Housing providers aren't doing their job – people like me are suffering

Henry is a survivor of torture currently living in the UK. Here, he focuses specifically on his experiences of the housing provided by the Home Office, offering his own take on what needs to change.

Before I came to the UK to seek protection I thought I would be treated as a human being, as a person. Everything I knew about the UK made me think I was coming to a country that respected human rights. I always knew any housing I would be provided with while my application was ongoing would be of a minimum standard.

Still, I honestly never imagined my family would be forced to live like this.

When I, my wife and my young son first applied for asylum we were told we had to wait for our case to be considered and, in the meantime, we were given temporary accommodation. Initially, I had mixed feelings. On one hand, I was thankful and I knew my son needed some stability.

On the other hand, it was a dangerous area and we were robbed two or three times in the first few weeks. It was a threatening environment and I didn't want to go outside, I was so scared. It was even harder for my son – he was terrified.

Then, suddenly, without any explanation or justification, I received an order to move to another address. We were given no opportunity to challenge this decision. We had no say. We had no rights. I felt frustrated and enslaved by a system that was supposed to be helping me.

It was a dangerous area and we were robbed two or three times in the first few weeks. It was a threatening environment and I didn't want to go outside, I was so scared. It was even harder for my son – he was terrified.

The first thing that hit me when we entered our new accommodation was the smell. It was the pervasive stink of urine mixed with drains. It still is. The flat was extremely dirty – dust, grease, mouse droppings everywhere. I didn't want to touch anything; it was so unhygienic, it almost felt dangerous to lift a finger. Our new accommodation had only one bedroom, with a spare bed placed in the living room for our son. It is completely unacceptable for a teenage boy, who is getting ready for his GCSEs in September, to live like this – with no space, no room of his own, no privacy. Both his and our mattresses were clearly unusable. In our bedroom, a boiler still wobbles above our head, with open, connecting wires inches from our faces.

The first thing that hit me when we entered our new accommodation was the smell. It was the pervasive stink of urine mixed with drains. It still is. The flat was extremely dirty – dust, grease, mouse droppings everywhere. I didn't want to touch anything; it was so unhygienic, it almost felt dangerous to lift a finger.

This does not exactly make it a very relaxing place to sleep...

The impact of living in these conditions is unimaginable. Each day, our stress levels are forced up, and up, and up. We feel humiliated because no consideration has been given to our psychological state or our past experiences. It's as if someone forgot our human rights in the plane on the way over. Such arbitrary treatment at the hands of the Asylum Support Service (NASS) shows they have totally failed to understand the even minimum standard of accommodation suitable – seemingly not just for survivors of torture, but for any person, full-stop.

Reading through Freedom from Torture's 'Poverty Barrier' research was like reading my own story over and over again. It is clear something needs to change.

Each day, our stress levels are forced up, and up, and up. We feel humiliated because no consideration has been given to our psychological state or our past experiences. It's as if someone forgot our human rights in the plane on the way over.

I echo the research recommendations that call on NASS to re-examine the provision of accommodation for asylum applicants and refugees. At the moment, it feels like these providers are going unchecked, and the quality of housing they are offering is falling further and further below the minimum standards anybody should have to live in.

It feels like we are being punished for no reason, all over again.