My name is Aaron Ramoutar. I am originally from Trinidad and Tobago - a place that once held my life, my memories, and everything I knew as home. But the last memory I carry from my country is not one of peace. It is one of violence, fear, and survival.

Before I came to the United Kingdom, I endured something no human being should ever have to face. I was locked in a cage, shot multiple times, and left for dead. My body was Jumped at the Beetham Gardens dump -the same place I once called home. Surviving that moment was nothing short of a miracle. It forced me to make a choice: stay and die, or leave and try to live

On December 16th, 2022, I arrived in the UK and claimed asylum the very same day. I came with nothing but trauma, hope, and the belief that my life still had value

Later, my children joined me- Jadda, now 18, and Cjay, age 11. Their arrival gave me strength, but it also deepened my responsibility. Then tragedy struck our family once again On November 12th, 2024, their mother passed away from HIV/AIDS. That loss shattered us n ways words cannot fully capture. From that moment on, I became not just a father, bur everything they had left.

Jadda, my eldest, has endured her own unimaginable pain. As a young black woman, she has faced abuse, discrimination, and trauma that no child should ever experience. The wounds she carries are not always visible, but they are real. Watching your child suffer in silence - knowing the world has not always been kind to them -- is a pain no parent can prepare for. All I want is for her to feel safe, accepted, and free to be who she truly is without fear.

The asylum process has been another battle entirely. My claim was denied twice. Each refusal felt like being dragged back into the same darkness I escaped. It left me feeling broken, lost, and questioning whether I had made the right decision to come here.

There was even a moment, not long ago, when I considered returning to Trinidad ang Tobago-- not because it was safe, but because the weight of everything felt too heavy to carry. I was prepared to face my past, my fears, and whatever awaited me.

But I did not go back.

Because of my children

Because of the people who reminded me that my life still matters.

Because giving up was not an option.

As I now face my final appeal, the financial burden has added yet another layer of pressure to an already overwhelming situation. I have been required to pay £1,350 in solicitor fees, along with an additional £500 for a barrister to represent us in court. These costs are significant, especially given our circumstances, and further highlight the challenges we continue to face in seeking safety and justice.

My final appeal, originally set for May 1st, was suddenly brought forward to April 3rd at Taylor House in Central London. That sudden change brought panic and fear into our lives once again. Living in uncertainty --- not knowing what tomorrow holds -- is something we carry every single day.

My story is what many would call unconventional. It is filled with pain, survival, loss, and struggle. But it is also a story of resilience, love, and unwavering determination

I am not just an asylum seeker.

l am afather fighting for his children

I am a survivor who refused to die

And with faith, strength, and the right support system, I still believe - no matter how hard this journey has been - that the sky is the limit.