Refugee Week isn't the only time we should celebrate the positive impact that people seeking asylum have on our country
If there is one thing I've learned living in Sheffield, it's that you don't need a special week to celebrate the positive impact asylum seekers and refugees continue to have on our country. Contrary to popular opinion, asylum seekers make up a very small proportion of our immigrant population in the UK. More than 97% of immigrants are not seeking asylum. Of the 2.6% who are, just one in five will be granted leave to remain here.
When I first volunteered with Student Action for Refugees, I figured I'd be doing arm's-length campaigning about people who had suffered displacement in war-torn or corrupt countries. Naively, I assumed if these people got to the UK, they would be OK.
I didn't realise until I became involved with asylum seekers in my community that if you ask our government to protect you and offer you permanent residence here, you first have to forgo your right to work and your financial freedom. You must survive using charity or minimal financial assistance from the UK Border Agency – asylum seekers cannot claim benefits. If you qualify for this "asylum support", it is typically only 60% of jobseeker's allowance, which is deemed by the government to be the minimum necessary to live. If you want to be considered for asylum you must also sacrifice your geographical mobility and remain locatable by the border agency at all times, knowing that you can be arrested, detained and deported without any notice.
Like other volunteers for the local organisations Committee to Defend Asylum Seekers and Asylum Seeker Support Initiative Short Term, I was part of a campaign team helping to organise demonstrations, circulate petitions, attract media attention, and lobby local MPs and the airlines whose flights asylum seekers may be forcibly deported on. Some of us help with translations and difficult paperwork, some of us assist with accommodation and transportation, some of us simply offer emotional support and friendship through cups of tea and conversation.
In my experience, asylum seekers tend to be the sort of admirable and humble people our society should proudly welcome, who have a positive impact on the communities that host them, asking (and getting) very little from us in return. My friend Martha is a case in point.
Martha fled from Africa in 2001, having been imprisoned and tortured for her political beliefs. When she arrived in the UK, the dispersal system, which aims to relieve cities of the "burden" of asylum seekers by dispersing them among council areas across the country, sent her to Sheffield. She lived there for seven years without a decision being made on her application for asylum. Despite being in a permanent state of dread and anxiety, Martha took lessons in maths and English, volunteered for the city bike hire and gardened at the local allotments. She also became a full-time, unpaid carer for an elderly woman who had befriended her and who subsequently developed dementia. She remained optimistic and full of passion. Finally, eight years after she had arrived, she was granted indefinite leave to remain here, partly due to a strong campaign led by a local organisation, partly due to chance that her case was flagged up on the border agency's database. She now works as a carer for people who are terminally ill, in memory of her friend who showed her such kindness. She is lucky to have had a network of empathetic and protective residents who remain close friends. They bothered because they realised how everyone benefited from her presence in the community.
Most of us have had little or no direct experience or human contact with someone seeking asylum. As a result, many people simply see asylum seekers as statistics rather than human beings.
Although David is an asylum seeker from Sudan, I know him as someone who also loves reading and spending days in the public library learning about ancient Greek philosophers. Michael is an asylum seeker from the Democratic Republic of the Congo but I would describe him as an inspiring public speaker, and as a man who helped himself to my crisps once and felt this was justified if he offered me some of his peanut-buttered kidney beans in return.
Namir is seeking asylum from Afghanistan after he and his family were targeted by the Taliban because he worked for the British. But before this phase in his life he had his own TV show. He is also the weary-looking chap I sat on a wall and had a cigarette with after he had been mugged in the street.
People who have reached out to those seeking asylum, got to know them personally, and witnessed their admiral patience and resilience, have ended up forming lifelong friendships. They have gained the daughter or mother they never had, and they have learned new recipes, songs or gardening tips. Some have even discovered the inner activist they never knew existed.
I am convinced the vast majority of us would not feel hostility towards asylum seekers if we were given a realistic representation of them, if we knew exactly who these vulnerable people were, what they have experienced, and how our government and society decide to take care of them. We need to critically examine the plausibility of, and the intentions behind, the next asylum seeker story in the media and, in the meantime, show some solidarity towards these valuable members of our society.
• All names have been changed. Refugee Week is 17-23 June
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