After I listened to David’s story, I was deeply affected. Not because I had never heard stories like his before, but because of how closely his experience reflected realities I already knew too well. Hearing his account confirmed that the violence, torture, and abandonment migrants face are not isolated incidents. They are part of a system that operates openly and repeatedly.

David’s testimony was difficult to hear. The details of kidnapping, torture, ransom, and being left to die in the desert were not exaggerated. They were precise and factual. What struck me most was not only what happened to him, but how easily his life could have ended without anyone knowing or caring.

As someone who works closely with refugee stories and lived experiences, I recognized the patterns immediately: the trafficking networks, the ransom system, the denial of medical care, and the assumption that migrants are disposable. David’s experience reinforced the reality that many migrants are not moving by choice, but are being forced into situations where survival depends on chance and outside intervention.

Listening to David also strengthened my sense of responsibility. Stories like his cannot remain private or unheard. They must be documented accurately and shared publicly, not to shock people, but to confront false narratives about migration and expose the human cost behind them.

After hearing David’s story, it became even clearer to me that storytelling is not just about memory. It is a tool for accountability. When survivors speak and their stories are recorded, it becomes harder to deny what is happening and harder to look away.

Claudia Koehler conducted and led the storytelling session with David Amos. She works in the field of migration and has been involved in several refugee-focused projects that center lived experience, documentation, and public awareness.

Her work includes participation, collaboration and organising in initiatives such as Voice of Refugees, refugee storytelling projects, and Culture of Refugees. Across these projects, she has focused on creating spaces where refugees can speak for themselves, without their experiences being simplified, distorted, or reduced to statistics.

Through her engagement with survivors of migration routes, detention, and displacement, Claudia has developed a grounded understanding of illegal and irregular migration. Her insight is based on direct contact with refugees and long-term involvement in storytelling processes, not on assumptions or abstract policy discussions. She emphasizes that illegal migration is often the result of forced circumstances, including violence, persecution, trafficking, and the absence of safe and legal migration pathways.

During the interview with David Amos, her approach was structured, attentive, and respectful. She allowed space for difficult details to be expressed clearly and without interruption. Her role was not to dramatize the story, but to document it accurately and responsibly.

Claudia’s work challenges dominant narratives that portray refugees only as economic migrants or passive victims. By focusing on testimony and first-hand accounts, she contributes to a more realistic understanding of migration, one that reflects coercion, survival, and the long-term impact of displacement on individuals and families.

After everything David experienced, he does not encourage others to follow the same path to Europe. His advice is direct and firm. He states clearly that Europe is not worth the journey when measured against the risks, suffering, and loss involved.

David explains that many people leave their home countries believing that Europe guarantees safety, dignity, and opportunity. Based on his experience, this belief is misleading. The journey itself exposes people to kidnapping, torture, extortion, sexual violence, and death. For many, survival depends entirely on luck.

He emphasizes that even those who reach Europe alive often face new forms of hardship. Long asylum processes, detention, isolation, trauma, and uncertainty replace the expectations people had before leaving. For him, the physical injuries and permanent damage he suffered cannot be undone by any future stability.

David advises those considering the journey to think carefully about what they are risking. He urges them not to rely on stories of success shared on social media or by smugglers. According to him, these stories hide the realities of abuse and loss that most migrants experience but rarely speak about openly.

His message is not meant to discourage hope, but to present reality. He believes that no destination is worth a journey that treats human life as expendable. His warning comes from experience, not fear, and it is meant to prevent others from repeating the same suffering.

Even in situations where human life is treated as disposable, acts of humanity still exist. In places where violence, exploitation, and abuse dominate daily life, survival often depends not only on strength but on the actions of others who choose to help.

For people like David, cruelty was systematic and intentional. He was tortured, abandoned, and left with injuries meant to end his life. The system around him was designed to break bodies and erase dignity. There was no protection, no law, and no accountability.

Yet his survival did not end with the violence. It continued because someone intervened. A person who did not know him, who had no obligation to help, chose to act. That decision made the difference between death and survival.

This contrast exposes a difficult truth. Systems can be built to destroy human life, but individuals still have the power to preserve it. Humanity does not disappear completely, even in environments structured around inhumanity. It survives in small, decisive actions that refuse to accept cruelty as normal.

Finding humanity in such conditions does not erase the crimes committed. It does not excuse the violence. It only proves that even in the worst circumstances, human responsibility still exists and that choosing to help can save a life.

They survived the sea but not without cost.

Lost at sea in the Mediterranean for more than a day, the boat slowly filled with water as people bailed in silence, knowing they might not make it. When small lights appeared in the darkness, fear came first, not relie,f because in Libya, uniforms often meant kidnapping, torture, or death.

The rescuers were German forces.

Less than half of those who began the journey were still alive. Some had disappeared into the sea without a trace. A newborn baby was taken first. Shock swallowed everything else.

But survival did not end the suffering.

After reaching Itay, and later Germany, the narrator lives with sleeplessness, trauma, and unanswered questions. Was the journey worth i,t knowing how many lives were lost? Knowing what was endured in Libya: kidnappings, armed smugglers, humiliation, and constant fear?

This testimony reflects a painful truth shared by many refugeesSafetyty does not erase trauma.

Arrival does not mean healing.

Survival often comes with guilt, grief, and disillusionment

David was not released immediately after his ransom was paid. During his captivity, he was subjected to repeated and severe torture. He was beaten continuously, shot several times, and his hand was amputated. The abuse was intentional and meant to force his family to pay money and to punish him even after payment.

A ransom of 1,500 US dollars was paid for his release. Despite this, his captors refused to let him go. They continued to hold him while his physical condition rapidly worsened. His injuries became life-threatening, and he was left without proper medical care, food, or water.

Eventually, when his health deteriorated to the point that his captors believed he would not survive, they decided to release him. Their decision was not an act of mercy. They assumed he would die soon and did not want to deal with a dead body in their custody.

David was taken out into the desert and dumped there. His body was severely weakened, and he was barely conscious. He was left alone in the desert, with no assistance and no expectation that he would survive.

Against all odds, David was later found and rescued by a passerby who provided help and ensured he received assistance. Without this intervention, David would have died in the desert.

David was kidnapped in Tripoli, Libya, through a trafficking system commonly known among migrants as “Tranke” or operated by groups often referred to as “Ashma Boys.” These groups are involved in organized abductions, detention, and ransom of migrants.

At the time of the kidnapping, David was in a taxi on his way to send money to his family back home. During the trip, the taxi was intercepted and hijacked. Armed men stopped the vehicle and took control of the situation. David had no opportunity to escape.

He was taken to a house where many other migrants were already being held captive. Some had been there for weeks or months before his arrival. This location marked the beginning of severe abuse and constant fear. From that point onward, David lived under continuous threat. Sleep was impossible, and violence was routine.

The building where they were first held was located deep inside the Sahara Desert. It was completely isolated. There was no access to help, no communication with the outside world, and no realistic chance of rescue. Survival depended entirely on whether ransom money could be paid. David’s life became a matter of chance.

After some time, the captives were transferred from this first location to another detention house. This second building was also used to hold migrants until their families paid the demanded ransom. During the transfer, they were loaded into a Toyota Hilux pickup truck. The captives were tightly packed and covered with a tarpaulin to prevent noise and visibility. No one spoke during the journey. Silence was enforced, and fear controlled every movement.

Before the journey through the desert began, David’s suitcase was taken from him. Along with it, he lost all his valuable belongings, including personal items and anything that could help him survive the journey. There was no explanation and no possibility of resistance. Once the journey started, everything he owned was gone.

They were then loaded into pickup trucks and treated like cargo rather than human beings. People were packed tightly into the open backs of the vehicles, with no protection and no space to hold on properly. The drivers showed no concern for safety. Once the trucks began moving, they drove at high speed through the desert without stopping.

The vehicles did not slow down, even when someone fell off. Stopping was considered too dangerous or inconvenient. If a truck stopped, it risked getting stuck in the soft desert sand, which could delay the entire convoy. Anyone who fell was left behind, exposed to the desert with no assistance and no chance of survival.

The journey continued nonstop through extreme heat, dust, and exhaustion. Fear was constant. Everyone knew that a single mistake, a weak grip, or a moment of imbalance could mean death. Survival depended entirely on holding on and enduring whatever happened until the vehicles reached their destination