Music therapy: Sofia's story

As Sofia takes her seat in front of the piano her face immediately lifts and she begins to hum quietly. Gradually, she loses the self-consciousness that acts as protective armour when she is questioned about her past, and she appears happy to be lost in her music.

It is a remarkable transformation and one that has taken almost a year, from an intensely introverted and troubled teenager to a girl who can look you in the eye and tell you how her heart is at peace when she is playing the piano and singing.

Sofia - whose name has been changed to protect her identity - arrived in the UK in 2004 after fleeing a deeply traumatised childhood. Her father had been a member of a prominent opposition party in Angola, where a long history of separatism went hand in hand with violence and conflict. In 2004, government officers forced their way into the family home and killed Sofia's father. All that she can bear to say is that when they had finished with him, they came looking for her. And when they were through, she was hospitalised for a month with severe injuries.

Having lost her family, Sofia was taken in by a local pastor who helped smuggle her out of Angola. Arriving alone in the UK, her only contact was an uncle who until that point, was a complete stranger to her.

Asked to describe her life in Angola, Sofia retreats into herself, her voice becomes subdued as she fends off painful memories of siblings and parents she may never know again.

Like many people who reach the MF, Sofia finds it hard to talk about her feelings. It was only when her counsellor suggested singing that Sofia was able to progress.

The first song she sang was of Jesus as her father "who never lets me down". She described singing as a way of reconnecting with God, a relationship that was and remains key to Sofia. She described that moment as making her feel alive again.

"When I first came to the UK I could not stop thinking about the things that had happened to me," says Sofia, now 19. "But when I was referred to music therapy sessions, singing and playing piano helped me to forget. I feel peace in my heart when I am here."

Sofia describes her weekly sessions with the MF's music therapist as providing the one piece of hope in her life. Her time is otherwise plagued with fears of being forcibly returned to Angola.

Those fears are played out and used as a threat against her by immigration officials in the UK to whom Sofia must report because of her status as a failed asylum seeker. Each time she is often kept for up to six hours, deprived of bathroom facilities, water and food, while officials incessantly ask "what is your address in Angola?", telling her she will be sent back. On other occasions, they will keep her, only to send her away hours later without having asked a thing.

Sofia recalls one particularly harrowing incident when she was practically thrown on to a plane to be sent back to Angola, and then being aggressively held back because she refused to go willingly. Remembering that time, she looks saddened that those she thought would at least try to understand her plight would rather impose more suffering.

"I had gone to report as usual and they told me they were going to put me in detention. I was kept in detention for three months. One night, two men and one woman came into my room and said I was being sent back to Angola. I was handcuffed, placed in a van and driven to the airport. They pulled me by my hair as they dragged me on to the plane. They beat me when I refused to go. If I tried to explain what I felt you would not understand."

In a last minute reprieve, Sofia was taken off the plane and sent back to detention in Yarl's Wood. When MF counsellor, Sheila Kasabova, visited her, she was horrified: "When you first arrive in Bedford you go through middle England with beautiful green fields and children playing behind nursery gates. Then you are confronted with the image of this place, which is a prison, without a doubt. From the exterior it's all very strange, featureless. When you enter, you are finger printed, photographed like a criminal, and escorted through a series of corridors, which is incredibly disorientating for a visitor, let alone a detainee.

"When Sofia walked in she just collapsed into my arms, she could scarcely speak. To put people in such a state of terror is a torture of the mind."

Sofia is now awaiting the decision of her latest court appeal against the Home Office's refusal to grant her refugee status. Music therapy is the one distraction she clings to.

"Whenever I have to go to sign on I get anxious, whereas when I come here [to the MF music sessions] my heart is at peace."