In a small Lincolnshire town far from established migrant communities, people seeking refuge are trying to learn, work, make friends and build new lives. Their experiences reveal both the challenges of starting again in rural England and the importance of finding somewhere to belong. “The Prisma Series: Lincolnshire transformed by migrants”.
Toby Sardeson
Lincolnshire’s changing population is perhaps most visible in towns such as Boston, where migration from Eastern Europe has transformed the workforce, communities and politics. But the county’s migration story extends beyond its largest migrant communities.
In the smaller town of Louth, people arriving from Eritrea, Syria, Afghanistan, Iran and Turkey are trying to build new lives in a place where established migrant networks and cultural connections are less visible. Their circumstances are different from those of the migrants who came to Lincolnshire in search of agricultural work. Some have arrived through the UK’s asylum dispersal system, with little say over where they are accommodated.
Asylum seekers generally cannot take paid employment while their claims are being considered, although they can volunteer. Those granted refugee status can work, but both groups may face practical barriers to finding employment and building new lives.
For one Eritrean asylum seeker, that has meant learning English, volunteering to deliver furniture and joining a local football team.
He arrived in Britain almost two years ago, initially being housed in Skegness before being moved to Louth. When he arrived, he spoke very little English. He is now attending a six-month English course in Grimsby.
But his asylum claim remains unresolved. After three interviews, his application was rejected, leaving him confused about why he had been unsuccessful. The interview process itself, he says, is intimidating.
“I don’t know why,” he says of the rejection.
The uncertainty has made it difficult to plan for the future. He cannot normally work while his asylum claim is being considered and receives around £49 a week in government support.
Instead, he volunteers delivering furniture, plays football locally and goes to the gym. He would like to travel to Manchester to watch Manchester United, the team he supports, but he cannot justify the cost on his weekly allowance.
The Louth Area of Sanctuary, originally established as East Lindsey Area of Sanctuary in 2016 in response to people fleeing the Syrian war, supports refugees and asylum seekers living in the area. Volunteers visit people in their accommodation and encourage them to attend meetings, where they can discuss their asylum claims, practise English and get help with everyday problems.
Volunteers also run a weekly informal English class in Louth during term time, giving people an opportunity to practise conversation and prepare for more formal college courses in Grimsby or Lincoln.
The support can be practical. People have been helped with mobile phones and bicycles, taken on days out and introduced to local activities. Volunteers’ connections across the town can also help people access education and volunteering opportunities.
One Afghan refugee, who previously worked as an accountant in Afghanistan, has been awarded the right to work in the UK and is now studying towards the qualifications he needs to continue his career in Britain. He also worked in a role supporting British forces in Afghanistan, putting himself at risk in the process.
Now he is rebuilding his career. He works as a chef’s assistant while travelling from Louth to Lincoln for college. The journey takes around four hours in total, but the limited bus service means he can spend the entire day away from home for approximately two and a half hours of lessons.
His 11-year-old son has also begun playing for a local football team.
For asylum seekers who cannot access paid employment, volunteering provides a way to contribute while they wait for decisions on their claims. Recognised refugees can work, but may also face barriers as they rebuild their lives.
“They want to work, they want to earn money,” one volunteer said. “They’re quite happy to pay their taxes, they want to send money home.”
For some, volunteering is simply a desire “to do something and to do something good.”
The group has organised social events, including poetry sessions exploring themes such as alienation and loss. Refugees and volunteers have also discussed bringing food from their different cultures to share.
The purpose, one volunteer explained, was simply “to say you are welcome here.”
For some refugees, that welcome has helped change how they see themselves within the town. One volunteer remembers how different some of the refugees appeared when they first arrived.
“When they first came, their demeanour was very different,” she said. They “had their hoods up” and moved through the town “inconspicuously”, trying to keep as low a profile as possible.
Over time, she says, that changed. People who had once avoided attention now smile, recognise people they know and cross the street to greet them.
The transformation can be significant. Volunteers have seen people become deeply isolated while waiting for decisions on their asylum claims, including one who spent day after day in bed.
The Eritrean man himself says he has struggled with the uncertainty, while also losing contact with people close to him.
One volunteer described his current situation simply: “He’s hanging.”
Louth’s rural setting can make that isolation more difficult. One volunteer said that when she first became involved, she wondered why refugees had been sent somewhere so far from established cultural and religious communities.
“At first I thought, how ridiculous,” she said, describing Louth as being far from any kind of culture that they would recognise, including mosques.
The nearest mosques are in Grimsby and Lincoln, while transport can make accessing education and other services difficult.
Yet the smaller scale of the town can also create opportunities. Volunteers have built relationships with people and organisations across Louth, allowing them to connect people with work, education and activities.
There have been moments of hostility, too. The group recently had to leave a meeting venue after an individual objected to refugees and volunteers being there.
“It really doesn’t matter,” one volunteer said of the online listing. “But you put the internet in the mix and it does matter.”
The Eritrean man wrote his own account of his experiences before the interview. He came to the UK hoping to “build a safe and better future” for himself, continue his education, learn English, work and become independent.
But the uncertainty surrounding his asylum claim has affected his ability to do so. “There were times when I felt I was unable to learn properly because my mind was occupied with worries about my future,” he wrote.
His experience, he said, had taught him that asylum seekers need more than accommodation and basic support.
They also need opportunities to learn, study, work, develop their skills and feel that they have a future.
“Despite these challenges, I have tried not to give up,” he wrote.
“Behind every asylum application there is a real person,” he wrote, “with hopes, dreams, fears and a desire to build a safe and meaningful life.”
Across Lincolnshire, the circumstances in which people arrive are vastly different. Some come to work, some to study, some to reunite with family, and others in search of safety. But the stories gathered across this series have repeatedly returned to the same question: what happens when people arrive in a place and try to make it home? In Louth, as in Boston and communities across Lincolnshire, that answer is being shaped not only by why people came, but by whether they are given the opportunity to stay, participate and belong.
The Prisma Series: Lincolnshire transformed by migrants.
The making of modern and multicultural Boston
Living in parallel: community and tension
The migrants who came to pick daffodils… and stayed
Asylum seekers building lives in rural England
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