Despite our differences, my Father is a person who I have the utmost respect. From growing up in a godforsaken village with no electricity or amenities, he pulled himself through school, university (graduating in the top 1% of his class), and got himself a good job and a family. He's done well for himself.
But he is nothing if not selfless. Over the past seven years he has poured most of his spare time into organising a charity for those who came to this country from Sri Lanka, seeking asylum from the war. Not only does he know and care for all of the families in the local area personally, he recently set up a school so that the young people who have come over have a chance at grasping the English language, as well as teaching them to hold onto their Tamil identity.
At dinner, we were talking about his charity, and he told us that he had been to one of the assylum houses today, to visit a new refugee; a single mother who is currently 8 months pregnant. The house was mouldy with leaks in all of the ceilings. They live far below the breadline, with just enough money for food and basic sundries. The child is six years old, cannot speak a word of English, and has not yet started school on account of the beauracracy within this country's welfare system. When my dad asked where the father of her unborn child was, she said that in the process of being smuggled into the country (which she did to secure a livelihood for her small child), she was beaten, raped and impregnated by one of the smugglers.
My Father has offered the child a free place at his school, so that she can learn how to speak English and get up to speed on her national curriculum while the Local Education Authority finds a full time school for her.
Pause for thought; some of us have it much, much better than others. It's our duty to help them help them, or at least to help them help themselves.
But he is nothing if not selfless. Over the past seven years he has poured most of his spare time into organising a charity for those who came to this country from Sri Lanka, seeking asylum from the war. Not only does he know and care for all of the families in the local area personally, he recently set up a school so that the young people who have come over have a chance at grasping the English language, as well as teaching them to hold onto their Tamil identity.
At dinner, we were talking about his charity, and he told us that he had been to one of the assylum houses today, to visit a new refugee; a single mother who is currently 8 months pregnant. The house was mouldy with leaks in all of the ceilings. They live far below the breadline, with just enough money for food and basic sundries. The child is six years old, cannot speak a word of English, and has not yet started school on account of the beauracracy within this country's welfare system. When my dad asked where the father of her unborn child was, she said that in the process of being smuggled into the country (which she did to secure a livelihood for her small child), she was beaten, raped and impregnated by one of the smugglers.
My Father has offered the child a free place at his school, so that she can learn how to speak English and get up to speed on her national curriculum while the Local Education Authority finds a full time school for her.
Pause for thought; some of us have it much, much better than others. It's our duty to help them help them, or at least to help them help themselves.
