Stories

Angela’s Story

It all began when our house was broken into and our belongings were stolen. You might think going to the police was the right thing to do, and in most places it would be, but in El Salvador, appearing in court as a witness against a robbery is a death sentence.


The police followed proper procedures, and the robbers were caught. When a court hearing was scheduled, I learned something that would change our lives forever – my husband had reported the burglary.

After the robbers received five-year sentences, our lives turned upside down. The gangs behind the break-in wanted revenge. They can get people’s personal details easily in El Salvador – they bribe the police to obtain addresses, phone numbers, everything. The threats started immediately after the court hearing. I’ll never forget watching my husband answer a gang member’s call – his eye began twitching, and he was so terrified he lost control of his bladder. They knew where we lived, where our kids went to school.

We tried separating to distract the gangs. I had to quit my job. My husband rented a small room while the children and I moved in with my parents. But we knew we weren’t safe. Every time I walked down a street, I imagined a killer waiting for me on the corner. I was certain I was going to die. The TV news was filled with stories of brutal murders – old people, children, whole families, they didn’t care. I was so anxious I was no longer myself.

Despite having a comfortable life as an accountant and occasionally taking holidays abroad, I knew we had to leave. Through countless Google searches, I discovered that MS-13 gangs had spread to many countries – the US, Mexico, Honduras, Spain, even Italy. Nowhere seemed to be beyond their reach. I was in complete despair. Then I came across a story of a Salvadoran woman who had found refuge in the UK through the UNHCR.

My husband and his family thought we were crazy to go to a country we knew nothing about and where we didn’t speak the language. But I knew I had to make a future for my children. With only enough money for three tickets, I took the kids and boarded a plane to London in October 2020, telling them we were going on holiday. In reality, we were flying into the unknown.

We landed during Covid lockdown and claimed asylum. I didn’t speak a word of English, and my children started crying. They were 7 and 9 years old. After hours of waiting, we were sent to a hotel in Earl’s Court, where we stayed in a single room for nine months. During lockdown, everything was closed. The children didn’t go to school, and we had no information about anything. It was very depressing. I wasn’t sure I’d made the right decision to leave my home. It grew very cold, my children had no winter clothes. Through more Google searches on my phone, I found a place in Hammersmith where miraculously, there was a Spanish-speaking person able to help us. It was was her, Cristal, a volunter at West London Welcome who suggested we come to the centre.

That introduction changed everything. The Deputy Director, Leyla, became our guardian angel. She helped us secure a lawyer for our asylum claim, helped get my children registered at school, and through West London Welcome we started receiving hot food once a week and clothing. Fred, a volunteer, slowly coaxed my children out of their shells by playing football and speaking in Spanish with them. I threw myself into English classes at the centre, and started studying the language constantly through YouTube videos and TV shows. I knew I had to speak fluently if we were to improve our situation.

The path wasn’t smooth. We faced multiple relocations for reasons we couldn’t always understand by the Home Office, once so sudden that Leyla had to intervene to stop a taxi taking us out of London. We were sent to a hostel in Ilford for recovering drug users. My daughter developed urinary infections because she was afraid to use the shared bathrooms, and my son was angry with me for bringing him to the UK.

But receiving refugee status marked a turning point. Through West London Welcome’s network, we met two volunteers, Barry and Debbie, who became like grandparents to my children. They invited us to Dorset, spoke English with us, and helped my son open up. We moved to Bridport, where I worked as a waitress and at Morrisons. My children flourished – my son was representing his school in rugby and cross-country running, while my daughter won prizes for reading 30 books in a year.

Now we’re back in London, where opportunities are even greater. We’ve moved into a new flat, again found through West London Welcome’s networks, and we and the landlord who is renting to us were advised by Senior Caseworker Alison to make the move go smoothly. I’m studying for my Association of Accounting Technicians (AAT) certificate, funded by West London Welcome, to requalify as an accountant, while working part-time as a bookkeeper for a bakery chain. My goal is to secure professional employment and become independent of housing support as quickly as possible.

Since joining West London Welcome, I’ve stopped feeling alone, even when we lived in Dorset. They are such a big network of support – there is always someone there for you. They didn’t just help us survive; they helped us build a new life.

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