As news coverage showed terrified Ukrainians fleeing their homes, we felt increasingly uncomfortable about the unused rooms in our house. So, when the government announced its Homes for Ukraine (HFU) scheme we were quick to sign up. Offering 6–12 months’ accommodation seemed like a practical way to help.
We knew sharing our home would be challenging and that traumatised guests would need a lot of support, but we thought this would be a genuine partnership between us and the government. Nearly one year on we are still bruised and angry from the experience – not with the amazingly brave refugee family of three we hosted for six months, for whom we will always have immense admiration – but with the government for the lack of support they provided.
Firstly, there was no matching system at all. There were people desperate to get out of Ukraine, or already in refugee camps just over the border, but there was no official way of being joined up. The government advice was to make contact with people over social media – something that felt very unsafe to us. Eventually, a local voluntary agency asked us to host a family of three (two adults and an infant school-aged child). Our answer was yes, we had two rooms available in a safe country, how could we not? It didn’t feel right to pick and choose, and those with children seemed particularly vulnerable. Within days the charity helped us secure their visas and provided transport. They arrived after a three-day journey with a suitcase each.
Welcoming complete strangers into your home is complex. We had experience of providing homeless young adults with overnight accommodation in the past, but they all spoke English. While Google Translate was helpful, it is difficult to show empathy, or deal with nuance or cultural issues in this way and is a very time consuming and frustrating method of communication for everyone. No alternative translation help was made available. This was the first shock.
Because of the language barrier, our guests needed help with everything: securing a school place for their child, setting up bank accounts, sim cards, UC claims, GP and dentist registrations as well as organising visits from the local council for emergency money and bus passes. There was no help available for any of this. I still feel overwhelmed thinking about how it felt to have to do all this for them, urgently, on top of our professional jobs. This was not what we’d expected. We had to take annual leave to help them with weekday appointments and phone calls, since calls often necessitated hour-long queues before being answered. It felt like these three vulnerable human beings, who had just fled a war zone, were simply dumped on us and that we were then totally responsible for them. We were forced into doing so much more for the family than we had ever envisaged, or even felt capable of. Living alongside them, we couldn’t escape or ignore their stress and problems. These refugees need to be allocated specialist workers and access to translation services.
The government ‘thank you’ payments were supposed to cover our costs so we wouldn’t be out of pocket. However, these payments were a single monthly amount no matter how many refugees you had living with you, so, for us they did they not cover the costs. When inflation and energy prices soared, hosting a family who spent hours a day at home cooking Ukrainian food became quite costly. How could we ask them to stop cooking so much when this was one of their only tethers to normality? Although we were in a position to shoulder the increased bills (unlike some hosts), what we didn’t have was the time needed to help the family with every aspect of their lives, and while the local council set up hubs, very little practical help was forthcoming.
Despite the immeasurable challenges, our guests demonstrated amazing resilience and fortitude. Despite their limited English, they both secured work within 2½ months – though minimum wage work with anti-social hours and one on a zero-hours contract. They worked alternate around-the-clock shifts weekdays and weekends so one of them was available for the school run and childcare, and we managed to find bikes through local WhatsApp groups so they could get to the school gates on time and to/from work in the middle of the night.
When we started helping them look for their own accommodation, our stress levels soared. I had to make the viewing appointments, but often these weren’t available to fit in with work patterns. No help came from the government or local council to find move-on accommodation, just emails asking us to host for longer. 65 calls only generated six viewings, but these then hit an ‘affordability test’, requiring proof of earnings 30 times the monthly rent, or a guarantor. In desperation, they asked us if we would guarantee their rent or stay with us for longer, otherwise they would be homeless.
This nearly broke our hearts. There was no way we could guarantee their rent – not because we didn’t trust them, but because we couldn’t afford to take on this increased risk knowing that their jobs were precarious and reliant on continued good health. We tried to reassure them that the council would help with housing eventually, but since they had had no contact from the council, why should they believe us? In the end, we found a landlord willing to house them if they paid several months’ rent in advance. This they were able to do because of their rent- and bill-free time with us during which they had saved every penny they had earnt.
We furnished the house with basics through local WhatsApp groups and friends’ donations. I still worry about them, as their work hours are unsustainable, and yet without every penny they can’t possibly continue to afford their bills.
We learnt the hard way that the HFU scheme has no real ‘move-on’ strategy. Our council is still looking for hosts for refugees in this position, since there is no affordable housing for them to transfer to. We felt emotionally blackmailed by council and government emails asking us to host for longer, when we were already on our knees from lack of support – emotional, practical and financial. If we and they had been given more help and access to translation services, maybe we could have.
There was nothing our guests could have done more to help themselves. They humbled us every day with their attitude and gratitude for the protection we gave them from the bombs. They were simply very vulnerable, in a strange country where they didn’t know how anything worked, where anything was and what anything meant.
The HFU scheme fails to recognise the complex and multiple needs of Ukrainian refugees and those trying to support them. It requires integrated specialist support services and a proper move-on strategy. It currently fails both refugees and hosts and instead of signing up to do it again, we feel lucky that we survived the experience. Only time will tell whether our guests do too.
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