I don’t feel foreign here. Denmark is my home just as much as Pakistan, where I was born and raised. I have lived here for the past 29 years.

I have owned a kiosk and a butcher shop here, and the only problem is that I have never learned the language.

I would like to return to Pakistan, but I wouldn’t take my children with me. There is no way they would accept the way we live there. When they were still small and we were in Pakistan, we employed a poverty-stricken girl just off the street. She played with my children and had her meals with us. But in Pakistan people are very segregated
according to their socio-economic status, so my Pakistani family were outraged. I told them to leave my house if they couldn’t accept this poor girl. I don’t want my children’s perception of people to change from the Danish, where everyone is accepted as being equal. Many people don’t understand that I want to return despite the fact that the average life expectancy in Pakistan is only 61 and the Danish hospitals are free, and as we are growing older, we know that we will end up there sooner or later. It is important to me that my wife
and I will be buried in Pakistan.

In Denmark the cemeteries are empty, whereas in Pakistan people go there every day to pray for their deceased family members. It is comforting to think
that people close to me will be praying for me.

Perhaps they have even been better people than me, so I hope that Allah will listen to their prayers and forgive me for my sins.

Agha Muhammad Nadeem / 61 years / male / in a relationship / children / Copenhagen N / owns a butcher shop / from Pakistan / came to Denmark in 1987 / residence permit same year

I have now lived longer in Denmark than I did in Kosova, and despite having used a lot of effort fighting for the Albanian cause, I still contribute to the Danish society, and I don’t consider myself foreign in Denmark. Of course I speak with some accent, but my views are not far from other Danes.

When I was young I constantly took part in demonstrations for better conditions for the Albanians in Kosova, and because of my political
activities I spent four and a half years in prison. When I was released I began medical school, and I was just two years short of completing it when I was forced to flee. I wasn’t allowed to continue my studies in Denmark, so I began to drive a taxi, and later I trained as a pedagogue.

My career was ruined by politics, but I don’t regret my choice at all, because nothing is more valuable than the freedom. As long as my people are
not free, nothing else matters. When the Albanian media closed down in the late ‘90s, my wife Emine and I launched a radio channel here in Denmark, so we could keep all the Albanians in Denmark up to date about the situation in Kosova. You must think creatively if you want to continue with your
activism at a distance, so through the radio we tried to mobilise people to support the Albanian people. Now that the situation in Albania has stabilised, the radio’s focus has changed. We focus more on life
in Denmark, and we deal with issues such as culture and integration.

In fact it reflects the way my own focus has slowly changed. But I still dream of going back one day.

Ibrahim Xhemajli / 56 years / in a relationship / children /Brøndby Strand / pedagogue /
independent taxi driver / from Kosova / came to Denmark in 1989, residence permit in 1990

I don’t feel foreign, and I don’t feel at home. I feel safe in the knowledge that I won’t be bombed here, and that is what matters the most to me.

I was diagnosed with PTSD when I came to Denmark. I suffer from anxiety, and I am constantly worried that I will do something wrong. My family often reminds me that we are safe here, and that I exaggerate my problems. But I feel this huge pressure on my shoulders, especially from the municipality and the language school. I become
nervous when I am thrown into situations I am not prepared for.

When I had attended language school for two months, they sent me on an internship in a nursery. I didn’t speak much Danish, and as I don’t speak English, communication was difficult to say the least. Especially with my colleagues. It was so much easier for me to speak with the kids, partly because they speak slower and use a much simpler language, and partly because they were more patient with me. It is not until now, 18 months later, that I can feel my hands again.

For a long time I couldn’t even hold a pencil because my hands were numb. It is like they, like me, are slowly beginning to thaw. When it all gets a bit too much, I dance. I dance every day. It helps me relax and forget my problems for a while.

Ruaa Omar / 23 years / female / single / Brøndy Strand / attends language school / from Syria / Palestinian background / came to Denmark in 2016 / residence permit same year

I consider myself Danish, but my face and my body are what they are, and I still carry the Iraqi culture in my emotional baggage. My husband and I are Yazidis. In our religion the peacock angel is God’s
representative on earth and a symbol of beauty. It adorns our home, reminds us where we come from, and influences our way of thinking.

There is a Kurdish proverb saying that man is a bird without wings, and that you therefore cannot control where you land. I landed in Denmark when I was 29 years old, and my life started over again.
In the beginning I was startled to see so many cars with luggage in roof racks, because they resembled the cars in Iraq driving around with coffins, but I gradually became used to it.

In Iraq we were challenged by the Saddam regime, because it did not tolerate our thoughts on democracy and diversity. In Denmark we began
a new and different battle, namely a battle to get an education and a job and to create a family. For ten years I received fertility treatment, alas with
no success. It was hard to build up expectations again and again for so many years, but end up disappointed every time, so at some point my
husband and I decided to stop trying. It makes me so sad that we failed. My husband had children from a previous marriage. We have a photo of them in our living room, but that is all we see of them.
They were caught by Saddam’s forces and disappeared many years ago. I know that it hurts my husband, but he is strong, and he always
supports me and tells me that now it is all about our life together.

Aysha Kawal / 46 years / female / in a relationship / pedagogue / Brønshøj / from Iraq / Kurdish background / came to Denmark via family
reunification in 1999

I am 100% Syrian and proud of it. I don’t think I have to be 100% Danish in order to be well-integrated. Material things have always been important to me. As a former TV presenter it was important for me to have a nice appearance. I
would often spend half of my wages on a cool handbag or a pair of fantastic shoes. When I fled Syria I only took the most necessary things with me, and three pairs of stilettos. I might be a refugee, but I was still me.

When you lose everything, your view on materialistic things change completely. I have had to abandon my home twice. I did not only lose all my belongings, but also all the memories and
dreams of the future associated with them. When I moved into my present home, about six months ago, I decided that this was to be our home. The thought of it made me happy, but it also filled me with fear. I fear that we might once again be forced to flee, but most of all I fear the grief associated with losing everything. So I am afraid to put down roots. Many people tell me that I should see
my situation as a sort of rebirth, where I get the opportunity to start afresh. I see it more like a bloody abortion. My life was ripped out of me when

I had to flee from Syria. It was bloody and gloomy, and now I stand here and I must start anew with an open and positive mind. I have put down roots, though, and in the two years I have been here, I have made fantastic friends who have supported me such a lot.

Lilas Hatahet / 37 years / female / single / children / trained theatre critic / works as a journalist / Nivå / from Syria / came to Denmark in 2014 /
residence permit same year