Trapped in Syria: My Mum's Story Week In Week Out

From the bleeding heart of Syria, a rare insight.

Footage filmed by a family trapped on the front line.

Sometimes I feel afraid maybe I will die.

Tonight, the women who are desperate to reunite their families and bring

them to Wales.

I know I'm coming to here illegal.

I'm very sorry.

We don't have...

another choice.

This woman is wounded and frail.

Her daughter in Wales fears time is running out.

Just imagine your family like that and just think what would you feel

if somebody just came and said, "It's not our problem."

We follow her thousands of miles as she tries

to rescue them.

WOMEN SOB

But will they make it out?

I'm making this video because my mum

is trapped in Aleppo, Syria.

I'm trying to get her out of the danger because she's my mum

and I love her so much, so please, please, please,

share this video with everybody you know.

I'm really scared now if she die before I can help her.

For Abeer Jones and her family in North Wales, life is dominated

by the news from Syria.

NEWS REPORTER: On the move again, thousands fleeing Syria's second

city, Aleppo, the focus of intense fighting...

But Abeer's family can't just leave for a refugee camp.

Her mother, Hayat, is a widow who's 70 years old and too frail.

Abeer wants a visa to bring Hayat and her two sisters,

who live with their mother, to Wales.

When she can get through, she speaks to them online.

Hiya!

Hi, Mama.

We're watching the news here and it's really horrible

with all the refugees trying.

What do you think?

Today it's terrible, like you don't know what's going on,

but we hope to be safe.

Just try to be strong and positive and we'll talk every day.

Abeer's family live in Aleppo on the front line of a civil war

that's already claimed half a million lives

and displaced millions.

They live in a bomb-damaged apartment block caught

between Syrian government troops and rebel fighters.

This was their garden last September, just after a terrifying

mortar attack in which Hayat was seriously wounded.

When my sister phoned me to tell me about my mum,

I went really, really very upset.

I imagined that my mum dead and blood and everything.

Part of the mortar went through her living room.

She could see just, like, fireworks coming through.

These photographs show the extent of Hayat's injuries.

A part of the mortar went inside her belly,

leaving 15-centimetre hole.

Another part went on her elbow.

She lost a lot of blood.

I felt inside me I really, I just want to jump on a plane

or anything, just go and see her, just a little bit, just one minute.

And play with my toys...

It was too dangerous for Abeer to go to her mother.

All she and her family could do was wait and hope.

But what we can do now, just, like, praying for them.

Pray.

That things aren't in harm.

Abeer moved to North Wales from Syria ten years ago

after meeting her husband, David.

Time for the pizza!

They've since had two boys, Danny and Adam, and they all live

in a world away from Aleppo.

There, while food is scarce, fear is plentiful.

Abeer's sister Dania used her phone to film a rare glimpse

of their life on the front line.

We want to be safe.

We are all human.

And we want to be alive, like all people.

It's very cold and I'm very worried about my mum because it's very cold

here and we don't have electricity.

And we feel very frightened.

Hayat stays in bed to keep warm for much of the day,

and because of the war, she can't get the medication

she needs in Syria.

She has to buy it in from Egypt.

The family say Hayat wouldn't survive a refugee camp like this.

Her daughters won't leave her, so they, too, are trapped.

This is the water.

We put it on our chimney to have hot water.

They have to buy every drop.

The family has struggled without regular water and power

supplies for six months.

And constant shelling and the mortar attack have

left their home badly damaged.

And this is my mum's room.

Erm, but, my mum can't sleep here now because it's so dangerous.

In this war, every generation is affected.

And this, it's very upsetting, too.

My niece, she was only two years old.

Last year, Abeer's niece was blinded in one eye when a bomb made

from a gas canister exploded.

She was sitting on her mum's knee, trying to escape from

house-to-house, because they know it's fighting,

and she just heard it.

She will need further surgery.

Her future, like that of so many other children in Syria,

remains uncertain.

She was looking at herself in the mirror and she said

to her mum, "I'm not beautiful any more," which is very upsetting.

Two years old, you know?

The UK Government has agreed to bring 20,000 Syrian refugees

to the UK over five years.

1,000 will come to Wales from camps like this in Turkey,

Lebanon and Jordan.

But charities including Amnesty International

are campaigning to make it easier for those like Abeer's family,

trapped inside Syria, to join relatives in the UK.

Unfortunately for Abeer and her mother, getting a visitor

visa, for instance, coming out of Syria is likely to be extremely

difficult and certainly our experience is that visas

are increasingly being refused to Syrians.

All sorts of visas.

There will be some people who will see her mother's situation

as the thin end of the wedge.

Where do you draw the line?

The choice not just for Europe, but certainly for Europe at this

time, and for this country, is not, do we want

to see more refugees?

That's the reality of the world we live in at this time

because of conflict that is spreading across parts

of the world.

The question is, do we want to see refugees in an ordered,

planned, managed way or do we prefer to see refugees in a chaotic,

uncoordinated and unsafe way?

One woman who risked everything to get to Wales

is Asmaa Al Fashtaki.

She came to Britain illegally, paying smugglers to take her

to Europe when she was five months pregnant, a journey which could've

cost her life and that of her unborn son.

I lost family, I lost friends in the war.

A lot of babies dead.

And you saw this?

Yeah.

We see a lot of people dead.

People that you know?

Yeah.

Friends that you've lost?

Family, yes.

I want to give my son a beautiful life.

I see a lot of child died in my eyes.

I don't like to put my son in this war.

When we first met Asmaa in Cardiff, she'd had to leave her husband,

Yasin, a policeman, behind in Jordan.

They fled Syria together but they couldn't afford to pay

smugglers to get them both here.

He's waiting for a visa to see his son

for the first time.

Hello!

SHE SPEAKS OWN LANGUAGE

Phone calls are all they have at the moment.

I can't wait this moment when he comes and when he sees

Nabil the first time.

I can't wait this moment.

Asmaa used to run a nursery in Syria.

She's learning English but she finds it easier to describe some

of her journey in Arabic.

Cramped conditions and winter storms made it even more treacherous.

Like these, Asmaa is one of nearly five million refugees caught up

in the largest humanitarian crisis since World War II.

In Asmaa's case, the captain of the ship in which she was being

smuggled bailed out, leaving the refugees adrift.

Rescuers airlifted her to hospital in Italy.

Asmaa was alone.

Like these people, she made several attempts to board a lorry in Calais.

Her smuggler got her and five Syrian men onto one carrying engine parts.

When they arrived in Kent, she turned herself in to the police.

When I see the policeman, I told him, "Hi, I'm Syrian,

I'm pregnant, five months, please, help me."

She went to hospital, then a detention centre,

before being disbursed to Cardiff, where she gave birth to Nabil.

Because when I born my son, I was alone, I don't

know anyone here.

She's now been given refugee status, which means that legally,

her husband can join her and the baby.

But his visa could take months.

Until then, they're alone.

In Aleppo, people try to carry on with their lives.

In her apartment, Dania shows us how their day begins,

in the cold and dark.

I know maybe the picture, it's not very clear,

but I don't have another choice because we don't have electricity,

so every morning, I wake up before half an hour to put some water

in the oven because the water, it's very cold.

They can buy only a few hours of power each day,

and when she filmed this, Dania was having to carry water

to the apartment.

We put some water here in these to take a shower.

Dania says food now costs ten times more than it did at the start

of the war.

It's risky leaving the apartment.

She works in a factory but she dreads going in.

When I go, sometimes I feel afraid.

Sometimes I feel I...

I will not be coming to my home, maybe I will die.

Dania's updates reinforce just how desperate they are to find a safe,

legal route out of Aleppo.

Thousands of miles away in North Wales, Abeer

is determined to get them out, even if only for a few months.

I'm really sick about them, I can't stop worrying.

Theirs is a sad story.

But I wanted to know, what would Abeer have to say

to those who suggest that Syria is just not our problem?

I would say, just close your eyes and just imagine your family

like that, and just think, what would you feel if somebody just

came and said, "It's not our problem?"

What do you feel?

Do you feel the frustration?

Do you feel desperate?

Do you feel you are angry?

What do you feel?

They're applying for a visitor visa.

Latest Home Office figures show that only three in ten succeed.

They'll have to convince officials they will go home after six months

and they can afford to support themselves

while they are in Abergele.

I don't want anything from the Government.

I've been here for ten years, I never claimed any penny.

I will give my mum half of my meal, I will give her my bed

and I will just sleep on the floor.

Visa applications have to be made in person but there's no

British embassy in Syria.

Hayat, Dania and Reen will have to make a perilous journey

across the border to apply in neighbouring Lebanon.

Danny, are you coming to help me?

After three years apart, we're taking Abeer to meet her

mother and sisters in Beirut.

It would be the greatest thing ever if my 70-year-old grandma and my two

aunties could come and stay for a holiday.

She is taking a letter Adam has written for visa officials.

I have not seen them for four straight years.

Since the war began.

I hope that peace will be in Syria very soon.

That has made me very happy and hopefully we will get

good news soon.

You are a good boy for looking after Daddy.

Back in Cardiff, there is good news for Asmaa.

Her husband, Yasin, has been granted a visa.

So Nabil will finally meet his father.

They have been apart for a year.

When he comes, I will cry because I love my husband.

Yes.

I did that last night.

Something special.

Government figures show 4,500 Syrians like Asmaa have been granted

asylum in the UK since the war began.

Suddenly, she sees her man.

A father and son, split by war, now reunited.

This family has made it to safety.

But they have no idea what their new life in Wales

will hold for them.

Abeer has arrived in Beirut.

She is anxious to hear if her mother and sisters have made it

out of Syria.

They are in a taxi crossing areas held by rebel and government troops.

They have crossed the border now so I am very excited, now.

They have been on the road now for 12 hours.

Finally, she spots the car.

The first thing I want to do is just sit down and chat and chat and chat.

It is the best thing that ever happened to me.

Their first family day out in three years is in stark contrast

to their life in Syria.

Here they feel safe.

I woke up in the morning and I was very happy.

The life here is very beautiful.

All the people are happy and they go shopping and are eating

and always their friend.

But reminders of the war are everywhere.

Many Syrian refugees here are homeless.

Their children are left to beg.

I asked him how old he was and he said seven.

And I said, why are you not in school, and he said he sells

flowers because his dad will shout at him if he does not sell them.

The boy is nearly the same age as Abeer's son.

A clamp-down on immigration in Beirut means that

even if they wanted to, Hayat and her daughters could not

claim asylum here.

They have to go home.

But Aleppo is unbearable.

For now, they make the most of the peace.

Tomorrow, they will try to convince UK visa officials that they won't

overstay their welcome in Wales.

Abeer, though, is feeling the pressure.

Why can't I see my family?

Why do I need to leave my children and my family?

I hate the war.

Next morning, they know everything hangs on the meeting.

They have spent ?2,600 to get this far, the equivalent

of what they would normally spend in ten months on living

expenses in Syria.

?500 from well-wishers in Wales has gone on legal fees.

We can't go in with them.

They are afraid it might jeopardise their application.

They are in the visa office for two hours while officials look

into their case.

And when they finally emerge, they are optimistic.

I am going to see them.

So hopefully, fingers crossed.

They will have to wait a fortnight to find out if their visa

has been approved.

So for now, Abeer's family's only contact with North Wales

will be through Skype.

I feel that we will get it done.

We will go to the UK and I will see my nephew.

Yes?

My mum is here and Dania is drinking from my mug.

Abeer is returning to Abergele.

But for her family, it's another taxi ride through dangerous

territory back to their home on the front line.

I can just imagine, they are going through in the taxi

and all these people are shooting and the bombing,

I cannot imagine that the road is safe or anything.

Which is...

I am worried.

I am just hoping that they will make it.

A family friend joins Abeer to say goodbye.

Scenes like these have shocked the world.

A human tide from Syria which shows no sign of abating.

The risks Asmaa and Yasin took to get to Wales have paid off.

And they are settling into their new flat.

This is your bedroom?

Very nice.

And your case above here?

You can see that?

Syria.

And this has travelled a long way, hasn't it?

Every night I look.

I put the bag here and I see this every night.

To remind you of home?

Yes.

But they know that some will question what they have done.

You came into this country illegally.

The country welcomed you in as a refugee.

And now you have a home in Cardiff.

There will be people who will say, why should you have that right?

Why should we give you all these things?

I know that I come here to Abergele and I say I am very sorry

because I do that.

Because we don't have...

Another choice.

We are in a war.

We should go to my country.

Me and my husband, he will be a good man, we will work.

And make everything good for this country.

Yasin has the right to work and is looking for a full-time job.

They can stay for five years then apply to settle in Britain.

Nabil was born here.

But their hearts belong to Syria.

I am Syrian and if the war finishes, I will come back to my country.

You will go back to Syria?

Yes.

What does Yasin think?

God willing?

Of course.

In Abergele, Abeer has been waiting for news of the visa.

She has heard from Dania.

She said it is bad news.

We have not been accepted.

I feel all that hard work and everything...

I feel that I cannot work any more, I just want to sit down.

I feel my body has been numbed.

I feel very sad.

The British visa officials weren't convinced they would have enough

money to support themselves in Wales and because of the intensity

of the war, they were not satisfied the women would go home

after six months.

I don't understand from my point of view and my mum's point of view

as a human, all I am thinking, to get my mum out of danger

and to get to a safe place as quickly as possible.

Amnesty International says stories like this are all too familiar.

Asmaa got into the country illegally in the back of a lorry.

And yet, Abeer's mother, who has tried the legitimate route,

seems to have little hope of ever getting into the UK.

Doesn't that seem to just encourage those people

who are going to try to get in here illegally?

For many years, this country and many others have not provided

safe and legal means whereby people at risk of persecution can come

here and find refuge, find asylum.

And so, that is why you see pregnant women, that is why you see people

carrying little babies, making these extremely

dangerous journeys.

Because there is no safe and legal route.

Things go from bad to worse in Aleppo.

The city is under siege.

We heard the bombs and many things.

We try to take care and stay inside in the room inside.

A lot of people care for you and they care

for the refugees.

They are trying to help.

The connection is going.

As the crisis deepens, Abeer turns to her local MP,

David Jones, for help.

He has supported the family's visa application.

I asked him what he makes of the decision to refuse their visa.

One of the consequences is going to be that people

like Mrs Jones and her mother are going to find themselves caught

up in what is a tragedy.

Is that fair, is that right?

In war, probably very little is fair.

I think that the Home Office can only apply their criteria

as fairly as possible.

I certainly think that in the case of Mrs Jones, it is worthwhile

having another go.

The UK Government Immigration Minister declined to be interviewed

about Abeer's case.

A spokesman said, all visa applications are considered

on their individual merits.

He added, the Government is committed to resettling

vulnerable Syrian refugees to help deter them from attempting perilous

journeys and to stop criminal gangs profiting.

But for now, that won't help Abeer's family.

She remains determined to get them out.

I have to think about them every day.

I have to worry about them every day.

So I am not giving up.

For Asmaa and Yasin, the war is behind them.

They have the peace they wanted for themselves and for baby Nabil.

Bombs are still falling in Aleppo, where the siege has been lifted

and hostilities are supposed to have been paused.

Hi, my name is Abeer Jones, I live in North Wales

with my husband and my two boys.

Abeer hopes her social media campaign will change Home Office

minds and policies.

We have all one mum and my mum doesn't deserve to die like this.

Can you please share this video to help me to get her

out of the danger?

In the apartment, life is no easier.

We are really exhausted now and we have had enough pain.

And we cannot take any more.

It is politicians who ultimately decide what happens in this war.

But for those still caught up in the crossfire,

the misery continues.

We don't know what is coming next.

We just want our simple right as humans to live safely.

That is it.

We're on a mission. We're shopping!

Trainers are like God's gift to the world.

Alex and Steph...

Whoa!

..are finding out if better...