ROZHAN, aged 17, arrived in the UK almost two years ago, rescued by the Coastguard from a broken-down dinghy in the English Channel.

She left Iran with her mother and younger sister, fleeing from state persecution. The family’s crime was attending an underground church.

They had no particular intention to come to England: the decision was made by the smugglers who arranged their passage.

“I just knew about Harry Potter, and that everyone speaks like Harry Styles,” Rozhan said. She paid tribute to the volunteers at the bi-weekly drop-in sessions for refugees and asylum-seekers, hosted by St James’s, Greyfriars, in Reading, for helping her with her English.

“I was surprised when I first came to the drop-in: ‘Oh, they are all from this country, and they are welcoming us; they’re happy to have us here, and they’re trying to help us,” she said.

I was introduced to Rozhan by Michael Prewett, one of the volunteers at sessions held in Atrium, the church’s café and bookshop, which forms part of the new Greyfriars Centre.

Unlike some of the other volunteers whom I met, Mr Prewett is not a member of the congregation, but is part of a wider community of people in Reading who are helping to welcome refugees — and who had gathered for a Christmas party attended by more than 200 refugees from countries including Ukraine, Iran, Bangladesh, and Sudan.

Francis Martin/Church TimesRozhan in Atrium, the café at St James’s, Greyfriars, in Reading

The Revd David Nyirongo, one of the church’s assistant curates, described the centre’s drop-in sessions as a “safe space” in which people can socialise, relax, and receive help in finding accommodation or employment. “We want people to be able to share some of themselves, and to build a community around this,” Mr Nyirongo said.

His description is echoed by Laura Humphreys, a member of the congregation who runs English-language classes at the centre. The sessions, Conversational Kitchen, are structured around food, and participants are encouraged to share dishes from their country while practising their English.

The “café culture” that is fostered at the Greyfriars Centre is familiar to many from their home countries, Ms Humphreys observed. It enables practical support and opportunities to connect both with other people from their own country and those from different cultures.

After a multicultural buffet, those who attended the party enjoyed performances of music and dance, including a Ukrainian dance troupe directed by Ganna Andriushchenko.

A professional choreographer before she fled the war, Ms Andriushchenko now works as part of a housekeeping team at a hotel. In her few spare hours, she runs dance sessions, giving fellow Ukrainian refugees a chance to connect with traditional culture and build a sense of fellowship.

The party last Friday was one of 40 around the country that have been facilitated by the charity Sanctuary Foundation, with an expected total attendance of 2000 (News, 8 December).

The founder of the charity, Dr Krish Kandiah, said on Monday that the aim was to “kick back against the negative rhetoric that’s taking place” around immigration.

“We’re hearing from our recent arrival friends that they’re increasingly unwelcome . . . but an invitation to a party helps you know that you are welcome,” he said.

Last Friday, Sanctuary Foundation launched its Christmas film: an animation which tells the story of a young boy being born in “temporary accommodation”, from which the family soon has to flee.

“They loved me so much they sacrificed everything for me,” the boy says of his family, and his identity is revealed. “One day, I’ll do the same for them. All around the world at Christmas time, people celebrate my refugee story.”

To be able to worship openly was a marvel to Rozhan’s family when they first arrived. “Every second, my mother was just telling me, ‘Are we really here, worshipping our God in the way that we want, and no one is judging us?’ I was like: ‘Yes, finally.’”

A few months after her arrival in the UK, Rozhan was giving a presentation at the church in English, and, after the party, she was going to a carol service where she was going to talk about her experiences.

Francis Martin/Church TimesA performance by a Ukrainian choir

When I asked, what were her hopes for the future, however, she said: “Whenever I start thinking about it, I can’t find the answer, but don’t know anything about our situation. Are we going to be here tomorrow? Or are we going to move somewhere else tomorrow?”

Currently housed in a hotel in Reading, at one point the family were told that accommodation had been arranged for them in Plymouth. “We were so happy, and I was thinking ‘OK, I will continue college there,’” she said.

All their bags were placed in a taxi — and then they heard that the offer had been cancelled.

The slow pace at which asylum claims are processed means that the family are in a legal limbo, unable to work or have a bank account, or know for certain where they might be living the next week.

“We just have to wait,” Rozhan said.