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| Refugee crisis: Three stories from Syrians who have made a new life in the West | Refugee crisis: Three stories from Syrians who have made a new life in the West |
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| Hofaiza Adl Al Mnin, Sweden | Hofaiza Adl Al Mnin, Sweden |
| Hozaifa Adl Al Mnin could finally relax this week for the first time since he swam from Turkey to the Greek island of Samos in the middle of August. “It was a challenge,” the 19-year-old says with a grin, as he describes negotiating the currents of the mile-wide Mycale Strait. “I was going to go with the people smugglers, the mafia, but I couldn’t trust them, so me and my friend, we decided to swim.” | Hozaifa Adl Al Mnin could finally relax this week for the first time since he swam from Turkey to the Greek island of Samos in the middle of August. “It was a challenge,” the 19-year-old says with a grin, as he describes negotiating the currents of the mile-wide Mycale Strait. “I was going to go with the people smugglers, the mafia, but I couldn’t trust them, so me and my friend, we decided to swim.” |
| After crossing the bridge from Denmark to Sweden and declaring himself to police last Sunday, he spent the next morning milling around the lobby in the Best Western Hotel, Malmö. | After crossing the bridge from Denmark to Sweden and declaring himself to police last Sunday, he spent the next morning milling around the lobby in the Best Western Hotel, Malmö. |
| In between filling in the necessary forms supplied by the Swedish migration board, Mr Mnin has caught up with Ala, 30, and Aresha, 28, who he met en route while the three were being held by the Hungarian police, and been welcomed by one of his old neighbours from the war-ravaged Tadamon suburb of Damascus. | In between filling in the necessary forms supplied by the Swedish migration board, Mr Mnin has caught up with Ala, 30, and Aresha, 28, who he met en route while the three were being held by the Hungarian police, and been welcomed by one of his old neighbours from the war-ravaged Tadamon suburb of Damascus. |
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| “The Hungarian border is the most dangerous place in the whole journey,” Mr Mnin says. “The police have no humanity at all. They are even beating women and children.” | “The Hungarian border is the most dangerous place in the whole journey,” Mr Mnin says. “The police have no humanity at all. They are even beating women and children.” |
| He ran away, leaving Ala and Aresha behind. “I escaped, but they were stuck,” he says, although the couple, who married 10 days before beginning their trip, escaped unharmed. “It was our honeymoon,” Aresha says wryly. | He ran away, leaving Ala and Aresha behind. “I escaped, but they were stuck,” he says, although the couple, who married 10 days before beginning their trip, escaped unharmed. “It was our honeymoon,” Aresha says wryly. |
| Mr Mnin began to walk from Budapest to Austria along with hundreds of others, but soon realised this would take too long. “There were so many people, women and children – they had no hope,” he say. He stopped at a nearby town and simply took a train over the Austrian border. After that, he travelled to Sweden using ordinary public transport. “I went from Austria to here, just with bus tickets.” | Mr Mnin began to walk from Budapest to Austria along with hundreds of others, but soon realised this would take too long. “There were so many people, women and children – they had no hope,” he say. He stopped at a nearby town and simply took a train over the Austrian border. After that, he travelled to Sweden using ordinary public transport. “I went from Austria to here, just with bus tickets.” |
| In the lobby of the Best Western, Ala and Aresha are complaining about the crowded conditions at the hotel, which has served as an emergency asylum reception centre since October. “They are sharing their room with seven Afghans, and they are quite unfriendly,” Mr Mnin says. “There’s nowhere you can keep your belongings safely.” | In the lobby of the Best Western, Ala and Aresha are complaining about the crowded conditions at the hotel, which has served as an emergency asylum reception centre since October. “They are sharing their room with seven Afghans, and they are quite unfriendly,” Mr Mnin says. “There’s nowhere you can keep your belongings safely.” |
| Mr Mnin hopes his father, mother and brother, who are all now in Turkey, can soon come and join him. “Our house is completely destroyed,” he says. “Our area is destroyed.” | Mr Mnin hopes his father, mother and brother, who are all now in Turkey, can soon come and join him. “Our house is completely destroyed,” he says. “Our area is destroyed.” |
| The university where he was studying accountancy when he left Syria for Lebanon is still functioning, but he does not plan on returning. “If you study there, the army comes and says, ‘you should join and defend your country’. But you’re not defending [your country], you’re just killing people and stealing from them. I can’t kill anyone, so I decided to leave.” | The university where he was studying accountancy when he left Syria for Lebanon is still functioning, but he does not plan on returning. “If you study there, the army comes and says, ‘you should join and defend your country’. But you’re not defending [your country], you’re just killing people and stealing from them. I can’t kill anyone, so I decided to leave.” |
| He had originally planned to come to the UK, but changed his mind after reading about the deaths refugees trying to stow away on trucks and trains through the Channel Tunnel. | He had originally planned to come to the UK, but changed his mind after reading about the deaths refugees trying to stow away on trucks and trains through the Channel Tunnel. |
| He was then encouraged to come to Sweden. “It’s a beautiful country with friendly people,” he says. “They have human rights here, and human rights at this time are rare to find.” (interviewed by Richard Orange in Malmö) | He was then encouraged to come to Sweden. “It’s a beautiful country with friendly people,” he says. “They have human rights here, and human rights at this time are rare to find.” (interviewed by Richard Orange in Malmö) |
| Hassan Ayo, United Kingdom | Hassan Ayo, United Kingdom |
| Hassan and Fatima Ayo with their sons in Coventry (Andrew Fox) | Hassan and Fatima Ayo with their sons in Coventry (Andrew Fox) |
| In a small garden in the suburbs of Coventry, Sozdar Ayo’s brothers collect slugs and spiders. The new family home, its garden and medical care at the local hospital came too late for Sozdar. The young Syrian girl, who loved to play guitar and enjoyed the outdoors, died in Turkey nine months ago. She was 14. | In a small garden in the suburbs of Coventry, Sozdar Ayo’s brothers collect slugs and spiders. The new family home, its garden and medical care at the local hospital came too late for Sozdar. The young Syrian girl, who loved to play guitar and enjoyed the outdoors, died in Turkey nine months ago. She was 14. |
| With her parents and two brothers, she had survived bombings and a hellish trek across northern Syria after their home town came under attack from Bashar al-Assad’s air force. After a year of shifting between refugee camps and tiny rented rooms, Sozdar was diagnosed with a heart condition. She died in December, three days after her parents, Hassan, 47, and Fatima, 42, heard that the family was to be resettled in Britain where a transplant might have saved her. | With her parents and two brothers, she had survived bombings and a hellish trek across northern Syria after their home town came under attack from Bashar al-Assad’s air force. After a year of shifting between refugee camps and tiny rented rooms, Sozdar was diagnosed with a heart condition. She died in December, three days after her parents, Hassan, 47, and Fatima, 42, heard that the family was to be resettled in Britain where a transplant might have saved her. |
| “We didn’t want to be refugees, we just wanted our daughter to be treated,” says Hassan. “But the doctors said she was too ill to travel. It was too late. Our suffering started that day.” Fatima fights back tears as she scrolls through images of her daughter on her phone. She adds: “She said she knew she was going to die, but she dreamed of dying in England, where she knew her family would be safe.” | “We didn’t want to be refugees, we just wanted our daughter to be treated,” says Hassan. “But the doctors said she was too ill to travel. It was too late. Our suffering started that day.” Fatima fights back tears as she scrolls through images of her daughter on her phone. She adds: “She said she knew she was going to die, but she dreamed of dying in England, where she knew her family would be safe.” |
| The remaining members of the Ayo family arrived in Britain in February, after they were accepted under the Home Office Vulnerable Persons Resettlement (VPR) scheme which has brought just 216 Syrians to the UK since the start of the crisis. “We are grateful to Britain. It is the Turkish government we blame for our daughter’s death,” says Fatima, a schoolteacher who is currently undergoing treatment for lymphoma. “They treated Sozdar like a piece of paper, not a human being.” | The remaining members of the Ayo family arrived in Britain in February, after they were accepted under the Home Office Vulnerable Persons Resettlement (VPR) scheme which has brought just 216 Syrians to the UK since the start of the crisis. “We are grateful to Britain. It is the Turkish government we blame for our daughter’s death,” says Fatima, a schoolteacher who is currently undergoing treatment for lymphoma. “They treated Sozdar like a piece of paper, not a human being.” |
| According to the family, their daughter needed a heart transplant after complications from treatment for appendicitis, but the Turkish authorities, which have taken in 1.7 million Syrian refugees, refused to put her forward for treatment. “Their [the Turkish] excuse was that she didn’t have a passport – but she was still a human,” says Fatima. “After what she had seen in Syria, she sometimes used to say that humans had lost their humanity. She wanted to play guitar and train as musician. She had big dreams.” | According to the family, their daughter needed a heart transplant after complications from treatment for appendicitis, but the Turkish authorities, which have taken in 1.7 million Syrian refugees, refused to put her forward for treatment. “Their [the Turkish] excuse was that she didn’t have a passport – but she was still a human,” says Fatima. “After what she had seen in Syria, she sometimes used to say that humans had lost their humanity. She wanted to play guitar and train as musician. She had big dreams.” |
| The family did not want to leave Syria, where they lived a middle-class life in Al-Hasakah, a city, once, of “lush avenues and ancient Assyrian ruins”. But when the Free Syrian Army occupied their neighbourhood in late 2012, the regime responded with aerial attacks. “At first, we got used to the bullets and the fighting,” says Hassan. “But then the planes started bombing us. We never knew if we were safe. It was indiscriminate. We could not be safe.” | The family did not want to leave Syria, where they lived a middle-class life in Al-Hasakah, a city, once, of “lush avenues and ancient Assyrian ruins”. But when the Free Syrian Army occupied their neighbourhood in late 2012, the regime responded with aerial attacks. “At first, we got used to the bullets and the fighting,” says Hassan. “But then the planes started bombing us. We never knew if we were safe. It was indiscriminate. We could not be safe.” |
| In Bradford, north of the Ayos’ new home, another Syrian family are also reluctant arrivals in the UK. Ayham, a 20-year-old student, was forced flee to Egypt with other family members after his father died in the conflict and his younger brother was diagnosed with leukaemia. “The day after we landed at Leeds airport, my brother was given a hospital appointment,” he says. | In Bradford, north of the Ayos’ new home, another Syrian family are also reluctant arrivals in the UK. Ayham, a 20-year-old student, was forced flee to Egypt with other family members after his father died in the conflict and his younger brother was diagnosed with leukaemia. “The day after we landed at Leeds airport, my brother was given a hospital appointment,” he says. |
| A year later, his family are all frantically learning English and Ayham, who wants to retrain as a doctor in order to “rebuild Syria”, has taken a job at a local restaurant. He is grateful but angry. “That Great Britain, with all its economic wealth, has done so little for refugees is a joke, like a sick joke.” | A year later, his family are all frantically learning English and Ayham, who wants to retrain as a doctor in order to “rebuild Syria”, has taken a job at a local restaurant. He is grateful but angry. “That Great Britain, with all its economic wealth, has done so little for refugees is a joke, like a sick joke.” |
| The two small families in Coventry and Bradford make up almost 5 per cent of all the Syrians welcomed to the UK under the much-criticised VPR scheme. The citizens of Coventry at least can be proud: the city has taken 107 of the 216 Syrians given sanctuary by the Home Office. | The two small families in Coventry and Bradford make up almost 5 per cent of all the Syrians welcomed to the UK under the much-criticised VPR scheme. The citizens of Coventry at least can be proud: the city has taken 107 of the 216 Syrians given sanctuary by the Home Office. |
| As a volunteer for the Coventry Refugee and Migrant Centre, Mr Ayo hands out leaflets in the city centre most weekends and today is planning a vigil for Syria. “We are thankful to Britain and we are thankful to Coventry,” he says. “It is a city of sanctuary. The people here suffered in the Second World War, so they understand some of our experience, but the rest of Britain must do more. It can help more than a few hundred or a few thousand Syrians a year.” | As a volunteer for the Coventry Refugee and Migrant Centre, Mr Ayo hands out leaflets in the city centre most weekends and today is planning a vigil for Syria. “We are thankful to Britain and we are thankful to Coventry,” he says. “It is a city of sanctuary. The people here suffered in the Second World War, so they understand some of our experience, but the rest of Britain must do more. It can help more than a few hundred or a few thousand Syrians a year.” |
| For her part, Mrs Ayo is trying to look to the future for the sake of her two boys, Zerdsht, 14, who is undergoing treatment for diabetes, and Zana, 9. “What’s important now is the future for them,” she says. “We [are] in mourning for Sozdar, but now at least we can have a little hope. She would be happy if she could see us here in the garden.” (interviewed by Jamie Merrill in Coventry) | For her part, Mrs Ayo is trying to look to the future for the sake of her two boys, Zerdsht, 14, who is undergoing treatment for diabetes, and Zana, 9. “What’s important now is the future for them,” she says. “We [are] in mourning for Sozdar, but now at least we can have a little hope. She would be happy if she could see us here in the garden.” (interviewed by Jamie Merrill in Coventry) |
| Murad Abdul, Germany | Murad Abdul, Germany |
| In the early hours, Murad Abdul was still waiting for the train that would bring his relatives to Germany. The 30-year-old Syrian Kurd had not seen them in a decade. | In the early hours, Murad Abdul was still waiting for the train that would bring his relatives to Germany. The 30-year-old Syrian Kurd had not seen them in a decade. |
| When the last train pulled into Munich station, police barred Mr Abdul and other waiting Syrians from entering the platform. Mr Abdul jumped up and down, waved, and called out the names of his loved ones. Another Syrian began lashing out at police, shouting that his mother was on the train and he needed to see her. To the waiting Syrians’ frustration, the new arrivals were immediately herded on to another train, as Munich was overcrowded. But Mr Abdul stayed calm even when that second train left the station. He later thanked police for their work, shaking his head at the other Syrian’s outburst. | When the last train pulled into Munich station, police barred Mr Abdul and other waiting Syrians from entering the platform. Mr Abdul jumped up and down, waved, and called out the names of his loved ones. Another Syrian began lashing out at police, shouting that his mother was on the train and he needed to see her. To the waiting Syrians’ frustration, the new arrivals were immediately herded on to another train, as Munich was overcrowded. But Mr Abdul stayed calm even when that second train left the station. He later thanked police for their work, shaking his head at the other Syrian’s outburst. |
| “It’s bad, insulting police like that,” he said afterwards. “Everyone here is helping us. I always say, Germany is my mother and my father. When I came here, Germany gave me food, it gave me somewhere to sleep.” | “It’s bad, insulting police like that,” he said afterwards. “Everyone here is helping us. I always say, Germany is my mother and my father. When I came here, Germany gave me food, it gave me somewhere to sleep.” |
| Germany’s Syrian community has been crucial in welcoming and supporting the new arrivals. They are less visible than the cheering crowds of Germans with hand-painted banners who greet the refugees when they step off the trains. But they are still at the station late at night, in the cold, when most of the cheerers have departed. | Germany’s Syrian community has been crucial in welcoming and supporting the new arrivals. They are less visible than the cheering crowds of Germans with hand-painted banners who greet the refugees when they step off the trains. But they are still at the station late at night, in the cold, when most of the cheerers have departed. |
| Often fluent in German, they act as impromptu interpreters, help the newcomers with logistics, and, in Mr Abdul’s case, scan the flow of people for the faces of their own long-lost relatives. They also offer a glimpse of what may lie ahead for the many hopefuls who emerge from the trains with dreams of a bright new life in Germany. | Often fluent in German, they act as impromptu interpreters, help the newcomers with logistics, and, in Mr Abdul’s case, scan the flow of people for the faces of their own long-lost relatives. They also offer a glimpse of what may lie ahead for the many hopefuls who emerge from the trains with dreams of a bright new life in Germany. |
| Mr Abdul has been living in Munich for about a year. But the journey that brought him here was more complex than for most. He fled his home in the town of Afrin in northern Syria long before the war, almost a decade ago, and took the boat from Turkey to Greece, where he stayed for about eight years. | Mr Abdul has been living in Munich for about a year. But the journey that brought him here was more complex than for most. He fled his home in the town of Afrin in northern Syria long before the war, almost a decade ago, and took the boat from Turkey to Greece, where he stayed for about eight years. |
| “The Kurds in Syria have always had problems,” he said. “We were having problems with the Arabs, now there are problems with Daesh [Isis].” | “The Kurds in Syria have always had problems,” he said. “We were having problems with the Arabs, now there are problems with Daesh [Isis].” |
| In Greece, he led what he described as a semi-legal existence, surviving on odd jobs such as working in restaurants and painting houses. But when the economic crisis hit Greece, work dried up. About a year ago, he decided to go to Germany, where he was granted asylum. | In Greece, he led what he described as a semi-legal existence, surviving on odd jobs such as working in restaurants and painting houses. But when the economic crisis hit Greece, work dried up. About a year ago, he decided to go to Germany, where he was granted asylum. |
| A Syrian refugee holding a baby in a lifetube swims towards the shore after their dinghy deflated some 100m away before reaching the Greek island of Lesbos | |
| A refugee raises a child into the air as Syrian and Afghan refugees are seen on and around a dinghy that deflated some 100m away before reaching the Greek island of Lesbos | |
| Syrian and Afghan refugees fall into the sea after their dinghy deflated some 100m away before reaching the Greek island of Lesbos | |
| A refugee cries as he holds a child on the Serbian side of the border with Hungary in Asotthalom | |
| Reuters | |
| Refugees stand in front of a barrier at the border with Hungary near the village of Horgos, Serbia | |
| Reuters | |
| A refugee from Syria prays after arriving on the shores of the Greek island of Lesbos aboard an inflatable dinghy across the Aegean Sea from from Turkey. Greece sent troops and police reinforcements to Lesbos after renewed clashes between police and migrants, the public broadcaster said, while Syrian refugees on the island were targeted with Molotov cocktail attacks | |
| Police try to stop refugees going under a fence to board a train at a station near Gevgelija, Macedonia. Several thousand refugees in Macedonia boarded trains to travel north after spending a night in a provisional camp. Macedonia has organised trains twice a day to the north border where they cross into Serbia to make their way to Hungary | |
| Refugees push each other as they try to board a bus following their arrival onboard the Eleftherios Venizelos passenger ship at the port of Piraeus, near Athens, Greece | |
| Refugees are welcomed by locals after their arrival at the main railway station in Frankfurt, Germany. Over 1,000 more refugees arrived in Germany to cheers and "welcome" signs, but calls grew for a European solution to its worst refugee crisis since World War II | |
| A young Syrian boy arrives on the Greek island of Lesbos after crossing in a dinghy with other refugees from Turkey | |
| AP | |
| Refugees walk on the railway tracks between Bicske and Szar, some 40 kms west of Budapest, trying to reach Germany | |
| EPA | |
| Hungarian policemen stand by the family of refugees as they wanted to run away at the railway station in the town of Bicske, Hungary | |
| A family is arrested by local police after their local train coming from Budapest and heading to the Austrian border has been stopped in Bicske, west of the Hungarian capital | |
| A man is arrested by local police after his local train coming from Budapest and heading to the Austrian border has been stopped in Bicske, west of the Hungarian capital | |
| More than 2,500 refugees have died trying to reach Europe this year and the struggle continues as they travel through the continent | |
| Getty Images | |
| Refugees protest in front of a train at Bicske railway station. Hundreds of people, were stranded on a train in Hungary for a second, demanding passage to Germany in a standoff with riot police | |
| Syrian refugees arrive on the shores of Lesvos island | |
| Getty | |
| Syrian refugees on the Greek Macedonian border | |
| Getty | |
| Refugees storm into a train at the Keleti train station as Hungarian police withdrew from the gates after two days of blocking their entry | |
| Refugees storm into a train at the Keleti train station in Budapest | |
| Refugees cross the border between the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia and Greece, near the town of Gevgelija, Macedonia. The Gevgelija-Presevo journey is just a part of the journey that the refugees, the vast majority of them from Syria, are forced to make along the so-called Balkan corridor, which takes them from Turkey, across Greece, Macedonia and Serbia to Hungary, the gateway to the European Union, September 2015 | |
| A refugee helps up an exhausted fellow refugee as they cross the border between Macedonia and Greece, near the town of Gevgelija, September 2015 | |
| People breaking through a police cordon and crossing the border between Macedonia and Greece, September 2015 | |
| Refugees pass the border between Macedonia and Greece, September 2015 | |
| A Macedonian policeman carries a child across the border between Macedonia and Greece, September 2015 | |
| Syrians sleep on railroad tracks waiting to be processed across the Macedonian border in Idomeni, Greece, September 2015 | |
| A Czech police officer marks a refugee with a number after more than than 200 refugees were detained, mostly from Syria, on trains from Hungary and Austria at the railway station in Breclav, Czech Republic, September 2015 | |
| AP Photo, CTK/Igor Zehl | |
| A baby is lifted on to the Norwegian vessel ‘Siem Pilot’ during a search-and-rescue mission off the Libyan coast, September 2015 | |
| AP | |
| Budapest's main international railway station ordered an evacuation as hundreds of people tried to board trains to Austria and Germany, September 2015 | |
| People wave their train tickets and lift up children outside the main Eastern Railway station in Budapest, September 2015 | |
| People protest at the Eastern (Keleti) railway station of Budapest, September 2015 | |
| Refugee children sleep in the surrounding green area of the Keleti railway station in Budapest, September 2015 | |
| Syrians cross under a fence into Hungary at the border with Serbia, near Roszke, August 2015 | |
| Reuters | |
| Refugees who have just crossed the border from Serbia into Hungary walk along a railway track that joins the two countries, August 2015 | |
| Getty Images | |
| Police arrest refugees at Cobham Services on the M25 in Surrey, August 2015 | |
| Twitter: @bigwheeluk | |
| Men hold a boy as they are stuck between Macedonian riot police officers and fellow refugees during a clash near the border train station of Idomeni, August 2015 | |
| AFP/Getty | |
| A Syrian father holds his children close as his arrives on the Greek Island of Kos, August 2015 | |
| Eyevine | |
| A tourist offers water to Iranian refugees as they arrive by paddling an engineless dinghy from the Turkish coast (seen in the background) at a beach on the Greek island of Kos, August 2015 | |
| Reuters | |
| A Syrian holds his 30-day-old baby on an overcrowded train as they travel through Macedonia. Tens of thousands of refugees, mainly from the Middle East and Africa, use the Balkans route to get into the European Union, passing from Greece to Macedonia and Serbia and then to western Europe, August 2015 | |
| A man rests on a platform at the train station in Gevgelija, on the Macedonian-Greek border, August 2015 | |
| Getty | |
| Refugees react after boarding the Migrant Offshore Aid Station (MOAS) ship MV Phoenix some 20 miles (32 kilometres) off the coast of Libya. Some 118 refugees were rescued from a rubber dinghy off Libya. The Phoenix, manned by personnel from international non-governmental organisations Medecins san Frontiere (MSF) and MOAS, is the first privately funded vessel to operate in the Mediterranean, August 2015 | |
| Authorities are being overwhelmed as they try to fight off hundreds of refugees, prompting France to beef up its police presence, July 2015 | |
| AFP | |
| People escape from the French Police as they try to catch a train to reach England, July 2015 | |
| EPA | |
| A man jumps over a fence as he attempts to access the Channel Tunnel, in Calais, northern France, July 2015 | |
| PA/Thibault Camus | |
| Two men cling to the roof of a freight truck as it leaves the Eurotunnel terminal in Folkestone, July 2015 | |
| Getty | |
| A man climbs a security fence of a Eurotunnel terminal in Coquelles near Calais, July 2015 | |
| Men help a man squeeze through a gap in a fence near the Eurotunnel terminal in Coquelles in Calais, July 2015 | |
| Getty | |
| Refugees climb in the back of a lorry on the A16 highway leading to the Eurotunnel in Calais, June 2015 | |
| Getty Images | |
| A police officer sprays tear gas to men trying to access the Channel Tunnel on the A16 highway in Calais, northern France, June 2015 | |
| PHILIPPE HUGUEN/AFP/Getty Images | |
| Men jump out of a lorry after being discovered by French gendarmerie officers, June 2015 | |
| AP | |
| A man sits under the trailer of a lorry, June 2015 | |
| AP | |
| A Belgian navy sailor passes life vests to refugees sitting in a rubber boat as they approach the Belgian Navy Vessel Godetia, June 2015 | |
| AP | |
| People on the Belgian Navy vessel Godetia after they were saved during a search and rescue mission in the Mediterranean off the Libyan coast, June 2015 | |
| AP | |
| Iraqis wait as they are detained by Hungarian police after crossing the Hungarian-Serbian border illegally near the village of Asotthalom, Hungary, June 2015 | |
| Reuters | |
| Syrian refugees walking on train tracks through Macedonia on the Western Balkans migration route, after entering Europe through Greece, June 2015 | |
| Reuters | |
| A group of people huddle together during an operation to remove them from the Italian-French border in the Italian city of Ventimiglia. Italy and France engaged in a war of words as a standoff over hundreds of Africans offered a graphic illustration of Europe's migration crisis. Italian Interior Minister Angelino Alfano described images of refugees perched on rocks at the border town of Ventimiglia after being refused entry to France as a "punch in the face for Europe", June 2015 | |
| A man is carried by Italian police in Ventimiglia, Italy. Police reportedly removed refugees from under a railway bridge, June 2015 | |
| EPA | |
| A Syrian child holds a drawing as he waits to disembark from Belgian Navy vessel Godetia at the Augusta port, Italy. Around 250 refugees from Syria arrived at the Sicilian harbour from a Damascus refugee camp, June 2015 | |
| A dinghy overcrowded with Afghan refugees arrived on a beach on the Greek island of Kos, May 2015 | |
| An Afghan child is helped off a rib on the Greek island of Kos, May 2015 | |
| An Afghan girl holds the hand of a woman as they arrive on a beach on the Greek island of Kos, after crossing a part of the Aegean Sea between Turkey and Greece, May 2015 | |
| Refugees crossed part of the Aegean Sea between Turkey and Greece, May 2015 | |
| Afghan refugees arrive on a beach of Kos, May 2015 | |
| Rescuers help children to disembark in the Sicilian harbor of Pozzallo, Italy in April 2015 | |
| A boat transporting refugees arrives in the port of Messina after a rescue operation at sea, April 2015 | |
| Getty | |
| Armed Forces of Malta personnel in protective clothing carry the body of a dead man off Italian coastguard ship Bruno Gregoretti as surviving refugees watch in Senglea, in Valletta's Grand Harbour, April 2015 | |
| Rescued people talk to a member of the Malta Order after a fishing boat carrying refugees capsized off the Libyan coast, is brought ashore along with 23 others retreived by the Italian Coast Guard vessel Bruno Gregoretti at Boiler Wharf, Senglea in Malta, April 2015 | |
| The escape to Europe is expensive, and while Mr Abdul lived in Greece, most of his relatives were still in Syria. But as the crisis worsened, the family pooled their money to enable more members to make the trip to safety. Mr Abdul’s brother is currently in Turkey. He sent his wife and two small children ahead to Germany. One of the children is five years old, the other only eight months. Mr Abdul has never met them. They and two cousins were the relatives he was waiting for at the station. They had called from Hungary on Saturday, saying they were on their way to Germany. Mr Abdul started to wait. | The escape to Europe is expensive, and while Mr Abdul lived in Greece, most of his relatives were still in Syria. But as the crisis worsened, the family pooled their money to enable more members to make the trip to safety. Mr Abdul’s brother is currently in Turkey. He sent his wife and two small children ahead to Germany. One of the children is five years old, the other only eight months. Mr Abdul has never met them. They and two cousins were the relatives he was waiting for at the station. They had called from Hungary on Saturday, saying they were on their way to Germany. Mr Abdul started to wait. |
| On Monday morning, he had still not heard from them. Other Syrians living in Munich fretted that their relatives had been sent to faraway cities such as Dortmund, where they might feel isolated and without support. The man who had lashed out at police on Saturday night, for example, had screamed that his mother would be lost and helpless in Germany without him. He had not heard from her in 20 days, and had feared that she might have drowned in the Mediterranean. Then he caught sight of her on the platform in Munich – behind a police cordon, far out of reach. His rage and pleas to be allowed through to greet her were met by police with a stoical: “We’ve been told not to let anyone through.” | On Monday morning, he had still not heard from them. Other Syrians living in Munich fretted that their relatives had been sent to faraway cities such as Dortmund, where they might feel isolated and without support. The man who had lashed out at police on Saturday night, for example, had screamed that his mother would be lost and helpless in Germany without him. He had not heard from her in 20 days, and had feared that she might have drowned in the Mediterranean. Then he caught sight of her on the platform in Munich – behind a police cordon, far out of reach. His rage and pleas to be allowed through to greet her were met by police with a stoical: “We’ve been told not to let anyone through.” |
| Mr Abdul, on the other hand, was not worried, even as the days passed without a sign from his relatives. | Mr Abdul, on the other hand, was not worried, even as the days passed without a sign from his relatives. |
| “Maybe they’re in Dortmund, maybe they’re somewhere else; the important thing is that they’re safe,” he said, knowing he was slowly reuniting his scattered family. | “Maybe they’re in Dortmund, maybe they’re somewhere else; the important thing is that they’re safe,” he said, knowing he was slowly reuniting his scattered family. |
| A few days ago, Mr Abdul’s elder sister arrived on one of the Munich trains with her four-year-old child. She is now living in a refugee shelter, about an hour away from Mr Abdul’s home. Their parents are still in Syria, but are too frail to travel. His father had a stroke, and is partly paralysed. His mother is sick. | A few days ago, Mr Abdul’s elder sister arrived on one of the Munich trains with her four-year-old child. She is now living in a refugee shelter, about an hour away from Mr Abdul’s home. Their parents are still in Syria, but are too frail to travel. His father had a stroke, and is partly paralysed. His mother is sick. |
| Mr Abdul said that while he missed his parents and was looking forward to having more relatives in Germany, he was keen to integrate into German society. Given that he has been in the country for only a year, his German is impressive. He has been working as a taxi driver and in restaurants, but wants to train as a car mechanic, and find a local girlfriend to improve his German further. He is keen to emphasise the positive side of his experience, and his gratitude to Germany. Even when asked about the boat trip that first brought him to Greece – which for many refugees remains a terrifying memory because they cannot swim, the sea is dangerous and the boats are often overcrowded – he smiled and said proudly: “I was not afraid! I’m a good swimmer.” | Mr Abdul said that while he missed his parents and was looking forward to having more relatives in Germany, he was keen to integrate into German society. Given that he has been in the country for only a year, his German is impressive. He has been working as a taxi driver and in restaurants, but wants to train as a car mechanic, and find a local girlfriend to improve his German further. He is keen to emphasise the positive side of his experience, and his gratitude to Germany. Even when asked about the boat trip that first brought him to Greece – which for many refugees remains a terrifying memory because they cannot swim, the sea is dangerous and the boats are often overcrowded – he smiled and said proudly: “I was not afraid! I’m a good swimmer.” |
| On Monday afternoon, he finally received the call he had been waiting for. His relatives had indeed been on that night-time train he watched from the far end of the platform. They sent him photos of their journey. Like many refugees, they had been documenting each stage with their smartphones. There was a picture of his five-year-old nephew sitting on the railway tracks; one of his sister-in-law, her baby and his cousin by the sea; one of his cousin walking along the tracks. He was not sure where exactly each picture had been taken. What mattered was that they had all reached their destination. | On Monday afternoon, he finally received the call he had been waiting for. His relatives had indeed been on that night-time train he watched from the far end of the platform. They sent him photos of their journey. Like many refugees, they had been documenting each stage with their smartphones. There was a picture of his five-year-old nephew sitting on the railway tracks; one of his sister-in-law, her baby and his cousin by the sea; one of his cousin walking along the tracks. He was not sure where exactly each picture had been taken. What mattered was that they had all reached their destination. |
| “They are all in Dortmund,” he said. “And they are well.” (Interviewed by Sophie Hardach in Munich) | “They are all in Dortmund,” he said. “And they are well.” (Interviewed by Sophie Hardach in Munich) |
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