Su Historia
Nacidos en España. Alejados.
Luchando por volver a casa.
Me llamo Mel. Soy una madre que vive en España. Mis tres hijos — Kenny (14), MoMo (11) y Brainbox (10) — nacieron y se criaron aquí en España. Son ciudadanos alemanes. Este es su hogar. Aquí es donde pertenecen.
En 2023, su padre — de nacionalidad nigeriana — se los llevó a Nigeria para lo que debía ser una visita. Nunca los devolvió.
Lo que ocurrió después es algo que ninguna madre debería tener que vivir. Dejó a mis hijos — sus propios hijos — con extraños. Los abandonó mientras se marchaba con su novia. Mis bebés, en un país que no conocían, con personas que no eran su familia, sin alimentarse bien, sin ir a la escuela, sin seguridad.
Cuando me enteré, actué de inmediato. Volé yo misma a Nigeria. Los encontré. Cuidé de ellos. Me aseguré de que tuvieran comida, techo y seguridad. Pero cuando llegó el momento de traerlos de vuelta a España, la situación legal lo bloqueó todo. Como seguimos legalmente casados y el proceso de divorcio está en curso, traer a los niños de vuelta requería documentación y firmas — y su padre se negó a cooperar. Se negó a firmar nada en la embajada. Y luego desapareció por completo. Se desconoce su paradero.
Hay una orden de alejamiento. Hay un caso legal activo. Y aun así — mis hijos están en Nigeria, y yo estoy en España, luchando cada día en los tribunales para traerlos a casa.
Así que aquí estamos. Todavía luchando. Todavía esperando.
Algún tiempo después de llegar a Nigeria, Brainbox comenzó a perder el cabello — primero se le adelgazó, luego lo perdió por completo sin que volviera a crecer desde entonces. No sabemos la causa. Lo que sí sabemos es que no tuvo acceso a un especialista que pudiera diagnosticarlo o tratarlo adecuadamente mientras estuvo allí. He identificado a uno de los principales especialistas pediátricos en pérdida de cabello de Europa, en Barcelona, pero conseguir que lo vea — y posiblemente lo trate — requiere fondos que actualmente no tenemos. Esta es una razón más por la que traerlo a casa importa: para que finalmente obtenga respuestas y cuidados reales.
Kenny, MoMo & Brainbox — waiting to come home since 2023
"I walk through my house and the silence is unbearable. No voices. No footsteps. No one asking what's for dinner. Just quiet. A quiet no mother should ever have to live with."
People think Nigeria is one thing. But let me tell you what my children's daily reality looks like. In Nigeria, power cuts are not occasional — they are constant. My children regularly sleep in complete darkness because there is no electricity. Water supply is unreliable. They are not in school. They ask if there is enough money to buy food. Not a treat — food.
But the physical conditions are not even the worst part.
My son — my youngest, Brainbox — had a full head of hair when this started. Since being in Nigeria, he has lost every strand. No eyebrows. No eyelashes. Not a single hair on his head. Doctors have no explanation. A child's body keeping score of what his mind is carrying.
My children have witnessed things, heard things, and been told things that no child should ever have to process. They have lived in overcrowded conditions — cramped into a small apartment with over ten people, with no stability, no privacy, no peace. They have been afraid to make mistakes. When my son accidentally broke a window while playing football, he ran to his room, hid behind a curtain, and was shaking. Physically shaking. Over a broken window. That is what fear does to a child.
My daughter told me: "Mummy, if we were with Daddy or Uncle, they would beat him so badly for that." Over a broken window. A child playing football.
When I am finally able to bring them home, the journey does not end at the airport. These children will need time, stability, love — and professional psychological support to process what they have been through. That is also part of what this campaign will fund. Because I refuse to let what happened to them define who they become. I still believe in human kindness. And I will make sure my children do too.
No parent should ever use their children as a weapon. No child should ever be put in the position of feeling unsafe, unwanted, or afraid of tomorrow. That ends the moment they come home.
And while I sit here in Spain — with lights, with water, with food on my table — my children are living a completely different reality. Nigeria's power situation is severe. They regularly sleep in complete darkness because there is no electricity. Clean water is not guaranteed. They are not in school. They ask me if there is enough money to eat today. Not a treat. Food.
I am also financially carrying two lives from Spain — covering their food, water, data, accommodation and a nanny — while simultaneously fighting a legal battle that has already drained everything I have. I am at the end of my finances. But I cannot stop. They are my children.
The hardest moments are during the rainy season. Mobile networks go down completely. Sometimes I cannot reach my children for days at a time. No call. No message. No way of knowing if they are safe. Just silence — and praying. Kenny is 14. She should be having her first real teenage conversations with her mum. Instead, we count ourselves lucky just to hear each other's voice when the signal allows it.
We are close to the end of this legal battle. We have found a way to bring them home. But we need help to make it happen — and we need it now.
I am asking for your help today. Not for me. For Kenny, MoMo, and Brainbox — children born in Spain, who deserve to come home.