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.”
