One recent morning at the Dignity Centre Nicosia, a young Somali woman called Shukria, asked a simple question. “Why do you have a barber for the men, and nothing for women?”
“Is there something you’d like to do?” She was asked. Shukria thought for a moment and said. “I would like to do henna painting for the women members. But I only know a few designs.”
Painting henna on women’s hands and feet is a centuries-old tradition, widely practiced across Southwest Asia and North Africa. Women henna their hands for weddings and other joyful occasions, or as decoration, and also during secular and religious celebrations such as Kurdish New Year, or the two Islamic festivals of Eid. Painting a woman’s hands with delicate flower patterns and leaves, spirals and other abstract designs, has a spiritual significance as well as looking beautiful.
Shukria’s suggestion was perfectly in tune with Dignity’s aim to be a welcoming space where members know they are respected, and where they feel at home. It also resonated with the cultural traditions that refugees and other communities fleeing conflict or economic hardship often turn to for solace and a sense of belonging, whilst struggling with uncertainty about their fate. It might be cooking favourite foods, performing traditional music or songs, storytelling, dance, or art – anything that reminds you of your cultural roots and identity in a world where migrants and people seeking asylum are often treated as numbers rather than human beings.
With lots of encouragement, and after giving the matter some thought, Shukria practiced on paper cutouts and tried new designs until she felt ready to offer her services once a week to Dignity’s women members. “I was nervous at first, but now I feel confident about what I am doing,” Shukria said. A midwife by training, with a Masters degree in nutrition and public health, Shukria helped bring thousands of babies into the world in Mogadishu, and worked for various NGOs.
Wednesday at Dignity is henna painting day. Since launching the service at the end of 2025, Shukria has gained a devoted following amongst the Somali refugee community, with several women coming each week to have their hands painted. But the experience is also something more, offering time for conversation and a remembrance of home; of ceremonies and celebrations, and moments of joy.
Offering a service is never a one way activity, and her work has become a therapy of sorts for Shukria. She admits to often feeling sad when she gets up in the morning. “But when I come to Dignity and start my work I feel better, because making others happy makes me happy too,” she confides.
Recently, a Kurdish family from Iraq paid their first visit to the Centre. After shopping in the Dignity market, the young mother caught sight of Shukria’s work table, cluttered with tubes of henna dye, protective gloves, pattern books and the other tools of her trade. “Oh, do you do henna painting?” she asked excitedly. “And it’s free?” She sounded delighted, and immediately sat down and held out her hands. As she and Shukria looked at the patterns and chose a design, the young woman’s husband and other family members stood smoking outside in the street. She was oblivious of them all. “I feel as if I’m back at home,” she sighed, her face alive with memories, as her family waited patiently for her until the henna dried.
Written by Dignity Centre volunteer, Jessica Barry.
