Essay
Change
Christmas survival
7 min read

An Acton nativity and a new crisis at Christmas time

Inspired by a Christmas visit of Jose and Maria, West London churches aiding asylum seekers now expect a wave of evictions, Robert Wright discovers.

Robert is a journalist at the Financial Times.

 

clients of a charity queue beside a table of suppliers in a church
Ease clients select groceries.

It was the arrival of a single, memorable couple that prompted churches in East Acton, West London, to recognise their responsibility to care for the growing numbers of asylum seekers being housed in the area, according to Jon Westall. The husband of the pair, who had fled persecution in El Salvador, in central America, was named José (Joseph), according to Westall, a Church of England vicar in the area.  José was accompanied by his wife María (Mary), who was, Westall recalls, “heavily pregnant”.  The couple arrived at one of the area’s churches for their Christmas services in 2021. 

When they came to the church, Westall says, José and María were among 400 people living in a local hostel turned into housing for people awaiting decisions on their requests for refugee status. The status, which allows recipients permanent leave to remain in the UK, is awarded to those that prove they have fled danger or persecution. The couple’s arrival struck local Christians thanks to its clear symbolism, Westall recalls. But it also left them initially unsure what best to do. 

Nearly two years on, the church that José and María visited hosts a weekly drop-in for asylum seekers organised by East Acton Support Enterprise, a new charity set up with the backing of a local support group for would-be refugees. Westall, who is a trustee, says that Ease’s volunteers are a “right old mixture” of people of different faiths and none. The group seeks to support the hundreds of people in the Acton and Ealing areas housed in hostels and hotels while awaiting rulings on their asylum applications. Since the summer, it has also been grappling with the effects of new Home Office policies that mean people who succeed in their asylum claims often find themselves evicted from their temporary accommodation with as little as seven days’ notice. 

“It’s the whole community. These people are very passionate, very enthusiastic. They listen. They talk.” 

The effort in Acton is one of scores across the UK helping refugees that is hosted in a local church and that draws heavily on church volunteers. Westall says that, from church people’s point of view, they became involved in the nascent project because it touched them “quite deeply really” to meet José and María at Christmas. Ease prefers not to publicise the location of its drop-in, to avoid attracting attention from demonstrators against migration. 

“Jesus is a refugee,” Westall says. “There were just resonances really.” 

One of his clearest recent memories is of being called to help a man from Syria who had just been evicted from accommodation in the nearby west London neighbourhood of Hillingdon, with only five days’ notice. 

“He was standing on the street corner in Hillingdon with all his bags, absolutely paralysed with fear, this guy in his mid to late fifties,” Westall recalls. 

Sara Nathan, another trustee of Ease, says the drop-in opened at a critical time. She approached the church about using its facilities in January 2022, shortly after José and María’s first visit, after being asked by West London Welcome, another support group, to set up a drop-in in Acton. A new facility was needed to relieve strain West London Welcome’s facility in Hammersmith. Nathan, an active member of West London Synagogue, says the first Ease drop-in session, in February 2022, took place just in time for a surge in demand to help refugees. 

“We set up to start and the day we started was the day Putin invaded Ukraine,” she says. 

The group has been “running to stand still” ever since, under Lissa Pelham, the group’s co-ordinator, Nathan adds. 

“It has been growing considerably,” she says, adding that the group became a stand-alone charity, separate from West London Welcome, in September this year. 

One regular attender at the drop-in, Sobhan, an engineer from Afghanistan, says he values the mix of practical help and emotional support on offer. Sobhan – not his real name - was studying in the UK for a master’s degree when Kabul fell to the Taliban. Because his family was closely involved in the previous Afghan government, his life would be in danger if he returned, he says. 

He adds that it is “very nice” of Ease to organise the drop-in centre, which offers people staying in local hotels and other refugee accommodation free food, sanitary products and other help. The support supplements the £45 a week living allowance that those awaiting decisions receive from the Home Office. 

However, the drop-in is “more than just the help”, Sobhan says. 

“It’s the whole community,” he says. “These people are very passionate, very enthusiastic. They listen. They talk.” 

Involvement in Ease has made her more aware of the real nature of the problems facing people awaiting asylum decisions and more anxious to do something about them.

The complexity of the challenges facing Ease is clear at a drop-in session when Pelham holds her weekly briefing for the 20 volunteers present to help around 100 clients. Pelham starts by asking volunteers to ensure anyone new attending the drop-in is resident in Ealing. The checks are necessary because supplies are limited and there is a risk that asylum seekers travelling from other boroughs will take what is on offer and leave none for the people most dependent on Ease. 

Pelham goes on to impress on volunteers the rules about evictions from asylum accommodation. The warning is necessary because a Home Office drive to clear the hotels housing many of the tens of thousands of people awaiting asylum rulings has prompted a cut in the notice given to successful applicants – those granted leave to settle in the UK - to leave the place they have been housed. 

Successful applicants used to have 28 days from the issuing of their residence permit to leave the accommodation – already a demanding timeline given the need to secure a bank account, deposit for rent and means of paying the rent. Since August this year, however, they have been given only seven days from the issuing of the decision. Because the decision is issued by letter to people living in often crowded and chaotic hotels, if applicants receive their letters late or not at all, as with the Syrian man that Westall helped, the notice period can be shorter or non-existent. 

The change of policy is likely to affect many of the drop-in centre’s clients because as many as 68 per cent of initial decisions on asylum claims in 2022 decided that the person had a genuine claim to asylum. A substantial further proportion are likely to win the status on appeal – around half of completed appeals were successful in some recent years. 

Pelham reminds the volunteers that at times of freezing weather landlords are obliged to give tenants an extra three days’ notice of eviction. She also reminds volunteers that there should be no evictions over the Christmas period, between December 23 and January 2. 

However, there is a resigned recognition that some landlords will ignore the rules. Nathan has brought to the drop-in session a compact tent to hand out to anyone with no better option. A group of 10 Eritrean refugees have been sleeping under a nearby road flyover, she says. She has also been working to house evicted refugees through Refugees at Home, a charity that places refugees in volunteers’ homes. Nathan herself helped to establish Refugees at Home in 2016 and says new volunteers have come forward as a result of the surge in evictions. 

Pelham asks volunteers to ensure the details of any clients reduced to sleeping on the streets are recorded. 

“It keeps getting worse,” Pelham tells them. “It really feels that way.” 

The difficult circumstances and challenging policy background do not noticeably damp the atmosphere at the drop-in, however. In front of a side altar in the church, one would-be refugee uses a borrowed guitar to serenade those present with a string of classic songs such as Elvis Presley’s Baby, 'Let’s Play House'. Some attendees attend an art therapy session, while others work at their English. 

One Christian volunteer, Charlotte Aldridge, says involvement in Ease has made her more aware of the real nature of the problems facing people awaiting asylum decisions and more anxious to do something about them. 

“I suppose from a Christian point of view, I feel it puts the gospel into practice,” Aldridge says. “It’s nice to be part of a positive project that’s doing something practical to help people in the area.” 

“They’re in the UK now. If a British person is nice to them then understands them, that’s a very relieving thing mentally.”

Westall acknowledges that asylum-seekers’ problems are a matter of acute political controversy. There are people among the attendees at the drop-in who made clandestine crossings to the UK by means such as small boats to lodge their asylum claims. 

The vicar insists the asylum-seekers he meets have not come to the UK just in search of a better life but have genuinely fled trauma and situations that would prompt anyone to flee. He reports few complaints from local people about the church’s work. 

“There aren’t many people who stop me and say they shouldn’t be here,” Westall says, adding that the congregation of the church that hosts the drop-in has been “very supportive”. 

Sobhan, who has just received refugee status and is looking for work, says it is a “great thing” that Ease offers companionship to refugees living in the area. 

“They’re in the UK now,” he says of the refugees. “If a British person is nice to them then understands them, that’s a very relieving thing mentally.” 

Westall, meanwhile, along with his wife, is a godparent to José and María’s baby. The family are now living elsewhere in the UK. 

The vicar says, however, that the meeting with the couple provided a window for local Christians onto a world they had not known at all. 

“I’ve learned a huge amount from the people I’ve met and the people I’m getting to know,” he says.

Article
Ageing
Care
Change
5 min read

Delicate, fragile, frail: how we cope when we age

The insights and analogies that help.

Helen is a registered nurse and freelance writer, writing for audiences ranging from the general public to practitioners and scientists.

An old woman wearing a shawl looks pensive.
Valentin Balan on Unsplash.

“Who could dissect a portion of the human frame without marvelling at its delicacy, and trembling at its frailty?” mused preacher Charles Spurgeon in the nineteenth century. Songwriters, artists, authors and surgeons alike are fascinated by frailty. Within, beneath and beyond that fragile frame though, could there be a deeper reality, waiting to arise – and endure? 

Fragile Lives is the ‘heart-stopping memoir’, operation by operation, of heart surgeon Professor Stephen Westaby. “The finest of margins,” he writes, “separates life from death, triumph from defeat, hope from despair – a few more dead muscle cells, a fraction more lactic acid in the blood, a little extra swelling of the brain. Grim Reaper perches on every surgeon’s shoulder.” 

To what shall we compare this fragility of frame? - which means we can shatter sudden as glass, our “breath becoming air” in the blink of an eye? (Paul Kalanithi, a young neurosurgeon, called his memoir When Breath Becomes Air as he fought his own battle with cancer). A snowflake? A spider’s web? A butterfly wing? In Dutch still life paintings, the transience of life is variously depicted in dry, fallen withering petals, rotting fruit, and a glass vessel, like a vase. At some funeral services, it is said that we are made from dust, and to dust we shall return. Elsewhere in the Bible, we are likened to a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes, or to a flower that withers away, a fleeting shadow that does not endure. Our days are a mere handbreadth, our life but a breath, writes one Bible songwriter. 

Medics talk more commonly of frailty than fragility – and it’s not just a byword for old age. According to the British Geriatrics Society, not all old people live with frailty; not all people living with frailty are old, though age is a recognised risk factor, with nearly 40 per cent of adults aged 85-90 being frail. Described as a vulnerability to external stressors which can result in sudden marked deterioration in function, frailty might feature as a combination of falls, immobility, delirium, incontinence, and increased side effects of medications, suggesting the body is struggling to cope. “A minor infection or minor surgery results in a striking and disproportionate change in health state – from independent to dependent, mobile to immobile, or lucid to delirious,” writes a team of doctors in The Lancet

Frailty is a sign of advanced biological rather than chronological age. Often, it’s an unwelcome term, with consultant physician Patricia Cantley noting that, “from a patient or relative’s point of view, the word frailty seems to be at best somewhat vague and at worst, derogatory and demotivating”. She prefers to talk in terms of paper boats. Picturing young healthy patients as little tugboats of wood and steel, built to withstand storms, she likens the frail patient’s clinical situation to a paper boat, which can sail the sunny seas, but is soon buffeted and may be brought down by ‘medical winds’. 

Encompassing also psychological and cognitive symptoms alongside the physical, frailty is not a fixed state, nor is decline in mind and body inevitable once frailty begins. Seen increasingly as a dynamic spectrum, reversal of frailty is sometimes possible; the paper boat being, to a degree, storm proofed and made to chart a different course. According to Dr John Travers, professor of public health at Trinity College, Dublin, twenty minutes of daily exercise can reverse physical frailty and build resilience in over 65-year-olds, while others suggest that movement based mind-body therapies such as tai-chi and yoga can strengthen both mind and body. Could there also be something of a spiritual strengthening in the frail patient? As the body decays and declines, could the soul, the spiritual self, enlarge, emerge and ultimately endure as life ebbs away? This was certainly the sentiment of Paul, one of the early church leaders, in the Bible, who, after much suffering, wrote: “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day…we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 

Her late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II was seen on our television screens to diminish physically in her last days, her purple hands, tiny frame and walking cane causing concern among viewers. She was, at her funeral, described simply as “our sister Elizabeth”, her small coffin dwarfed by pageantry and a crowd of 2,000 including presidents and kings. And yet, the former Moderator of the Church of Scotland has revealed that she talked much of her Christian faith in her dying days, while her funeral was an explosion of scripture, hymns and sermons that expressed the strength of her personal faith. “It was her way of eloquently, beautifully and powerfully speaking to me and 4.1 billion other people of her Christian faith,” writes Pastor Skip Heitzig. For me, the funeral brought to mind the tides (continuing with the theme of the sea). As the tide recedes, the waters move away from the shore, in what is known as an ebb current. As the tide rises, water moves toward the shore in a flood current. As our Queen’s life ebbed away physically, her spiritual self arose, roaring like a mighty flood. Ocean motion, in currents, waves and tides, is driven by the sun, moon and the planets. Our late Queen also looked upwards, to her God, for spiritual succour that would turn life’s ebb to a soul-flood.  

Hymnwriter Timothy Dudley-Smith sought a similar exchange, from the physical to the spiritual, the mortal to the immortal, in yet more words about boats, in his hymn “My boat so small”, based on the Breton Fisherman’s Prayer. 

“Adrift when strength and courage fail, O Spirit, breathe to fill my sail” 

And, happily, he trusts a safe voyage, finishing with - “My voyage done, all trouble past, to haven bring my soul at last.” 

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