A City That Opened Its Door – Amal's story  

I grew up in the Middle East, living what I would call a very normal life for a girl there. I married very young, as many women did, and I became a mother early. By the time I was finishing high school, I was pregnant with my first child. After I gave birth, I started working wherever I could, in marketing assistant jobs, banking, and office roles, doing what was expected and what was possible. 

By 2010, something inside me changed. I felt strongly that this life, as familiar as it was, was not enough for me. I wanted more education, more independence, and more choice. I wanted to improve myself, to study properly, and to build a future that felt true to who I was becoming. At that time, I had two children, and still I made the decision to apply for a bachelor’s degree and come to the UK. 

I first went to Manchester for six months to study English. Life there felt rushed. People were busy, international, always moving, and rarely smiling. Then in 2011, I came to Swansea. I started with a foundation year and then completed three years of my bachelor’s degree in accounting and finance. From the moment I arrived, I felt something different. 

I have now lived in Wales for fifteen years. From the beginning, I felt welcomed. Everywhere I went, people smiled, talked, and shared parts of their lives with me. I noticed that many people here were curious, but in a respectful way. In Wales, I learned an important cultural lesson. Mind your business at first. Do not be nosy. Let people open the door. When they do, they welcome you fully. 

Swansea felt human. Even before I drove, when I relied on buses and taxis, people talked to each other. Life moved at a slower, kinder pace than Manchester. That made a huge difference for me, especially as a single mother. 

One of the moments that helped me truly understand Welsh people came during the COVID lockdown. A friend who worked in community care called me and said they desperately needed carers. I had a car and a driving licence. They trained me for three days, and then I started working. I went into Welsh homes, supporting elderly people, families, and individuals of all ages. That experience changed me. It allowed me to see people’s lives closely and to understand their struggles, warmth, and generosity. It made me feel part of the community, not just someone living in it. 

My children also opened doors for me. When my middle child was five, he joined a local football club. Other parents helped me by picking him up, dropping him off, and sometimes having him over. As a single mum, that support meant everything. My children were included in Christmas and Easter celebrations. People knocked on our door with gifts. They made my children feel like they belonged. 

Of course, life has not been easy all the time. There were painful moments. After the Boston bombing in 2013, my sister and I were walking in the Marina with my children when a group of teenagers shouted at us, calling us “Boston bombers” because we wore hijab. Another time, a well-dressed man leaned close to my ear in town and told me to go back to my country. I reported it. The police acted quickly. They found him, made him apologise, and legally required him to stay away from me. Those experiences hurt, but I always understood them as reactions to fear, media narratives, and global events, not the true face of this place. 

For every painful moment, there were many more kind ones. Once, when I was feeling deeply low, an elderly man noticed me sitting quietly. He stopped, put his hand on my shoulder, and asked if I wanted to talk or if I just wanted company. Another time, I was crying in a café after a difficult phone call. A member of staff made me a coffee on her break and sat with me, asking if I was okay, if I had anyone, and if she could help. These moments stay with me. When Welsh people sense someone is not okay, they step forward. 

People often ask what I miss about home. I used to think it was family or social life, but honestly, it is the food. I miss the food terribly, and the sun. My family can visit, but the sunlight and flavours of home are hard to replace. Swansea has good resources, and Cardiff offers more variety, but nothing fully replaces what you grow up with. 

What reminds me of home here is the kindness. Back home, I lived in a town where everyone knew each other. After fifteen years in Swansea, I feel the same. I see familiar faces everywhere. People say hello. Middle aged and older people especially remind me of the warmth I knew growing up. 

I have three children, now aged 25, 20, and 11. They are my anchor. They are the reason I stayed. I had opportunities to move elsewhere, but I chose Swansea because here I feel I can protect them, guide them, and give them a good future. 

Looking ahead, I know I cannot sit behind a desk forever. I need people. I need connection. My dream is to work directly with people in need, perhaps even in war zones or humanitarian crises. I want to help on the front line, not just send donations. One day, I hope to establish a charity focused on clean water and education for children. I have not started yet, but I feel I am in the right environment to learn, plan, and grow toward that goal. 

If there is one thing I want others to understand about my story, it is this. Nothing is impossible. Just because you are born into a certain environment does not mean it is the right one for you. You must follow your heart and soul and find where you can live in peace with yourself. Open windows. Look beyond what you were taught was the only way. 

And if there is one thing I want Welsh people to understand about themselves, it is how kind they truly are. They need to pause, look at what they have, and be proud. Life moves fast, full of bills and pressure, and sometimes people forget their own history and values. Wales has always been shaped by people coming from elsewhere, contributing, caring, and building together. 

I am grateful every day. I thank God that I chose this city. Swansea is my home, not by accident, but by choice.