“I’ll always be from Somalia, but now I call Newcastle home”: Elias’ story

I was born in 1991, at the peak of the civil war in Somalia. Somalia wasn’t a safe place for my family to be at that time, so we moved to Saudi Arabia and then to Egypt, where my dad could find work and we could live more freely. Most of my family are still in Egypt to this day.

I’m the oldest of six children – four boys and two girls – and my parents were keen for all of us to get a decent education. Education was everything to them. Even after my dad passed away and money was tight, my mum was determined that my siblings and I continue our studies.

My mum’s dream was for me to study medicine, but I soon realised that I was more interested in social sciences. I studied Economics and Political Science at Cairo University, and from there, I started working in the third sector – helping other refugees to understand the asylum system in Egypt, get registered and access vital support services.

UNHCR was the only UN agency that I knew of growing up. To be in Egypt as a Somali person, you had to register with UNHCR. So, I was supported by UNHCR directly and indirectly through my third sector work.

From there, I took a job at the Somalian Foreign Office, but I soon attracted the attention of Al-Shabaab. As a young boy who’d just graduated, full of hope, I was a prime target for them. I fled to England as an asylum-seeker and ended up in a small town just outside Newcastle.

“It was hard at the beginning – I felt so isolated and alone. There was no Black community. I had no friends, no family, no one. I’d wake up sometimes and feel like I’d lost all hope.”

I tried to put my head down and just get on with things. But I was really struggling. I was used to living in hot countries, and I couldn’t cope with the cold, wet weather in Newcastle. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I was suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder.

I waited two long years for my asylum decision to be processed, so I started volunteering with the North of England Refugee Service just to fill the time. I desperately needed to get out of the house and interact with people – and looking back, it was a real turning point. Suddenly, I had a purpose and a way to make use of my skills. I speak three languages, so I could translate for the refugees I met.

At the same time, I was starting to rebuild my life in the UK and feeling more positive about the future. I remember going to the Job Centre after I was granted asylum and meeting an amazing lady who was helping people with their CVs.

“When she saw my qualifications, she gave me hope. She said, ‘We need your skills, we need people like you here’ and that was such a good feeling in that moment.”

I started doing night shifts at a security company and applied to study Sociology, Gender and Inequality at the University of Sunderland. I couldn’t believe it when I got in.

In my final year, I worked on a project with the Home Office called North East Refugee Integration Support and Employment (RISE). Many of the refugees I was supporting didn’t have any qualifications whatsoever and really struggled to find work. I saw an opportunity. I knew that employment was all about confidence, and I had the idea to run training courses with groups of refugees, so that they could learn in an encouraging environment.

My idea was a success, one thing led to another – and eventually, I set up my own training academy, RAI Academy. Today, we have six instructors and offer a range of fully online courses for the refugee community, from Health and Social Care to Business Management.

I also run a community interest company – Dialogue Fosters – which focusses on building more inclusive communities through conversation, collaboration and education. Earlier in the year, we brought together community leaders and LGBTQ+ advocates to tackle the stigma around gender and sexual minorities and ensure that asylum-seekers can access the resources they need.

“These days, I feel settled – I’ll always be from Somalia, but now I call Newcastle home.”

It’s weird because Somalia has never really done anything for me from the day I was born. But growing up, my mum did a great job of telling us about our homeland and keeping us in touch with our roots. I think she hoped we’d go back and live there one day, or our children would. So now, Somalia feels to me like a football team that I have to be loyal to. It’s like being an Arsenal fan – I can’t change it.

At the same time, I love the UK, especially the diversity of languages, cultures and food here. You can open your phone and order Jamaican, Chinese, Yemeni, Somali or Vietnamese food, whatever you want. You have everything around you – right at your fingertips – and all these languages in a small island. I love it.

It’s an amazing feeling to be a British citizen. Before I moved here, I never had the right to vote. It’s the small things that people who were born here might not even notice that make all the difference.

“I’ll never forget coming through UK passport control and someone saying ‘Welcome home’ to me. It was the first time that had ever happened. All my life without citizenship rights, and then I heard that. It was an amazing feeling.”

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To find out more about how you can support refugees in the UK and around the world, visit our ‘Take Action‘ page. If you have lived experience of displacement and are interested in sharing your story, you can learn more about our Storytelling Programme here.