For Survivor of Political Strife, the Journey Continues in the Bronx When they came for Angele Nogue, she was wearing a nightgown. Then 33, she was asleep with her family at their home in Douala, Cameroon, when the police arrived at her door, she says, and took her away. It was February 2008, and the nation was roiling. Douala was among the cities wracked by violent demonstrations over escalating food and fuel costs, made more furious by President Paul Biya's announcement that he would seek to amend Cameroon's constitution to extend his more than 25 years in office. He has been president since 1982. That night was the last time Ms. Nogue ever saw her home. Though she found asylum and now lives safely in the Bronx with her children, she dreams of going back to Cameroon to pick up the pieces of the life she so abruptly left behind. "It's not that easy with my age, to start again what you have done already," she said. As a businesswoman in Cameroon, Ms. Nogue built a successful interior decorating firm that employed 18. In 2003, she started an orphanage for street children. She says she was motivated by the realization that women without resources could not afford to pay for proper hospital care, and often lost their lives during childbirth. Later, she helped organize marches in support of women and children as she saw the number of orphans increase amid the country's chaos. Her arrest, she says, was in retaliation for her getting too close to the country's volatile political sphere. Her husband had warned her about becoming involved in politics, she says, but she failed to understand the risks. "I was defending women and children's rights," she said. I was not doing anything bad. After the police arrested her in 2008, she says, she was taken to a prison. She does not like to talk about it. The government shut down her business. Eventually, she was able flee the country with the help of a friend. "I was lucky," she said. People died in front of me. She came to the United States that November and was granted asylum in 2011. Her three children, now ages 9, 12, and 17, were reunited with her the next year. From the homeless shelter where they live in the Bronx, Ms. Nogue, 39, keeps in touch with those who remain in Cameroon. Besides her grandmother, she has lost nearly every vestige of her former life. Her husband, who also lost his business, now lives in Benin, where he cared for two of their children until they came to the United States. He and Ms. Nogue are not on good terms; he has not forgiven her for ignoring his warnings, she said. In December, a friend in Cameroon died from complications of AIDS, which Ms. Nogue says her friend contracted after being raped by police officers. Around the same time, Ms. Nogue says, her uncle was killed while trying to re-enter Cameroon from a nearby country. She worries about the more than 200 children she left behind at the orphanage. "I always think that I'm the only mother that can take good care of the kids in the world," she said. Ms. Nogue is fighting to find a way back on her feet. She worked as a nurse's assistant for three years until October 2012, when she was laid off. She currently receives $200 a month in food stamps, $159 a week in unemployment benefits and $58 a month in public subsidies. She enrolled in Hostos Community College in September, and is studying for an associate's degree in nursing. Her goal is to become a registered nurse, which she hopes will give her the income and stability she needs to better support her family. In November, the Catholic Charities Archdiocese of New York, one of the organizations supported by The New York Times Neediest Cases Fund, provided her with $370 to purchase a laptop for her studies, as well as $80 for blankets she needed in the homeless shelter. "They don't have anything there, they just give us a room," she said. After five years, she has adjusted to life in New York City. She says she enjoys the security here, the small moments of connection with strangers in the street, and the city's colorful tapestry of people. She admits, however, that she cannot stand the snow. "I can see so many colors in the streets," she said. Back home, it's not the same. Two summers ago, she helped inaugurate a community garden run by the International Rescue Committee in the Bronx. She sings in church on some weekends. She sometimes lets her mind wander back to better days in Cameroon, growing up a carefree child on her grandmother's farm. That's a good time in my life. I was with my grandma. I never had a problem," she said. If she is able to return, she would like to work in a hospital, to help those who have been denied care. But she knows her return is a faraway project. "I'm fighting to survive," she said. The temperament that has prompted her to stick up for others is for the time being redeployed, on herself. She compares her current life to the experience of being on an airplane under duress. "They say wear your vest first before you wear it for your kid," she said. I have to save myself first, before saving other people. Still, she is pulled by the thought of helping others once again. "I have my kids, and I have to take care of them again," she said. And I have other kids back home to take care of. That's why I have to work. I don't have time to waste.