A Ministry of Welcome

by Sister Monica Popper SSM

In the summer of 1996, the Sisters of St Saviour’s Priory, Haggerston, in the UK, took the decision to give hospitality to refugees seeking asylum in the UK. Here, Sister Monica looks at the difficulties current British regulations cause those fleeing from persecution in their own countries and shares her thoughts on all that the refugees have given to her Community.

When, not so long ago, we described one facet of our Community’s ministry as being a ministry of welcome, we little thought that this might include our providing a temporary home to two asylum seekers. As it is, this has been one of the most enriching experiences of the past few years.
As a result of regulations introduced by the previous Conservative government, and not so far repudiated by the present Labour administration, people seeking refuge in this country from persecution, torture and possible death, must register as refugees immediately on arrival in the UK if they are to receive state benefits which will enable them to survive while their case is being examined by the Home Office. Those who do not do this – whether out of fear of officialdom, ignorance of British procedures, inability to understand the language or any other reason – may, quite legally, remain until their status is decided, but they receive no state benefits, such as Income Support or Housing Benefit. Nor are they allowed to work for the first six months after applying for asylum. More often than not they are left destitute, without any means of supporting themselves. (This was the situation in the summer of 1996. Since then, the National Assistance Act of 1948 has been invoked, which obliges local authorities to house and give basic support to the destitute, and to some, not all, asylum seekers.)
As it was, in August 1996, the Refugee council was almost overwhelmed by asylum seekers without a roof, without food, clothing or money. The Community agreed that, on a short term basis, we could offer two rooms in our small Guest House – so long as these were not needed by anyone else: we could take two, for a maximum of four or five days, preferably two women.
On 10 September, two young men arrived: one a Christian from Cameroon and the other a Muslim from Algeria. Both were French-speaking. Come the weekend, when the time to send them back to the Refugee Council – and probably onto the streets – compassion had taken over. We had got to know them, tried out our halting French, joked a little and, above all, heard parts of their story. Surely they might stay on? Why should they not have precedence over other guests who might want to stay?
Remy, from Cameroon, went on to the Salvation Army and was replaced by Abdul from Afghanistan, aged just twenty, also a Muslim and with only limited command of English. Since then, our two ‘boys’ have been part of our extended family – the only family they now have.
Much learning and work have been needed on the practical level, especially at the beginning. Keeping up to date with asylum legislation, visits to the Immigration Office in Croydon (how is one supposed to get there without money?), registering with a doctor, applying for free medicines, finding suitable English classes . . . Mundane requirements such as clothing and suitable food had to be seen to, letters written to Members of Parliament and campaigning against inhuman regulations undertaken.
On top of this – where to get money? We were able to tap various charities as well as emptying the pockets of kind friends. Our aim has been to give the two young men a sense of independence and self-respect, insofar as that is possible – and it is difficult if you have no money in your pocket. Initially, this meant a small weekly sum from Community funds. However, as regulations changed, it has been possible to get more regular support from the local authority, after negotiating a nightmare of bureaucratic tangles, with no certainty that any arrangement will stay in place for more than a few weeks.
Even more demanding, and really only possible in the context of a supportive Community, is the need for human support and friendship. Imagine, like Athmane, you have left behind your parents and four brothers in Algiers. You can neither write nor phone them. An acquaintance, who has recently visited the country, tells you that your family has left the capital (you are relieved), and that your mother sends an urgent message: Under no circumstances are you to return as your life is in danger. Then you hear no more, but you listen to the radio and hear of almost daily massacres in Algeria. Or the other scenario, that of Abdul: your father has been shot dead because of your political involvement and your mother has handed over all the family money so that an agent can smuggle you out of Afghanistan into Pakistan and thence to Europe. The agent drops you at Heathrow and disappears. That is the last you know of your mother and your young brother, but the radio tells you of people fleeing Kabul, your home town, and of the barbarities of the Taleban.
That is the past. What of the future? When will your case be heard? Will you be given refugee status and allowed to remain or will you be deported? And the longer term – perhaps the most difficult thing of all for two gifted young men – what of a promising career, begun and now interrupted? What of the dreams of setting up a home, with a wife and family? Is this all now lost? No wonder that the incidence of suicide among asylum seekers is high and that befriending them is sometimes a heavy business.
There have been the good times also. Most memorable of these was the feast they prepared for the Sisters the first time they received money from the local council: a feast of thanksgiving. It needed two days of cooking and many shopping expeditions, but the resulting meal was magnificent. All their best foods from their homes were given to us – no expense spared. At the end of the meal, there was a presentation of gifts, splendidly wrapped: a big picture of the Last Supper and a statue of the Sacred Heart, both now kept on view in our Refectory.
There have been ‘interfaith’ events, quite spontaneously. Abdul danced for us at Christmas – a graceful, impressive Afghani dance. For our part, we not only put on a party for his twenty-first birthday, but also celebrated the festival of Id-ul-Fitr, which marks the end of Ramadan, with a special meal.
How it will end, no one knows. It is to be hoped that the present inhumane asylum legislation will be abolished and be succeeded by more than just laws – and many continue to work for this. What we do know, in our Community, is that the presence of Athmane and Abdul in our house has been a gift. Our horizons have been widened, our imaginations kindled and a fresh understanding has been given to the words in the Gospel: ‘When I was a stranger, you welcomed me.’ It has turned out that the stranger, in whom we are to recognize the Lord, is not only a fellow human being, a brother or sister, but also a very valuable and lovable friend.