"We love everything about Skellefteå," says Adesola.
While debate swirls about potential buyers for Northvolt, Europe's battery industry future, Norrland's green transition, and Skellefteå's immediate outlook, non-EU workers' plight remains low on the list of priorities.
The situation is especially difficult for those from non-EU countries, because they have 90 days to find a job that pays at least 28,480 kronor before they face deportation. It’s a hell of an ask.
When we arrive to speak with Adesola Oguntuyi and her husband, Akin, and her son Nathan, at their home, the air is thick with grief. The last time I came across such broken-hearted misery was at my mum’s funeral eight years ago.
Adesola, 35, seems almost hollowed out by the bankruptcy news. Both Adesola and Akin, 37, work at the plant. Both fear the worst.
What makes the last few days so unbearable is that recently Northvolt has carried on as if everything was looking positive.
– Since January, all my colleagues at Northvolt have been feeling much better, says Adesola.
– We were told we were doing well with production, and on Tuesday we were told we could start booking leave days. Everyone felt relaxed. But then came the announcement on Wednesday morning.
Adesola Oguntuyi with her husband Akin and son Nathan.
– We love everything about Skellefteå, says Adesola.
– The people have been welcoming, the area is beautiful. We’re extremely happy.
All this time Adesola has been holding back tears.
– We have nothing to fall back on. We sold everything in Nigeria, so I could come here to study my masters (Biological Science at University of Skövde). We’re only one year away from qualifying for permanent residency. It’s so depressing that we could lose all this.
"We’re only one year away from qualifying for permanent residency. It’s so depressing that we could lose all this," says Adesola.
It’s here that the dam bursts. Adesola, clinging on to Nathan, just sobs. Akin offers her a consoling hug and then takes over because his wife is unable to continue.
– The second we heard the news, I thought about my son, says Akin.
– As adults, we know this is how life sometimes works. It’s not all positive. But to tell a child that he must leave a place where he's thriving, that he loves, where he has friends, where he has learned the language. That is awful.
And now Nathan, who’s been hugging his tearful mum, starts crying too. It’s a thoroughly miserable scene.
Something shifts in the room as they weep. Suddenly Donna and I are no longer just observers but witnesses, both struggling to blink away the tears threatening to fall.
"The second we heard the news, I thought about my son," says Akin.
These are people who are helplessly watching a happy, safe, productive future being torn away from them. A life of rich possibilities and of lifelong friendships. They’re left with a profound sense of powerlessness as everything they've worked for hangs in the balance.
But they haven’t given up.
Adesola is currently studying Swedish and has reached SFI D level.
– I can communicate in Swedish, she says.
– But all the jobs I’ve applied for require fluent Swedish immediately.
Adesola’s work background is strong too.
– I've worked in manufacturing, I've worked in the laboratory, I've worked as a teacher.
Adesola Oguntuyi with her husband Akin and son Nathan, during the interview..
Akin, meanwhile, has a master’s in risk management and insurance, and worked in social and health care in the UK. His passion, he says, is data analysis.
They’re both clever, sociable, adaptable people.
The exact type of people we need in Skellefteå. Let’s try to keep them here.
"To tell a child that he must leave a place where he's thriving, that he loves, where he has friends, where he has learned the language. That is awful," says Akin.