Chalk Calais trip 9th-11th Feb 2016

Are the refugees in Calais as badly behaved as they are portrayed and is their camp a living hell? There's a lot of speculation on the internet about refugees in Calais so when I was asked by Chalk Oswestry to help distribute some needed supplies in the "jungle", I figured it would be an education. I wasn't wrong.

Having loaded the two vans with tents, sleeping bags, clothes, blankets and much other gubbins the day before, (all kindly stored for Chalk by the Council in their building) the six of us headed off for Dover at dawn. The vans were nippy - ours kept up in the middle lane doing 85 most of the way down the M1 which was just as well because after all the delays, we didn't have a long wait to drive onto the ferry. Notice how I didn't specify mph or kph - apparently anyone who does what we have just done is watched a little closer than usual from now on!
Forgot what blinkin level I parked on thanks to my car park sensory deprivator being as reliable as ever and thus three of us spent ten minutes darting between lorries like a Pacman modern art exhibit, looking for the van when disembarking. Finding the stairs was difficult enough in the forest of trucks.

The drive from Calais to the secretly located depot (French right wing nutters....) didn't take too long and we passed the camp, or "jungle" on the way - it was quite close to the motorway so we had a good idea of what to expect from a distance. Many, many tents.

The depot was run entirely by volunteers, some staying for a week, some a day or two. They needed the "weekers" to overlap in order that the system be passed on and everyone continue to receive organisation. I wasn't allowed to photograph the outside of the building in case the pic revealed its location but I managed some pretty poor ones and a video of the inside which will save me a shed load of descriptive typing now....(at least 3000 words if you go by the general value of a picture - the video must, I suppose, be worth a book in itself?)

There's a lot of stuff being sent, mainly from the UK and France. In all, if you add the value of all the donated goods and the actual cash, its about £130k per month. That sounds a lot but it's only £26pp or so when divided between 5000. The vans get unloaded and the boxes or bags piled up for sorting. Once it is sorted, it moves to the relevant area in the warehouse ready to be distributed when required at the camp. This is also where 2000 meals are cooked every day (see below). The atmosphere was good with everyone working like bees. You can't sit down and have a break unless you really need one because you'd feel lazy while all the others sweat and toil, not like working for an employer where you just need to get through the day to get paid.

 

Preparing meals for 2000

From the depot we drove for what felt like an hour to our hotel, had a bite to eat and crashed for the night.

Next morning we headed back to the motorway from where we'd seen the camp in order to work out how to actually get to it. There was no postcode for the satnav so we had to use our eyes and muster some direction sense. The camp is surrounded by police so we stopped and asked how to get to an entrance. The policeman I asked was a delight. He'd obviously been brought up by parents who took pride in the traditional, stereotypical French shrug and protrusion of ones bottom lip. In the end I managed to get him to give me directions which turned out to be completely wrong. Frustratingly, he was parked blocking a road that led to an entrance about a hundred feet over his shoulder but I don't think any of us expected them to just reverse and beckon us through, thrusting warm croissants into our laps as we rolled past. Our first sign of the police's feelings on the matter.
As we eventually found the approach road, it became obvious that those blue and white things we'd seen from the motorway weren't tents after all, they were mainly wooden structures with tarpaulin roofs.
Once through the gate, we entered a stone/ gravel network of streets lined with these wooden structures. It wasn't always possible to tell what the huts were for - maybe a house, maybe a store room for something - each one could've been anything, made with whatever was available. There were no special building supplies to differentiate a store room or an office from a bedroom or a kitchen so we had no idea what was in most of them. Occasionally we'd come across one with a sign on or a bigger one with an open front that was obviously a restaurant (well, hut with food in it).

The orange and yellow sign reads, "Women and children" centre.

I don't know what first impression we were expecting really. What would you expect a camp with 5000 impoverished, disparate people, mostly (80%) young men to feel like? A bit daunting I suppose - scary even?

Within the first minute we had all realised that there was a fantastic buzz around the place. People were smiling and lots were looking busy either cooking or carrying buckets of water or bits of hardware around. We didn't feel threatened in any way whatsoever. In fact, we felt welcome and everyone was happy to help direct us to the lady we'd come to see, Maya. We parked the vans up and wandered over to the food hut where Maya was waiting. Our van didn't lock properly - we could either lock the front doors or the back one so we locked the back one which had our bags with valuables behind it, hoping nobody would just jump over the front seats!

Maya had a beautiful face, now showing signs of age but full of sparkle and an infectious, reassuring smile to match her personality, all topped off with a melodic, French accent with hints of New York which would indicate she has spent a year at least in the States in a former life, if I were to guess. She was incredibly welcoming and invited us all in to the food hut where she got the guys working there to cook us an Afghan breakfast (like a vegetarian omelet but without the eggs being broken,  lovely). 

We began to talk about the camp and how it had worked and what they needed most of etc. Whilst we were talking and eating, a young man in his early twenties walked in and was directed to Maya. They spoke in French for a while and it turned out that the fella had turned up at the camp just then. Literally 10 minutes after us - the newest member of the community. He was alone and though a big (and handsome) lad, looked a little timid so we sat him down and invited him to join us for food and tea. 

Maya talking to the new arrival who I have photoshopped out as exposing his identity might affect his asylum status in the future.

He wasted no time and started scoffing the eggs. He was from the Ivory Coast and had travelled alone. He quickly looked settled and more relaxed, managing a few smiles as he listened to whatever Maya was saying to him - you can't help it, its just the effect she has on everyone.

After our meal we ventured outside again. They had not long finished building the church and, as it was only a couple of minutes away, Maya took us over there to show us. Inside was impressive, full of churchy things that made it feel like a real church. They'd got the shape right too, had painted biblical scenes and were playing something foreign through a speaker system which sounded churchy. I took a bit of video quickly but didn't go in with my shoes on or spend ages filming like a tourist....

Outside the church, Maya started talking about the camp and I managed to get the last 8 minutes or so on camera, which are divided into three clips below. In the first two she tells us about how the camp has evolved naturally to become a real community and in the  third she tells us about the way the refugees are treated by the police and how their reputation for violence and bad behaviour is unwarranted. Before appearing on camera, she was explaining how they need a fire engine of sorts because their only means of heat and main source of light is via a naked flame and fires are a real danger in such a densly populated area. Any fires reported to the authorities are dealt with in a let's say, relaxed manner. Also, they need doctors though she has managed to get a doctor present for some time five days a week. One of the problems is that we are not allowed to take medicines over, even if they get a permanently staffed doctor's surgery there.

She does more in the three clips to convey life there than all of this blog post so they are worth a viewing.

We had to leave for the ferry after talking to Maya and as we started to get our things together, I noticed the young Ivory Coast lad still stood there, waiting patiently for us to finish talking so he could be introduced to his new life inside a modern day concentration camp where safety is on the inside except for occasional random police attacks, the reasons for which can be heard in video pt 3.

  We headed back to our van and, as we expected, all our valuables were still there along with an iphone and some money on the dashboard. Why? Because, like I have repeated, it is a real community. It is mostly based on Muslim foundations, I would imagine, seeing as most were from Islamic countries - there are seven mosques so it could have been a shanty town in Somalia if you awoke there and had to guess. Yes, there are going to be kids who are toe rags like any other community. But these people knew we were there to help and any kids trying to break in to the van would've been stopped pretty quickly. The four girls in our group didn't feel the slightest bit intimidated not having their faces covered either but then I don't recall seeing many other women with their faces covered. The feeling that this place had a good vibe rushed through our feet the moment they stepped down from the van's cab and stayed with us every second we were there.

Pt 1

 Pt 2

 

Pt 3

Chalk has already planned for another trip. We shall be calling out locally for construction equipment soon, nails and screws, cable ties, plastic sheeting, 2x2 lengths, 3x3 lengths, hinges, drill bits, old hand tools, saw blades nuts and bolts, knobs, washers, rope - anything else you might need if you were building a shed/ kitchen etc. Most of all they like money so they can buy what they need in emergencies and pay their rent.

If you think your school or workplace may be able to help or you would like to donate, please get in touch with chalk at chalkoswestry@gmail.com or on 01691 655895