Chris Badman (Refugee Council): can't just wasn't a word
Our first contact with Ester was when she phoned up to find out about volunteering with us and she made an immediate impression. Ester was, passionate, informed, opinionated and engaging, traits we would all come to know, respect and love about her. Ester saw injustice in the way that asylum seekers and refugees were treated in the UK, and she was definitely going to do something about it.
She started volunteering with us in November 2004, placed initially in the day centre, which provides food, emergency help and social support to refugees and asylum seekers, many of whom are destitute and very vulnerable. Ester fitted in immediately, and it quickly seemed as if she had always been there. From her first day here, she was full of comments, questions and suggestions for how to improve things or do things differently.
She didn’t do the obvious and wasn’t really one for rules, if the system was wrong, you didn’t have to accept it, you had to explore ways around it, to subvert and bend it to suit your needs. Can’t just wasn’t a word in her vocabulary.
Ester made it clear that her real area of interest was unaccompanied asylum seeking children and she moved roles to work with a team of advisers and at the Tuesday evening social club. The social club was really where her heart was – she became a regular and very popular volunteer with an innate ability to relate to the children we work with and a mischievous sense of humour.
As her work commitments increased, her attendance became more unpredictable, she would turn up late, having travelled across London after a long day at work. She’d sometimes come into the building looking exhausted but as soon as she saw the children, she’d get the glint back in her eye and would be re-energised.
Like all of us, she was sometimes affected by the stories she heard from them, and we’d often debrief over a quick (or not so quick) drink after the social evening. Ester could sometimes show her vulnerable side during these drinks and could get quite emotional about the situations that were facing these children, who were far from home and separated from their families and loved ones. More often, though, Ester would support other volunteers and paid staff, and would always be one of the last people to leave.
Out of these discussions, Ester and another volunteer, Sarah, decided to organise a fundraising gig. Before we knew it, they had found a venue, musicians, someone to design and print publicity fliers (all for free) and had negotiated a percentage of the bar takings. This showed the number of people who would do anything for Ester, and her gift of the gab – I’m not sure that anyone could ever really say no to her once she got going.
Ester was a wonderful and committed humanitarian. She wanted to change the world for the better, and in 24 short years she did more to improve it than most people ever will. Her star shone briefly, but with a blinding brightness.
Ester, we’ll miss you and treasure our memories and our thoughts are with all your friends and family.
She started volunteering with us in November 2004, placed initially in the day centre, which provides food, emergency help and social support to refugees and asylum seekers, many of whom are destitute and very vulnerable. Ester fitted in immediately, and it quickly seemed as if she had always been there. From her first day here, she was full of comments, questions and suggestions for how to improve things or do things differently.
She didn’t do the obvious and wasn’t really one for rules, if the system was wrong, you didn’t have to accept it, you had to explore ways around it, to subvert and bend it to suit your needs. Can’t just wasn’t a word in her vocabulary.
Ester made it clear that her real area of interest was unaccompanied asylum seeking children and she moved roles to work with a team of advisers and at the Tuesday evening social club. The social club was really where her heart was – she became a regular and very popular volunteer with an innate ability to relate to the children we work with and a mischievous sense of humour.
As her work commitments increased, her attendance became more unpredictable, she would turn up late, having travelled across London after a long day at work. She’d sometimes come into the building looking exhausted but as soon as she saw the children, she’d get the glint back in her eye and would be re-energised.
Like all of us, she was sometimes affected by the stories she heard from them, and we’d often debrief over a quick (or not so quick) drink after the social evening. Ester could sometimes show her vulnerable side during these drinks and could get quite emotional about the situations that were facing these children, who were far from home and separated from their families and loved ones. More often, though, Ester would support other volunteers and paid staff, and would always be one of the last people to leave.
Out of these discussions, Ester and another volunteer, Sarah, decided to organise a fundraising gig. Before we knew it, they had found a venue, musicians, someone to design and print publicity fliers (all for free) and had negotiated a percentage of the bar takings. This showed the number of people who would do anything for Ester, and her gift of the gab – I’m not sure that anyone could ever really say no to her once she got going.
Ester was a wonderful and committed humanitarian. She wanted to change the world for the better, and in 24 short years she did more to improve it than most people ever will. Her star shone briefly, but with a blinding brightness.
Ester, we’ll miss you and treasure our memories and our thoughts are with all your friends and family.
posted by Ester memories at 12:25 pm
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