2016: From Nigeria to Libya

A friend of Sarah’s introduced her to a person who was a nanny in Europe. He said that his sister had twins and needed someone to take care of them while she was out, Sarah agreed to take the job and that’s how her journey started.

She was told she’d catch a flight from Lagos, but upon arrival, plans changed: she was re-directed to Kano. After an 11-hour bus ride, the story changed again — she was told she’d have to hide in the boot of a taxi.

She tried to bargain and get back home but the smugglers didn’t allow it; the journey had already started and there was no going back.

That’s when she discovered she was being taken to Libya.

From Kano, Sarah was taken to Agadez and that is where her phone was taken from her. From there, they crammed everyone into a vehicle that Sarah called an “ilos”.

Smugglers commonly use medium-sized to large pickup trucks for these perilous journeys, dumping people on the truck bed as their legs hang out.“Being on that vehicle was hell. I was half alive and half dead,” she said of the two-week journey. People fell off without the drivers even slowing down, and those who begged them to stop were flogged.

“That is when I learned how to say please in Arabic because everyone would start shouting it as they whipped us.”

Sometimes they would do a whole day travelling without stops, people would have to urinate and defecate on themselves because they were unable to hold it.

“There was someone close to me who gave up. He died because the sun was too strong,” Sarah said as her voice broke.

“They beat and raped me because I didn’t want to be a prostitute”

Upon arriving in Libya, the migrants were met with traffickers who gave them water and food, and after three days, they were told they had to begin working as prostitutes.

In Sarah’s case, she was told she had to work to pay off her smugglers who got her to Libya, even though that was never her plan or intention.

“They only care about money. They don’t care about your health or the fact that you’re even human; it is just about money for them,” she recounted.

Sarah refused to do any prostitution, she left her home to become a nanny and pleaded to do that instead. Her smugglers rejected that, they said she had to do it and if she didn’t, they could beat her and worse still, kill her.

Nonetheless, Sarah said no, she didn’t want to have to engage in sexual activity with men she didn’t know, without protection or assurances that they were not infected with any sort of STD.

And the threats came true. She was locked in a room for a week; beaten and molested and after a few weeks they found out she was pregnant.

They tried to force an abortion with medication, but it failed — and the abuse continued. At seven months pregnant, they gave her an injection disguised as treatment, but it was meant to induce premature labour.

It is likely that this injection was misoprostol which is used during a natural miscarriage to help the uterus expel the foetus. This medication can be used for abortions however, at such a late stage, it is extremely dangerous and widely illegal – the fact that it was forced only intensified the trauma.

“After 30 minutes, my body changed, it was not okay. I thought I was dying.”

Sarah was shouting and screaming in pain, begging anyone who could hear for help. She was left completely alone and she was ready to give up and die. But then, she thought of her mother.

Sarah left Nigeria without telling her mother. Her mother had no idea where she was or why she was gone and Sarah knew that if she let herself die, her mother would never know – she would go the rest of her life without hearing her daughter’s voice. And that was Sarah’s strength to keep fighting.

Two hours later, she started bleeding and that’s when she had to deliver her dead baby.

After this trauma, she cried every single day and when she stopped, once again, the traffickers tried to force her into prostitution.

They took her to the connection house – where women are used as sex slaves – and she fought her first client. She couldn’t come to terms with having sex with somebody she didn’t know and she told him that. But he decided to “use force” because he had already paid.

He pushed Sarah and she hit him. He then hit her back and they started fighting. What followed was described as “the worst beating in my [Sarah’s] life” by the traffickers who were angry that she caused trouble and paranoid that she drew too much outside attention.

They soaked a whip with water and hit her repeatedly until she was on the brink of death.

Then, they poured cold water on her, forced her to wear her jalabiya and called her a taxi. The traffickers then told the smugglers that Sarah cannot work for them because she’s too much of a liability and were concerned that her actions would lead them to getting caught.

Her defiance saved her from prostitution, even though it almost killed her first.

Then, they gave her a job in an Arab household where she was cleaning and taking care of a mother and daughter.

“When I got there, my life started coming to life again.”

They were a kind family and they loved her, however, Sarah was still very restricted. She couldn’t go out without them and their only outing was to the supermarket. She couldn’t speak to anyone but the family members and didn’t have access to a phone.

Until one day, Sarah asked if she could use her phone to call her mother, and they allowed it. For the first time in two years, Sarah got to speak to her mother again. She told her she was alive and didn’t utter a word of the torture she endured, worrying that her mother would have a heart attack if she knew the truth.

“When she heard my voice, my mother took the biggest sigh of relief. She was crying because she was scared that kidnappers had taken me away,” Sarah said, explaining that this is common in Nigeria.

They then began communicating from time to time.

However, in the back of her mind, Sarah knew that this was not the life she wanted and she began thinking of ways to flee. A year and a half later, she succeeded.

Her escape

One day, Sarah went to the supermarket with the family as usual, but when they weren’t looking she spotted a man and walked up to him. She chose him at random – out of pure desperation and she pleaded to him for help. She asked for his mobile number and told him to wait for her call.

He agreed; he passed on his details and Sarah hid them. She continued the shopping then made her way home.

Later that day, Sarah asked to use her boss’ phone to call her mother, she agreed and Sarah called the stranger she met at the supermarket. She shared everything and he asked her if she wanted to escape.

“Yes, I told him ‘I want to get out of there but I don’t know how to do it’.”

So, the pair began communicating back and forth and one day, as the family’s trust in Sarah grew, she approached them and asked if she would be allowed to see a friend outside. Initially they were apprehensive, the smugglers had specifically told the family not to let Sarah out of the house without them but Sarah promised that she wouldn’t run away.

They let her go and she met the man.

“I can’t lie to you, with the frustration and everything happening, I had to give myself to this man,” Sarah recounted, explaining that they had sex.

After a few weeks, she fell pregnant again.

This instantly instilled fear within Sarah – she knew that if her smugglers found out about this pregnancy, they would force her to endure another abortion because having a child would make it harder for her to work for them. She wanted to flee and the father of the child supported her.

So, at night, she escaped through a window. The man was waiting outside in a taxi and they fled. A search quickly ensued.

The smugglers had help from the police, Sarah explained, and not long later, the pair were found hiding in someone’s home.

They kidnapped the two of them, locked them in a room and beat them senseless.

But still, they managed to escape again after some time, through a window and over a fence. The man had brought two phones — Sarah hid one beneath her clothes. They contacted another man who picked them up at midnight.

The man drove them to the coast, and her journey to Malta began.

2019: From Libya to Malta

Sarah lived near the coast for around two months as the man she was with made enough money to pay for her space on a boat crossing the Mediterranean sea.

“Eventually, I found myself in Malta.”

When she got here completely alone and around four months pregnant, she did an ultrasound and discovered she was having triplets.

“I cried, I didn’t know how I would manage without the father.”

Sarah now lives in Ħal Far and undergoing the process of receiving asylum. She raises her children in the open centre alone and admitted that it’s really hard.

“We cross the sea because we’re escaping danger. We come here for safety…” But detention was unbearable. Noise, sleeplessness, and pain pushed her to the brink.

It was especially hard being pregnant in the detention camp. There was too much noise and she couldn’t sleep, she felt like she was going crazy. Her children were active in her stomach mostly at night and the pain of that kept her awake, so the only time her body was comfortable for rest was the afternoon, but it was too loud.

One night, to show everyone what she had been enduring, she woke up and began slamming everywhere, “I said no one is going to sleep tonight”.

Eventually, a female security guard calmed her down and she was told she would be given a private room. But she couldn’t do anything independently; she couldn’t even put on her own socks or wear her underwear, a woman in the detention centre used to help her.

So, then, they took her to Ħal Far, where she now raises her three children.

“I get the support that everybody in there gets but it’s not enough. The milk they give me finishes before the month is up, same as the nappies.”

Sarah is struggling to cope with raising three toddlers alone while working. She goes to sleep every day at 12am and wakes up at 4am in an attempt to get everything done: this has been her life for over four years.

“I’ve been working and paying taxes for four years. Getting my documents would change everything.”

Having her asylum application approved would completely change Sarah’s life. The father of her children would be able to come to Malta and she wouldn’t have to bear the brunt of raising triplets completely alone anymore. But each time she searches for answers, she’s left in the dark.

“Your application is being processed,” she’s told.

Nonetheless, Sarah said she’s extremely proud of her children because they’re strong like her.

“My workplace is understanding but it’s really hard, especially when they’re sick but I have to do my best, as a mother.”

Connecting the Dots: Migration, Gender Justice and EU Solidarity

This interview is part of a series being released in the lead-up to an event organised by local NGO TAMA Connecting the Dots: Migration, Gender Justice and EU Solidarity.

It’s a completely free event taking place on 24th May where people will be sharing their stories of gender-based violence during the migration process. The event will feature panels, film screenings and a variety of workshops intended to shed light on what it takes to seek refuge in Europe.

Answering why these events are important, Sarah emphasised that this is one of the only ways stories like hers can be heard. In a country that sees a lot of people seeking asylum from Libya, it’s extremely important for the citizens to know why others flee.

It’s out of necessity and desperation, with enduring torture that, for many in Malta, is only ever seen in horror films. Specifically, Sarah wants the government to hear her and others’ plea for support, especially single mothers.

“I pray and hope for the government to really listen to our voice and hear our pain.”

Sarah’s story is not just one of survival — it’s a mirror reflecting the failures of a system that should protect, not punish, those fleeing violence. Her strength is undeniable, but resilience alone should not be a requirement for safety. As Malta — and Europe — continues to receive people escaping Libya, Sarah reminds us of the human cost of indifference. Her plea is simple: to be heard, and to be given the chance to live with dignity.

To find out more about the event, click here.