Megan Nankabirwa and her partner, Lydia Nabukenya, had to leave their country for the UK after being chased by an angry mob

A few days after Megan Nankabirwa returned from competing in the 2014 Glasgow Commonwealth Games, she was dining with the president of Uganda. A week later, she was being chased by a mob through the streets, fleeing for her life.

The 30-year-old badminton champion was a star in her own country. Then, when they found out she was gay, she became persona non grata. Her visa for the UK was still valid, so she boarded a flight to Heathrow.

“Back home we can’t kiss, we can’t hug, we can’t show love,” says Lydia Nabukenya, 34, Nankabirwa’s partner. “But when I came to Manchester, the gay village, we thought, OK, this is not a crime, no one is attacking them.”

The Ugandan pair are by no means unique. There are thought to be several hundred people who claim asylum in Britain on sexuality grounds every year. The charity sector estimates it supports 1,500 LGBT asylum seekers each year – some who are newly arrived, some who have been here for years.

Success rates vary. Though homosexuality was decriminalised half a century ago, discrimination still persists and the asylum system is no exception.



Facebook Twitter Pinterest Megan Nankabirwa and her partner Lydia Nabukenya in Manchester’s gay village. Photograph: Christopher Thomond/The Guardian

Asylum seekers who are destitute are given accommodation and an allowance of £36.95 a week. Families are housed together, but the Home Office did not accept they were a couple and so sent Nankabirwa to Liverpool and Nabukenya to Manchester. Consequently each week they faced a choice between buying food and buying a train or coach ticket to see one another.



The pair had similar problems when they applied for asylum and tried to convince the Home Office that they were gay, were a couple, and would be in danger if they were to be sent back to Uganda.

“We had not ever imagined that this thing would happen, so we were not prepared for it,” says Nabukenya. “They said we need photos from when you were together back home, which were not possible.”

Their claims were refused. They appealed, but that too was refused. They submitted a fresh claim in March this year, but before that claim had been decided, Nabukenya was detained by the Home Office. She spent two days in a detention facility near Manchester and then was taken to Yarl’s Wood and told she would be deported four days later.

She arrived at Yarl’s Wood in the early hours of the morning, but when she woke at 9am they let her go free, without explanation. She is still mystified by what happened.

In June, at appeal the couple were finally granted refugee status, meaning they can now work, live together and marry, something they are keen to do.

“When we’re settled,” says Nankabirwa. “Or maybe tomorrow!”

Nabukenya can now also apply to bring over her children to join her, under family reunion provisions. She had to leave them in the care of their father and has not seen them for almost two years – since that dramatic escape from Uganda.

Despite her public profile, Nankabirwa kept very quiet about her private life in her home country. She met her partner through badminton and fell in love, but in a country where the penalty for homosexuality is life imprisonment, and hate crimes against gay people are a regular occurrence, they were forced to keep their relationship a secret.



But Nankabirwa arrived back from the Commonwealth Games on a high. After celebrating one evening they returned home, each one thinking the other had locked the door. The next morning, a friend of Nankabirwa’s came knocking, and when there was no reply from inside, the friend entered and saw them in bed together. She started yelling and neighbours came running.

“I helped Lydia escape through the back window, and I went out the front door,” said Nankabirwa. “She ran, I ran, but how we managed to get through I don’t know.”

At one point Nankabirwa hid in the bushes and watched as a stream of angry people ran past. She knew Uganda would never be safe for her again.

“If the mob lets you go free alive, there’s life imprisonment. If you survive them, then you won’t survive the law,” she said.



Speaking about the 50th anniversary of partial decriminalisation in the UK, Nankabirwa says the couple know that gay people still face abuse in the UK, but now that they have the security of refugee status, they are starting to feel more comfortable being open about their relationship.



“Being gay, although it’s not punishable in the UK, we know it’s not accepted,” says Nankabirwa. “We’ve heard of many people being abused over the news. But the fact we are not in Uganda, we are here [means] you have charities that stand up for you and support you, and the law is on your side.

“When we were waiting for our refugee status we kept it a bit secret because we were worried. But now that we know we are safe, that we are granted, there’s no way they’re taking us. Although it takes a lot of bravery, we say it out [proudly].”