This year's harvest gifts of rice found a worthy home at a hostel for homeless asylum seekers at Rodney Road in Whitton. If anyone is under the misapprehension that those fleeing their home country find Britain a land of milk and honey, let me put the record straight. Life is basic and it's tough. At Rodney Road there are 44 people in 22 rooms and at any one time there are usually a number of families there.

Because of the lack of space, a family will have to occupy one room, even though that might mean coping with small, highly active children in a confined space.

About 90 per cent of the residents come from Afghanistan. Some have members of their families left behind and have no idea about their well being. Communication is hardly possible when there is armed conflict. It is a desperately worrying time for them. In addition, they have to learn to adapt to a country whose systems seem very strange and in many ways less friendly than the close-knit communities they have known. There is little money for the extras which we might consider as basics - washing up powders and toiletries, educational toys and children's books, so during Advent there will be a large box at the back of the church for any such gifts you may care to donate.

These are a people who are deeply grateful for a roof over their heads, for the compassionate care of the hostel workers, for any outreached hand of friendship and support - but what do you do when you can't share a conversation about the every-day little things of life? Under the Taliban regime, women have not had the educational opportunities available to some of the men so they are at a particular disadvantage. While older children go to school and many of the adults attend college classes, mothers and older women fmd themselves confmed to the hostel. St. James's Church has therefore made a donation to fund the provision of English lessons in the hostel and this money is being matched by a financial gift from another church. There is a poem by the North American writer, Jean Fox Holland which reads like this: "How many am I? With all my children's children Love makes me plural. One who knows sorrow for a long or little while learns a new language. Journeying is more than reaching destinations. Journeying is more". Let's pray that a little English will make the journey an easier one.

Source: Freda Evans, The Spire Magazine - 2001 December