My name is Monica*. I would like to share my story.
I was visiting my friend in Kenya when I met a man who had known my friend for a long time.
A few days after I returned home, my friend called and told me that the man we’d met had a marketing job available in Thailand. She said the salary was good. He told me that if I was interested, I should send him my academic documents and a resume. I did, and he said he would pass it on to his boss.
The next day, he told me I was qualified. He gave me a number that called me on video. I couldn’t see them, but they could see me. They said they’d reviewed my resume and I had passed. If I wanted the job, they would pay for my visa and send me a ticket and hotel booking. The agent told me to go to Kenya, so I went. They got my visa, and I returned to Uganda. Then they sent me on a flight through Ethiopia to Thailand.
When I landed in Bangkok, they picked me up and drove me 7 to 8 hours to a hotel. It was already night. I slept only three to four hours.
At 6 a.m., they told me we were close to the company. They drove me about 15 minutes to a river and had me cross it. On the other side, army police were waiting with four cars. They put me in the first one, and the others followed. We went through a gate with many soldiers inside. They took a photo of me holding my passport. Then another car picked me up and took me to a place to sleep.
The next day, they brought me to an office and gave me a list of rules. They took the phone I came with, wiped it clean, and kept it. They gave me a new phone with stickers covering all the cameras. They told me I could only use their SIM card—no calls, only WhatsApp—and I could only message one family member to say I was okay. They said they could understand everything I said. I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without permission. Even to use the washroom, I had to sign in and out. They told me that the next day, training would begin.
They gave me a computer and started training me. I told them this wasn’t the job I signed up for. I didn’t see any malls or supermarkets around, and I had studied Business Management. I could do marketing or sales, but now I couldn’t even speak to the agent who got me the job.
They said I either had to refund all the money for my travel or work. I told them, “I’m a Christian. The scam work you are teaching me—I can’t do that. And I don’t have the money to repay the cost. But even though I’m poor, I will not steal.
I begged them to send me home, but they insisted I must work or pay them $6,150.
That’s when things got worse. They said the first month was for training only. Every day, I sat at the computer, but my mind was somewhere else. In the second month, I told them again that I couldn’t do this job. I said, “I’m a Christian.” So they locked me in a room for three months and punished me daily. But I kept praying every day.
They beat me with electricity. They kept asking me if I was “soft” and willing to work. I told them, “The first month you taught me this job, I told you I can’t do scam work. You steal people’s money, tell them lies, pretend you’re in America with crypto, and act like you’ll marry them.” They used AI and photos of beautiful women from Instagram—women who had no idea their images were being used.
I refused to work, but I had a lot of faith. They told me they would kill me. But I said, “If God has not said it’s my last day, I won’t die.” One day I wasn’t feeling well and I told the guard, “I’m tired of this place. Either kill me or throw me out of this compound.”
The guard spoke to the main office, and they agreed to throw me out. They dropped me off 30 minutes from the compound. I walked with my Bible, and I kept hearing a voice telling me, “You are safe.”
I sat there, not knowing where to go. A young boy came and told me, “You’re not safe here. They can come back and sell you or take your kidney. That’s what they do to people without money or options.”
I asked the boy to take me to the river where I came from, but the man working on the crossing told me I needed $615, which I didn’t have. I sat there for 7 to 8 hours as it got late into the night.
Then God brought a group of men and women, traveling together. One woman saw me crying, and I told her my story, and they helped me cross the river.
After we crossed, they asked where they should leave me. I didn’t have papers, so they dropped me at a bus park to Bangkok.
There, I found a woman with a child. She said she couldn’t help me because I had no documents, but she gave me some money for a hotel. Then, as she was leaving, she said her heart told her not to leave me. She and her husband came back and told me they had found the number of an organization, and someone would come for me.
A woman from the organization came, picked me up, brought me food and fruit, and took me to a hotel. She told me I was safe.
But that night I couldn’t sleep. I felt like I was dreaming. I was afraid—maybe they wanted to sell me again. I got up and asked the man at the reception. He told me, “Sleep. You are with a good organization. They’ve helped many people.”
In the next few days, I got clothes, shoes, and gave my statement. We went to the Embassy, where they accepted me and took me to the immigration shelter.
At the shelter, the social worker said my ticket home might take three to six months—but if I had people helping me, it could go faster. That shelter reminded me of the compound.
Then God did a miracle. The organization started working on my travel, and the next day the social worker told me immigration had accepted my case to send me home. A few days later, they gave me a travel date. I felt so happy.
My ticket was confirmed. They told me [an Atlas Free Network Member] had worked on it. At the airport, my ticket was canceled, but the organization fought and got me another flight.
Thank you so much to everyone who helped me get home. God is worthy to be praised!
For more information on this story of the 51 Ugandans brought home with the collaborative work of Atlas Free, Hope’s Cry, and EverFree, click here.
*Name changed to protect the identity of the survivor.
Editor’s note: This account has been minimally edited for readability while preserving the survivor’s voice and experience.
