‘They’re setting an example for us’: the small Spanish town welcoming refugees

They filed on to the football pitch as applause rang out, punctuated by shouts of bienvenidos . Their improbable journey had begun months earlier and about 3,000km away; now the asylum seekers, many from Mali, were being heartily greeted by the residents of a small town in the Spanish region of Galicia.

In late August the municipality of Monterroso, population 3,600, began to hear rumblings that they would host 120 people who had fled violence and political instability. After risking one of the world’s deadliest migration routes to arrive in Spain’s Canary Islands, they were being transferred to the mainland.

Their arrival was the first time that the town, tucked in the interior of Galicia, had hosted asylum seekers. “We saw that some in the town were starting to stigmatise them; people were starting to get a bit nervous,” said Balbino Martínez, the president of the local football club Sociedad Deportiva Monterroso. “We want to help these refugees but also calm the atmosphere down.”

The club sprang into action, putting out a statement saying it was willing to do anything necessary to ease the arrival of these newcomers, from allowing them access to their facilities to launching a clothing drive. “We wanted to make people aware that these are people who are leaving their homes to survive, to look for a better life,” said Martínez. “They’re not criminals or bad people.”

Instead, the club highlighted that the arrival of dozens of young people, all eager to work, was a tremendous opportunity in a region that had steadily been hollowing out . “This is not a question of charity, but of creating opportunities,” the statement noted.

The response from people was overwhelmingly positive, said Martínez, with many soon chiming in with their own ideas of how to help.

What followed made headlines across Spain. The club’s first league match included a tribute to the new neighbours, offering them free tickets for the season, while a hairdresser offered free haircuts and others invited them to coffee.

Media were swift to contrast the town’s solidarity with the far right’s efforts to demonise asylum seekers. The town’s conservative mayor, Eloy Pérez, had been one of those who had voiced opposition to their arrival, describing the number of people being transferred as “disproportionate” and worrying about the strain on local resources despite the central government’s vow that it would cover all associated costs – as it had done with the arrival of Ukrainian refugees.

About 10 days after Monterroso began welcoming its new neighbours, Martínez described them as eager to integrate. “These are people who came to work, they’re scrambling to learn the language, to adapt. They say hello to everyone,” he said. “They’re setting an example for us.”

He had been thrilled to see the town’s efforts featured in news stories across the country. “Because, at the end of the day, media is often filled with negative news,” said Martínez. “For example, if one of these 120 refugees ends up having a problem, it will be more publicised than the 119 who do everything right.”

Similar efforts are under way in the many towns across Spain who have opened their doors to asylum seekers who land in the Canary Islands. “Everyone is congratulating us as we’re the ones in the public eye,” said Martínez. “But how many of these kinds of initiatives are never reported on?”

Among the initiatives launched by people in Monterroso was a fiesta, complete with the region’s traditional dances and music. “We wanted to show them that they are welcome,” said Tatiana De Azevedo, the president of the Asociación Sociocultural Falcatrueiros de Monterroso, which works to preserve Galicia’s traditional music and culture.

“We also wanted to show the town – where I’m sure there are people who are against their arrival – that they are people like anyone else,” she said. “The music was a way to bridge cultures and countries.”

She and others watched in delight as some of the new arrivals joined in, trying their hand at instruments such as the pandereta and dancing la muiñeira . “It also helped us to get to know each other,” said De Azevedo. “There were some who, I think, tried to instil a bit of fear among residents. But now when these guys walk through town you see everyone – young and old – saying hello to them.”

In some ways, she saw the warm welcome as a natural fit in a region that has long been marked by migration. “Here in our town there are many people who went to Germany, to Switzerland, to Argentina,” said De Azevedo, whose grandparents moved to northern France in the 1970s in search of work. “Now the same thing is happening. Others come to our country because it is a little bit better off than others.

“But none of us are ever free from having to pick up a suitcase and leave,” she said. “And hopefully we would have someone there to help us too.”