Capturing the chaos
One gusty day in spring 2022 I took a train to Folkestone West, ambling through brambly woodland and up leafy lanes to some former military barracks. Beyond the barbed-wire fencing were the dorms housing more than four hundred men who had recently arrived by small boat and were waiting for their asylum claims to be processed.
In a queue for phone credit, clothes, shoes and other necessities, I met Heji, an Iraqi-Kurdish photographer, who told me that he, too, was a reporter of sorts. He showed me some of the images he'd taken on his phone: of the sheets separating the beds, the paintings on windowsills, the deflated football in the broken net.
We kept in touch and, a year or so later, a friend helped to showcase his photos at a gallery in Folkestone. I've always wanted to do something similar, so that more people could see how talented he is. I'm so proud and grateful that my publisher also wanted to highlight his work.
Heji’s image, 'Behind The Fence', is the first thing people will see in my book. It’s a picture I've always felt perfectly encapsulates so much of the experience of seeking asylum in Britain, viewed through the lens of someone navigating the system.
Earlier this week I interviewed Heji about his photography and what has happened to him over the last few years since we first met on that clifftop.
You can follow Heji on instagram @hejiph and consider ordering my book here if you want to learn more about what life is like inside the asylum system, for those on the frontline and new arrivals themselves.
****
Firstly, how are you? You faced backlash for a post on Instagram about the latest news that Labour would ban anyone who arrived by small boat from ever having citizenship. When you received those messages, how did they make you feel?
On Instagram, the response to my post was supportive, but on TikTok, it was completely different. To be honest, I don’t remember getting any positive comments there. What shocked me most was that many of the negative comments came from fake accounts you never know who’s really behind them.
In daily life, I shop from local stores, study with classmates, work with colleagues, and even exercise alongside others. People seem friendly face to face.
But after seeing those TikTok comments, I can’t help but wonder ‘Do some of these people secretly hate us’? It’s painful to think about. Social media can feel like a completely different world from reality.
What did you think when you heard that news?
The citizenship ban is unfair. Being Kurdish means never truly having a country to call my own. I thought the UK could be that place, a country where I could finally belong. But this citizenship ban makes me feel like that hope was never real.
As Kurds, we have always been without a homeland, and now, even here, we are being told we don’t belong. It feels like we will never have the chance to say, “This is my country.” No place ever truly feels like home.
What did you imagine or expect life in Britain would be like? Has anything surprised you?
I was surprised to see how much misunderstanding there is about asylum seekers, and how many people believe things that are not true about us.
I imagined that when you arrive in the UK, the government and people would understand that you had no other choice but to take the risk to come here. I thought they would see that if someone takes one of the most dangerous journeys in the world, it’s because they are truly desperate and have nowhere else to go. But that’s not what has happened.
Instead of understanding, we are seen as “illegal immigrants” from the moment we arrive. Even after going through the asylum process, it still feels like we are not fully accepted. I never expected that refugees and asylum seekers would be such a huge issue in the UK, that our presence would be seen as a problem.
How would you describe your experience of navigating the system here?
If you haven’t been through the asylum system, thank God every day, because it’s nothing like what people think. Many believe it’s easy: that you arrive, get everything, and start a new life quickly. But believe me, it’s not like that at all.
The waiting times are so long that sometimes it feels like the system is designed to make you give up. You live in uncertainty for months or even years, not knowing what will happen to you. It’s mentally exhausting, and the process is slow and difficult.
It’s not easy, but you have no choice but to keep going. You just have to hold on and hope and pray that one day, things will finally change.
We first met outside Napier in 2022. You’ve shared images from there for a while. Tell me what it was like inside.
Napier Barracks was a very difficult place to live, especially for three months. It wasn’t designed for long term accommodation, but many asylum seekers were forced to stay there for months, sometimes even longer.
When you first arrive, you sleep in a big dormitory with many other people. There are no real walls, just thin curtains separating beds, so you have no privacy. At 12 o’clock, all the lights go off, and everyone has to sleep at the same time, even if you’re not tired. The environment can feel stressful, especially because you don’t know the people around you. Many asylum seekers had problems with each other because some of them would snore or fall asleep while listening to stories, music or the Holy Quran.
After about a month, they move you to a smaller room with two or three people. But if you don’t have any friends, you end up sharing a room with strangers, which is not easy. Some asylum seekers were lucky and made friends early, so they could ask to stay together. But for those who were shy, didn’t speak much English, or had personal struggles, it was much harder. They had to live with people they didn’t know, which could make them feel even more isolated.
The food in Napier was a big problem. There were set meal times, and if you missed a meal, you had to stay hungry. If you went outside and came back late, there was no food left for you. You had no choice but to eat whatever they gave you.
One of the best things in Napier was Napier School. This organisation helped us learn English, and they also took us outside the camp to visit different places. It was a way to escape, even for a short time, and see something different. It made a big difference for many people because it gave them hope and something to do during the day.
Even though life in Napier was hard, but staff were kind. They tried to help as much as they could, In the end, we were all just waiting for a move to address or decision on our asylum claims, waiting to leave Napier, waiting to start a new life. It was a place of uncertainty, and that was the hardest part.
What was it like waiting for a decision on your claim?
Waiting for a decision was one of the hardest things I’ve ever been through. It felt like one of my feet was still in danger in Iraq, while the other was in the UK, I was stuck between two worlds, not knowing if I would be accepted or rejected… and that uncertainty was exhausting
It’s hard to focus on anything when you don’t have your status. Even simple things like studying, or making plans for the future feel impossible because you don’t know if you’ll be allowed to stay. There was always a barrier in front of me. I felt like I was in a waiting room with no exit, just stuck in the same place every single day.
There was no motivation to do anything. Every day felt the same just waiting, hoping, and praying. You watch the days, weeks, and months pass, but nothing changes. Some people around me lost hope completely, and I understood why. It was mentally exhausting.
For me, the UK was my last chance, my last hope for safety. That’s why the wait was so painful because I didn’t know if I would have a future here or if I would be forced back to danger.
What does photography offer you?
Photography allows me to tell stories that words can’t fully explain. It’s my way of showing reality especially the reality of asylum seekers so that people can see the truth instead of just believing what they hear in the media. It also gives me a sense of purpose, a way to document experiences and moments that might otherwise be forgotten.
You have status now. What's next for you?
Now that I have status, I want to build a stable life and start studying and working. I also want to continue with photography maybe even turn it into something bigger. At the same time, I want to help others in some way, whether by raising awareness or supporting people who are still stuck in the asylum system.
