SEPTEMBER 28, 2002 is a day that Juste Djossou will never forget. It was the day he last saw his wife. Juste had defied his government's ban to attend a political meeting highlighting the unjust treatment of those living in the southern part of his country, Togo in West Africa.

Juste, who was an IT manager, had already been beaten and arrested after campaigning for the political group, Union of Forces for Change (UFC).

He was taking a great risk attending the open air meeting, particularly as the army were known to check on his whereabouts whenever any UFC meetings were held.

Yet, he says, he never thought of the consequences of going.

Within minutes, soldiers from the pro-Government army came to arrest the main speaker, the party's general secretary. Pandemonium ensued as UFC supporters tried to stop the arrest. More soldiers filled the busy square.

"Somebody knocked me down and I fell on the floor," recalls Juste, now safely sitting in the offices of the charity Justice First in Stockton.

"Then they started kicking me like a football and suddenly everything went black. I went unconscious and I don't know what happened. When I came to, the only thing I could see were them dragging people into a van who were covered in blood.

"I just started shouting I'm not involved in this'.

I denied it to survive and they believed me."

Juste knew he wouldn't be able to go home, as the soldiers would be looking for him. Instead, he fled the country, walking several miles to the border with Ghana in excruciating pain, due, it later transpired, to two broken discs in his spine.

The meeting was the last time he saw his wife, Adjo.

"My mum did everything to find her. Two days, three days went past and we heard nothing. After two years, I came to the conclusion that she had been killed or she had been held in a secret prison.

It's been five years now. We used to communicate wherever we were. If she were still alive she would have contacted me by now."

Juste found his way to Accra in Ghana where he had a cousin. But he soon discovered that informants were working on behalf of the Togo government and staying there was putting his cousin's family in danger. Soldiers had already arrested and tortured his cousin to try and extract information.

Eventually, his cousin's husband helped him leave. He was told to meet a woman at the airport who said they would be flying to London. Juste cleared immigration after the woman handed over two passports and the pair caught a coach to Birmingham.

At the coach station, the woman told Juste to sit down while she went to get them some food.

"She never came back," he says. "It was October 14 and it was raining. I only had a shirt on with no luggage. It was very, very cold compared with Togo.

I waited from about 1pm until midnight when they were locking the station up and she never came back."

With nowhere to go, Juste slept in the doorway of Marks & Spencer.

He could speak no English, had no clue where he was and had no money.

The following morning, he began approaching people, asking them in desperation if they spoke French. Finally, someone answered.

"I told him everything.

Later he said you should go and ask for asylum'. I said what does that mean'?"

The man's brother took Juste to the local refugee council where he was amazed to find they could only help him immediately if they considered him to be an emergency - and they didn't. Instead, he had to show that he had legal representation before he could access aid. He eventually found a solicitor only for his subsequent Home Office interview to go badly. From Birmingham, he was moved to housing in Stockton while he waited for his appeal.

"There was a big hole in my room and every day there would be three or four slugs come through which I had never seen before, I didn't know what they were," he says. "The other guys told me to put salt on them and it would kill them."

In the meantime, Juste's appeal against his asylum decision was rejected and he lost his accommodation and benefits.

It was about this time that he discovered Justice First, the charity which helps those whose appeals have been rejected by re-engaging them with the legal system and in providing humanitarian aid.

It was here that Juste learned that the body language he was adopting in his interviews may be affecting the outcome.

"I would always bow my head and not look anyone in the eye, because in my country it shows respect," says Juste. "But to them it's like you want to hide something. I learned you have to look through the eyes of the person."

For Kath Sainsbury, 52, field officer with Justice First, who works alongside practice manager the Rev John Rogers, Juste's lack of understanding of British culture is typical. Asylum seekers often end up withholding vital evidence, ashamed of the violence perpetrated against them. They may fear officialdom and give panicked responses which cannot subsequently be justified or they may be unable to obtain proof of their claims.

Once an appeal has been rejected, such as in Juste's case, people are often evicted from their homes and have their benefits stopped.

Justice First was set up in May last year after John did some research on destitution among the asylum-seeking community in the North-East.

"Some people are very distressed and frightened and they come to us when they're at very low points. Very often they don't have legal representation because their legal aid has been cut," says Kath. "Most of them are people of great integrity. They have been doctors, teachers or accountants in their own countries.

"It's heartbreaking when you're not able to help. If they're sent back to dangerous countries where there might be conflict going on then they can actually lose their lives, so it's crucial that somebody tries to achieve a just outcome for them."

One of their most high profile cases recently was the deportation of several Congolese families.

"People demonstrated about those families and yet they were put on a plane and it went," she says.

Sadly, the same fate may still befall Juste. Despite looking his interviewers in the eye, his second appeal failed. There is one final legal road he is exploring and he has been staying with friends from his local church.

International aid to Togo was cut off in 1993 over the country's human rights record and in the presidential election of 2005, the opposition said the vote was rigged. Around 40,000 Togolese have since fled to neighbouring countries.

"I've been here five years but I'm still living with the fear of being deported," says Juste. "I have flashbacks every day about being beaten. I am Juste - a son, a cousin, a brother - yet here I'm only an asylum seeker.

"If I could say one thing to people in this country it is that they don't take their freedom for granted.

I have had to fight for mine."

■ Justice First needs £214,000 to survive over the next three years. To make a donation contact Justice First on 01642-601122 or email justicefirst@btconnect.com