Guest Blog:

I remember the day I was supposed to move into the Bibby Stockholm barge. The moment I received the letter, my heart sank. I had heard about the inhumane conditions there, and the tragic story of a man who had taken his own life on that very barge made me feel even more anxious. I desperately wanted to avoid going there, but I had no other choice.

Before moving in, I got in touch with Laney, who, when I expressed my concerns, showed empathy and reassured me, saying, "We are here, don't worry." Her words brought some comfort, but the fear of the unknown remained.

On my second day, I visited Careys Secret Garden, where I met many volunteers and the team who were deeply supportive of those who had fled their countries in search of safety. That place felt like a haven, a stark contrast to the harsh reality of the barge.

The conditions on the Bibby Stockholm were terrible. The rooms were tiny, overcrowded with more than 400 people. The security staff were extremely strict, and the food quality was poor. One day, I found a fly in my food. Thinking it was a mistake that would be addressed, I informed the canteen manager. To my shock, instead of apologizing, she accused me of placing the fly in my own meal. She began shouting at me and demanded my room number and name. When I refused to provide my details, she escalated the situation to the barge manager. Later, I was called in and questioned about why I had argued. I explained the incident, expecting fairness, but instead, I was told that she was part of the management and that I should comply.

The security checks were another nightmare. Sometimes, I avoided going outside just to escape the humiliation. They would open my water bottle and sniff it, suspecting that I was carrying alcohol. When I requested them not to smell my bottle, they responded rudely, reinforcing the feeling that life there was like being in a prison or detention center. Waiting for an interview felt like waiting for an eternity.

But amidst all the darkness, we had one shining hope: the Portland Global Friendship Group (PGFG). Every Monday and Friday, we were allowed to visit the Portland Community Centre, where we met volunteers, played games, shared stories, and had meaningful conversations. Those two days were the highlight of our lives on the barge—the only moments of joy in an otherwise inhumane environment. PGFG was truly the light in the darkness.

Then, a turning point came. The new government announced the closure of the barge. It felt like a breath of fresh air, a long-awaited hope, and finally, they shut it down.

In January 2025, Simon, organised an event called "Bye Bye Bibby." It was a moment of celebration, reflection, and gratitude. People like Laney and Simon are living examples of what it means to be truly human. They stood by us, supported us, and became our family.

Now, whenever I take the train to Portland, I feel like I am going home. That feeling is so precious to me. If there is one thing I have learned from this experience, it is that no matter the circumstances, supporting others is what truly matters. In the darkest of times, kindness and humanity shine the brightest.

Anonymous