Portraits of Resilience: Wumi

Our Portraits of Resilience bring together powerful portraits and personal stories from women who’ve walked through our doors at Bramber Bakehouse. As you explore these stories, we invite you to stand with us as we step into the next decade of hope and healing.

When I first went to Bramber Bakehouse, I was at a place in my life where all my confidence had gone. I couldn’t do anything. I had given up and felt I had no future. If you had asked me what my skills were, I would have said, I don’t know.

I was depressed and didn’t feel physically or emotionally well. It was like being in a tiny canoe in open waters. If I was to summarise how I was feeling in one word, it would be drained.

At that time, I was living in a safe house after being referred there by the NRM (National Referral Mechanism) which identifies and supports people who have been victims of modern slavery and human trafficking. I was in a safe place with a bed where I could rest, but I had a lot of time to reflect. I was out of immediate danger but everything I had been through was just dawning on me.

When I was 12 years old and my sister was 14, we were brought from school in Nigeria to the UK, where our passports were taken. Instead of staying with family, we were forced into domestic work and faced abuse with no protection.

It wasn’t until we were 16 or 17, that we started to realise this was not normal. We wanted to apply to university, but when we asked for our passports, we were told that it was not possible to give them back to us. At the same time, we were also warned not to tell anyone because we’d be in trouble for having no ID.

With a friend’s help, we escaped and went to the police. Even though they could see that we had clearly been victims of passport fraud, nothing else was done to support us.

What followed was a 13-year battle for our immigration status. We were relentlessly exploited in insecure work and housing and at one stage my sister and I lost contact because we couldn’t live together. We were both just trying to survive. For years no one listened, not even the many lawyers we spoke to.

In 2018, at a women’s refuge, I met a barrister and told her what had happened. She was the first person who called it exploitation and referred me to the National Referral Mechanism (NRM). It was then, I went into the safe house where I claimed asylum and discovered Bramber Bakehouse.

I was in a vulnerable place, thinking that I couldn’t do anything good. Then within an hour or two, I would have created this baking masterpiece that I never thought I could make.

The environment Bramber created was so friendly. We would have lunch together around a table: it was a safe, positive space and created a sense of belonging. It was interesting talking with the other women and hearing each others’ stories. Everyone had similar experiences. My friends who I went to school with in the UK could not comprehend why I was not doing anything with my life. It was a relief to be with people who understood my situation.

There were so many types of women there, some that couldn’t speak English or who had never been to school. The course gave us so much confidence. I started to realise that I do have skills, I could learn something new. I began to believe I had a future.

The Bramber Bakehouse graduation was a turning point because I had achieved something even during the darkest time of my life. It helped me to get back to myself and believe I could do anything. I don’t think anything else could have pulled me out of that bleak time.

I began researching courses and eventually studied psychology, graduating last year. Now I’m an entrepreneur, CEO of an events company, an operations officer, on the board of a children’s charity in Africa and a lived experience consultant to the Sophie Hayes Foundation. I also volunteer with my MP and could even see myself becoming a politician. I like being busy!

I’m considering an MSc in Counselling because I see how much support women who have been through similar experiences need. I now give empowerment talks, encouraging women to discover the opportunities available to them and keep building up their skills. Recently, I was in parliament with a group campaigning for the right to work for survivors of modern slavery. It’s vital they are given the chance to rebuild their lives.

All those years I suffered exploitation – I’d told the police and met with lawyers but no-one did anything. One of my future goals is to ensure there is lived experience present in every organisation and sector because we know the implications of not acting. I’m determined to keep growing, using my voice to raise awareness.

Thank you to Sarah Weal (photographer), Katherine Maxwell-Jones from iMix (storyteller) and Julia Smith (floristry artist) for your careful care and support enabling us to share these stories with the world.