Sunday 16 August 2015

He Stole My Heart and Gained Plenty of My Tears - posted by Lisa Dundas On FB: August 2015


This was one of my many experiences yesterday in the Jungle.....probably the most profound and one I think will stay with me for the rest of my life.

We were down by the port as part of the solidarity with the refugees action. There was music, there was singing, there were people exchanging hugs, names and stories. I sat down on the grass as Elaine went to use the portaloo.

A young lad came to sit down to my right, away from me, away from anyone else. He was clutching a pad of paper and colouring pencils. He flicked through his drawings, closed the book, then opened it again. He looked agitated, he looked lost. He ripped out pages from his pad, then ripped pieces of paper and started eating them.



I could sit and observe no longer.

"Hello, what is your name?"
"Habte"
"How old are you?"
"Fourteen"
"fourteen? are you alone?"
"yes"
"Where are your family?"
"lost"
"Where are you from?"
"Eritrea"
"Who did you travel with? Any of your family?"
"No alone."
"Where are you trying to get to?"
"The Uk."
"Why the UK?"
" Because I want to go to school, school good there."

This boy looked so lost, so damaged -it broke my heart. I thought of how badly he would be treated by many if ever he managed to make it over here and what a journey he had made to end up in the hell hole of the Jungle a journey of over 3000 miles, made with who knows who, going through god knows what to end up alone in a camp full of damaged men from all war torn nations, with no proper sanitation, shelter, food, nothing really, not even a shantytown.

I looked at this boy and asked if I could give him a hug. I have no idea when the last time was he saw his mother. I have no idea if she is even alive or not - I don't think he knows. He stood up, and we clung onto each other for a moment in time where everything stopped.

Out of all the awful stories we heard yesterday, the image of this boy sitting on his own eating paper will haunt me forever. I can't stop thinking about him and what will happen to him. I wish I could have just scooped him up, bought him home and tucked him up in my spare bed last night.

So please, please, before you condemn anyone who is fleeing a war torn nation, please think of little Habte aged 14, all alone in the world, lost, no-where to go, no-one to turn to. He stole my heart and has gained plenty of my tears.

Wednesday 12 August 2015

2ND UPDATE FROM CALAIS. by Matthew Wright on Facebook: August 12th

It was a different type of day today than yesterday, and thank goodness as I couldn't have physically coped with that level of intensity two days on the trot. This is a lengthier post than yesterday and I've made bold the keyword phrases. Anyway, today: Firstly, FRANCOIS (from the Calais migrant aid group L'AUBERGE DES MIGRANTS) and I picked up food donations and put them in the warehouse, so the team could sort and pack the tins and packets etc for distribution at the Jungle on Saturday.


We then drove out of town to collect a load of wood for the migrants to use as COOKING FUEL. Wood is not an efficient cooking fuel used on an open fire and it takes tons of wood to supply everyone with sufficient wood fuel. The advice from on the ground is that the large LPG GAS RING BURNER IRON STOVES ARE NEEDED. These burners are fed by LPG GAS. Once we loaded the van we drove back to the town and drove around the Jungle and distributed the wood. Maya Konforti (also part of l'auberge des migrants) was in the camp this afternoon. Maya is in the camp almost everyday, working with the migrants. She was posted on the main path junction in the Jungle and talking to existing "residents" and new migrant arrivals: we gave out some SLEEPING BAGS to new arrivals and TRAINERS to a poor man who had flip flop slippers falling apart off his feet (size 46). A lot of the guys have flip flop type footwear, which in the summer is ok, but in the wet and cold they are much less appropiate, so more FOOTWEAR IS NEEDED. Like many young men in the UK, the guys here are not used to wearing hard shoes or boots so TRAINERS are ideal SIZE 39 - 46 (UK size 8 to 12).


It was so windy today and while sunny, the cold wind off the sea made the day feel quite chilly and the weather is only going to get colder and wetter as Autumn arrives in a week or so, quickly followed soon after by WINTER which will fall with a vengeance on the migrants in the camp. Accordingly, lots more SLEEPING BAGS ARE NEEDED. Maya told me today that she has witnessed awful nights, so cold and horrible that you see the migrants huddled all night around small fires, trying to keep warm, singing together to keep morale up to get through the night. Many of the shelters are not adequate to keep out the cold. Consequently, TENTS, TENTS, TENTS are needed. ADVISORY NOTICE: festival type tents fall apart in the wind and provide little or no protection against the chilly weather. The guys form bonds with fellow countrymen and live, eat and sleep together: safety in numbers. As such THREE/FOUR PERSON TENTS ARE NEEDED.


I hope this is a useful update for those of you organising the collection of donations for the migrants. I will do a separate post with regards to food items.

Sunday 9 August 2015

Can't Wait to Get Back To Calais - by Martin Nolan via FB: August 9th 2015




Here is my take on the current situation which, I hope, will clarify things for a few people.

The 'Jules Ferry' centre which keeps being referred to, along with the 100 bed unit for women and kids, was not what I thought it would be. It appears that the women and kids in the unit are being looked after OK and that it receives some kind of funding from somewhere.

Elsewhere on the site are small units used for storage by the various agencies that are on the ground - one of which is the 'Association Salam'. Whilst only a very small team of volunteers, they are on the ground daily and are well placed to ascertain need and meet that need on a priority basis.

For example, if you walked into the jungle and shouted "Who wants a 4 man tent?" then, of course, 4,000 hands would go up. Some because they need a tent, some because your one looks better than theirs and some because they could trade or sell it for food. - Trust me on this guys - 'Assoc. Salam' really are the people to distribute items fairly.

With regard to the food situation: There is a big kitchen on the site of the 'Jules Ferry' centre which prepares a very crude meal once per day. They are only physically capable of serving up to 2,000 meals.

This means that 1 in 2 migrants don't get to eat anything at all.

I witnessed people waking up in the morning, fetching some water and joining the queue for the evening meal at 11am. The meal is not served until around 6pm and there is no shelter for those queuing.

There are many migrants who are frail, sick and injured - including many on crutches. They have no chance of walking on crutches to fetch a meal and, sometimes, due to the size of the camp, their shelter could be up to 1 mile from where the meal is served. Migrants are not allowed to collect a meal for anyone else - and so the person on crutches or who is sick gets no food, making the problems worse.

Water: There is a single water pipe feed from the 'Jules ferry' centre connected to 3 taps outside the gates. Again, this is up to 1 mile from the furthest shelters. Collecting and carrying water is extremely tough. Remember that 1 litre of water weighs 1kg!

Water containers are very much needed.

Food: I took as much tinned food as my van could carry whilst still being within the legal weight limit of 3.5 tonnes. The way this is distributed is normally directly from the back of a vehicle. (Editor's note ... recent advice is that people should seek support from experienced personnel on the ground when distributing aid directly from their vehicles)

The migrants seemed to know the drill and very calmly formed an orderly queue in the hope of receiving some small gesture of kindness. I took a mix of tinned foods that included: sardines, mackerel, tuna, minced beef, corned beef, spag bol, mac cheese, chilli, spaghetti in tomato sauce, baked beans, rice pudding, pineapple chunks and peach slices. I also took a shed load of tomato puree tubes.




Remember that these tins need to be opened somehow! Some tins come with a ring-pull, but most don't! I took a huge box of tin openers and distributed these as well, along with additonal soap, toothbrushes, toothpaste and razors.

We also made up and took with us 300 wash bags. Some of these we left with 'Assoc Salam' for distribution, but most of them we distributed directly around the jungle.

It was tough. Despite taking as much food as I possibly could, at some point I had to tell those who were still patiently in the queue that there was no more food and that it was all finished. That was one of the hardest things of the day for me - knowing that those being turned away may not have got a meal last night from 'Jules Ferry' either.

I heard no complaints though and, although their disappointment was visible, they still thanked us as they left, hoping that someone else will come tomorrow and that they will have better luck then.

'Assoc Salam' do a food distribution daily, around lunchtime, of items they have had donated. If you are only able to load a small amount of food into your vehicle with the other stuff you are taking then joining your food with theirs will be the best way to do it. Imagine having 150 tins of food and then before you can open your boot you have a queue of 500 to 1000 people silently form a line behind your vehicle.

Life is harsh for all of them. Some have just arrived and some have been there a long, long time. You can pretty much tell this by the way they are living and what they have by way of shelter, etc.

On a lighter note, Mrs Goodguy and I were made extremely welcome by everyone wherever we went in the jungle. Personally, I can't wait to get back over there. I already have ideas on what I would do differently.

There is lots more to tell - I am just struggling to tell it. It was a very emotional day and the mood in my van on the return journey was sombre to say the least.

Thursday 6 August 2015

Is it this cold in England? Posted on FB by Jaz O'Hara: August 6 2015



I’ve been thinking all day about how I can find the words for what we experienced yesterday.

An hour's drive from my house, then half an hour on the Eurotunnel, and we were in the world’s worst refugee camp in terms of resources and conditions, yet we were welcomed with open arms. It’s amazing how only the people who have nothing really know how to share.

The ‘jungle’ (as the camp is known), is loosely and naturally divided by country, with every one of the world's warzones represented. We walked through ‘Afghanistan’, ‘Syria,’ ‘Eritrea’ and ‘Sudan,’ all living peacefully alongside each other. This struck a chord with me – it was immediately clear that these people, fleeing war and persecution, want anything but conflict. The ‘mosque’ (a wooden frame), next to the church (some wood and tarpaulin, crowned with a wooden cross), right next to each other, representing that we are all the same, regardless of religion or race.
Nothing could have prepared me for hearing the stories of these people first hand.

A man from Afghanistan told me how he had fled his country with over 100 other people with the aim of walking together to England. Many people (mainly women and children) died along the way. They were so hungry they ate grass, and one night, walking through Bulgarian woodland in the dark, he tripped and a stick pierced through his eye. He spent 2 weeks in hospital in Sofia and the group left him behind. He carried on alone and had finally made it to Calais.

Then we met three Eritrean brothers aged 14, 13 and 10. They were alone. Sent by their parents to escape conscription to compulsory, indefinite military service, which is basically slave labour, they had made their way from Eritrea on foot.

And then, a 23-year-old from Dafur, Sudan. He told me that the Gangaweed had come to his village on horseback when he was 18, burnt it to the ground and brutally shot many people, including his dad, just for being black. He was arrested, accused of opposing the government, and put in prison for two years. As soon as he got out, he went back to where the village once was, desperate to find his two little brothers, little sister and mother. He was told his sister was alive and in a nearby town so he went looking for her. She wasn’t there. He searched towns and cities until he was again arrested, as travelling through the country is not permitted. Unable to face any more time in prison, he spent all the money he had to be smuggled to Libya. Here he started his journey, on foot and alone to England.

England..where everybody is always smiling and no one has problems, he told me. “Is it this cold in England?”, he asked in the middle of a sunny day in August. His expectations, and the reality of his life if he ever does make it to England, make my heart hurt.

He told me he doesn’t feel the hunger (the refugees get one free meal a day they have to queue for hours for), or the cold (I cant even begin to imagine winter in this camp), he just feels the pain of his lost family. Each time he spoke the word family, his voice broke and he put his head in his hands. Crying, he told me that every time he closes his eyes, he sees his mother, telling him he is a good boy, and that he is doing the right thing. ‘Why then, am I living like an animal?’ he asked me.

Every night he walks a few miles to the tunnel in an attempt to make it to England, although he told me he was taking a couple of days break from trying to allow his leg to heal. He proceeded to show me a huge bruise on his calf from where he had been hit by a police baton.

Many many people from Sudan tell the same story. Persecuted for being black, many have seen their entire family killed infront of their eyes.

We sat for ages in the Sudanese part of the camp. The guys here searched the surroundings to find the most mis-match selection of chairs, and even made us tea over an open fire. ‘You are our guests’ they told us, infront of the opening to their makeshift tents.

Yesterday I realised that the people in this camp don't WANT to come to England. They have no choice.

These people aren't migrants...these are REFUGEES. They can't go back, but they can't go forward, they are stuck, trying to create some kind of normal life from a bit of tarpaulin and a blanket.

And they are heroes. Their stories show more determination, strength and courage than anything I have ever heard from anyone in the UK. They should be an inspiration to us all...yet they are portrayed by our media as a drain on our society, scrounging our benefits. This couldn't be further from the truth. These people WANT to work, want to earn enough money to pay tax, and want to be given the opportunities they deserve.

These people are desperate. On the one hand we commemorate holocaust Memorial Day, yet on the other we turn away at people facing as extreme persecution as the Jews, right on our doorstep.

What the actual fuck?

A sign in the camp read 'we must all learn to live together like brothers, or we will die together like idiots'.

This needs to happen, and quick.

Many people didn't want us to take their picture, scared of the negative media representation, but also in case their families face repercussions under repressive governments back home. They are also ashamed; ashamed to be living in such an undignified manner.

We'll be going back next week to start filming a documentary, as sensitively as possible, with the aim of sharing the stories of these inspirational people. We're also stocking up on men's shoes, men's clothing, SIM cards, old phones (people are desperate to call home) and anything else people many be able to donate...

For more information about our documentary:  https://www.facebook.com/theworldwidetribe

To information about donations and to be involved:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/CalAid/511805962302888?fref=ts

You can also follow the journey in photos on instagram: @theworldwidetribe

This is the link to our just giving page: https://crowdfunding.justgiving.com/CalAid


We need to do something. Turning your back on this tragedy on our doorstep is literally unforgivable.