Wales On Sunday

THIS IS WHAT IT’S LIKE TO LIVE IN A STRANGE LAND...

New BBC documentar­y reveals life of three immigrants in Wales

- JAMES McCARTHY Reporter james.mccarthy@walesonlin­e.co.uk

A MAN who held onto the axle of a lorry on the motorway in a desperate bid to start a new life after being shot, and a toddler who can only see his mother through Skype – this is the reality of life for some immigrants who have come to start afresh in Wales.

Syrian refugee Bashar took a dangerous journey across Europe in an attempt to escape the war in Syria, after he almost died when he was shot; while toddler Umair, who lives with his dad in Newport, has been forced to live 4,000 miles apart from his mother, who is in Pakistan and has been turned down twice for a visa to enter the UK.

Their stories, along with that of Carlos, who now lives in Wales after leaving Portugal because of a downturn in the economy, are all told in a BBC Wales documentar­y, Strangers in a Strange Land.

Syrian Bashar had been living a happy life in his homeland until war broke out. He was a student with a life like any other 21-year-old.

“I used to study and live with my family,” he said.

“My family worked in the fields and we had a good life.

“After that I grew up and left high school.

“I went to Beirut Arab University and studied media for two years.” He was ambitious and creative. “We had a nice lifestyle,” he said. “We had a nice car and everything was OK.

“I had friends and we were very happy.”

As war spread across Syria his carefree life came to a sudden end.

So far almost 400,000 civilians have died.

Bashar almost died after being hit by a sniper’s bullet.

“You don’t know from which side the shots are coming,” he said.

“And you don’t know who is shooting you.

“I was shot in my right and left leg, into the bone.”

Unable to walk, it was three weeks before he could get surgery.

He was desperate to find somewhere safe to start life afresh.

In 2014 he joined thousands others on a perilous trek.

“I wanted to go and make my life outside of Syria,” he said.

“So I went to Turkey and after to Algeria, then to Libya.” He headed for the coast on a boat. “On the journey before us many people were injured and died,” he said.

“There were 275 people on board including men, women, children and elderly people.

“Throughout the journey, was coming onto the boat.

“We took the water out of the boat. All we had was a small bucket, so we had to use our shoes to stop the boat from sinking.”

For two days they were lost without food or water.

“It was not an easy trip, it was very of water difficult,” he said. The Italian coastguard saved them. “They rescued us and saved our lives, then they took us to Italy,” Bashar said. The authoritie­s gave him an ID number, 825.

He still has the paper on which it was printed.

“When I see those numbers, I’m sad, really. I feel like I am like numbers,” he said.

“I think there is no humanity in this life.”

At Calais, Bashar stowed away on a lorry.

Crawling under the vehicle he got onto the axle.

“I sat down between the wheels,” he said.

Once across the Channel and through passport control the lorry headed for the motorway.

“The lorry was driving fast for 50 to 60 minutes,” Bashar said.

“I was holding on with all my strength because if I let go I’d die.” The driver went to a service station. “I was very happy when the lorry stopped,” Bashar said.

Handing himself over to the authoritie­s he made his asylum claim.

From there he was sent to Cardiff and granted permission to stay in the UK.

“I got ID from the Home Office,” Bashar said.

“Thank you to the Home Office,” he said.

On first arriving in Cardiff he started selling grains of rice with tiny paintings on. The business floundered.

After applying for scores of jobs, Bashar then found work in Syrian- owned restaurant Lyalena.

“I learned to cook here and in Syria,” he said.

“I want to live here like everybody from Cardiff or from Wales, you know.”

Bashar would like to return to his studies.

“I think I will work in the media next time because every day there is another chance to change your life,” he said.

When he started at Lyalena he was “a little bit” shy. “Now it is OK for me,” he said. “I’m very happy because my day is going faster, before it was going slowly.

“I need to work. I want to support myself. I don’t want anyone else to support me. “I have to take care of myself.” He no longer feels like a refugee. “When I came here I thought I did not have a future,” he said.

“I could not speak English, I could not find work, I didn’t know how to explain to people what I wanted.

“But now I am comfortabl­e in the UK. I’m comfortabl­e in my life now.”

In Pakistan, Riza, 23, is dreaming of life in the UK. She is married to Newport-born Suhail, also 23. Their son Umair is two.

Despite being married to Suhail, she has been turned down for a visa. The couple met on a family holiday in Pakistan.

“She’s beautiful, said.

“We just had a cracking time, wickedest time ever.”

“I said, ‘Mum, I think I’m ready for this one.’ And that’s it, really. We just took it from there.”

Umair was born within a year. The couple planned to settle in Newport.

Umair has the right to live here. It was decided his prospects in Wales were better.

Father and son returned home expecting Riza would soon follow.

“I miss you, my son and my husband,” Riza said to her family over the internet. “My family, I really miss you.” Umair is too young to understand Skype.

“You go on Skype, but he thinks it is just a video,” Suhail said.

“She cries then, because obviously she’s not seeing the baby. And the baby’s not really paying attention, he does not really know who she is.” she is,” Suhail

 ?? PICTURES: BBC ?? Grandmothe­r Irena trying to get Umair to chat to his mum Riza, inset, via a video call
PICTURES: BBC Grandmothe­r Irena trying to get Umair to chat to his mum Riza, inset, via a video call
 ??  ?? Follow us on Twitter @WalesonSun­day Facebook.com/WalesOnlin­e
Follow us on Twitter @WalesonSun­day Facebook.com/WalesOnlin­e
 ??  ??

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from United Kingdom