Portrait of a migrant family

Migrant communities account for such a large section of the capital's population that you often forget how extraordinary the journey's of many of these families have been. I was invited for dinner this week by the father of two boys I tutor in North London. They are an Afghan family living on a council estate in Camden. English is the family's second language - better learned by the children than by the parents it must be said. Najibullah is a mechanic at the local garage, his wife Shillan works part time as a seamstress.

Asking immigrant families like this one why they came to Britain, however interesting one suspects the answer, is not always a good idea - partly because it can spotlight torrid episodes in their past, partly because it is often awkwardly suggestive of the prelude to a xenophobic diatribe.

Such was my good fortune, therefore, when the conversation turned quite naturally onto where we were from and why we had left.

Najibullah, it transpires, was until 1998 the deputy mayor of Meymaneh, the capital of the Faryab province in north of Afghanistan, and a local chieftain of the People's Democratic Party of Afghanistan - the national communist party. His wife, meanwhile, was a prominent general practitioner in the city.

Everything changed, he says, when the Taliban ran riot over the northern provinces twelve years ago. Led by some of the very same men that are currently being bounty hunted by the British army, the fundamentalist paramilitary group launched a series of raids on the region in an attempt to take control over the entire country. They failed, but not before they had either killed or forced into exile virtually all of the 10,000 affiliated members of the PDPA.

Najibullah scrambled onto the nearest Europe-bound ferry with his wife, his two infant children, and his cousin Messah, who has joined us for a feast of traditional middle-eastern cuisine. His father, brother and brother in law were all murdered, Najibullah says.

"My whole family had lived in same part of Faryab for three generations. My wife and I attended the local university, and I had been deputy mayor for five years.

"The Taliban had been conducting an eradication of the PDPA from the south of the country upwards. As soon as we began to hear of the kidnapping and slaughter of party members in the nearest city we knew it was time to leave."

Shillan meanwhile (who like the rest of the women in the room has stood for the entire meal) had been practicing medicine for ten years before she came to Britain. She is desperate to obtain the necessary qualifications to become a doctor here too, but she fears she might be too old to perfect her English to the required standard. Hence her minimally paid job at the local clothiers.

You do wonder how common such stories are amongst the immigrant populations of the city. Probably not very, but it does confound crude suggestions that such families come to Britain for an easier standard of living. Who knows how hard it must be for people with degrees in Mathematics and Medicine, and who have known such high positions of influence in their communities, to have to adapt to a precarious life at the bottom borders of society. Most people are lucky enough never to find out.