She fled Iran. America sent her to Africa

Deported to a Country Where Travel Is Discouraged: One Woman’s Journey from Iran to Bangui

Goldlaner.com – The small screen bolted to the back of the seat ahead of her displayed a destination she had never expected to see. It was the evening of June 11, and Nika — a pseudonym she adopted because she fears for her own life and that of her family back home — was being carried, handcuffed and shackled, onto a deportation flight bound for the Central African Republic. She had been told weeks earlier, through a Department of Homeland Security notice, to show up for what she believed was a routine administrative meeting in California. What she walked into was an arrest. Three days later, she was airborne with 17 other migrants from Afghanistan, Iraq, and Georgia, learning only at the moment of boarding where she was being sent.

Her arrival in Bangui, the capital of the Central African Republic, came more than two months ago. Since then, she says, she has been too frightened to venture beyond her apartment block. On the rare occasions she steps out for groceries or basic necessities, she claims local officers have pulled her over, demanded bribes, and threatened to arrest her if she refused to pay — allegations the police deny. She also spent a period at a local hospital after contracting malaria. The US State Department currently advises against all travel to the country.

“I couldn’t believe I’m here,” Nika said. “Really, for me this is unbelievable.”

A Life Built on Protest, Then Flight

Nika’s years in Iran were defined by open defiance. She spent much of her youth on the streets, protesting against the Islamic Republic’s rule. The cost was personal and devastating. Friends were killed by the regime; others remain imprisoned to this day. She spoke of them with visible grief, her voice breaking as she described the losses.

“I lost too much of my friends. They [the Islamic Republic] killed them. And some of them are still in prison,” she said tearfully. “I know if I was in Iran, they’re going to kill me.”

That fear was not abstract. Earlier this year, Iran was shaken by sweeping anti-government demonstrations. The regime responded with an unprecedented crackdown that killed thousands. President Donald Trump urged the protesters to “take over your institutions” and declared, “help is on its way.” Then, on the final day of February, the United States and Israel launched a military campaign against Iran. Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei was killed, and strikes struck targets across the country. Nika watched every development from American soil, allowing herself to imagine the regime’s collapse and a safe return home. In practice, her fate had already been sealed by American immigration authorities.

The Bureaucratic Trap

After being detained at the US border and spending months in ICE custody, Nika had been briefly permitted to live freely in California. She held a protection order issued by an American judge — a legal instrument designed to bar the government from returning a migrant to a place where persecution, torture, or death is likely. Until recently, deportation of individuals carrying such orders was exceedingly rare. That changed when Trump returned to power last year, campaigning on a promise of mass deportations.

His deputy chief of staff and leading anti-immigration voice, Stephen Miller, has framed the shift bluntly:

“America’s doors are closed, fully, to asylum seekers.”

Documents reviewed by CNN indicate that US authorities had resolved to deport Nika weeks before the June notice arrived. When she appeared at the meeting, officers took her into custody. Her immigration lawyer, Sahar Jalili Pawelski, attempted desperately to pull her off the flight.

“I remember when the flight took off, I just sat on the floor, called my mom and cried. I live those moments. You know what that person must’ve been feeling. The loneliness she must have felt,” Pawelski said.

The Third-Country Loophole

Nika’s case is one thread in a wider pattern. Judges have repeatedly blocked the US government from sending certain migrants back to their countries of origin. In response, the administration has signed dozens of bilateral arrangements with third nations — countries where deportees like Nika are now accumulating, often without meaningful integration support. The destination countries can scarcely be described as safe havens, yet they serve as the administrative outlet for removals that domestic courts have otherwise constrained.

The Department of Homeland Security defended the practice in a statement, asserting that those deported received due process and carried final orders of removal:

“These third country agreements, which ensure due process under the U.S. Constitution, are essential to the safety of our homeland and the American people. We are applying the law as written. If a judge finds an illegal alien has no right to be in this country, we are going to remove them. Period.”

For Nika, the legal language offers no comfort. She arrived in a nation where the US government itself counsels against travel, where malaria is endemic, where she says police harassment follows her into the street, and where the only person she can call across the Atlantic is her mother. The joy she felt upon first reaching what she called “one of the best countries in the world” has given way to something far harder to name — a quiet, sustained terror of simply being alive in a place no one asked her to be.