Would you let a stranger into your home? For one family from Glasgow, that's exactly what they decided to do. Like most of us, Alison and Gen saw the photograph of three-year-old Alan Kurdi washed up on a Turkish beach last September. Unlike most of us, they decided to do something about it.
That's when they signed up to host with Positive Action in Housing (PAIH), a Glasgow charity that matches up asylum seekers with nowhere to go with host families willing to take them in.
Under their Rooms for Refugees scheme, hosts can’t choose where their guests have come from or filter them on their reasons for seeking asylum. They can only specify the gender of their guest and how long they’re prepared to host them for.
"We just became quite despondent and I became quite upset after seeing the photographs, and I thought we need to be able to make a difference," Alison, 48, explains, "We talked about it and came up with the idea of hosting as we have spare rooms and the kids have grown up and moved out."
"In that way, we felt that we could make at least a small difference by helping someone."
Anticipating a Syrian refugee, the last thing the couple expected was for a six-foot two Iranian bodybuilder to turn up.
Hamid arrived in December last year but eight months later, he's still living with them in their three-bedroom semi-detached house in Kirkintilloch, 40 minutes from Glasgow's city centre.
"Positive Action first asked us to host just before Christmas," Alison, a primary school teacher, says. "Initially we thought we couldn't because our kids would be coming home for the holidays and we normally have family to stay over that period. But then, we had a think about it and realised we could move people about and make space."
"Getting him just before Christmas was brilliant because it's such an informal period that it really just helped break the ice," says Gen, an environmental consultant. They welcomed Hamid into their home, and bought a halal turkey so he could join the family for Christmas dinner.
The Cannibals, a friendly couple despite their exceedingly unusual surname, quickly warmed to their new guest and now say that he’s part of the family. There are differences, of course. Neither Alison nor Gen are religious, whilst Hamid is a devout Muslim who prays five times a day, but both parties are respectful of the other’s outlook. They keep to their own routines and schedules but tend to come together most evenings to eat. Last week, Hamid made the couple a full Iranian meal for the first time.
As an asylum seeker, he’s not allowed to work or open a bank account here and the couple say that these restrictions often leave him feeling down. He keeps active by going to the gym and walking the family dogs, but they say that the relentless boredom often leaves him frustrated.
Towards the end of the interview with the Cannibals, Hamid strides through the door. Towering over us at six foot two, he flashes a quick grin and sits down on the couch. Asked what it was like coming to stay with two strangers, Hamid says he was shy at first but then learned to relax. He tells me Alison and Gen are like his “Scottish parents” and that they treat him like their own son.
Whilst many people who come through the Rooms for Refugees scheme are recent arrivals from Syria, Iraq or Afghanistan, Hamid's situation is different. A former professional footballer, he was training to be an accountant when a car crash killed his father in 2007 and he fled the regime in Tehran for the UK. He won't talk about the crash but tells me that he has been applying for political asylum here for the past nine years. He says that if he returns to the country, he will be killed and that police there still regularly interrogate his mother on his whereabouts.
The Home Office won’t deport him, but neither are they prepared to grant him refugee status. After they ruled against his last claim in 2015, his accommodation was withdrawn and he found himself with nowhere to go. That’s when PAIH stepped in and he found himself in Kirkintilloch.
He’s grateful to have a place to stay, but less positive when he talks about his future. "To be honest, I don’t have anything here," he says. "I cannot work, I cannot study, I cannot do anything. I try my best by going to the gym, bodybuilding, but it’s tough. I’m so happy to have Alison and Gen but I’m 38 now and I don’t know how much longer this will go on for."
Not all host-guest relationships are so familial. The Cannibals have forged a close bond with Hamid, but some hosts prefer to keep a certain distance from their guests. Jo Haythornthwaite has hosted 12 different people since 2009, but says she prefers not to get too close to the guests who come to stay.
She's retired now, but Jo, 72, still chairs the board of the Maryhill Integration Network, a refugee charity in the north of Glasgow. She only hosts women and prefers to treat guests as though they are renting a room from her, complete with separate bathrooms and sitting rooms.
"Some people who host welcome the person into their family and treat them as such. I'm divorced, and live on my own and I didn't want to do that."
She describes the relationship with her guests as akin to the one between a landlord and lodger, but says that this is what she feels comfortable with.
"Although I'm giving them a lot of advice and help, I don’t want to get too close and friendly with them because if they get deported it’s then very distressing for them, and for me."
Back in 2013, that's exactly what happened. Jo’s guest, a Congolese woman, was deported back there despite being raped multiple times by soldiers who were supposed to be protecting civilians. Jo never heard from her again and said she found the situation particularly upsetting.
When asked what hosting has taught her about people, she says that the biggest surprise is how similar people are. "I learned how few differences there really are between people," she says.
"Most women are very much the same in their outlooks and what they want from life. It doesn't make much difference what race or nationality they are."
For PAIH, the increase in the number of people willing to open up their homes has enabled the charity to get more asylum seekers off the street and into temporary refuge. Asylum seekers often find themselves homeless and without funds when their asylum claims are refused.
Once refused asylum, their state grant stops and and their accommodation is withdrawn, with many finding themselves on the streets. They can submit an appeal, but the process can take weeks and they don't regain access to housing until the appeal is lodged.
PAIH provided 12000 nights of shelter last year, but the charity's chief executive, Robina Qureshi, cites the lacklustre response from global leaders as a reason for so many ordinary people stepping forward to plug the gap.
"The attitude of European governments to refugees drowning is appalling," says Qureshi.
She praised the generous spirit of Scots, with people in Glasgow and Edinburgh stepping up to take in refugees. Glasgow, which brands itself under the slogan 'People Make Glasgow', has welcomed more than 1000 refugees since the crisis began.
"What we're seeing now is people coming forward and not only giving donations or volunteering their time, but offering to take people into their homes. It’s a huge undertaking."
"This is something that surely we should have a concern about, otherwise we’re losing our humanity as this crisis drags on."
"It will get worse. Are we just supposed to get used to bodies drowning in the Mediterranean?"
"We have people with homes, happy homes, willing to take in unaccompanied children," Qureshi added. "All we're saying is that they should be considering refugee hosting allowing us, UK citizens, to be part of that solution in offering homes to Syrian families and unaccompanied children."
