WHEN Herbert Gutsa stepped off the plane at Glasgow Airport he was surprised to see snow for the first time. Fleeing Zimbabwe in fear of his life, he had little time to learn about the country he was flying to. All he had been told was that it was friendly and welcoming.

His experience since January 2002 has, on the whole, affirmed the truth of that. According to a new report from the Commission for Racial Equality (CRE), Mr Gutsa is one of tens of thousands of migrants who have moved to Scotland in the past few years and received a warmer welcome than those seeking a new life in England and Wales.

The study concludes that a combination of Scotland's stronger sense of identity, positive messages from politicians and the media, and the fact that fewer migrants have moved here, means its international reputation for friendliness is borne out in reality.

As a result the weather, Mr Gutsa jokes, is the only thing he has not managed to integrate with. "The first people I met were friendly and were interested in why I had come here," he says. "It was so cold, strange and frightening to come here alone and not know anyone, but as the days went by I became more comfortable. I know from speaking to other people that the experiences of people moving to England are generally less positive."

Mr Gutsa now runs the African Community Integration Centre in Parkhead in the hope that people from his continent and the rest of the world will come together.

"We run a football club with Scots, Africans, Polish, Turkish, Latvians and Czech players," he says. "The centre is for everybody. We feel we need to bring people together so they can understand each other better. There are also cultural and food events. We share haggis and different African meals."

Scots may be better at seeing beyond the labels, but the report found even here migrants from ethnic minority backgrounds faced a more hostile reception than those from eastern Europe.

Hostilities, it states, were less evident amongst Scottish interviewees, "possibly indicating a stronger sense of national identity or reflecting the relatively affluent characteristics of our two Scottish locations. However, this does not allow room for complacency, as the highly-skilled Scottish non-white migrants reported a higher frequency of racist abuse than those of their highly skilled, white migrant counterparts".

Mr Gutsa acknowledges that being visibly different can cause problems and has been confronted by people in the streets of Glasgow. "There are a lot of myths about asylum seekers and benefits and sometimes I have to explain that we are as normal as them," he says. "That is perhaps why there is less hostility towards migrant workers coming from eastern Europe. From a distance, one would not know that someone was Polish but people, who might perhaps want to be racist, can see from afar that I am black."

The research found that most underlying tension and hostility toward new migrant commun-ities centred on jobs and wages, welfare entitlements and housing, impacts on public services and cultural threats. In Scotland, the need to boost the dwindling population and fill gaps in the labour market had helped facilitate the integration of new migrant groups. However, there are still concerns about the division of public resources and increasing demands on schools and health boards. And the tensions, where they arise, are complex. There are early signs of resentment from settled ethnic minorities and white people. The greatest hostilities across the UK come from "economically vulnerable groups, white and ethnic minority alike", the report says.

Ali Jarvis, head of the CRE in Scotland, says people must understand that integration is not about harmony between white and black, but between every nationality and ethnicity: Irish, English, Polish and Asian of different generations and backgrounds.

She believes the report should provide no excuse for the executive and public authorities to rest on their laurels. "The findings are positive, but if Scotland becomes complacent real tensions will arise, particularly when the numbers increase," she says.

In 2006 a report by West Lothian Council found that the extra time given to migrant workers in the local area due to language difficulties was putting pressure on service provision to local customers.

Figures released last month indicate there are now 10,000 pupils in Scotland whose first language is not English. The strain of providing translation services, particularly in rural communities, has been highlighted in the media and Citizens Advice Bureaux across the UK have reported insufficient capacity.

A report in Tayside found 46% of migrant workers who could have benefited from English language support appear not to have had any form of support.

Many of the research participants expressed concerns about the impact of increasing language needs of migrant workers' children in local schools. All the local authorities contacted as part of the report recognised the need for migrant workers to fill labour shortages, but most lacked the experience and knowledge to accommodate this diversity.

From the early 1990s to 2002 the numbers of people leaving and moving to Scotland were roughly the same. Since then there have been gains of about 9000 in 2002, 26,000 in 2003 and 19,000 in 2004. Scotland now has one of the fastest-growing foreign-born populations in the UK.

Ultimately the tensions apparent in England and Wales and race riots of 2001 provide an example of what not to do in the face of a rapidly changing population. The report praises the positive impact of Scottish Executive initiatives such as Fresh Talent, which encourages and helps skilled workers to stay in Scotland after finishing university. But ministers will have to address concerns about education and perceived economic injustices if the warm welcome is to continue.

Putting in place the type of work Mr Gutsa is doing will prove vital in ensuring that as the migrant population north of the border expands, so too does the warmth of Scotland's embrace.

The protesters fighting against dawn raids

SIX hours of discomfort, the occasional racist riposte, and an overbearing police presence. Nothing, it seemed, could rattle the lone protester from his perch.

At 5.30am, a makeshift wooden tripod was erected outside the Home Office's immigration offices in Glasgow.

The lone figure, known only as Dave - a veteran of Faslane 365 and recent convert to the Unity movement - scaled its 10ft summit.

Below, a yellow banner unfurled, revealing a familiar message: "Stop detaining children, stop dawn raids." It is a plea Brand Street residents have witnessed time and again.

Yesterday's protest was held in support of the Wakus, a Congolese family picked up from their Cardonald home last Monday. Now, incarcerated in Tinsley House Detention Centre, near Gatwick Airport, they find themselves in diplomatic limbo.

"The family is very, very frightened," said Cat, a Unity volunteer who assisted the Wakus - Max, Onoya, and children, Grace, 12, Jean Marc, 16, and Genuine, four. "The children are traumatised. The Wakus are a model of integration. They are proud to be Scottish."

Although the young Wakus' fellow pupils from Lourdes Secondary joined with members of Jean Marc's basketball team and representatives of Glasgow's Congolese community to lend their voice, not everyone in attendance was empathetic to the family's cause.

"That's no' a working jacket you've got on. Get a wash!" one person shouted. Another woman was even less charitable. "All for a couple of black b******s," she hollered.

Come 10.45am, more than 20 officers from Strathclyde Police began assembling a Meccano-style scaffold frame with which to remove Dave. After 40 minutes, it was ready. Soon, the pony-tailed figure was under arrest for breach of the peace.

As a modest crowd dispersed, Unity volunteers regrouped. Wary of too high a profile, it has nonetheless set up permanent offices a stone's throw from the Home Office centre.

It has the details of some 950 families under threat of deportation and provides a drop-in support service and 24-hour helpline. A single room boasts a tattered two-seater couch and two computers. Sketches and drawings by the children of clients hang from the walls. Around 50 families a day pass through here.

Tomorrow, Unity will co-ordinate an event in the city's Bothwell Street, in memory of Uddhav Bhandari, a Nepalese asylum seeker who died from his injuries last week after setting himself on fire at the asylum and immigration tribunal centre.

Poignant or futile, determined or twee, it will, it seems, be the first of many more protests to come.

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