John left his parents and siblings behind him when he fled his native African country about six weeks ago. He says he has not been able to make contact with his family since, and does not know if they are safe.

The teenager was escorted to safety by a family friend and accompanied on his flight by an "agent", or trafficker, who left him at Dublin airport. With the help of a taxi driver, he made his way to the city centre and applied for refugee status.

John is not the real name of the bright and articulate teenager seated at a table with other young asylum-seekers in a cosy church-run "welcome centre" in Phibsboro, north Dublin.

He says he is too afraid to be identified even by his first name, or for his home country in sub-Saharan African to be named. John says he has good reasons for being so cautious, as one of his brothers was killed and a sister abducted.

"I never thought I'd be in such a situation, never, never, never," he says, shaking his head and tapping the table with his hands. "When I came to this country, I didn't know what to ask for. I knew what a refugee was, but I didn't know that I was coming to seek refugee status."

John is one of 519 separated children who sought refugee status in Ireland last year, according to the East Coast Area Health Board (ECAHB). Only 303 of these asylum claims are still registered with the Department of Justice, as the remaining 216 young people have been either reunited with relatives or shown to be over 18 years old. Most come from African countries, particularly Nigeria, and almost half are 17-yearolds. The youngest child to arrive last year without an adult, but in the company of a minor, was less than one year old.

Unaccompanied minors receive adult social welfare payments and are placed in hostels, B&Bs or, sometimes, residential or foster care in Dublin. Some are reunited with relatives already living in Ireland. Most of the teenagers in hostels or B&Bs share dormitory-style rooms.

The ECAHB says it is seeking to set up a dedicated hostel for the most vulnerable unaccompanied minors, but local opposition makes it difficult to source such accommodation.

In the meantime, those at school, like John, return home in the evenings to lodgings where there is no adult to ask them how their day was, to help them with their homework or to soothe worries they may have about their relatives back home. Some have to make their own meals, while those without cooking facilities have little option but to resort to fast food. One 17-year-old from Sierra Leone, who also uses the Phibsboro centre, says he sleeps with five others in a room with three sets of bunk beds. He has no wardrobe, locker or desk. He has to hang his clothes over the edge of his bed.

John says he finds it frustrating to have lost the "sense of belongingness" a family brings. "I have to, with this place, go looking for that care, unlike in my country [where] I had people around me and I didn't have to go looking. Now I could sit all day without anyone to talk to," he says.

Sister Breege Keenan, who helps run the Vincentian Refugee Centre in St Peter's Church, Phibsboro, which John attends, has become a surrogate mother for some 30 unaccompanied minors. The centre has started a homework club, but the practical and emotional support services offered go far beyond academic tuition. They include helping the children get into schools, buying uniforms, contacting relatives and accessing counselling services. Sister Breege acknowledges the efforts of community welfare officers as well as those of the health board's dedicated team of six social workers and three project workers, who help the minors with finances, accommodation and medical or psychological support.

But there is a huge gap between the services offered - which the ECAHB acknowledges are stretched - and the individual care and attention these young people need.

"They need somebody who cares about them, not professionals who are in and out," says Sister Breege, who is a trained social worker. "One of them rang me the other day to say someone told him to feck off. A few of them brought me their school reports at Christmas. I try to encourage them. The whole notion of cherishing our children, if you look, doesn't exist. What happens to them at the weekends and the evenings?"

Sister Breege believes "house parents" should be appointed so that minors have an adult to turn to. Helen McGree, from Barnardo's, says that each child should have an independent guardian to provide practical and emotional support.

Sara MacNeice, of the Irish Refugee Council, co-authored research into the conditions of separated children seeking asylum in 1999. She says 95 per cent of those she dealt with needed referral to psychology services. One 17-year-old presented himself at hospital and was checked into an adult psychiatric ward. He was severely traumatised and spent days drawing coffins, says MacNeice.

"The majority of these children didn't choose to come here; they are often put on a plane with a stranger. They always ask: `Will I ever see my family again?' And they are always told: `I don't know,' " she says.

MacNeice, a solicitor, says children are not accessing State-funded legal advice on their asylum claims and "there's not the option of them ever having the money to hire a private practitioner".

An ECAHB spokesman says that since the Refugee Act 1996 came into force last November, each unaccompanied minor is guided through the legal process by a social worker and given access to legal information.

"Legal advice has been sought on many occasions from the Refugee Legal Service and the health board solicitors when seen to be in the best interests of the young person," he explains.

Yet the Refugee Legal Service, which offers free legal aid, says it has assisted only about 20 unaccompanied minors in their asylum claims since it was set up in February 1999.

Even more worrying is the disappearance of some minors who have fallen out of the welfare system. Sister Breege says a 17-year-old girl from Burundi, whom she had helped, disappeared last October. She informed a social worker, who told her four unaccompanied minors had gone missing that month.

"What concerns me about it is the lack of concern, in the sense that nobody gives a damn and nobody has any idea of how many have gone missing. I would be concerned that they are involved in trafficking or prostitution," she says. The ECAHB says it shares Sister Breege's concerns. A spokesman says "a number" of asylum-seeking minors have left their accommodation in recent months, a practice fairly common among adults also. The board reports these cases to the Garda as missing persons.

"The community welfare officers, gardai and ourselves are discussing mechanisms in which we can better identify such cases and investigate reasons for this," the spokesman adds.