I had to skip meals after my husband died because of Home Office visa fees

I did not envisage ending up in the UK, but when I met my husband, David, in 2014 everything changed. He was a Nigerian national who was settled in the UK. I had a comfortable life in Nigeria, but circumstances and family tragedy brought me here and have seen me make this country my home. Having abided by every rule and seen my husband pass away, the UK government told me I had to find £5,000, or face deportation.

By the time David and I met, I already had a daughter, Grace, from a previous relationship. David loved Grace, and particularly enjoyed cooking for us. I always remember David waking up early in the morning so that he could cook us breakfast. He introduced cottage pie to our breakfast menu, and even taught us how to make it.

After we married, David remained in the UK where Grace and I would visit him regularly, and he would frequently return to Nigeria to be with us.

In 2019 David became seriously ill and was hospitalised. I booked a ticket from Nigeria to come and visit him, and by the time I arrived he was in a coma, bandaged all over his body, and he had sepsis on his hands and legs. His skin felt so cold.

It took a month for David to wake from his coma. We were then given the devastating news that David’s legs and one of his arms would have to be amputated. David said he didn’t expect me to stay with him as this was not the life I had signed up for when I married him. I scolded him, promised I would never leave him, and returned to Nigeria to bring Grace to the UK so we could care for him permanently.

David’s kidney began to fail, and in late 2020, he started receiving dialysis three times a week. Towards the end of his life he found some inner peace, and he and Grace found some solace in our family walks together in the local park. David eventually succumbed and passed away in the middle of the night.

I was totally devastated. But I did not realise that in my most vulnerable moment, the UK government was about to make things much, much worse.

Suddenly I was in the UK with no income, no job, and a visa that prohibited access to public funds, while I was coming to terms with the loss of my husband. It was as if, with David’s passing, our security passed with him. His death left us not just in mourning, but broken, penniless and scared for our future. The Home Office had expressly prohibited me from accessing any public funds, such as child benefit or housing benefit, and suddenly we were facing eviction.

I resorted to begging people for food and small sums of money, which was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Thankfully, the Refugee and Migrant Forum of Essex and London (RAMFEL), a charity based in east London, began providing us food vouchers, and help with my immigration situation. They told me about the ‘Bereaved Partner Concession’ – a government scheme to protect people in my exact situation and allow us to secure permanent immigration status. It was a huge relief to know that the government wanted to support people like me, whose lives have been derailed by tragedy.

However, my optimism was immediately burst when RAMFEL told me about the application fees. I would need to raise £4,808, for the fees for Grace and I in just 18 months, before the expiry of my visa.

RAMFEL asked the government to waive the applications fees and consider my case. They prepared detailed submissions about how it would be impossible for me to raise £5,000 and how discretion could and should be exercised in my favour, particularly given the impact on my daughter. However, it took one day for the government to refuse this with just one line saying they were sorry to hear about my bereavement, but that I would have to pay their fees or they would not consider my case.

I was shocked to see the UK government show such little compassion or understanding, instead adding an immense burden to an already overwhelming situation. Widows and widowers are not just numbers or statistics but individuals who have experienced profound loss and are seeking a lifeline to help us move forward. Loss of a partner is very devastating and brings financial hardships that can be overwhelming. Asking the government to consider my circumstances and inability to raise £5,000 at a time of great personal loss was not me evading responsibility or seeking preferential treatment; it was a plea for compassion and recognition of the extraordinary circumstances that I found myself in.

I made the decision to try and raise the money, something that affected myself and Grace emotionally and psychologically while we were still grieving David’s death. I did though not appreciate the sacrifices I would need to make.

As a child, it was very hard for Grace to assimilate as she had to sacrifice most of her basic needs including purchasing school uniforms that she had outgrown. I went to her school to plead for old and donated school clothes. She saw it as disgraceful and insensitive to her feelings. I cut out snacks and treats for her. Birthdays, achievements in school and other occasions were never celebrated. It breaks my heart that my daughter has been mocked by her school mates, making her want to stay at home and avoid school.

I could not go for a credit card or any loan because I do not have a permanent job. To raise the money, for the last two years I have sacrificed my daily breakfast and lunch and survived on one meal a day. This has affected my metabolism and now I am living with some health challenges like diabetes, extreme fatigue and stress. I just pray I will not have depression as I am always angry and frustrated that I cannot help myself and my daughter the way we would like to.

I have avoided socialising with friends and family since I cannot pay for anything. I cut out my traditional support network – my church, my university, and my hometown community – to avoid membership dues and the costs associated with meeting friends. All these sacrifices were emotionally and financially demanding, all in the pursuit of legal documentation which the government does not dispute I am entitled to.

Finally, to pay the fee before the expiry of my visa, I borrowed £500. Leaving my home country to follow the commitment of my marriage vows and relocating to London meant giving up my source of income – my job. Contemplating a return after my husband's passing is a decision fraught with uncertainty. My primary concern is to ensure a good life for my child, despite the challenges we have faced. I made the choice not to uproot her from her life in London, but I now face the unknown as I have no savings and the obligation to repay borrowed funds, which will pose a considerable challenge for our stability once more.

If I could speak to the government, I would kneel down and beg them to show mercy to my daughter and I, and other bereaved partners, and ask them whether they really think someone in my position should be making these sacrifices considering everything I’ve already been through. The fact that they are doing the opposite, and punishing migrant families by further increasing visa fees, is shameful and unjust. It now costs £5,770 for two people – almost £1,000 more.

RAMFEL have told me that I am not the only person they have worked with who has faced this extremely distressing situation after losing their partner, and how other women have made extreme sacrifices to raise the funds to pay the government’s visa fees. They recall clients who have maxed out credit cards, or borrowed money and plunged themselves into debt to finance their applications. These even higher fees will only cause more hurt and trauma to families. If the government introduced a fee waiver, it would be a vital salvation for families going through the pain of bereavement.

If you want to support the campaign for a fee waiver to be introduced for bereaved partners, you can use RAMFEL’s handy template to write to your MP, asking them to support the campaign. It only takes a minute.