‘Happiness is a choice and it’s free’ – Boxer Cindy Ngamba on her Paris 2024 Olympic ambition – Refugees’ Voice

Cindy Ngamba left Cameroon aged 11 to find a better life in the UK, but it didn’t come without its challenges. Cindy navigated a new life without her mum whilst learning a new language and getting bullied at school. She’s also been on the brink of deportation after being taken to a detention camp. Cindy’s sexuality means it is unsafe for her to return to Cameroon – one of 64 nation states recognised by the United Nations where it is illegal to be gay, and where many members of the LGBTQ+ community face imprisonment or violence.

But despite the obstacles, through her never-give-up attitude and passion for sport, Cindy fell in love with boxing by discovering it at her local youth club. Three national titles and one Gold international medal later, she’s set to compete in this week’s European Games with Paris 2024 qualification firmly in her sights.

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When I was born, I came out feet-first which I don’t think happens very often. I say this because ever since that day, my mum has called me stubborn and I think that’s just stuck with me. When I face something hard or something people tell me I can’t achieve, I will do whatever it takes to prove that I can.

I spent my childhood in Cameroon where I lived with my mum and my brother, Kennet. I was a happy little girl – full of life with lots of energy. I loved hanging out with the boys and my mum wanted me to stay at home like the other girls, but I was a tomboy and didn’t want to stay in and help with the cleaning! She was OK with that eventually – she just wanted us to be happy.

We left Cameroon when I was 11 and Kennet was 12. We got on our first plane and arrived in the UK. My dad was already in Bolton with nine of my half-siblings, so we lived with them and Bolton is still my home to this day. It’s where I learnt English, went to school, college and university, and started boxing. My whole life in the UK has been in Bolton and even though I wasn’t born there, I love it. It’s quiet, cheap and there are a lot of kind people there.

Life was scary at first, mostly because of the language barrier. Kennet and I didn’t speak a word of English, so before we could go to school, we spent two years at a language school and my dad wouldn’t let us speak any French in the house – he was strict with that! But being with Kennet made things OK. He’s always been my best friend and he knows me the best. I call him ‘King Ken’ because he’s a king to me!

I started school in Year 8, but my English still wasn’t very good and I was bullied. I was a sad child just trying to take every day as it came, but it was hard. Especially because I was without my mum and my brother was trying to handle his own new situation. I was asking why God would do this to me. Why do I have all these people bullying me because of the way I speak?

Without my mum, I didn’t know about things like deodorant, so I would smell in the classroom and the kids would make fun of me. I had two PE teachers, Mrs Park and Mrs Schofield, who were like my mother figures and they would buy my spray. Partly because of them, PE was my favourite lesson. I’d always been sporty, but they motivated me to do well. I became a sports leader and played all the sport I could… netball, rounders, cricket and football.

When I was 15, my brother gave me a leaflet for a local youth club and I started going there to play girls’ football after school. One day after training, a load of sweaty guys were walking out of this room, so I went to have a look, opened the door and found this boxing gym…It was full of guys punching bags, all I could hear was ‘BOOM, BOOM!’ and it stank of sweat – I loved it! I just started smiling. I asked one of the coaches what time the sessions started, then went home that night and came back the next day ready for the start of the class.

This time, everyone looked at me when I walked in because they hadn’t seen a girl in their classes before. Even the coaches were surprised. I’d never held a skipping rope, but for the first half an hour they wanted us to skip for three minutes, followed by ten press-ups, ten sit-ups and ten squats. Then repeat over and over again. I was dying! That warm-up was hell.

After the thirty minutes were up, one of the coaches, Dave, told everyone to put their boxing gloves on. But not me. He told me to keep skipping. So I just ended up skipping for the whole 90 minutes and then it was time to leave. I came back the next day and he made me skip again – I think he thought I was never going to come back. Let’s bear in mind I was 110kg at the time – I was a big girl when I first started. But I lost a tremendous amount of weight. I kept coming back every day for a whole year, got down to 90kg and then he told me it was time to put the gloves on.

We started with jabs on the bag, then moved on to my footwork. When I got down to 86kg, we did a lot of work on technique, then I started sparring with the boys. Stepping into the ring felt very different to punching a bag! I remember the first time I got hit, I went to the toilet and cried. But I was determined, so I went home, came back the next day and we went again.

I was a bit lonely when I first joined the youth club, but the guys soon made it feel like my second home, so I never thought about being the only girl there. But to progress, we knew I needed to fight with girls. There weren’t many female boxers around so I had to travel almost two hours sometimes.

After a few regional fights with England Boxing, I had my first national championship in 2019 and won the light-heavyweight (81kg). I was invited to a two-week assessment with GB Boxing and passed, but to be part of the GB programme, you need a British passport which I didn’t have. It meant I couldn’t compete internationally and it ate me up so badly, I was just depressed. But I kept on fighting in England and in 2022, I won two more championships in the space of a few months – the 75kg and then the 70kg.

It was Amanda Coulson (England Boxing Lead National Coach) who helped me find out about the IOC Refugee Olympic Team. They gave me the opportunity to compete abroad so I can pursue my dream of qualifying for the Olympics. The Refugee Team worked with GB Boxing, so I can train with the GB boxers and coaches at the base in Sheffield. They make me feel like family and I couldn’t be more thankful to everyone who made that possible.

I was given refugee status two years ago. It’s illegal to be gay in my country, so if I was sent back, I could have been imprisoned.

I was nearly sent back in 2019 when I was held at a detention camp. That was one of the scariest experiences of my life. When we moved to the UK, Kennet and I visited the immigration office in Manchester once a week to sign papers. But one time we went to sign in, it was just me in this room with a woman and two police officers. The woman didn’t say anything for ages but then looked up and said, “Cindy Ngamba, I’m going to be arresting you.” They put handcuffs on me and I was just there screaming, “Where’s my brother?” They put me in the back of the van and drove me to London. But at the time, I didn’t know where I was going or even that it was a detention camp. When we arrived, it looked like a prison and it was full of women and their babies. They gave me a bedroom with a TV and the next morning, they let me call my brother. He calmed me down and said not to worry. A few hours later, a woman said I was OK to leave. I think it was my uncle who gave them enough information to prove we can stay here. They gave me a train ticket and I met my brother at Manchester. I think back to this moment and thank God every day because there are people back there who weren’t lucky to have the same outcome as me. People who have built their lives here but are forced to leave. God decided I wasn’t meant to be one of them and I’m just so grateful.

At first, I was embarrassed to be called a refugee because I felt helpless. But you live and learn and I have a different mindset about it now. At the end of the day, you’re still human. You should never look at someone because they’re a refugee or an immigrant, you should look at them for who they are.

I’m grateful I’m protected and able to stay in the UK. It’s sad and shocking to think a country can judge someone by their sexuality and say ‘no’ to them. It’s not just in Cameroon, it happens in many other countries where people’s lives are in danger just because they’re gay.

In the UK, people never ask me about my sexuality, they ask about Cindy. Cindy the boxer. But I’m very open and I have no problem talking about it. I was a bit scared about telling my family, but they weren’t shocked at all. My mum had more traditional views at first but she came around. For anyone that’s finding it hard to be open, I’d say start with family because they’re the ones who stick by your side, even if it takes them a while. But I appreciate it’s different for everyone.

My mum, aunt and some of my siblings now live in Paris which makes the Olympic dream even bigger. Standing on the stage with my Gold medal is my goal and that’s what I train for every day. My mum has only ever seen videos of my fights, so it would be amazing for her to come and watch me. I call her every night and we visualise that moment together and she gets so excited, just like a kid. It gives me energy and brings a smile to my face just thinking about it.

Happiness is a choice and it’s free, so why should you not be happy? When I’m down and not smiling, I think about the tough times I’ve faced. I’m sitting here right now, but at the same time, there is someone out there who is suffering. I’m in a situation where I can breathe, walk and I’m alive. I don’t need anything else in life. I’m achieving what I want to succeed in. Why should I not be happy? That and my family being OK makes me happy.

With my boxing, I think I’m able to push a bit further because if I overcame everything I have so far: my journey into the UK, being away from my mum, the bullying, learning boxing, my papers, my sexuality… when I’m in the ring and they say 30 seconds left, I know I can push through. That’s my mentality. That’s the mind of Cindy.

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