Finding Home in Wales - Shayma’s Story 

(no photo submitted) 

My name is Shayma, and this is the story of how I found home in a place I never imagined: Wales. 

I was born and raised in Iraq. Before everything changed, life was simple and full. I had a close family, a sense of belonging, and clear dreams. I graduated from Baghdad University with a degree in Business and Management, married in 1998, and had two wonderful children. I hoped to work in a bank, balancing a modest career with family life. That was all I wanted: stability, peace, and a future for my children. 

In 2003, war changed everything. Fear became part of daily life, electricity was unreliable, winters were harsh, and the streets no longer felt safe. I realised I could not protect my children there. I made the hardest decision of my life and left Baghdad. I left my family behind, not because I wanted to, but because there was no way for us to leave together. Becoming a refugee is not a choice. It is survival. 

I spent two years in Jordan before applying for asylum through the United Nations. When asked where I wished to go, I chose the UK because my sister lived there. In 2008, I arrived and came straight to Wales. 

The first year was incredibly hard. The people were kind, but everything else felt overwhelming: the language, the cold, the isolation, and the pain of being far from family. I didn’t understand the systems or how to support my children. Then I found help through the Welsh Refugee Council. My caseworker supported us with schooling, benefits, and learning how life worked here. That support changed everything. 

The day I watched my children walk into school with their backpacks, ready to learn English and make friends, I felt hope return. I enrolled in college to learn English, started meeting people, and slowly built a new life. Our neighbours welcomed us warmly, knocking on the door to offer help. Teachers used pictures and gestures so my children could communicate before they had the words. That kindness stayed with me. 

Today, Wales feels like home. I see it in the small moments: neighbours stopping to chat, strangers helping when my car broke down, people looking out for one another. Still, I miss Iraq deeply. I miss my parents, my siblings, the smells of home, and the laughter around the dinner table. No place can fully replace that. 

Now, I work for the Welsh Refugee Council, the same organisation that once helped me. It feels like coming full circle. I still dream of working one day with the United Nations, to give hope to others as they once gave it to me. 

My children are my greatest pride. My son studies biomedical science at Cardiff University, and my daughter is a Swansea University graduate now building her career in Cardiff. Watching them thrive fills me with joy. 

To the people of Wales, I want to say this: refugees are not a burden. We are people. We come seeking safety. When given a chance, we work, contribute, and give back. We become part of Cymru. 

This is my story, and I hope it helps people see the human being behind the word “refugee.”