Back in Damascus, I worked as a paramedic and helped save many people, so I find it somewhat absurd that I now feel that I need someone to save me. But that’s the way I feel.

I never found out why, but the only one who could not go with us at first was my wife, so until a few months ago, I was the sole carer of the six children.

My two eldest children got killed in the war, and one day the house next door was hit by a bomb, which went on to destroy our house too. Shrapnel from a grenade embedded in my wrist, and following that I escaped with our youngest children of five and six.

After two months of being together again in Skagen, it became clear to me that our marriage could not continue, and we divorced. I had been granted a 2-year residence permit, but due to an error from my caseworker, it was not extended. So right now, I do not have a residence permit, and they have also cut my benefits.

Not all refugees were offered a job after their job training. I honestly don’t get it. Instead they hire people from Eastern Europe, who speak neither Danish nor English, and who send all their money home. At least us refugees learn Danish and use our money locally. And we want to be active and manage on our own.

I hope that I one day will get to work with metals, preferably as a car mechanic, but the prospects are not in my favour at the moment, because I only just learned from the council that I had to stop going to technical school

I was just 21 when my husband was murdered by rebel groups from the more than 50-year long armed conflict between the weak Columbian government and the strong and drugfunded militias.

We are Kurds and we shall remain so. Alas, now that we are here, we want to be as Danish as possible. What we think about the most is our children’s future. But my main concern is my health and especially my vision.