Rich Hong Kong can't turn its back on the few refugees on its shores

For one hour last week, I was Zaara Schenoude, a 36-year-old Middle Eastern factory worker. My hometown was being destroyed by sectarian violence, wreaking havoc on my people, and I was forced to flee under armed guard, herded with 80 others to a refugee camp across the border. Apart from my ID card, jewellery and headscarf, I had no belongings, no money and no choice.

Along the way, I became separated from my family. I was caught in gunfire and interrogated and intimidated by armed soldiers who were supposed to protect me.

I traded my wedding ring at the border just to get across and my watch at the camp to get food and water. I was ordered to keep my hair covered at all times and wasn't allowed to speak to any of the men. I constantly kept my eyes to the floor, afraid of drawing attention to myself. I felt powerless, humiliated, frightened, alone.

I huddled in a tent in the blistering heat, cheek-by-jowl with nine others, each jostling for a small space to call our own. From there, I was handpicked by the camp guards and taken to a room where they checked my mouth to see if I was healthy, then threatened to rape me. If I refused to cooperate, they said they would kill me … and then it was over.

This was my experience of participating in a live simulation organised by the Hong Kong charity Crossroads Foundation to try to give people some insight into what it might be like to be a refugee.

According to one refugee who had previously participated in the simulation, what we experienced was just 15 per cent of what they went through every day. I did it for just one hour and it was one of the most intense episodes of my life.

But, at the end, I was able to walk away and go home. All that stayed with me was a bad headache and the knowledge that this would never be me.