We begin with Tarin’s* story.
*Name changed for safety reasons
Tarin had one goal when he fled Damascus in 2018—to escape the war that had torn his life apart. But each step he took toward freedom seemed to bring him closer to the edge of despair. Recently, I had the opportunity to meet Tarin, a Syrian refugee currently living in Wales. Over the course of several weeks, we would talk, and he would share his story with me. As such, all testimonies in this piece are based on Tarin’s experiences and shared with his consent.
Survival and Resilience
In the U.K., refugees are often placed in military barracks such as Napier and Penally, which raises significant concerns about their treatment and living conditions. While Penally in Wales has been shut down, its counterpart, Napier in Kent, remains operational. Humanitarian organisations and opposition politicians have welcomed the closure of Penally but insist that the Home Office must also close Napier.
Both sites have housed thousands of asylum seekers since being handed over to the Home Office, facing numerous allegations of cover-ups, inadequate access to healthcare and legal advice, and overcrowded conditions. The high court previously heard that the Home Office ignored Public Health England’s advice, which deemed the dormitory-style accommodation at Napier unsuitable.
Having spoken to several asylum seekers, it is evident that the conditions in both Penally and Napier have raised significant concerns amongst humanitarian organisations and observers. Reports suggest that the treatment of refugees in these camps often resembles that of detainees despite their status as individuals fleeing war, persecution, and violence.
Escaping Damascus
Now 33 years old, Tarin distinctly remembers the day he was stopped at a military checkpoint whilst trying to leave––having passed his due date for military service. Most of his family had escaped the country between 2013 and 2015.
Tarin remained in Syria to care for his elderly grandparents, aged 94 and 87. When they died, he decided to leave, taking a route which usually had no military checkpoints—but this time, it was manned. The soldiers took his phone, cut his hair, and handcuffed him, putting him on a bus to join the military service.
Desperate, he bribed another soldier with his ID card to use his phone and called his father. His father contacted officials that he knew who reported him as missing and helped him to escape; however, he was warned that if they saw him again, he would be shot.
His family paid that officer a lot of money, but the man referred to it as a “favour” and kept his ID card.
The Challenges of Finding Safety
After his narrow escape from Damascus, Tarin fled and stayed with his aunt for a week, cut off from all contact with the rest of his family and terrified. Since her house was far from Damascus, the authorities never checked it.
Eventually, his father and uncles met at his aunt’s house and smuggled Tarin to northern Syria, an area not controlled by the Syrian army but by the opposition, where they believed he could eventually find a way to Europe.
They drove to Aleppo, a perilous journey. If the authorities doubted him at any checkpoint, they would take his fingerprints due to his lack of ID and realise he had escaped. But he made it. Through it all, Tarin held onto the memories of his family, whose unwavering love had taught him the value of perseverance.
In 2018, Aleppo was divided among various factions, including the regime army and groups like Al-Qaeda, ISIS, and the Syrian Free Army.
Crossing Borders – Aleppo to Turkey
Tarin stayed with friends of his father until he could find someone to take him to the opposition side—an almost impossible task, as he would be a target for snipers from both sides. It was dangerous, but with some luck, he managed to cross over.
For three months, he stayed with relatives who had migrated from Damascus. He felt safe, believing he had evaded the government’s grasp. However, they constantly faced Russian strikes and bombings from both Turkish and Assad forces, leading his family to insist he leave.
Tarin attempted to escape three times using smugglers before finally arriving in Turkey. He spent three nights in a smuggler’s house on the border while arrangements were made for transportation to Istanbul, navigating numerous checkpoints. Each time he was checked, he was sent back, along with anyone aged 18 to 50; only women and young children were permitted to stay.
Choosing to walk to Greece instead of risking the dangerous sea route, he joined a group and finally arrived in Greece after four days of walking. Upon reaching Alexandroupoli, he aimed for Thessaloniki but was detained. His phone, wallet, and belt were confiscated, and he spent a night in a police station before being moved to a camp. There, the workers refused to even learn anyone’s names.
There, he met various individuals, including Yemenis and Somalis. During the night, they were all forced onto a boat to take them back to Turkey, where Tarin and others were quickly apprehended by the Turkish army and sent to a worse camp. Conditions were dire; they were held in a small room without beds or privacy, and when authorities asked their nationalities, they would return them to their homeland, regardless of how war-torn it was.
Life in Limbo! Struggles in Refugee Camps
The Turkish soldiers eventually sent Tarin back to Syria after a gruelling 30-hour journey, shackled inside the bus.
Upon arrival, an Al-Qaeda branch (Al-Nusra) received him, and Tarin provided information about himself. That night, heavy bombings occurred as Russian fighters targeted anything with lights, and by detaining him and others deported from Turkey that day, they put his life and the lives of other detainees in great danger.
In the morning, he and the others survived the Russian airstrikes and witnessed the devastation that night.
Tarin attempted to leave again, his fifth attempt; by then, he had become adept at navigating the situation. He returned to the same smuggler’s house, where the smuggler was surprised to see him again, offering him a discounted rate to reach Istanbul.
After ten days in Istanbul, Tarin heard about a route to cross into Greece by foot. He travelled through snowy terrain, struggling with frostbite, and eventually, his condition became so severe that he needed medical attention. But instead of going to the hospital, he paid for antibiotics and bandages; it took months for him to regain enough strength to walk independently.
He continued walking but was spotted by police cars, and they arrested him again. He was sent back to the same camp he was in before, but this time, the Turkish soldiers recognised him. They beat him.
“It was so painful; I cannot forget it.”
Perseverance Amidst Peril
Eventually, he joined 35 others in a six-metre boat to Greece, but the conditions were terrible as they travelled through a storm. Women and children cried and prayed as they lost sight of Turkish lights behind them and the Greek island ahead.
The Turkish army found them and sent them to a different city, where yet another smuggler tried to take them across via boat. Regardless, after 10 minutes, a light spotted them and began to surround them.
There was more screaming, begging the driver not to stop. People screamed, “Please leave us alone, we are Syrian, we just want to leave.”
There was no point. This time, they were sent back to Syria once again.
He went back to the same routine – his family sent money, he bought a new phone, and he went back to the smuggler’s house. But back in Istanbul, his family said, “We can’t send you any more money. Just stay in Turkey, and you’ll stay alive. Stop moving.”
Unable to obtain a work permit due to his lack of refugee status, and with Turkey already hosting 4.5 million Syrian refugees, Tarin faced a bleak future. Another smuggler suggested he might travel with a German or Scandinavian passport. On June 15, he obtained a German passport and felt ready for his next attempt.
Confidently pretending to be the passport’s owner, Tarin approached airport security with a mixture of fear and determination. When it was time to board, he spoke in English, and the woman at the desk did not question him. Without scrutinising his face or the discrepancies with the passport photo, she instructed him to proceed.
He could hardly believe it; he had braced himself for someone to stop him at any moment. When Tarin boarded the plane, he was flooded with relief––but it was short-lived. His heart raced before the plane took off, knowing that someone could uncover the lie at any moment. When the plane eventually did take off, he was overjoyed. He later discovered that the smuggler also hadn’t expected the plan to work, and all the others got caught.
A New Beginning
Upon landing in Barcelona, Tarin prepared to catch another flight to the U.K. At the airport, he approached an electronic gate that scanned his passport and matched it to his face, but it didn’t work. A sign instructed him to go to the check-in desk for manual boarding, but he feared that would reveal his deception.
He tried again and again, avoiding looking at the screen. Suddenly, the gate opened.
The official asked him to repeat himself and then inquired about his journey. Tarin explained, “I’ve managed to come through all of these countries without giving a single fingerprint, so I found myself for once in my life with a choice, and I decided to take it. That’s why I seek asylum.”
He had not expected to arrive here, and it felt surreal. The Home Office sent him to a hotel for two weeks and informed him he might be eligible to stay in the U.K. until the appointment for the substantive interview, although there was also a possibility of being refused.
Unexpected Turns and Tensions
Suddenly, he received a note under the door saying he was being moved to the care of a nice neighbourhood in Cardiff. There was no postcode for the camp.
The bus ride to the camp was tense; the driver received a call and explained they were in a white Mercedes bus. A few minutes later, police on motorbikes signalled for him to follow, leading them to a police station.
Fear gripped the refugees on the bus, who wondered if they were being taken to a detention centre. As the bus driver spoke to the police officer, panic spread among the passengers, with some suggesting they might run to avoid being sent back to their countries.
Two police cars escorted them to the camp, where Tarin and the others saw far-right protesters outside. The protesters shouted, banged on the windows, and flashed middle fingers, waving Welsh flags and declaring that illegal migrants were not welcome.
Shocked and scared, Tarin remained silent. He saw one person pull out his phone and start filming them, and hid his face as he worried about the trouble his family could be in if the video got out.
At the camp, Tarin was one of the only ones who could speak English, Arabic, and a little Turkish, so he tried to reassure the others about their situation. The camp guards informed him, “You’re allowed to go out of the camp, but for your own safety, you should avoid it due to the protests.”
Building a Community
Inside the camp, the atmosphere was disheartening. No one knew where they were going or why they were confined to a military facility instead of a short-term home or hotel. Many residents were unfamiliar with Wales and its distinct language, adding to their confusion.
One night, the sound of gunfire outside sent Tarin into a panic. After living in a war zone for eight years, the sound of shooting meant that someone close to him died. He left his room to find security and police, who explained that the noise stemmed from protesters setting off fireworks to intimidate the refugees.
They wanted them to feel unsafe.
While the camp conditions remained dire, with inadequate food portions and unsanitary environments, Tarin established a committee by gathering interested residents and drafting a “constitution” to divide responsibilities. With one committee member being a former English teacher, they arranged for materials to provide English lessons.
On the first day, 61 people went to class.
Turning Pain into Purpose
Tarin sought permission from Migrant Help to use one of the rooms as a classroom, but they initially denied him a key since it was a military camp. After three days of waiting, he finally received access. They secured two additional volunteer English language teachers: Abdullah taught two lessons a day, whilst Eduardo taught one lesson daily, five days a week.
Tarin initiated a music and art workshop and established a buddy system to connect people in the camp with those outside, fostering relationships that could lead to coffee outings, pizza, or walks on the beach. “It was vital to keep those inside in touch with the outside world for their mental health,” he explained.
After seven months, the camp at Penally closed. Napier is still open. The accounts of current and former residents illustrate the dire situation they endure—living in overcrowded, unsanitary conditions, stripped of their basic human rights, and grappling with the trauma of their past experiences.
Tarin founded a new organisation, Life Seekers, which provides support to refugees and victims of human trafficking, torture, and survivors of war-related injuries.
“Someone has to provide this support to the government: the camps aren’t doing it.”
Editors note, Shebs Alom
Amy Aed shared with me the compelling interviews she conducted with refugees in the U.K. and discussed why their journeys ought to be publicised. In this piece and three other articles, Amy explored the theme of survival as a journey. Her aim and my hope is to convey these experiences through the lenses of safety and self-determination, reflecting our objective of inspiring readers about how travel impacts identity and purpose.
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Amy Aed
Amy Aed is a Welsh journalist with over a decade of experience reporting from some of the most remote corners of the world. Her work focuses on telling untold stories that intersect culture, adventure, and social issues
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Disclaimer
This article was written by Amy and is based on the personal testimony Tarin gave her when she interviewed him over several weeks. Tarin is a Syrian refugee living in the U.K., who has shared his journey with the knowledge and has given consent for publication. The account is drawn from the interview conducted by Amy, during which Tarin provided details about his experiences. Whilst every effort has been made to accurately represent his story, certain details, including specific dates, locations, and personal identifiers, may be inaccurate. The views expressed in this article are those of Tarin, and do not necessarily reflect the official stance of Voyagers Voice. The purpose of this piece written by Amy is to focus attention on the obstacles that refugees face, such as conditions that exist in some asylum-seeking institutions. It is essential to note that, whilst we aim to give reliable and unbiased information, the article does represent Tarin’s own story and experiences, which are unique to him. Voyagers Voice has made the necessary efforts to verify the contexts offered in accordance with our editorial standards. However, due to the delicate nature of refugee and asylum situations, certain information may have been altered or deleted to protect the persons concerned, follow ethical journalism practices, and avoid legal ramifications.