By Sr Ethel Munsaka
When I first walked through the heavy gates of the correctional facility, I experienced a mix of anxiety and curiosity. I was part of a team from Talitha Kum Zambia (TAKUZA), a faith-based national network under the Zambia Association of Sisterhoods (ZAS). TAKUZA’s mission is clear: to combat human trafficking and restore dignity to those most vulnerable to exploitation and among them, migrants stand out as one of the most at-risk groups.
Our visits to correctional facilities are not merely acts of charity; they are acts of justice. We go there to counsel, profile vulnerable migrants to help expedite their legal cases and where possible, assist them in returning home.
Before that first visit, my understanding of correctional facilities had been shaped by stories and media portrayals. But this encounter was different. I entered as a beacon of hope, entrusted with the sacred responsibility of helping restore the humanity and dignity of those whose life journeys had been interrupted.
The Hidden Struggles of Vulnerable Migrants
Across the world, migrants face unique challenges that often place them at risk of detention or conflict with the law. Some are held for immigration-related issues, while others find themselves trapped by poverty, language barriers or the absence of legal assistance.
At this correctional facility in Zambia, many of the migrants we met had travelled in search of a better life. They came from Ethiopia, Togo, Tanzania, Burundi, Rwanda and Zimbabwe, among others. Some had entered the country legally but overstayed after their permits expired; others never had proper documentation. Under Zambian law, these circumstances lead to detention and for these individuals, not only are they far from home but it means being cut off from family, support and hope.
My Experience
The moment I entered the prison ward; I was struck by the silence. It was a completely different world within those walls. After going through security procedures, we were ushered into a room where we met the migrants. Their faces turned toward us, some with curiosity, others with caution.
One encounter that still stays with me was with a group of young men from Tanzania. They had crossed the border after being promised jobs by an intermediary. With limited education, little English, experience mainly in cattle herding and they had limited capacity to navigate their new environment, they were exploited — working for months without pay under the guise of repaying transportation costs. When finally arrested for lacking proper documentation, they were bewildered and broken.
When we asked whether they wished to return home, their answers were hesitant. “There is nothing to return to,” one said quietly. Their hope was to find a way to regularize their status and start over — not as victims, but as workers with dignity.
What was most striking was not only their stories of hardship but also the resilience reflected in their eyes. These young men embodied the harsh reality of stolen dreams and systemic vulnerability. Deprived of opportunity, they had been exploited and forced into survival with the barest of means. Yet, even amidst uncertainty, there remained hope and a strong desire to be recognized as human beings worthy of dignity and a better life.
Lessons from the visit
Listening to these men’s stories reminded me how easily society overlooks migrants, particularly those behind bars. Each person we met carried dreams, talents and life experiences deserving of recognition. The visit highlighted that justice must extend beyond punishment to encompass compassion, restoration and dignity.
I was also confronted with my own assumptions. Before this experience, I viewed correctional facilities as places of discipline and punishment. But that day CHANGED MY PERSPECTIVE. I realised these institutions are also places where humanity is tested —both for those within the prison walls and for those engaging from the outside.
A Call to Compassionate
It is easy to forget those who live behind walls — out of sight, out of mind. But as a society, we must ask ourselves: How do we treat the most vulnerable among us? What role can each of us play in safeguarding dignity and hope for those who are frequently silenced?
Migrants in correctional facilities need sustained support, advocacy and intercessory care. They challenge us to see beyond nationality, language or circumstance — reminding us that, regardless of origin, WE SHARE A COMMON HUMANITY.
As I left the correctional facility that day, the heavy gates closed behind me, but the faces of the migrants stayed with me. Their resilience continues to inspire me. Their stories have strengthened my commitment to speak for those whose voices are seldom heard and to keep walking with the TAKUZA Network in the mission to bring light, hope and dignity to every person affected by human trafficking and migration vulnerability.
Behind those walls, I did not find criminals.
I found dreamers, survivors and human beings longing to arise once more.