C, now in his early twenties, reflects on his journey with a mix of hope and exhaustion. “I want to believe there is a better future, but it’s hard when you spend years waiting endlessly.”

As a teenager, a protester, and an advocate, C fled his home country due to his involvement in protests against government oppression. His outspoken advocacy had placed him at risk. “I didn’t want to leave, but staying would have meant imprisonment—or worse,” he recalls. His journey to the United Kingdom was complicated and dangerous, ending with his arrival at immigration.

The story of C is not just about one person—it is the narrative of countless asylum seekers who arrived in the United Kingdom with nothing but hope and fear. For C, a teenager fleeing his home country in Asia due to political persecution, the journey was supposed to lead to safety and freedom. Instead, he found himself trapped in a cycle of uncertainty, where each day felt like a repeat of the last.

Upon declaring his intention to seek asylum, C’s travel documents were collected by UK authorities. Under the 1951 Refugee Convention, as defined by the UNHCR, asylum seekers must prove they are fleeing persecution due to race, religion, nationality, political opinion, or membership in a particular social group. But before that recognition, they face months, often years, of waiting. “The process is confusing. You are left in the dark,” C says. With no legal right to work, many asylum seekers like C find themselves reliant on government support and the goodwill of local communities.

The waiting begins immediately. C’s first day in the UK was marked by bitter cold. The small room was filled with more than ten people. His body trembled from the chill, discomfort intensified by the anxious atmosphere that hung over the group, bound by uncertainty. “Over ten of us, from countries like Iran, Pakistan, China, and Ukraine, sat together, bound by the same uncertainty, each of us waiting in silence.”

This “waiting” phase stretches on as applications are processed. It is a suspended life. Many spend months or years in temporary accommodations, as applications are processed and decisions are delayed.

“You don’t know if you’ll be allowed to stay or if they will send you back to your country. Last year, they even said they would send the asylum to Rwanda. Every day is full of anxiety,” C explains. For some, the limbo erodes their mental health; depression, anxiety, and isolation become their life. The average waiting time for asylum seekers in the UK is one to three years. After the initial screening, they often face long periods of uncertainty before making their final decision.

For those whose claims are approved, it becomes another challenge. “When they told me I could stay, I didn’t know where to begin,” C says. Refugee status allows access to work and public services, but building a life from scratch is daunting. Discrimination, language barriers, and limited support often leave refugees feeling marginalised. “I want to study, but not all universities have much support for refugees.” For others, rejection means an even greater struggle. Appealing a decision can take years, during which they live in the same situation, unable to plan their future.

While C’s experience reflects the isolation and helplessness asylum seekers face, Terry’s commitment to supporting them helps to bridge this emotional gap, providing not just food but the emotional reassurance that they are not forgotten.

Terry previously served as a trustee for a London-based Charitable Incorporated Organisation (CIO), where he helped asylum seekers and managed food aid programs. He has also volunteered with St Martin-in-the-Fields, dedicating his time to helping refugees and individuals experiencing homelessness.

Spending more than three days a week working on programs to help people in need, Terry still maintains a full-time job that requires him to go to the office daily. Despite his full-time job, why does he continue to volunteer? “It was heartbreaking every time I saw people come in looking lost and hopeless. I don’t want to leave them alone or do nothing when I can share the love from God,” said Terry.

When discussing the support available for asylum seekers, Terry remarked, “While there is support from the Home Office, it never suffices for a shattered spirit.” Asylum seekers are provided with accommodation and £49.18 per person weekly on a payment card to cover food, clothing, and toiletries. If meals are included in their accommodation, the allowance is reduced to £8.86 per person per week.

“It’s impossible to survive in the UK on £49.18 a week, even for someone who isn’t an asylum seeker,” explained Terry. “Asylum seekers are often housed in hotel rooms where they can’t cook. A meal deal costs £4. Eating just two a day won’t last a week, and this doesn’t include clothing or toiletries. How could they live like a human being in this situation?”

“Besides how hard their days are with food or money, The waiting process is the most depressing part of their experience. That’s why I wanted to provide them free meals and emotional support,” Terry explained. In previous years, while serving as a trustee of the CIO, Terry co-ran a program aimed at supporting asylum seekers. The program operated once or twice weekly, offering free meals, group games, and sharing sessions.

After two years, when Terry left the CIO, he and several program participants who shared his vision of helping came together to launch a new community. This new program continues with the same mission, offering meals, support, and activities to help asylum seekers feel at home and hopeful. This year, Terry and his team launched a learning scheme designed to encourage participants to challenge themselves by improving their English or obtaining employability-related qualifications, intending to help asylum seekers and refugees take steps toward starting a new life.

Asylum seekers like C are not only waiting for decisions—they are waiting to rebuild their lives, facing endless uncertainty and hardship. While government support offers a lifeline, it is clear that more is needed. With its delays and lack of resources, the asylum process strains those seeking safety. But as Terry and countless other volunteers show, hope is not found just in decisions—it thrives in the kindness and solidarity of those who refuse to let these broken spirits be forgotten.

The waiting process is overwhelming—depressing and anxiety-inducing. But C’s greatest fear? “No one remembers me anymore, as if I am nothing,” said C. Also, in a world that often forgets, the smallest acts of kindness can offer a lifeline to those who need it most.  “That’s why I will be here for them—to let them know they are never alone,” said Terry.

For safety concerns, names and details have been changed.