He cannot escape the memory of the knife. He holds his hand up and shows me the scar on the underside of his arm, just below the wrist. ‘I resisted,’ he explains, ‘so they forced me.’
Mustafa looks bereft as he recounts the first time he was abused. He was 14 years old.
‘My friends told me to come to a garden where we would eat fruit and drink nice juices,’ he tells me. ‘When I arrived seven men were waiting. I tried to resist. I shouted and screamed but they tied my hands and legs.
‘Then they used the knife on me
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