Introduction to the Jungle

I'm in Calais this week, to volunteer at the refugee camp. I've never been before and I don't directly know anyone else who has, so I'm really not sure what to expect. I'm apprehensive, but it feels too important to me not to be here, albeit a fleeting visit. Everything I've read about it appalls me on a humanitarian level. 

It's grey here but not raining! Hurrah! Really strange journey from the Eurostar station (Calais Frethun) into the town centre, through countryside liberally bisected with enormous steel fences. Turns out these are here to prevent easy movement by refugees – I gather the British tax-payer has funded these, to a considerable degree. 

I met and shared a taxi with another volunteer who is returning for repeat visit. He went straight to the kitchen to help prepare the 3,000 – 4,000 hot meals that are sent out every single day. Apparently 3 or 4 chefs (of whom he is 1) will manage this with the help of unskilled volunteers like me. All the food is from donations. I'm blown away already by the scale of this. 

I spent my first day in the Woodyard sawing up old pallets and other recycled wood for residents in the camp to burn for their cooking. Back-breaking work for a soft muso like me!

Then I was invited to go into The Jungle to hold English conversations with residents. Partly I suppose this helps to provide a highlight and activity for lives on semi-permanent hold, but crucially it is also a way for residents to practise their English. Most are hoping to gain asylum here eventually. I talked with an Ethiopian, a gentleman from Sudan and several Afghans one of whom read my palm and another gave me a paper rose.

It's been a whirlwind of an introduction.

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