Ibrahim is a young volunteer teacher from Darfur in the Sudan, who wanted more than anything to give the children of his tribe, the Massaliet, a good education. When, in the mid-90s, his tribe came under attack from Arab militias, he came to their defence by trying to document the atrocities being perpetrated.

In 1998, with a small group of friends, Ibrahim took photographs of what had been taking place in local villages close to his home in Western Darfur. He had seen houses burnt, people killed and raped and forced to flee their homes. He felt that no-one in the outside world was aware of what was taking place and that the international media was not taking the plight of his people seriously. Ibrahim and his friends contacted a small human rights group in Egypt who were able to put the information they had gathered onto the internet.

He was punished for his courage by crude and brutal torture. On several occasions, he was put in a wooden box and a lid slammed shut over his face. The box was the size and shape of a coffin, except that it left his lower legs and feet exposed.

The first time he was put in the box, he had no idea how long he would be left in there, or what they were going to do to him. But then he felt a sudden, violent and excruciating blow against the sole of his foot, delivered by a heavy wooden bar. He screamed in pain, and then another blow came. And another. Pain started shooting up his body until every part of him tensed in agony. Shut up inside a box, he could use none of the natural defence reflexes. He could only lie there, close his eyes and try to remove himself to a place that was very far away.

Even after the first time he had been detained and brutally tortured, Ibrahim continued with these activities, feeling that the world should know what was taking place, whatever the risk to him personally. As well as taking photographs to document what was happening Ibrahim and his friends raised money to help the victims to rebuild their lives.

After his second detention Ibrahim's father paid a large bribe to secure his release and organised for him to flee the country. His whole family have been affected by the war in Darfur; his brother was taken by the authorities and has not been seen since, his father was killed after helping him to escape, his sister and her husband were killed when their house was burnt down and his mother is a refugee in Chad.

Even once he had been smuggled onto a boat leaving Sudan Ibrahim was not safe. He was attacked and threatened by other passengers on the boat who said they would expose him as a stowaway if he did not give them all the money his father had given him for the voyage. He gave them the money and spent the rest of the journey cowering in the depths of the boat.

When, two years later at the Medical Foundation, Helen gently asked him about his past, he again closed his eyes and removed himself to a place that was far away. In his early sessions with Helen it became clear that he could not bear to speak about his experiences of violence and loss. His memories lived inside him like a virus, threatening at any minute to invade his whole being. The murder by burning of his sister and her husband, the execution of his father, the forced flight of his mother, the desecration of his village…all these images overwhelmed him. After seeing how he closed his eyes and retreated from conversation, Helen realised that Ibrahim was not yet ready for in-depth counselling - not by a long way.

What Ibrahim first needed, simply but crucially, was a space in which he was believed and respected. The rage and grief which had often engulfed him had much to do with the fact that no-one in this country seemed to understand his despair or give any credence to his suffering. Even his initial application to remain in the UK was turned down on the grounds that it was fabricated. Visualising his sister's burnt body lying on the earth, having been beaten until he vomited blood, having seen women from his tribe raped in front of him…how could he be told he was lying without experiencing the deepest and most visceral sense of outrage?

But from his first session with Helen, he knew that she believed his story. Even while governments the world over refused to acknowledge the tragedy in Darfur, we were fully aware of the atrocities being perpetrated there. And with the Medical Foundation supporting his appeal, he went on to prove the immigration system wrong, and win his eminently deserved right to seek sanctuary in this country. On an emotional level, this was a landmark in his re-emergence from despair: yes, he was believed; yes, he was vindicated - and through him, so were his people.

In May 2002 Ibrahim's application for asylum was refused by the Home Office. The refusal letter he received is riddled with inconsistencies, denies that a campaign of systematic persecution had been taking place in Sudan, and reveals the institutional culture of disbelief and hostility with which our clients have to battle. Ibrahim's initial refusal letter from the Home Office arrived on the same day that he heard that his father had been killed in Sudan, probably because he had helped Ibrahim to escape from the country while he was still wanted by the authorities. Thankfully Ibrahim's appeal against this decision has been successful, the adjudicator citing the reports written by the Medical Foundation and the by now widespread reporting of the situation in Darfur.

You, as a supporter of the Medical Foundation, help to maintain the only place in the country where Ibrahim could find the recognition and understanding he craved. But his problems are not at an end. Good days are followed by bad, and the slightest trigger, such as a news report from Sudan, can plunge him straight back into despair. Since he has been in this country, he has also had to confront an institutional mindset that consistently fails to understand his needs.

Life for Ibrahim continues to be a painful and difficult journey - and he needs us by his side. But we can support him through these trials only if you continue to support us both now and in the future. So please consider making a donation to help survivors of torture like Ibrahim today.

Helping Ibrahim comes down to your generosity. Your support enabled Helen to sit by Ibrahim's side, session after session, listening to his harrowing testimony and giving it the validation he desperately needed. You have also enabled her to take vital practical action to relieve his predicament. The reports she has written on his behalf, the countless phone calls and letters to solicitors, social workers and housing officers to improve his life…none of this would have been possible without your generosity.

Because there are thousands of others like Ibrahim, who, without us, will have nowhere else to turn, we desperately need your continued support. You are the frontline in the war waged by torturers against innocent bodies and minds - your decision to support us today is a clear act of opposition to their deadly mission.