4.9 / 5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
My name is Khadija. I am 31 years old. I came to Germany from Nigeria 🇳🇬 and have been living in Berlin for four years now. I am a single mother. My son is 4 years old. He is everything I have ❤️ When I was pregnant, I believed that in Germany we would have a chance at a normal life. I left alone — without family, without support. The father of my child disappeared even before he was born. Reality turned out to be cruel. I live in a small rented room on the outskirts of Berlin. I cannot work full-time — my son still requires a lot of attention. Sometimes I do odd jobs: cleaning, household help, caring for elderly people. A few hours… and then I return to my son. Money is catastrophically short. Kindergarten. Rent. Transport. Clothes and shoes for my child — he is growing very fast. Food and medicine. I saved on everything — on myself, on food, on sleep. But there was one moment that made everything worse. When my son was three years old, he got sick. Fever. Doctors. Tests. Part of the expenses was not covered immediately. I had to borrow money — from a woman I knew from our community. I promised to return it in a month. But a month passed… And I still didn’t have the money. She started writing to me. Then calling. Then speaking harshly. One evening she said: “If you don’t return the money, I won’t wait any longer.” I was sitting on the bed, holding my son in my arms, and crying. Not because of fear for myself — but because of him. I felt cornered. How I found out about the app One night, when my son fell asleep, I was mindlessly scrolling on my phone. Just so I wouldn’t think. In a chat for migrants, one woman wrote: “I didn’t believe it, but I managed to withdraw money from one app.” Usually I scroll past messages like that. But that night I stopped. I wrote to her in private messages. She replied calmly — without promises, without pressure. She said: “I’m just sharing what happened to me.” I had 32 euros left on my card. Money to live on for
