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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