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Profile: Abass Saidtaha

In the midst of the civil war in Syria and the largest migration of people across Europe since the 1930s, it seems most appropriate to meet the first Syrian refugee to live in Oxford since 2011, having been granted residency by the British government last year. It was whilst reporting on last month’s ‘Refugees Welcome in Oxford’ rally, which took place at the height of Europe’s call to action following an outpouring of sympathy, that I first had the pleasure of meeting Abass Saidtaha.

Having him open up to me about his extraordinary experiences since the war in Syria broke out was a great privilege, and it became clear in our more formal interview that he does not intend to relive the deeply emotional experience of recalling everything he has gone through for a long time to come.

Saidtaha lost what he described as his “completely normal life” when the war began, as well as the family and friends who he has not seen since leaving Syria. “I need to start my life again. I don’t want to think about what I lost.” From the seriousness with which these words are spoken, the full extent of the tragedy of Saidtaha’s last four years was striking. He is 28 years old. He was shot by a sniper in his home city of Aleppo in 2013. It was this event, which came close to ending his life, that ultimately led to his realisation that he had to leave, pushing him to make the perilous journey from Syria to the UK by sea and then by land.

When I first met Saidtaha at the rally, his charm and stylish dress sense were amongst the first details that I noticed, but it was his remarkable story which really captivated me. Having gone from knowing no English when he arrived last year to almost effortless, fluent communication, it seems he is indeed successfully starting his new life here. Saidtaha has now been working at Topshop for a month, and he tells me that it is going well, and is quick to praise his colleagues’ warmth towards him. It is encouraging to know that he seems settled.

Asking him to take me through his life in Syria, Saidtaha recounts his time growing up playing football with friends in Aleppo, and his enjoyment of reading class at primary school. Aleppo, he recounts, was, until the war, “a thriving business city, larger than Damascus” but now, he says, “there is no life to go back to.”

Upon finishing school, he decided to start working at his father’s business of designing women’s shoes, rather than to go to university. “It was a very successful business,” he tells me. His entrepreneurial spirit and passion for the industry comes across, as he encouraged his father to agree to the opening of a large shop in the centre of Aleppo, which Saidtaha ran with one of his brothers.

Opening the shop had been an “exciting time for the family” he adds. Despite sometimes working 12-14 hour days, he says, “it was not work for me, it was a hobby. I enjoyed it. It was my business, so it was my own choice.” On his plans for the future before the conflict erupted, he speaks of his desire “for the business to be really successful and to expand across the country.”

On how everything then changed, he explains, “I saw what was happening in Egypt and Libya on the news as everyone else in the world did, but thought nothing of it from our own perspective in Syria.” It was then that groups began to criticise the government and protest in Daraa, in the south of Syria, leading to arrests, including that of children. Aleppo, however, faced criticism for not getting involved as unrest spread throughout the rest of the country.

“My father didn’t receive payments from businesses in other cities as the people of [our] city were judged to support Assad. But we didn’t support either side.” The city became increasingly expensive to live in, and, “One day, suddenly, I wake up and I see planes and helicopters dropping bombs.” He did not risk going to open the shop that day, nor did he again for over a year.

When I ask about the shooting, he tells me, “People had to go out occasionally…for food for example, but on that day, I was going to check that my shop hadn’t been bombed or stolen from. I knew to peer around corners first before turning. As I peered around the corner of the street with my shop, I was shot straight away in the chest.” He recounts how he was dragged back by other civilians and taken by taxi to a hospital where he then lost consciousness. It transpired that the bullet had lodged itself in his chest bone, narrowly missing his heart. Before entering the operating theatre, he regained consciousness and asked the doctors, “Am I going to die?” They assured him he would be fine, while he noticed his off-white trousers were now entirely red. He says he did not feel pain at that point – “I think I was too scared to feel any pain” – but his recovery after the operation was painful. Due to a lack of phone signal in the hospital, he was unable to inform any family members at the time. “All I could think was there was too little time and so much to do,” he says, as tears begin to roll off his cheeks. Saidtaha recovered in a park for two weeks, where he felt relatively safe, but would still bleed. “I then stayed in Syria and recovered for a year, and then left.”

Notably, when asked when it was that he began his journey, even for a month of the year, he responds, “Why would I need to be looking at the clock? I didn’t have work or any appointments, I just needed to make my way here.” His journey took him first to Lebanon, spending “a lot of money” for passage into the country. From there he booked a flight to Istanbul, where he then recalls seeing in the 2014 New Year. After two months living in Izmir, Turkey, he boarded a “tiny boat” which took him to a small Greek island. After arriving on the beach there, he and those he met had to trek over mountainous terrain to reach the populated side of the island. En route, however, further disaster struck when he broke his leg walking for two days to get to the other side of the island. “My friend who I had met in Izmir carried on without me, and so I carried on alone with a broken leg.” He encountered a farmer who called the police and an ambulance later arrived, taking him to hospital. Following two nights in police detention thereafter, he was granted the right to move freely around Greece, allowing him to go to the port and take a ferry to Athens, where he remained to recover for two months.

A combination of buses and car journeys with other Syrians whom he met in Athens led him through Europe. On how he reached the UK, he first says only that it was “a terrible, terrible way”, before stating that he travelled in the back of a lorry. He estimates it took two months to travel from Athens to the UK.

“I had planned all along on going to Canada,” he states early in the conversation. “I made my way to Liverpool, as I had been told to go there in order to get to Canada.” However, language barriers led to him finding no solution to realizing his aim.

The Red Cross in Liverpool was the first place in the UK that he registered. “They were very, very polite people. They looked after me and accommodated me for two nights. Someone told me I should stay in the UK, so that is ultimately what I decided to do.”

The Red Cross went on to pay for his train ticket to London in order to register at the Home Office, and wrote a letter on his behalf to show to them. “I was granted asylum on July 16; that is a date that I remember.”

Talking about the rest of his family, he tells me, “I had lost my parents. I did not know where they were for years. But then a friend contacted me this year to tell me they were with him.” Two of his brothers are now in Newcastle, but he fears for his parents, who are living in Turkey. “They are not allowed to work so they are thinking of returning to Syria. They have no choice. My father says he would rather die in Syria than out on the street in Turkey.” The British government has not been allowing his parents to join him in the UK, and I sense that he does not feel the government makes refugees feel as welcome as they should. “I wish Britain were more like Germany in its response to the crisis,” he reflects.

Regarding the sentiment nationally towards refugees during the ongoing crisis, he says passionately, “People think we are coming from nothing, but before 2011 Syria was a civilized, cultured country. “Syrian people will work hard to tell people in the UK and all of Europe that we are not coming to claim benefits. Nobody wants to have to be a refugee.”

However, he remains highly positive about his reception, stating, “Now I live the same as anybody else, I am treated in Oxford as anybody else here.” In the light of Russia’s current ongoing intervention in Syria, Saidtaha makes clear, “I don’t trust Russia but I don’t trust any of the groups operating in Syria now. They are all horrible people.” He believes Russia only wishes to bolster President Assad, whom he labels a terrorist; “He has killed too many people not to be.”

Reflecting on his new life in the UK, Saidtaha says, “It is a safe country with nice people, and there’s nothing to be scared of. You don’t expect to die during the course of the average day.”

Throughout my conversations with him, the most basic human desire to be able to get on with living a ‘normal life’ is what shines through the most. Having gone through so much to get back towards that point now, he seems happy. But the emotional scars from these recent years of tribulations seem likely to linger for longer than the physical ones.

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