Volunteering in Calais//

… after the ‘Jungle’ burnt down

Pre-departure I was feeling freakishly apprehensive about heading over to, what was known as - ‘the jungle’. This was potentially exacerbated by learning about the situation on the ground. ‘The jungle’ had just burnt down.

I had no idea what to expect I just knew I was going to drive in Edie alone to Calais, driving and living in a van. Each step was a new experience all of its own. Feel the fear and do it anyway had become my mantra and with a previous boss etching in my brain that problems with mere challenges, I was entering a ‘season of opportunity’ for some serious growth.

Through previous work, I’ve support asylum seekers, unaccompanied minors from Iraq, Afghanistan and Albania. I had a pool of surrogate children who taught me about the stark contrast in life experiences they have had. Could there be other teachers out there, other surrogate children in need of support?

I arranged a two week stint volunteering with Care4Calais, got the van on the road after returning from Rwanda (read more here), and booked my ferry crossing. I had a great deal of support from friends and family to help get the van ready. I collected donations to take over with me and tried to not to remain balance when I began to wobble. The struggle was real, anxiety was hitting me hard in the limbo before the trip. The reality of putting off the trip and letting this anxiety win simply wasn’t an option. I headed over to Calais, ticking off each new achievement in my head. Refuelled van, tick. Drove to Dover, tick. Checked in at the ferry, tick. Drove onto ferry, tick, etc.

Low and behold there wasn’t time to over think anything once I arrived, it was straight to work. Being over 25 and having a driving licence meant that I was insured to drive the charities vehicles, and this would become a huge part of my role during my stay. Another conquest to tick off, building confidence driving abroad.

My first job was ‘patrol’. I took another volunteer who showed me the ropes. I drove us around the hot spots around Calais then she directed me to the bus stop around the corner from the train station. This is where new arrivals would come, usually met by the police or CRS - super intimidating. We have a presence and show up first to point people in the right direction for support and find out needs; food, water, a place to wash, a place to rest, legal information, a change of clothes, sleeping bags, snack bags, toiletries, etc. We would move around this area and the two neighbouring parks ready to film any sight of CRS harassing people, just incase any ill-treatment. We were making assumptions about people approaching people of colour who looked exhausted and displaced.

The whole experience was pretty bizarre.

My initial thoughts were how apparent it was that these people who would congregate in certain areas, seeking out charities offering support, they appeared so obviously displaced - they generally didn’t have anywhere to go. The first refugee camp I went to was in Rwanda when I was 17, people living in tents. I returned a few years later and there was infrastructure. That wasn’t the case here. I was beginning to learn about the long and convoluted game known as the Asylum System. People here were either trying to get across the border or they have claimed asylum in France and now await a decision which can take months, even years. Ultimately everyone was just trying to survive and have a better life.

On my second night I was back out driving again to the evening food distribution with Refugee Community Kitchen. The partnership between C4C and RCK gives another perspective on the situation. At the warehouse, huge pots are filled with beans soaked for the following day, music is blaring, and people are rushing around filling vans with food. We would be serving rice, curry and salad which is taken along with condiments (as recommended by the customers), and drinking water, then its off to Dunkirk.

We pull up and the ‘long term volunteer’ from RCK comments on the large amount of people waiting. ‘The key is to stay calm and remain positive’, he preps us. Lots of people, hungry people, hangry even no doubt. Even though there is plenty of food for all, with the underlying tension, the trauma folk had endured on their journey up to this point, let alone the circumstances that they had left behind - it’d be tricky to de-escalte challenging behaviour with such a big group. We served about 350 meals that evening. Vibes were on point.

When the queue died down we were able to have more interaction with the asylum seekers and refugees. Often conversations began with people asking if I was from the UK, if I lived near Birmingham, Manchester or London and knew someones brother/uncle/cousin.

The Old School Garage CD donated by a previous volunteer was blasting out tunes whilst we set up and throughout distribution which gave a sense of summers spent in a field during UK festival season. Very different from where we actually were in Calais, just down the road from where the recently burnt down ‘jungle’ was, livelihoods, support and hope destroyed.

There was no time to consider the reality or romanticise it, as each day there would be more drop-offs and distributions.

Most days were spent like this, moving around, looking for people, offering the basics like food and water, and trying to bring a bit of humility, compassion and entertainment through acts of generosity, play and silliness.

There is no longer a ‘jungle’ which I now understand wasn’t quite as animalistic as the name suggests. Instead it was a base for several thousands of people to at least cook for themselves, have community, rest and have some sort of existence. Existence has now become survival and enduring the longest game of cat and mouse between the refugees and CRS. The police move in, refugees get moved along and their belongings taken, destroyed, burnt - apparently the council have instructions to keep the place ‘clean’. Police spray tear gas, leave and shortly after the refugees return. This happens multiple times a day. A deterrent you could say, the idea being that individuals will become exhausted and stop being a ‘nuisance’.

Council workers ‘cleaning’ up belongings, tents, blankets.

Refugees pushed into woods whilst ‘cleaning’ continues.

If you had left your home, for what ever reason and could not return, you’d walked across countries, continents even, carrying what belongings you can, moving with your family. Or perhaps you are alone, you’ve been split from them, or worse yet, they’re dead. You’d experienced pain, hurt, torture. You arrive only 45 miles away from the British Isles and have a choice. To seek asylum in the same place you are greeted with hostility and abuse. Or try your chances and keep moving, risking your life hiding under a truck or a train to reach the UK, without ever really knowing if it’s any good.

Wouldn’t you keep trying, in search for a better life?

Another big part of work Care4Calais do is distributions. This is like a military process. Back in the ‘jungle’ days, I heard there were essentially shops in place where people could come and browse clothing and pick something they like the look of. With the destruction of the ‘jungle’, those days are gone. Instead boxes are packed from the warehouse taking mostly smalls, though always a small percentage of medium and large as well. The majority of refugees are lean.

The volunteers move in convoy, park up then the team sets up by linking arms to create a sort of corridor at the back of the van on either side.

People become inquisitive, curious if we are friend or foe. There isn’t much in the way of entertainment; a group from Eritrea, around 15 years old, would play football all day, everyday and begin to run over when they spotted us. In this van might be the items you need, a replacement pair of trouser for the ripped/wet/dirty pair you’ve been wearing all week/month/year. The queue moves fast and when all the items have gone then the van is shut and the people disperse. When it’s gone it’s gone. Sometimes you can gauge numbers really well. Other times there may be more people than anticipated and old school garage won’t always cut it, though everyone is grateful for the help - even the guy with broken shoes, no sim card who just had his belongings destroyed. The long term volunteers have a different rapport with this community. They would know the details of the circumstances which brought them here, if they’d tried crossing before, how many times. There was a real sense of community among displaced folk alongside the volunteers.

The last few nights that I covered the RCK evening distribution there were a few new families arriving.

Did you know it can cost between £3000 – £10,000 for a ride to the UK from Calais? THOUSANDS OF POUNDS! I am still none the wiser as to whether paying more secures you a ‘happily ever after’, I wouldn’t have thought so though. Most people I met were single men. There was a small amount of families, that could get expensive. And as a back drop to all this I couldn’t help but think how ideal this set up was for predators and people traffickers to exploit these human beings.

Under 18s, the authorities have a duty of care for minors. Some might lie about their age. I still met many 14-18 year olds who were alone and weren’t receiving any support. They were surrounded by others. Other children. Other men.

I met people who had incredible strength. I spoke. with people from different worlds to me - I got to spend two weeks with wonderful humans, both refugees and volunteers from around the globe. It’s all just a bit of a shame that we had to meet under such horrific circumstances.

With the ‘jungle’ destroyed it is harder to supply people with food, cooking facilities and items that they may need. Whilst the authorities pump more money into border patrols, taller fences and CCTV when they could be investing more in centres to process asylum claims and create safe legal routes for people to leave rather than creating a pool for smugglers to relish in and exploit.