Traumatised arrivals are given help with language and cultural issues, as well as hot water bottles and umbrellas

Amer Masri recalls the overwhelming relief of one Syrian refugee who arrived in Scotland a few weeks ago.

“He was so grateful. He kept repeating ‘Thank you Scotland! Thank you Nicola Sturgeon!’ after every phrase I translated for him.”

Masri is himself a refugee, who fled the Assad regime in 2011 and now works as a research scientist in Edinburgh, where he lives with his wife and two young children.

Over the past month, Masri and a group of other local Syrians have been visiting their newly arrived country-folk, helping where they can with the inevitable stresses and strangeness of negotiating a foreign land in the middle of winter.

“It’s to show them we are here, that this country gave us dignity and freedom, and that encourages them,” explains Masri.

Their initial anxieties have not been so banal as the weather, he adds. “We try to emphasise that the police in Scotland are here to help them, that they are not in danger from them. We’ve also tried to explain that this is an equal country, whether between those with education or no education, and importantly that women have the same rights as men.”

On 17 November, the first charter flight carrying families mainly from camps bordering Syria touched down at Glasgow airport during a relentless downpour. Since then, more than 300 men, women and children have been settled across the country by half of Scotland’s 32 local authorities.

In a reflection of the country’s readiness in comparison to other parts of the UK, Scotland has welcomed one in three of the thousand refugees David Cameron agreed to take before the end of the year, although the Scottish government’s proportionate commitment was to take 10% of the total number over five years.

With the first plane-load landing days after the Paris attacks in November, concerns were raised that some people would conflate the refugees’ arrival with the terrorist threat. There was a suspected arson attack on a mosque to the north of Glasgow and Police Scotland confirmed an immediate spike in hate crimes later that week.

The day before the first arrivals, Humza Yousaf, the chair of the refugee taskforce which has coordinated the resettlement programme, and the Scottish government’s only Muslim minister, confirmed that he had informed the police of the Islamophobic abuse he received on social media.

But a month later, Yousaf praised the public’s response to the refugee crisis, saying: “I am deeply proud of the Scottish people who have extended the warmest possible hand of friendship to our newest neighbours.”

Speaking before the final refugee taskforce meeting of the year, he added: “I’ve heard heartwarming tales – people walking up to refugees in the street and giving them hugs of welcome, offers of friendship, support and practical help, from arranging special community film screenings for refugees to giving them welcome gifts of food hampers, warm clothes and hot water bottles.”

Meanwhile, local communities have responded in their own, sometimes ambivalent, ways. As the Guardian reported, a Scottish Defence League protest in Ayrshire was countered by refugee rights activists, while in Renfrewshire a number of internet trolls posting bile about the resettlement plans were exposed by the Paisley Daily Express with a front page headline that read: “Shame on you.”

Local welcome campaigns have sprung up across the country, like Glasgow’s Refuweegee project, which takes its name from the slang term for a Glaswegian – Weegee. It is the brainchild of Selina Hales, a city native who was prompted by news coverage of Syrians travelling across Europe seeking shelter. Its volunteers are putting together welcome packs, which include a handwritten letter from a local as well as Glasgow-appropriate items including obligatory umbrellas. “I wanted to capture that real Glasgow welcome,” says Hales. “People don’t just want to welcome people but to embrace them and make them feel like a local.”



Scottish authorities are aware that those listed by the UNHCR for immediate resettlement include some of the most vulnerable and traumatised individuals, and have protected their privacy as they begin their new lives in Scotland.

As Masri confirms: “A lot of them have been through tragic and traumatic experiences, some were detained and tortured, and there is a big problem with post-traumatic stress. On top of that is the stress that moving to another continent and culture imposes, so their psychological situation is very sensitive.”

But the Syrians he is in contact with have more workaday concerns, too. “There is the weather and the culture shock at the beginning, the short days in winter and the temperature. The pattern of daily life is different too, when the shops close and when life on the streets stops. In Syria we have cafes that are open late at night, but here there are only pubs and bars.”

The language barrier is an immediate problem, says Masri, particularly because many of the new arrivals come from rural parts of Syria where access to education is scant. “How can they learn a different language when they don’t know how to read and write in Arabic? So we are trying to teach them in parallel Arabic and English.”



On the Isle of Bute, where 12 Syrian families arrived in the seaside town of Rothesay in early December, the council has hired two dedicated translators to work with the new arrivals.



'People want to help': Scottish town prepares to host Syrian refugees Read more

Locals hope the setting will suit their new guests. As Clellan Sneddon, executive director of community services for Argyll and Bute council, explains: “We have got people who are from smaller towns or rural backgrounds and therefore we think the transition, the match, is a little better.”

Volunteers on Bute are quick to point out that their refugees don’t actually know one another. A pop-up community centre, based in a church hall and staffed by locals, has proved essential, allowing women with small babies to support each other as well as providing a focus for visits from education and social workers.

The centre has also allowed the refugees access to donated clothing in a more dignified environment: the items are displayed on rails so that the Syrians can choose themselves as though in a shop, with private changing areas for men and women. There is an ongoing difficulty that, while huge amounts of clothing have been collected, the one thing that people don’t donate secondhand is underwear, especially thermals.

There is no mosque on Bute so the possibility of a city imam travelling along the coast to conduct Friday prayers was discussed, while local supermarkets made inquiries about stocking halal meat. Concerns about lack of pulses in the Co-op were solved when Yotam Ottolenghi got in touch, offering to send chickpeas, spices and juices. A large donation of halal products was made soon after the refugees arrived and now the community centre hosts prayers every Friday from 11am to 1pm.

Over Christmas, volunteers will continue to staff the centre. Most recently there was a call for multiple car seats to transport the younger family members to a showing of the local Christmas pantomime, Puss In Boots. The children found the concept of a dame hilarious.



As Masri observes: “It’s the children who adapt the quickest. They are like sponges.”