A few weeks ago we were told about an Afghan man named Tamin who was, at the time, in a deportation centre in Oxford. He'd been living in Swansea and had become a Christian - as the result of the good treatment by all the Christians he'd met on his escape journey from his home land - and a movement had begun to fight his deportation. I think everyone in Zac's signed the petition and after the strength of national and international support became obvious the authorities relented. Last week when he had been scheduled to be on a flight back to Afghanistan where he faced death, he was instead brought home to Swansea. The case continues and the battle isn't completely over yet but it's a start.
Last night Tam came along to Zac's to say thank you. He is a very lovely and gentle young man and it was a privilege to meet him and to see the result of people working together.
So that was the good bit; the bad bit came later.
If you've read my previous post you'll know we had a new visitor last night. At the end of the evening when there were only a few of us - and her - left, she asked if she could have a lift home. (She'd also asked earlier for £10 'for a bag'.) She said where she lived and it was in my direction. Everyone else was going the other way. But I kept quiet.
I justified myself to myself by saying I didn't know her, she was a drunk heroin addict who was, if not aggressive, then certainly in your face, and my husband wouldn't like it. Truth was I didn't want to give her a lift; I was a bit scared. Not a very fitting end to an evening talking about treating your neighbours well.