B. Mufalme took time to speak about his experience, often breaking down in tears while narrating his encounters with the Polish and German police. His story reflects fear, confusion, and deep psychological harm.

In Poland, he was treated like a criminal despite committing no crime. He was arrested, detained, and sent to prison without clear explanation. Instead of receiving protection as an asylum seeker, he was denied basic rights and prosecuted by a system that was meant to safeguard him.

He was deported back and forth between European countries, including Poland and Germany, under migration enforcement procedures. This repeated transfer left him unstable, frightened, and without any sense of security. Throughout this period, asylum lawyers failed to provide effective legal support, leaving him unprotected and uninformed about his case.

During these transfers, he was handcuffed and treated as a criminal, despite having no criminal charges. He was imprisoned again in Hof, Germany, where he spent one month in detention before being transferred to the Ankerzentrum in Bamberg.

His time in the Ankerzentrum marked a severe decline in his health. He reported feeling constant fear and believed he might die there. Medical examinations later confirmed that he was suffering from depression, ulcers, and other stress-related illnesses. These conditions developed as a direct result of prolonged detention, uncertainty, and mistreatment.

Eventually, he was transferred to Lichtenfels, Germany, but the damage caused by his experiences across multiple systems and countries remained. His case shows how repeated detention, deportation, and lack of legal protection can seriously harm the physical and mental health of asylum seekers.

A. Muzamil is from Ghana. He is a refugee and is currently doing a vocational training as a kitchen chef in Bamberg. Before starting his training, he lived in the Ankerzentrum in Bamberg for more than six months. During this time, he went through serious and disturbing experiences.

After only a few days in the Ankerzentrum, his behavior and personality changed. He was no longer the same person he used to be. He became withdrawn, anxious, and emotionally affected. The person he was before arrival slowly disappeared as a result of what he experienced inside the center.

Muzamil reports repeated harassment by security staff, including unnecessary control, intimidation, and disrespectful treatment. He also faced constant pressure related to the Dublin Regulation, which created fear of transfer to another country and made him feel unsafe and unstable.

In addition, he received negative decisions and official letters without proper explanation or legal support. These letters caused confusion, fear, and emotional distress. During his asylum process, his interview was interrupted, which affected his ability to explain his situation fully and fairly.

These combined experiences had a strong negative impact on his mental health and sense of identity. Life in the Ankerzentrum did not only delay his future; it changed him as a person. Even after leaving the Ankerzentrum, the effects of this period remain visible in his daily life.

Voice Without Borders is committed to examining our lived reality inside the Ankerzentrum in Germany, with particular focus on Bamberg. We speak from within the system, not about it from a distance. We analyze how we live, how we are treated, and how the asylum system shapes our daily existence.

Our focus is on three core areas: our living conditions, the asylum process we are subjected to, and the security practices we face. Inside the Ankerzentrum, overcrowding, isolation, limited access to healthcare, poor communication, and endless waiting define our daily lives. These are not temporary conditions; they become our normal reality.

The asylum process places us in constant uncertainty. Many of us wait months or years without clear information, adequate legal support, or stability. We live with the daily fear of transfer or deportation, which affects our mental health and strips us of dignity and control over our own lives.

Security practices are one of our most pressing concerns. We experience excessive control, intimidation, discriminatory treatment, and harassment by private security personnel. Our movement is restricted, our privacy is limited, and respect is often absent. Instead of protection, we are met with surveillance.

Voice Without Borders documents our experiences through observation and our own testimonies. Our purpose is clear: to make our reality visible, to challenge abuse and neglect, and to demand humane, lawful, and respectful treatment for all of us.

The speech brought out the true me, hidden for a long time. It was one task that uncovered who I really was, a task that forced me to speak when silence had been safer. It educated me in ways no classroom ever could. It pushed me to learn, to question, and to understand the systems around me.

That single task shaped my path. It made me a musician, a writer, a poet, a speaker, and a political activist. It became my teacher when there was no guidance, no support, and no clear future. Even when hope was absent, that task demanded honesty, courage, and voice and through it, I discovered myself.

My first encounter with a journalist was during a street interview in front of the Munich Parliament in 2019. I was standing there surrounded by hundreds of federal police officers. Their presence was heavy and intimidating, and for a moment, the questions left me silent. Silence came first not because I had nothing to say, but because the weight of the setting demanded it.

Then the journalist asked me:

“Destiny, how do you see and how can you explain police brutality and violence in the camp?”

The question cut straight through the noise of the street. It was not an abstract issue for me; it was lived reality. Police brutality in camps is often explained away as security, order, or enforcement, but for those inside, it feels like punishment without crime. Violence becomes normalized, and fear becomes part of daily life.

What the public often does not see is that camps are spaces of extreme power imbalance. Refugees live under constant control, with little ability to question authority or defend themselves. When force is used, there is rarely accountability. Complaints are dismissed, voices are doubted, and silence is encouraged.

That moment in front of the Munich Parliament marked something important for me. Speaking about violence in camps, under the watch of armed police, showed how fragile freedom of expression can be for refugees. Yet it also showed why speaking out matters. Silence protects the system. Truth challenges it.

We are being seen as people who do not want to integrate, who do not want to learn. That is the narrative being pushed: refugees are criminals. What is not told to the world is that refugees often face serious challenges and are denied opportunities to learn and integrate, simply because their asylum applications are rejected. They are blocked from language courses, education, and work, yet they are still asked, “Why don’t you speak German?”

This contradiction defines the refugee experience. You are denied access, then blamed for not entering. You are kept at the margins, then accused of choosing isolation. The system creates exclusion and later points to that exclusion as proof of failure. Integration is demanded, but the doors that make it possible are deliberately kept closed.

Vany felt deep sadness when she was asked how she felt about seeing refugees being discriminated against, criminalised, and isolated in an asylum house, because what she witnessed was not just social exclusion but a systematic way of separating people from society, normalising suspicion, and forcing children and families to grow up in an environment defined by control, stigma, and uncertainty.

Vany is a psychology student at the University of Hagen, Germany. Alongside her studies, she works as an inclusion assistant in an elementary school.

The topic explores on "kids growing up in Asylum house,"

On the very first day Vany encountered kids in the Ankerzentrum in Bamberg, she immediately noticed a difference from the children she worked with in regular schools. The environment itself felt restrictive and impersonal. The building was not designed for children, yet many were living there for long periods.

The children’s behavior stood out. Some were unusually quiet and withdrawn, while others showed restlessness and difficulty concentrating. Many struggled with attention, emotional regulation, and trust. Language barriers were visible, but beyond language, there was a clear sense of insecurity. Several children were alert to every movement and sound, reacting strongly to sudden changes.

Vany observed that some children had taken on responsibilities beyond their age, especially older siblings caring for younger ones. This affected their social behavior and learning process. The lack of routine, frequent appointments, and uncertainty about their future influenced their ability to focus and feel safe.