Interview with Celia Hibbert (WEST SIDE)

Celia Hibbert (43)

Politician, Wolverhampton

Celia is a successful local councillor who grew up in rural Nigeria, where all food was cooked from scratch, chickens slaughtered and there was no hot water and scant electricity. 

By taking part in Apocalypse, she wants to prove to herself that she can still hack it without modern conveniences after so many years of comfort in the UK. 

She’s not afraid to “create drama” and go against the herd. She likes to be the focus of attention.

What made you want to take part in Apocalypse?

Firstly, I heard it was going to be challenging, and secondly, I heard it was going to be something extraordinary that I haven't done before. I like adventure, but I also like challenge, and I like being outside my comfort zone. This ticked all the boxes. The more I heard it was difficult, the more I thought, "I'm going to have to do this," because my job is very mentally and physically challenging, and I wanted to test myself in a different sector and environment to see if I could rise to the occasion.

What did you think would be the hardest part - the lack of electricity, heating, food, water, or people?

I was raised somewhere without consistent electricity or water, those "everyday luxuries" that people here treat as fundamentals. So, I knew about living without those things, but what I didn't realise was how detached I'd become from that upbringing after being in the UK for nearly 20 years. I'm essentially a different person now, and coming out of Apocalypse made me start appreciating things again.

What I actually found hardest in the first few weeks was being without my computer and phone because my work runs entirely through them. Some mornings I'd instinctively reach for my devices to check emails and get agitated when I couldn't find them. Interestingly, I was surprisingly fine without my personal phone, but I felt guilty about not having my work phone.

Which skill were you most confident would help the group?

What I think I did bring was clarity. Some housemates weren't clear on certain issues, and I believe I helped bring clarity to difficult moments. I was also more uncompromising than some of the others, who seemed happy to give things away, maybe because they knew there was an end date and didn't fully live in the moment the way I did. I did also get to cook a few times when the chef went away to the other house, which was nice.

What was the biggest challenge you faced in there?

I think the real core challenge was freedom. I didn't have the freedom to be alone, lock my door, cook when I wanted, or make my own decisions. I didn't like not being in control, not being able to just get in a car and go buy my own food. I'm not really a "group person". I'm clear on what I want to do and can collaborate, but I'm not naturally a team/group type, and that was one of my key struggles.

Describe your first reaction when you arrived in the town.

It was unsettling. We arrived at night, which meant we had no idea where we were and lost the chance to get basics sorted before darkness. It felt like stepping into another world, and I hate being out of control. We were just looking for somewhere to sleep, surrounded by bushes, and I genuinely thought, "This can't be America, this must be somewhere in Africa." I was completely speechless, which is unusual for me. 

What surprised you most about the other survivors in your group?

Kelly surprised me the most. She has one leg, and seeing her tackle everything made me want to be even stronger myself; I don't think I'd have taken this on if I had one leg or arm. I was in awe of her. I loved living with Kelly; she was amazing and strong.

Freddy was another standout, a young guy with an "old man's head" on his shoulders: calm, calculated, clear, and in control. I told him I'd want a son like him.

Did it shock you to discover there was a second group in town?

It completely changed the dynamic. I'd assumed we'd eventually merge and become like a family. I come from a large family myself, and families don't always agree, but they share enough common missions to stay together; you don't have to be best mates. So we were finding our rhythm as a newly formed family, and then we started seeing signs that other people were around. I remember thinking, "Please, I don't want anyone else here" because I like to be in control, and I'd already figured out how to navigate my own group.

With a completely unfamiliar second group, no shared history, no loyalty either way, it initially made things much worse. 

How quickly did your camp start to feel like a community?

Very quickly, because there simply wasn't time not to be one. In the early days especially, you had to team up with others to find water, food, and firewood, and to build shelter immediately. There was no space to not function as a group, or nothing would have gotten done.

What did you learn about yourself through the experience?

I went in believing I was resilient and could push through and stay the course. Even though I'd been wavering in my resilience before going in, I confirmed that it's still there when it's needed.

Has the experience changed how you think about contemporary life and the things we take for granted?

Absolutely. My situation is a bit unique since I'd lived without these comforts before, but I hadn't realised how detached I'd become from that life. Going there reminded me to never lose sight of how much I have and that none of it is guaranteed, even though in modern life it can feel that way.

Since returning home, I've become more determined to make sure my kids understand this too, so they stay appreciative and keep "fighting" for what they already have rather than assuming it's a given. It's made me more determined to protect and appreciate the opportunities I have, something I'd been starting to lose sight of.

Would you encourage politicians to explore an apocalypse experience?

Honestly, I think half of politicians wouldn't survive it Some are so used to luxury they couldn't go a day without food or electricity. I think we should all go, so we understand what it means for the average person to worry about affording an electricity top-up. It's important.