big family

It was in 2024 that Stella first reached out to TheBridge2Hope. A friend, former participant of the organisation’s programme felt Stella was too caught up in her thoughts and needed something more practical alongside therapy. That turns out to be the push she needs.“Taking part in the classes makes me feel lighter and helps rebuild my confidence. I neverwent to school, so I’m a slow learner. But no one, neither the other participants nor thevolunteers, judges me for it. On the contrary, they cheer me on, especially when I feel likegiving up. We are one big family, sharing both joy and sorrow. For me, TheBridge2Hope isexactly that: a place of hope”

All on all

Still, something gnaws at Stella. No matter what she does to make a meaningful contributionto society in the hope of earning a residence permit, she gets nothing in return. In fact, sheonly seems to lose more. It’s certainly not a lack of motivation. Stella cooks passionately atDe Meent Farm and at Het Wereldhuis, both of which offer voluntary work and guidance toundocumented people. On weekends, she often volunteers at the Red Cross, preparingmeals for those in need. She finds peace on Sundays when she sings in the church choir.“Because I don’t get paid for any of this, I clean houses for elderly people and care for them, giving them love and attention. The church also gives me a little money, so in the end I always manage to pay my rent.”

Always stressed

Five years ago, Stella still received rent support. Encouraged by her case manager at Vluchtelingenwerk, she enrolled in a program to start her own business. Stella wanted to show initiative and thought she was doing the right thing. But when she finished the program, her rent support was terminated.“Apparently, by signing the participation form, I had agreed to return to Nigeria aftercompleting the program. I was tricked. I can’t go back.”

Her therapy has also been scaled back even though she needs it desperately. “I’m always stressed, especially at the end of the month when the rent is due. I don’t want to end up on the streets again.” Then, in a soft voice, she adds, “And be raped again.” After a pause: “If only I had listened to my father.”

Dishonored

Stella grew up in a Christian family with nine children. Her parents were traders and from a young age she learned the tricks of the trade so she could take care of herself. “When I was about nineteen, a man started visiting often, bringing my father gifts. He was trying to win his favor because he wanted to marry me. I wasn’t circumcised, which made me very desirable.” But Stella refused. “I had never said no to my parents before, but this was something they couldn’t force me to do. As a result, my father disowned me. He never wanted to see me again and threw me out of the house.”

She continues, “I stayed with a friend and met a man who had a lot of money.” He turned out to be the leader of a notorious gang. One day, Stella saw on the news that he was wanted by the authorities. Frightened, she fled. But fate caught up with her when she ran into some of his gang members. “They told me I had to go with them. I refused and they raped me. I managed to escape, but I had nowhere to go and life on the streets was brutal.”

Flight

When Stella later heard that her boyfriend had been killed, she knew she was no longer safe. She decided to flee. Like so many others, she fell into the hands of human traffickers who promised her a better life. They put her on a plane to Amsterdam, where she was forced to work in a brothel. Eventually, Stella managed to escape. “I saw an opportunity and jumped into a tram. After several stops I got off crying and approached a man who then called the police.” Stella was taken to a shelter, where for a long time she didn’t dare to speak a word terrified that someone might inform her traffickers.

Regret

“Sometimes I think, ‘If only I had married that man, I could have been spared so much suffering. I wouldn’t have had to beg for money. I could have said goodbye to my father before he died. Maybe I could still trust men.’ I can’t change the past, but I can’t let it go either. If only I had made different choices.” Would her life have been easier if she had said yes back then? She doesn’t know. “But right now, it feels like I don’t exist. I’m not rewarded or appreciated for everything I do. I feelused.”

Hope

Yet Stella keeps picking herself up. Now she finds strength and support at TheBridge2Hope. The greatest value of the organization, she says, is that it offers much more than just the lessons. “The volunteers also help us with things outside class. They’re genuinely interested in us and want to know how we’re doing. All of that gives me energy and confidence.” Stella knows she lives too much in her head. “I hope TheBridge2Hope can help me learn totalk about what I’ve been through and find peace with it. And that they can help me get a residence permit.”

Written by Bianca Wijnstekers

www.demeent.amsterdam
www.wereldhuis.org

In Amsterdam, as part of the gay community, Syllah (29) can be who he is without fearing for his life. At TheBridge2Hope , he does what he never had the chance to do as a small, outcast boy: learn, learn, learn. Furthermore, Syllah dreams of a place of his own. Freedoms that every human being, regardless of origin or orientation, should be entitled to. From an early age, Syllah has had to fight for this.

In Nigeria, Syllah’s country of birth, many freedoms are far from guaranteed. Same-sex relationships are illegal. If you are suspected of engaging in them, you risk punishments ranging from flogging to 14 years in prison. Often, though, cases never even make it to court. Syllah shares his story.

Devil's Exorcism

“I come from Edo State. I was about 10 years old when my parents discovered I was attracted to boys. The church where my parents were parishioners tried to ‘cure’ me through exorcism and voodoo rituals.” The scars on his chest, arms, and forehead are silentwitnesses to this. The attempts failed, and as the pressure from the community increased, his parents sent him to his uncle in Ondo State, where no one knew him.

only

“I wasn’t allowed to live with my uncle because he feared I would be a bad influence on his children. Instead, he rented me a small apartment, about a 30 minute bike ride from his house.”

Syllah found work as a car mechanic but could not attend school, as being gay meant he had to keep a low profile. Each day after work, he stopped by a small shop for a meal. The shop also served as his ‘bank’. “You can’t open a bank account until you’re 18. Because I trusted the shop owner, I dared leave my money with her.”

No process

Around the age of 17, Syllah got a boyfriend. When their relationship was discovered, they had to go into hiding. Then his boyfriend disappeared. “I never saw him again. He probably never had a fair trial. We didn’t speak the language of Ondo State. If you’re arrestedon suspicion of homosexuality and the police can’t understand you, you’re publicly beaten—or worse, burned alive. I have witnessed this with my own eyes.”

Flight to Italy

Desperate to leave Nigeria, Syllah returned to the shop to collect hissavings. The owner offered to help him because ‘she thought he wasa good person’ and sent him to her brother in Kano, a city in northernNigeria. Syllah never saw his money again. Still trusting her, hefollowed the brother’s instructions, beginning a journey underinhumane conditions: crammed like sardines in a van through Nigerand Libya; packed into an overloaded boat across the Mediterraneanto Lampedusa. Eventually, he arrived in Bari, Italy, where Matthewwas waiting.

Matthew

Matthew, a man also from Edo State, had made advance paymentsfor all of Syllah’s travel expenses. To repay him, Syllah was forced tohave sex with Matthew and with other men. He obeyed, as he had nochoice. After several years, Syllah learned that his mother had passedaway—and something inside him broke.

“No one knew what had happened to me. I believe my mother diedof a broken heart, not knowing where I was. I had nofriends—Matthew kept me isolated and beat me often. I brought inmoney, but he never shared the earnings with me.”

In a moment of desperation, Syllah gathered his belongings and ranto the nearest train station. After a long and exhausting journey, hearrived at Amsterdam Central Station in 2019.

Aimless

Syllah stayed for a while in asylum centers in Ter Apel and Groningen.Because he couldn’t prove that he is gay—and therefore can’tdemonstrate that his life would be in danger if he returned toNigeria—his application for a residence permit was denied. He endedup on the streets, first in Utrecht, then in Amsterdam. There, hefound shelter at the Salvation Army and warm meals at theWereldhuis, a center where undocumented people receive adviceand support. Through volunteer work on a farm, he met someoneconnected to TheBridge2Hope. After being introduced to Anu, theprogram manager, he joined the two-year learning program in 2024.

Bridge to self-confidence

“It’s amazing to be part of this program. I’ve discovered I can domore than I ever thought. I never learned to read or write, but now Ican recite the Dutch alphabet and speak a little of the language.” Anuconfirms that Syllah is an eager learner and at the heart of his cohort.“Syllah is a steady presence with a soft and calm demeanor—untilcomputer class begins! Then he comes alive,” Anu says with a widesmile.

“I’m very competitive and always want to win,” Syllah admits.“We race to see who can finish the assignments first.”

Together

That sense of togetherness is what Syllah values most. “I feel at mybest when everyone is happy and supporting each other, when wecan be a community where everyone belongs—even if you’re gay.Then I feel proud. I also prefer not to be alone in my room at theSalvation Army, because that’s when dark thoughts start to surface.”

Even so, he still sees beauty in life. And he dreams of a place of hisown, where he can live freely—a right that seems so self-evident. AsSyllah says: “Freedom is often taken for granted.”

Patricia's (47) story differs little from that of her peers. Poverty drives her into the arms of human traffickers. Like so many others, she ended up in Naples, Italy, where she was forced to deal in drugs to pay off her debt. Until she had enough and fled to the Netherlands with her eight-year-old son. Finally freed from her exploiters, she must face new obstacles. This she does without complaining, shrugging her shoulders. "That's because I don't see myself as a victim. Without TheBridge2Hope , however, I could not have managed all this."

Success Story

You could say that Patricia is one of TheBridge2Hope’s true success stories. As a member of the very first cohort, she threw herself into the program, seeking healing and a future. Thirteen years later, life is kind to her and her son. They have their own apartment, legal documentation, and this year, Patricia will even receive a Dutch passport. Her son Kingsley (22) is studying, loves sports, has friendsand a girlfriend. To an outsider, it might seem as though everything fell into place effortlessly. But nothing could be further from the truth.

Drugs or prostitution

“I was born into a poor family in Nigeria. When I was 17, a recruiter told me I would have better opportunities for work and education in Italy. She arranged a British passport that belonged to a woman who looked like me and even lent me the money for a plane ticket to Milan.”

Patricia ended up in Naples in the hands of a madam for whom she had to work to repay the cost of the ticket. She was forced into drug dealing. “It was that or prostitution,” she says bluntly. “If I didn’t cooperate, they would harm me or my family back in Nigeria.” To reinforce those threats, they shaved her pubic and underarm hair—ritual acts meant to instill fear. Terrified of voodoo, Patricia obeyed everything she was told.

Measure full

Before long, Patricia arranged her own accommodation and began a relationship with a Nigerian man. Kingsley was born from that relationship. When her son was eight, he witnessed Patricia being arrested by the police.

“I was arrested often—it came with the territory. The madam had a lawyer who always got me released. But this time, Kingsley was taken by the child protection services because my partner had moved to the Netherlands. Miraculously, Kingsley was returned to me when I was released. After that, he cried every time he saw the police. That was the breaking point. I had worked for the madam for years, but it was never enough. I felt I had repaid my debt, and voodoo could no longer harm me. So I packed our bags and flew to the Netherlands with Kingsley.”

The bridge to hope

Patricia had an Italian residence permit, but she let it lapse. “I wanted to leave everything that happened there behind and focus on building our life in the Netherlands. At first, I felt relieved—no more police, no more madam. But I soon became depressed because we couldn’t stay with my partner, and in the Netherlands you can’t be placed in a shelter with your child.”

Without a stable home, residence permit, or job, Patricia and her son’s situation seemed bleak—until she was accepted into TheBridge2Hope’s program. “That’s when I knew everything would work out.”

The road to healing

“My healing process began at TheBridge2Hope,” Patricia says. “I never needed therapy TheBridge2Hope was my therapy. I could share my struggles with the other participants, which was liberating. And while we shared our joys and sorrows, the volunteers taught us Dutch, how to use computers, how to knit and cook.” These lessonshelps participants integrate into Dutch society, including finding jobs. Patricia succeeded several times. “Among the jobs I was working in an Italian restaurant—I’m a star at making pasta and pizza.”

Unconditional support

“TheBridge2Hope has always supported me. They helped me apply for my residence permit. Anu, TheBridge2Hope’s Program Manager, stood by me when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Thankfully,I’m now cancer-free. And when Kingsley’s school alerted me because his education was suffering from all the moving, TheBridge2Hope helped set up a GoFundMe campaign to raise money for a rentalhome. When we got the keys, Kingsley asked, ‘Mama, is this really our house?’ I told him yes—we never have to move again.”

Strong and stronger

After everything she has overcome, Patricia sees herself as a survivor. “I’m happy now, and strong. But my son is even stronger.” That’s no exaggeration. When Kingsley was five, he lost an eye to cancer.Patricia reminded him that he should be grateful that he was still alive. A continuous beating heart isn’t guaranteed—all the chemotherapy means that he is at risk of heart conditions. Kingsley explained this to presenter Tim Hofman in the documentary entitled Back to your own countryTerug Naar Je Eige Land (Back to Your Own Country), in which Hofman criticized the Dutch Government’s stance on the Children’sPardon. At the time, Kingsley and Patricia were still undocumented, and the Dutch Immigration Service (IND) wanted to deport them to Nigeria. Despite Kingsley having lived in the Netherlands for over fiveyears—and being entitled to residency under the Children’s Pardon—the IND challenged it. They also claimed his medical condition wasn’t life-threatening enough. Eventually, the Court of Appeal ruled in their favor, influenced in part by recommendation letters from Kingsley’s school, Patricia’s church, and TheBridge2Hope.

“When we finally received our permits, Kingsley asked, ‘Did we go through all that just for this little piece of plastic?’”

All's well that ends well

Kingsley’s promising future is largely thanks to his mother’s determination and optimism, and her ability to keep looking forward. “But also thanks to TheBridge2Hope,” Patricia stresses. “Without their help, I wouldn’t have made it. I will never forget that.”

Do you want to see the Terug Naar Je Eige Land (Back to Your Own Country) documentary? You can watch it on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1tjz6l7TGQ

Written by Bianca Wijnstekers

https://www.linkedin.com/in/tupelotranslations/

www.tupelotranslations.nl

Pamela (50) finds it difficult to trust people or accept a compliment. "Because of what I have been through, I often quickly get the feeling that they want something from me." Still, some people have come her way who selflessly offered her help. Not her husband, who indiscriminately sold her, not once but twice, to a madam, nor her father, who left Pamela to her own devices even after calling for help. But people with their hearts in the right place. AND the volunteers of TheBridge2Hope. "Thanks to them, I can heal now."

The beginning

Pamela’s journey starts in Nigeria, when her husband finally convinces her to move to Italy.

“I didn’t particularly want to leave,because I had a good job as a personal assistant to a lawyer at ahuman rights organization in Lagos. My husband wanted to start afamily, but he also wanted to work in Italy. I didn’t want to raisechildren on my own so I eventually resigned and went with him toItaly.”

Only a week after their arrival, 26-year-old Pamela was sold by herhusband to a madam to work as a prostitute. She was utterlydevastated. Her husband assured her that this is how everyone earnsmoney there. “I was shattered. I begged him—my body is not for sale.But I had to obey him, because I was his wife.”

Italy

At the madam’s farm, Pamela cried all day. She managed to get herfather on the phone, but he hung up on her.

“If there ever wassomeone who could have fought for me, it was him. But my fate meant nothing to him.”

In the days that followed, Pamela was unable to submit to having sex with clients and attempted suicide several times. Furious that Pamela wasn’t earning anything, the madam sent her back to her husband, who drove her to Germany, dropped her off in front of a brothel inOldenburg, said “this is Germany”, and drove off.

Germany

In Germany, Pamela again refused to sell her body. “Sandra, one of the 15 women working there, overheard the madam screaming at me and took me under her wing. She said I reminded her of someone dear to her, called me aunty affectionately, and told me she’d pay my rent.”

Soon after that, the madam moved the women to a larger club. The club was robbed twice in one week. After the second robbery, when a gun was held to Pamela’s head, she ran outside and collapsed in tears in front of the club. By chance, a German man named Uwe was passing by and helped her escape to the Netherlands. Meanwhile, Pamela’s sister in Nigeria finalized her divorce papers. Pamela was finally free of her husband.

Netherlands

In the Netherlands, Pamela was taken in by a friend of her niece. While trying to apply for a residence permit, she became seriously ill. “I lost a tremendous amount of blood when I had periods. Nothing helped—not iron supplements nor removing fibroids. Then a blood clot was discovered in my leg. The doctors placed a filter near my heart so that if the clot burst, it wouldn’t kill me.” While she is recovering from that surgery, a social worker walks into her hospital room. "Anneke, her name is Anneke. She thrust a lawyer's business card into my hands. After that, I never saw her again."

Stepping out of oneself

The lawyer starts the procedure for a residence permit and strongly recommends Pamela talk to a psychologist. "I thought things were going well again. I also thought that what my husband had done to me was simply part of married life. However, I had taught myself in Italy and Germany to step out of myself so that whatever happened happened to that person in that body, and not to me. My soul, I thought, remained untouched this way." Pamela spoke with a psychologist at Kruispost, who referred her to Equator, a center specializing in psychological trauma, where she began therapy.

“I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and a personality disorder.” She was prescribed medication to help her sleep and manage mood swings, which she still takes every day.

TheBridge2Hope

Pamela was still trying to rebuild her life when a friend told her about TheBridge2Hope. “You won’t believe this, but on my way to work, I always walked past the Bonte Kraai, where TheBridge2Hope is based. I had seen Anu, the program manager, there before, but had no idea what she actually did. We talked, and soon after that, I was admittedto the program.”

Perspective

Pamela could never have imagined how much the foundation would give her.

“Through TheBridge2Hope, my social network has grown, and I’ve started to trust people again. Thanks to the support of all the volunteers at TheBridge2Hope, I’ve regained hope, a sense that I matter, and that I can still build a life. I want to set up an after-school program for Nigerian children. And when I’m feeling strong enough, I want to speak publicly and share my story. If I can help even one person, it would have been worth it.”

Bridge to me

"In the end, I always refused to have sex with strange men, but my self-esteem and pride, everything was taken away from me in that dark period. My husband dehumanized me; the madams only cared about money, not my life; even my father didn't think I was worth anything. Yet I want to go on, because life is still beautiful. Thanks to the help of all my saving angels and TheBridge2Hope , I can now heal and say that this chapter is part of my story, but it is not who I am. TheBridge2Hope is a bridge to me."

"Cross-post is a medical clinic in Amsterdam providing basic healthcareto residents without insurance, housing, or legal residency.

https://kruispost.nl/

Equator has since merged into ARQ Center '45, "a center of expertise in the field of psychological trauma."

https://arq.org/

Written by Bianca Wijnstekers

https://www.linkedin.com/in/tupelotranslations/

www.tupelotranslations.nl

"I was 20 years old, had two children with a man who had abused me and was barely making ends meet. A woman in the neighborhood held out to me a better future in Saudi Arabia. My situation here was hopeless, so I decided to take her offer. I had no idea what was in store for me."

Sandra (47) comes from a poor village in Nigeria. She grew up as the second child in a family of five sisters and one brother. When she was eight, her father died. Her mother was left to care for the family of seven on her own. They had little income and Sandra quickly learned to take care of herself. She was 12 when she started working as alive-in maid. There she was exploited and abused. She was 14 when she had her first child and 16 when her second child was born.

Funny

After years of abuse and mistreatment, Sandra decided to return to her mother. “It just wasn’t safe anymore for me and my children. One day, a woman I had seen before in the neighborhood where I used to live approached me. She wanted to help me, saying she liked me because I was funny. She told me I would have more chance of finding work as a hairdresser in Saudi Arabia, and she offered to help. The journey would cost $ 1,500, which she said she would lend me.” Struggling to survive and seeing no other way out, Sandra accepted the offer. Hoping for a better future, she left her home, everything she knew, and her children behind with her mother. Sandra had no idea that she would never reach Saudi Arabia.

Human Traffickers

The woman turned out to be a madam and part of a network of human traffickers who recruited even more women for the journey. They travelled through remote areas along hidden country roads in vans. Along the way, the traffickers cut off the women’s body hair and nails, which they put a curse on. The belief in voodoo is so strong that this was enough to keep the women in line. The same went for Sandra. “You want to run, but you don’t know where you are. You’re starving, you have no money, and they threaten to do something bad with your hair if you try to escape. So you do what they say.”

Forced sex

Every time Sandra was placed in a village hotel or restaurant along the route, she was forced to have sex with men in tiny rooms, furnished with nothing but a mattress. The madam told her this was how she had to repay her debt. If she refused, something terrible would happen to her family. Sandra never saw a cent of the money she ‘earned’—it was split between the madam and the hotel or restaurant owner.

Black Mafia
Eventually, Sandra reached the Mediterranean coast in Libya. She was allowed to board a ship bound for Italy, but it would cost her another € 25,000. “I had to pay that money to the madam’s ‘brother’, who would be waiting for me in Italy.”

Sandra ends up in a refugee camp in Sicily. There she thought she would be rid of what she calls the Black Mafia . But after she is released, the madam's brother waits for her at the exit. "I don't understand how it's possible, but he knows who I am. He advises me not to flee, because they have accomplices everywhere, who will pick me up wherever I am." Thus, she remains entangled in the web of human traffickers. Even when she manages to escape to Naples, she is recognized there by someone from the network. She realizes that she will never be safe in Italy and decides to flee to the Netherlands.

Safe at last

With the help of an acquaintance, Sandra arrived in the Netherlands in 2011. For the first time in years, she felt safe. “It was only in the Netherlands that I finally felt I wasn’t being followed anymore.” She built her life from scratch, on her own. She found housing, supported herself by cutting hair, and never stayed in a shelter or relied on Government aid. She kept a low profile until friends told her aboutTheBridge2Hope. The organization became a springboard for her future.

Independent

“I owe so much to TheBridge2Hope. They taught me so many things—how to make dresses, how to speak Dutch, and how to use a computer and a smartphone. Thanks to these lessons, I was able to apply for a job completely on my own at a major clothing store. Just last week, my contract was renewed for another six months. I went from having nothing to holding down a job, paying taxes, and becoming part of the system. For the first time, I officially exist on paper.”

Her next step is renewing her temporary residence permit, which she secured by living with an African man from Spain. “It’s not an ideal situation,” Sandra admits, “but it’s the only way I can stay in the Netherlands for now.” She says she won’t truly allow herself to think about the future until her permit is renewed. “But my dream is to open my own beauty salon.”

Future

That future does not lie in Nigeria. "I'm afraid I will run into someone from that network, because Nigerians never forget the face of someone who still owes them money." But that she dares to cautiously look ahead, that, Sandra says, she owes all to TheBridge2Hope . "They are always there for me. When I attended their program and even now, as an alumnus. I have always felt supported by TheBridge2Hope and, as a result, have regained faith in myself and my strength. I always tell new participants to stay focused and believe in themselves. If you do, then everything will succeed for you, by the grace of God."

Written by Bianca Wijnstekers

"I received counseling to learn to process the trauma I had experienced and move on."

My name is Patricia and this is my story. I was born and raised in Nigeria, but in 1994, when I was just 16, I was trafficked to Europe. I was taken to Italy where I stayed until 2011. I decided to move to the Netherlands to find good medical care for my child who was suffering from cancer. In 2014, I met a church pastor who introduced me, and several other women who were in a similar situation as me, to Foundation TheBridge2Hope (TB2H). Six women, along with me, joined TB2H. We were the first cohort of participants.

When I came to TheBridge2Hope , I had no house, no job, no papers, and I was very frustrated with the situation I was in. At TB2H, I received a lot of help and support. I received counseling to learn to process the trauma I had experienced and move on. Mr. Peter Korst taught me how to speak and write Dutch, I learned computer skills and even fun things like knitting. TB2H helped me tremendously in those first days to find the courage to go on and build a good life for myself and my son. My son was quite young and it was difficult to support him. It is difficult to find work when you have no papers, but with TB2H's help I was able to get my residence permit. I had to hire a legal advisor to get my papers through the court and TheBridge2Hope helped pay for that. I could rely on the people who were behind me, people who would help and support me no matter what. Of course, it took me too to get where I am today.

Now I have my own home, a steady job and soon I will get my Dutch passport. My son is doing a college education and is doing well. I want to share my story so that people who are in a similar situation as me know that there is hope, that it is possible to change your life, that there is a bridge to hope. You just have to get up there and keep moving forward step by step. 

"They have my passport and everything I brought with me"

I was taken away from my family when I was only fourteen. They told my mother that they would take me to Europe where I could go to school, work and that I would get rich. It was hard for her, but she let me go. They lied.

They have my passport and everything I brought with me. My kidnappers raped me. I got pregnant when I was 15. One day I saw the men kill two of the other girls. They buried them behind the house. I was safe because they didn't see me.

I was sent to Germany. They told me the white men would love me more because I was pregnant. They said they would pay me more money. They lied. I was alone when I gave birth to my son. I had to leave him in Berlin.

I'm now 36 years old. I live in fear every day. I don't sleep well. I'm afraid they'll find me and kill me. I don't go to the store, to the church, or to the park with my two-year-old son. I don't leave my house. I don't trust anyone, not even the police.

I want to go home to see my family. I want to be with them so badly, but I can't. The men still want money from me. If I go home, they'll kill me because I don't have the money they want from me. The police in Nigeria don't help me; they handle such things as this like a simple shoplifting.

It started out as a dream for a better life, but the lies turned into a nightmare. Now I dream of freedom. I dream of being with my family. I dream of being normal.

"I didn't understand what was going on at first, but before I knew it, she had sold me."

I'm from Colombia. I was eighteen when I married, but he left me. He left me and our four children; they are still in Colombia. After my husband ran away, I was left with all the debts, the house and the children. I was stuck.

I had a friend who lived in Holland and she said she could get a job as a teacher for me. When I arrived, they took me to a house. At first I didn't understand what was going on, but before I knew it, she had sold me.

And that's been my life so far. Sometimes I eat, sometimes I have five to six clients and they keep all the money. You never know how much you get or even how much money you owe them; she keeps all the money. I want to go back to Colombia, I want to find my children, but to go back I need papers and they took everything. They burned my papers and passport.

After being there for a while, one of the girls started to teach me Dutch. I told the girls there that I can't do this if I don't understand the language. And they said, "Yes, you can. You just open your legs and close your mouth." If I didn't want to do something, they'd beat me and tie me to the bed. They put something in my mouth so I couldn't scream, and blindfolded me while the men came. One after the other, one after the other...

All we want is some kind of protection, a place where we can go and feel like a person. A good bed, some food and a way out.

If there is a place where they can't find you, if there is a place where you can start all over again and feel like a human being, that's the most important thing.

I want to go to the toilet without people standing in front of me, keep you tied up, I want to drink a glass of water, without being insulted. People take things for granted, but they don't know how blessed they are.

With many thanks to artist-activist Jimini Hignett for making her photos available to us from one of her ongoing projects with survivors of the sex industry. These self-portraits, painted on paper bags, show how they see themselves.

They promised me I'd work in an apple orchard. Instead, they took me to a club.

This is the story of a male victim of the sex trade. He is currently 48 years old, and from the age of 37 to 41 he was a sex worker in Amsterdam.

"I came from Senegal in 2002. A man brought me here. He saw my condition. I was suffering. He said he would help. He said he could help me get abroad. I could get on a plane and get a job, I could be a better man. I agreed, so they took me with them.

They promised me I'd work in an apple orchard. Instead, they took me to a club. People came to me. I wondered why there were only men, not women. The men started to touch me. "What?" I said. "I'm not doing this!?" They told me I had to. I didn't know anyone, I was scared, so I followed their orders. I did this in Amsterdam for four years. Sometimes I get (still) terrible dreams; people chasing me, and demons...

I intend to go to my country as spokesman. If I'm threatened, I can come back here. In Africa they don't have courts and the middlemen have money. They pay the judge, they pay the police, they pay all those people with authority and you get no protection. But if I have my documents, I can go back and then I'll tell them everything. If they threaten me, I'll go back. If I go without documentation, I have a very big problem.

The problem arises because of the poverty there. Because whatever you tell the poor people there, they're tempted. The traders will come. You always see them with a different car, you see how they spend money and you want to live a life like that. All I want to do is help those poor people in Africa. Their eyes are blind and they close their ears. Human traffickers and anyone who helps them should be prosecuted. ‘

With many thanks to artist-activist Jimini Hignett for making her photos available to us from one of her ongoing projects with survivors of the sex industry. These self-portraits, painted on paper bags, show how they see themselves.