The following is the story of a refugee that was interviewed at the Christian Action Centre for Refugees as part of a Grade 7/8 club initiative. It is a tale of hardship and hope, and a firsthand account of how the centre is a lifeline: providing medical and psycho-social support, emergency response, education, employability training, empowerment and outreach for asylum seekers and refugees. Please help support the humanitarian programs of the Centre for Refugees by donating here: https://www.christian-action.org.hk/donationbox/donation.php?page=Refugee
The Centre for Refugees is Hong Kong’s first and only drop-in community centre dedicated to serving asylum seekers and refugees. Many people who walk through their doors have fled unthinkable hardships—war, violence, and persecution—seeking safety and a chance to rebuild their lives. At the centre, they find more than just support; they find dignity, belonging, and the warmth of a welcoming community.
I used to live in Pakistan but came to Hong Kong in 2015. I belong to a religious group called the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community. In Pakistan, Ahmadies are not recognized as Muslims even though that’s how we think of ourselves. If Ahmadies are caught doing anything a Muslim does, like saying Salam Alaikum or reading the holy book, they get sent to jail. My father was imprisoned for 3 years just for praying. As Ahmadies, we face relentless persecution—we’re ostracized in society, targeted in schools, and live in constant fear for our safety. With no other option, I made the agonizing decision to flee with my family.
We turned to an agent to arrange an illegal escape, knowing that if authorities identified us as Ahmadies trying to leave Pakistan, we could be imprisoned. The agent asked if I wanted to go to a place called Hong Kong. I’d never heard of it before—I didn’t know the language, the culture, or anyone there. But Hong Kong meant safety, and that was all that mattered.
When I arrived in Hong Kong, it was around 11:45pm in the evening. I told immigration that our lives were in danger and officially started the process to apply for asylum. I had to endure many interviews with immigration officers, but one cut deeper than the rest. “Ah, you speak good English. Why you refugee?”
There’s a widespread assumption that refugees are uneducated, that we flee only for economic survival. But I didn’t come here to chase an opportunity. I came because safety was a privilege I’d lost. Back in Pakistan, I was an engineering student; my husband, a graphic and textile designer. We had lives and careers. But when persecution leaves you no choice, you don’t plan an escape and pick a destination—you flee through the only door left unlocked.
After many hours, they took my passport and told me I could enter Hong Kong. I asked them where I should go, and they gave me a map of Chungking Mansions. “This is Chungking Mansions. Just go there. Your people live there.” And those were the only directions I got. We caught the train to the general area and wandered the streets, until finally at 5am, we collapsed at the entrance of Chungking Mansions, exhausted and miserable. Later that day I got to know about Christian Action and became a client of the Refugee Center. And somehow, I slowly pieced my life back together. I couldn’t work or volunteer, or contribute to the community forming around me. I could only wait until my case for resettlement was accepted. It took 10 years and three attempts because the immigration officials didn’t understand how we could be persecuted without scars on our body. On our fourth attempt, in 2023, I got a call from the admissions center saying that my case had been accepted. As soon as I heard the words, I felt my soul come back to my body. Ten years of waiting to know what the future might hold was finally over.
