My life was once stable and successful. I was born in Qamishli, a city in Syria near the Turkish border, and for years, I built a thriving career. As a health and safety advisor in the oil and gas industry, I had over 25 years of experience, working in countries like Saudi Arabia, the Netherlands, Hungary, and Canada. My life in Saudi Arabia, where I had lived for 13 years, was good. My family was comfortable, my children attended the British International School, and I travelled frequently for work, delivering health and safety training worldwide. 

But when the Syrian Civil War began, everything started to change. Even though I was living abroad, I felt the deepening pressures of the war back home. Being Syrian became a source of discrimination and isolation. Travel, once an essential part of my job, became increasingly difficult. I was banned from flights simply because of my nationality. One day, during a high-profile course in Bahrain, I was expelled—solely due to U.S. sanctions on Syria. The life I had worked so hard to build was slipping away. 

Then, the danger reached my children. They faced exclusion in school, targeted by bullies. Extremist threats loomed, and we were increasingly restricted in what we could do, where we could go, all because we were Syrian. I knew then that we had no future in Saudi Arabia. Staying meant living in fear. It was time to leave. 

I made the difficult decision to go first, with the plan for my family to follow once my children had finished their school exams. I left behind everything—the house, the cars, the life we had carefully built. It was not a choice I wanted to make, but it was the only option. 

The stress of it all took a toll on my health. During a training session, my body broke down. I collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. It was a stroke. My face was left partially paralysed, and I spent five days in intensive care. It was a terrifying moment—one that forced me to recognise the weight of everything I had been carrying. 

I decided to go to London, but the journey was not simple. Upon arriving in the UK, I was offered temporary accommodation in a hotel. But I had a different plan. I had friends in Cardiff—friends I had known for over 40 years. Given my health issues, I requested to be relocated there instead. That request was granted, and my journey led me to Wales. 

The first few months were difficult. My health was still fragile, but the support of lifelong friends kept me going. They helped me navigate the refugee process, and eventually, I was granted refugee status. My family joined me just as the COVID-19 pandemic began. 

Our arrival in Ely was far from easy. We were placed in temporary accommodation, and just as we were trying to adjust, I fell seriously ill with COVID-19. I was hospitalised for a month. It was another stroke of bad luck—literally, as I suffered another stroke during my illness. But I survived. I recovered. Resilience had always been my strength, and this time was no different. 

Despite all the challenges, I was determined to adapt. Having travelled the world for years, I was used to different cultures, and my language skills—Arabic, Kurdish, and English, helped me connect with people. I walked through Cardiff’s parks, explored museums, and struck up conversations with locals at the library and in shops. I built a network of friends and good people. 

For my family, the transition was harder. The lockdowns made it difficult to adjust, especially for my children. They felt isolated. But I encouraged them to embrace our new home, to connect, to find common ground with those around us. 

One memory that will stay with me forever is the kindness of my neighbours in Ely. One family, a single mother with four teenage children, was a constant source of support. Whether it was taking us to the supermarket or simply offering a listening ear, they made us feel welcome. Another elderly couple, despite their own struggles, helped in any way they could, giving us lifts to medical appointments, bringing us groceries when we needed them most. These acts of kindness reminded me that, even in the hardest times, there is such goodness in people. 

Now, life in Wales is more settled. I have found a sense of belonging here. Cymru is my second home, a place where I feel safe. “I feel safe here. I know my neighbours, and they know me. I feel integrated.”