2015#8 The children of the Calais Camp

I’ve been volunteering in Calais and I’ve shared some of my experiences here…

The first thing we saw as we left the motorway to enter the camp was a police van and a French riot officer. He looked like a law enforcing armadillo, with his shoulders encased in armour plating and rigid, bionic legs. It’s intimidating, which it’s meant to be.

We knew the atmosphere was tense in the camp. Only a few days before, the families in the camp had suffered exposure to tear gas after a peaceful demonstration about their plight. Kids were taken to the first aid areas with respiratory problems from the gas.

But there was fewer police than expected and they didn’t ask to see our camp pass, given to us by L’Auberge des Migrants. The passes are like gold dust and it’s hard to know when the police will ask to see them. Just a few days ago the kitchens had made hundreds of jam sandwiches but were refused entry to the camp to give them out.

Life in the camp

As we drove into the camp, people on bikes cycled past and it was busy with people. It reminded me of Oxford Street on a Saturday except these people were busy surviving. Groups were working to salvage dwellings after fierce winds the night before wreaked havoc. I watched as they worked together to make good the heaps of twisted tents, wooden struts and tarp. People were carrying paper bags stuffed with what looked like naans, or carrying heavy containers filled with water.

The road snaked infront of us, heavily pitted with daunting mud dunes and craters of rainwater. How long before this becomes impassable for the volunteers? As we drove, there were waves and smiles from residents as they peered into our car, hopeful about the contents. The camp had suffered gales and a huge fire caused by an exploding gas canister the night before. The need for food, shelter and warmth was acute.

We drove to the Sudan district, looking for the theatre dome, an arts project supported by UK theatres. We got lost. The camp’s geography had changed rapidly in just a month. Now there is a mass expanse of flat mud in the middle of this district. This is where the government asked 400 tents to move before they bulldozed it smooth.

This space is designated for the government’s new sub camp for women and children. Metal containers will arrive soon to house them. No one knows when or how it will work. The dome was in the way and had to relocate with the 400 tents. The vast empty space is like a scar and the tension caused by the government plans for the camp is apparent when you talk to volunteers.

Supporting the medic caravans

As we turned around and started our journey to find the new dome location, we drove past two medic caravans and one was open. We’d seen a request for cling film, disinfectant and TCP to help treat burns. We delivered a bag full with those needed items plus Ibuprofen, Paracetamol, cotton wool and Sudacream.

We chatted to the three volunteers inside who said they really needed paper dispensing cups (like the ones you put sauce in at McDonalds). They said they haven’t treated any children and, as if on cue, there was a knock at the door. There was a man who pointed to an unwell boy of about four years old. I thought he was pushing a bundle of blankets in the pushchair before I realised they were keeping a baby warm.

That’s another thing that has changed since our convoy last month, there are many more families and children. This is not surprising as 25 people are arriving a day at the camp. There are now 6,000+ people living in this sodden landscape, tents and structures laid out as far as you can see.

Good Chance Calais

Earlier in the day one of our team had delivered our 20 loaves of bread and dozens of eggs to the family area, so this is where we headed again. On the left of this zone we found the theatre dome, which is run by Good Chance Calais who put on arts activities in the day and house families at night who lost their tents in the fires. Next door is Hands International which is inoculating residents against disease. On the right was the women and children’s centre and the family wellbeing centre.

As we parked up, people began to surround the car, asking “Line?” They were wondering if they should queue for a distribution. We explained what we had and showed the kids’ supplies. They nodded and looked crestfallen. One man joked: “I can be child!”

We walked inside the dome lobby — the ceiling covered in brightly covered scarves found around the camp. We looked at the photography exhibition which expressed residents’ feelings. It was really moving.

Outside a boy was hitting a ball in the air with a ping pong bat and a girl was clutching an envelope covered in stickers. More Syrian children appeared and they eyed up our carrier bags. We showed them our little fluffy mouse beanies and the kids’ faces lit up with bright eyes, “Very nice, teacher!” The children squished them and flashed their smiles, blackened teeth stumps revealed. Our hearts tightened as we realised these children obviously have very little access to healthcare.

As they ran off, showing us the way to their friends, we noticed they were wearing trainers that were too small and the backs were trodden down as they slid around in the deep mud.

The family centres

We followed them to the red and yellow container which offered a place for the women and children. The sign at the entrance said it all and I took a photo. Liz, the centre’s volunteer, shouted at me to put my phone away. “No photos here. I promised the women and it’s important they are protected and feel safe.” I apologised profusely. But this sign is important. Our team had chatted in the cash n carry about sweets and we opted for oranges and apples for the nutrition instead. Liz said: “Fruit is much wanted and they fight over it. We get some everyday but we could never have enough.” Candy is not helpful.

We took our boots off and entered the container to hand out pens and paper. The children were so excited about the art materials, scrambling to grab some and sharing with each other. The container was warm with a wood stove and women and children were huddled in sleeping bags, talking with each other. The children had dirty faces from breakfast. It felt calm and safe for them. An oasis compared to the nightmare outside.

We headed to the wellbeing centre where children and men were painting a large board which would become the ping pong table. Alice, the volunteer overseeing the project, welcomed the pens and paper, and we handed out mice beanies to the young kids and bubbles to the older kids. The men asked for guitars with a cheeky smile, a nudge and a laugh. When we offered the boys the mice, they were disinterested and a man said: “They are men now.” I watched the boy paint his national flag on the board and accepted that children don’t stay children for long here.

The arts are so important to people in the camp, helping them express themselves and paint their stories. Expression is an essential part of being human and this work is vital. But Good Chance Calais and its artist in residence, Chav, (of whom I will share more about in another post) are running very low on funds and desperately need canvas, hardboard and acrylics.

We went back to the dome and met volunteer Rowan who was over the moon with the supplies and the instruments in particular. Percussion was much sought after as it meant people without music skills could join in easily.

She said the new location was damp and they often had water running through the centre. She pointed to neighbouring tents, now a mass of flattened nylon and metal. “I helped put these up and they were solid and bedded in. But nothing is a match for this muddy floor and weather.”

Planning is the one helpful thing you can do

One thing we took away from our planned direct distribution is the projects have to know you are coming. We contacted the kitchens and theatre in advance. We also asked again before getting it out of the car, just in case the situation had changed, which it often does.

Advance notice is vital because storage is minuscule and they wouldn’t be able to process large amounts of stuff. It’s best to give to the warehouse to distribute when needed. I saw volunteers dragging bin bags of inappropriate stuff back to their cars. The project workers are the frontline and they haven’t got time for ego projects.

We said our goodbyes to the children, some wearing fleece bear onesies over their coats and they roared goodbye. I am left with their image in my mind, beautiful liquid brown eyes and hair as they laugh while playing in the mud, charming volunteers of their supplies and tugging on our clothes, “Teacher.”

I don’t have the answer to the refugee issue but these children shouldn’t be here, caught up in gas explosions and tear gas or unable to get basic healthcare. Yet they are making what they can from it and that was truly humbling.

I didn’t want to take my own photos of the children, but I will write more about the camp, dome and Ashram Kitchen. Read here about inappropriate donations and how much they hinder the grassroots movement here.