Lost in Translation: How African migrants are tricked and threatened into Russian military service

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“Sign up or be deported”

Foreign nationals have been participating in the war in Ukraine on both sides since 2014. Rough estimates suggest that around 2,000 citizens from over 50 countries have taken part in the fighting in Donbas, with 75% of them supporting pro-Russian forces. The largest contingents have come from Belarus (800 people), Germany (160), Georgia (150), Serbia (100), and the United States (30). Many of these foreign volunteers have served within Russia’s so-called “Pyatnashka” International Brigade and the Wagner PMC.

In March 2022, Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu informed Vladimir Putin about a “large number of applications” from volunteers in various countries who wanted to join the Russian side in its war against Ukraine. According to Shoigu, 16,000 such applicants hailed from the Middle East alone. Putin directed that these individuals be “assisted in reaching the combat zone.” Later clarifications suggested this referred to Syrian and potentially other Arab groups, often linked to pro-Iranian organizations, which had previously fought alongside Russian forces in Syria. While Syrians did join Russian units, they primarily enlisted with the Wagner PMC rather than in the regular army, and they were used more often for operations in Africa than in Ukraine. In July 2022, the European Union imposed sanctions on 10 Syrians involved in recruiting Arab mercenaries to fight with Russia. Reports (1, 2, 3) continue to emerge about Syrians allegedly coerced into signing contracts with Russia’s Ministry of Defense. Recruitment efforts reportedly extend to potential fighters from countries including Cuba, Somalia, Nepal, India, and Sri Lanka. Often, the process involves deceptive methods or coercion.

This summer, Bloomberg, citing European officials, reported that Russia is recruiting African students and workers for its military. Kremlin-controlled media does not hide this fact. Instead, state-run TV channels broadcast reports on foreign recruits heading to the front, and images and videos of them frequently appear on pro-war Telegram channels, which portray them as volunteers.

In May 2024, for instance, the Pskov-based news program Vesti aired a segment showing a group of foreigners preparing to deploy to Ukraine. Among them was Lamin Jatta, a Gambian native who spoke on camera about his admiration for Russia and his desire to fight for it. However, a friend told The Insider that Lamin had initially arrived in Belarus on a student visa in the summer of 2023, though studying was never his true intention.

Along with other migrants, Lamin had planned to illegally cross the Belarus-Latvia border to reach Germany or the Netherlands. After an unsuccessful attempt, he went to Russia to find work, where he was caught in a police raid. According to his friend, Lamin was given a choice: deportation to his home country or a contract with Russia’s Ministry of Defense. In August, Lamin’s family received news of his death in the war in Ukraine.

Lamin is not the only one who traveled to Belarus or Russia hoping to transit to Europe — only to end up on the front lines in Ukraine. Recruiters are employing similar tactics to enlist Syrian citizens. The Insider previously reported on one of these front companies. Initially, a firm owned by Perm businessman Sergey Merzlyakov and his partner Khaled al-Amiri organized flows of refugees from African and Middle Eastern countries in an effort to trigger a migration crisis at the border between Belarus and the EU. Now, this same network is reportedly being used to recruit migrants into the military. Social media platforms openly advertise to Arab citizens, inviting them to sign a contract with Russia’s Ministry of Defense for a monthly salary of $2,200.

The Russian authorities also offer various non-monetary incentives for mercenary service. According to a decree issued by Vladimir Putin in January 2024, foreign nationals who sign a service contract for at least one year during the “special military operation” can qualify for Russian citizenship.

Where and how foreigners are fighting

So far, there is no evidence of Russian command regularly deploying large units of foreign “volunteers” to perform frontline tasks in the combat zone. Instead, it appears that small groups of citizens from faraway countries are used mainly in rear positions, participating only occasionally in assaults. This is also suggested by casualty statistics based on reports from open sources.

As of December 2023, 254 foreign nationals were confirmed to have “fought and died in Ukraine as part of Russian formations.” At that point, the total confirmed Russian losses in the war stood at 38,261, meaning foreign nationals accounted for less than 1% of these casualties. Furthermore, the majority of foreign fighters killed were from former Soviet republics, such as Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Belarus.

Another indirect indicator of the limited role of foreign nationals on the battlefield is the very small number of foreign prisoners of war. Ukrainian POW camps hold only a few dozen — not hundreds or thousands — of such soldiers, and none have been exchanged over the past year. This is partly because Russian authorities have not requested their exchange, and in their home countries, many of these individuals face criminal prosecution for their mercenary activity.

The first documented death of a foreign national recruited for the war in Ukraine occurred in September 2022. Lemekhani Nathan Nyirenda, a 23-year-old student from Zambia studying at Moscow Engineering Physics Institute, joined the Wagner PMC while serving a prison sentence in Russia. By some estimates, as of summer 2024, there were over 600 African nationals serving in Russia’s armed forces.

In April 2024, the Nepalese government estimated that 246 of its citizens were fighting in Ukraine. By September 2024, at least 40 Nepalese nationals had reportedly been killed, while at least 174 had managed to leave the Russian Armed Forces and return home.

In neighboring India, 91 people had been recruited by September 2024, with nine having been killed. It was reported that Prime Minister Narendra Modi personally negotiated with President Putin for the discharge of Indian citizens from the Russian army and their return home.

According to the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights, as of September 2024, there were 2,000 Syrian mercenaries in the Russian Armed Forces, but the confirmed number of fatalities did not exceed 10.

In June 2024, the Sri Lankan Ministry of Foreign Affairs stated that their Russian counterparts had promised to cease recruiting Sri Lankan nationals for participation in the war against Ukraine. A total of 288 people from Sri Lanka participated in the fighting, with 16 reported dead.

“The papers were in Russian; I didn't know what I was signing”

Sources interviewed by The Insider reveal that foreign mercenaries often find themselves in the Russian military against their will. Richard, from Sierra Leone — a small country in West Africa that has experienced seven successful and six unsuccessful military coups in the last fifty years, and where a civil war raged from the mid-1990s to the early 2000s — came to Russia in November 2023 in search of regular civilian work. He had served in the armed forces of his home country for over 10 years.

“I dropped out of school at an early age when my father died, and I had no relatives to take care of me. To earn a living, I joined my country’s army in Sierra Leone. Now I have two children — a boy and a girl. My daughter has always been smart and told me she wants to become a doctor. I told her, 'Okay, I will do everything I can to help you achieve your dream.'

In Sierra Leone, salaries are among the lowest not only in Africa, but in the world [around $40 per month]. I saved money for several years and finally found a way to come to Russia on a tourist visa. Traveling to other countries required $15,000 to $20,000, while moving to Russia cost me about half that: $7,000. I planned to find work and start sending money home to my family right away.”

After borrowing money from relatives and gathering all his savings, Richard went to Guinea to obtain a tourist visa, as there is no Russian embassy in his home country of Sierra Leone. On November 24, 2023, the visa was ready, and Richard flew to St. Petersburg on a route that involved several layovers. Finding employment in Russia without a work permit and knowledge of the Russian language proved to be more challenging than Richard had anticipated. Upon his arrival in St. Petersburg, he sat idle, only paying for his hotel and food.

After a couple of weeks, Richard decided to reach out to the travel agent who had assisted him in obtaining the visa, seeking help with finding employment. While his entry documents were being processed, Richard communicated with an employee of Azimut Tour Service through messaging apps:

“I couldn't meet him in person even after arriving in St. Petersburg. When I tried to call him directly, he didn't answer. It was strange. The agent said, 'I'll send a taxi to take you to a place where someone is waiting to process your documents.' No one asked me whether I wanted to sign a contract for military service or not. The papers were in Russian, and I didn't understand what they said. All they needed was my signature.

After some time, the agent called back and said, 'Hey, Richard, they accepted your contract.' I asked, 'What contract?' He replied that it was for a job, but I would first need to undergo training to gain experience. I agreed. My contract was accepted on December 7, 2023. On December 10, I was told to take all my belongings, and we left St. Petersburg for Rostov.”

In Rostov-on-Don, Richard was met, placed on a bus, and taken to an undisclosed location: “The windows were covered in snow, and I could barely see anything outside. I realized I had ended up at a military base only when we got off the bus.”

Richard was told that he would undergo two weeks of military training before being sent to the combat zone in Donbas.

“They took our documents and phones. A couple of days later, they returned my phone, and I texted the agent: 'What am I doing at a military base?' He replied, 'Richard, you signed a contract with the army. This is the easiest way to get your documents, and they will pay you for signing the contract.' He didn’t tell me the exact amount, but he said my monthly salary would be $2,000. The agent promised that after a year of service, I would receive citizenship and they would find me housing.

I said, 'No, this is not what I want. I don’t want to be in the army because I have already served for many years.' He replied that he couldn’t do anything about it since the contract was already signed. I kept insisting that I didn’t want this contract, and then he blocked my number, and I could no longer contact him.”

After two weeks, Richard and his fellow soldiers were transferred to a new location — which turned out to be on Ukrainian territory.

“I had a Russian comrade who spoke a little English. I asked him, 'Where are we?' He replied, 'You are now in Ukraine.' Confused, I asked, 'What am I doing here?' He responded, 'Don't you know? You signed a contract.' I was very scared. Training began, and I continued to insist that I didn't want to serve. The commander then replied that canceling the contract was beyond his authority.”

At the base in Donetsk, the Russians kept the recruits under strict guard.

“Wherever we went, armed men followed us. Even to the bathroom. Later, I learned that many of the Russian soldiers were convicts who signed contracts to gain freedom after a year on the front lines. I thought, ‘why should we be treated the same way?’ We weren’t in prison and had no legal problems. Why were we kept under the same control?”

At first, Richard was allowed to handle logistical tasks. However, he was soon sent to a different position, where he had to participate in an assault.

“Although we all signed the same contracts, most foreigners were sent to the front lines, while the 'real' soldiers stayed behind, observing and waiting for the right moment to take a position. We were used according to this system. The commander from the next position sent me and two other soldiers to storm some bunker. I asked him how three of us could take a bunker when we were under fire from artillery, tanks, and snipers, and there were drones above us. He replied that we had to follow orders.

The next morning, we set out for the position. Before this, we had advanced 30, 50, at most 100 meters, but now we covered more than 250 meters. However, during this last stretch, the Ukrainian forces spotted us.”

As a result, the unit fell into an ambush, and Richard was wounded in the leg. They managed to take shelter in a partially destroyed building, where they spent a week without food, water, or communication.

“We had to drink our urine because we had no water. There was no communication, and no one knew where we were. A drone dropped grenades on us. Eventually, we managed to contact other units. The commander of one of them promised to send us food and water. But no one ever came. We were evacuated only in the evening of the seventh day. My injured leg swelled up badly, and I had to move without shoes or protective gear. I just followed my squad. The guys were very fast, while I was injured. At one point, my comrades jumped over a fence, and I fell. There was wire between us, which is usually used to set mines — sharp as a blade. I tried to remove the wire from my clothes, from my pants, but I couldn’t. I was so exhausted that I just fell and lost consciousness.

After 5 to 10 minutes, I came to and looked around, but I didn't see my squad. Then another grenade was dropped on me from a drone. I was caught in the explosion's epicenter and was bleeding out. My arm went numb within seconds. But I kept moving. I prayed: 'Please, Lord, forgive my soul, because I didn't know what I was getting into.'“

Due to his injury, Richard fell behind his unit and spent the night under fire. In the morning, he was found by Ukrainian soldiers:

“They surrounded me, fully armed. I shouted, 'Don't shoot, don't shoot! I’m a Russian soldier, I’m a Russian soldier. Please, don’t shoot!' The commander, who spoke English, said, 'Come out, just don’t do anything stupid, or you’ll regret it.' I raised my hands and stepped out as best as I could.

I remember being told that if the Ukrainians caught us, they would kill us like animals. But I was promised medical assistance. That's how I ended up as a prisoner.”

Richard has been in Ukrainian captivity for more than eight months. He admits that even before arriving in Russia, he had heard about the war in Ukraine, but did not understand the essence of the conflict.

“Back home, we watched Al Jazeera, BBC, CNN, and followed how the war was unfolding. We heard different versions until I ended up here in Ukraine. Here, people say they are fighting for their land, which Russia has been trying to take from them for over 100 years. I realized that I know nothing about this war. I know nothing about Russia. And I was a fool for following every order I was given.

I pray that when I am released, I won't find myself in war again.

My family has not known where I am for over eight months. None of them know that I was captured.”

“A good opportunity to leave Somalia behind and settle in Russia”

Another interviewee of The Insider, Adil, a native of Somalia, also initially went to Russia in search of work. In his home country, Adil worked in a small supermarket, but money was always scarce. Somalia has been embroiled in civil war for several decades.

Adil, like many of his fellow countrymen, decided to seek better economic prospects abroad. Russia turned out to be the most accessible country.

“In Europe, they refused to give me a visa — tourist or any other — when they saw my Somali passport. But they promised to issue a Russian visa within a week. I submitted my documents in neighboring Kenya, and they didn’t delay, quickly issuing my visa. In August 2023, I flew from Mogadishu to Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia. Then to Dubai, and finally to Moscow. I spent about $3000 on tickets, hotels, and documents. I borrowed the money from relatives.”

Despite lacking work permits, Adil was able to find a job relatively quickly. However, the salary was unsatisfactory.

“In Russia, I got a job at a company that sells winter clothing. They hired me without any documents, but they only paid $200 a month. That wasn’t enough to live on.”

When Adil learned about the opportunity for contract service in the Russian military, he was attracted not only by the high salary, but also the promise of Russian citizenship after signing a contract with the Ministry of Defense.

“On Sundays, I had a day off. I would just wander the streets, observing how things worked there. Then I began to notice ads for recruitment into the army — they were everywhere. I thought it was a good opportunity to get documents. I called the number on the ad, and I was told that I could apply to serve in the Russian army. I completed the paperwork, underwent a medical examination, surrendered my passport, and was accepted.

They promised to issue me a Russian passport and pay about $2000 a month under a one-year contract. I thought it was a good opportunity to leave Somalia behind and settle in Russia. At least I would be able to provide my family with a decent life and a bright future.”

Unlike Richard, Adil made a conscious choice, although he claims that he was promised a position as a security guard.

“I was told that there was a shortage of security guards in places like hospitals, banks, shopping centers, and the metro in Russia. They said I would work there, but I needed to undergo training.

I knew nothing about Ukraine or the war — only that the Champions League final had once taken place in Kyiv. I didn’t discuss what was happening between Ukraine and Russia with anyone. No one sat down with me at the table and said, 'I’ll tell you what’s happening at the front, I’ll explain the conflict between these countries.' If someone had explained the situation to me, things might have turned out differently.”

In early December 2023, Adil signed a contract with the Ministry of Defense and, like Richard, went for training in Rostov-on-Don — and then to the front line in Donbas.

“We were sent from city to city to practice what the military does. No one told me that I was crossing the border into Ukraine or what exactly my job would be.

I spent a month and two weeks in Rostov and almost two weeks in Donetsk. After that, I was sent to the front. I was in shock. I had no way to object. Moreover, if I had spoken up, no one would have understood me. I also didn’t understand most of what they were saying to me. At that time, the Russian language seemed very difficult to me, and I couldn’t grasp what they were saying. They only kept saying, 'Go to the front. Go to the front.'”

Adil spent only a few days at the front. Along with other soldiers, he was ambushed, and soon they had to surrender, ending up in Ukrainian captivity.

“I spent four days at the front, moving from one shelter to another. Then I got trapped in a small house with a Russian soldier and couldn’t escape. The Ukrainians discovered we were there, probably with the help of drones.

I didn’t fight, and neither did the Russian soldier with me, even though he was the only one armed. I lost my rifle at the front. My comrade spoke to the Ukrainian soldiers in Russian, and after that, he surrendered his weapon, which led to our capture.”

Now Adil regrets his decision to join the Russian army.

“There were many casualties at the front. You just try to survive. Once someone finds themselves in such a situation, they won't want to go through it again as long as they’re sane.”

Although Russia is slow to include Africans in exchange lists, Adil, like Richard, hopes to be released from captivity soon. However, he does not want to return to Somalia, where there is also an ongoing conflict.

“I’ve faced war. I’ve witnessed it first hand every day. I was there as a civilian. If I return to my country, it won’t be starting from scratch; it will be starting from less than zero. That’s much worse. So I don’t want to go back to my country.”