Month: August 2016

Monday  29 August, started with the return of Johannes from three days in London. We had breakfast, morning prayer and the Monday morning meetings to assign work for the week. After that we had Bible study for the house: Mt. 5 beginning at verse 13.

By the time we headed for the Jungle it was 3 PM. But in even 2 hours in the Jungle you can meet quite an array of persons. I started with a brief chat with a young man whom I had visited on Friday, one who exhibits signs of depression and self-harm. His journey to Calais was particularly difficult as he spent 3 months in a Libyan prison. He told me he survived being fed one piece of bread a day. The lawless Libyan prisons are used to extort money from travelers and their friends back home. He will see a doctor later this week if it can be arranged.

Hussein and I walked along the main street with the shops, and were asked warmly by Hasheemi to enter his shop for tea. We regretfully declined as we were on a mission to take a Sundanese young man to his psychiatric appointment at the Jungle medical unit, a triage unit in a collection of steel containers where France provides on-site medical, gynecological and psychiatric care for Jungle residents in conjunction with MSF (Doctors Without Borders).

We entered the camp compound where the young man lived and someone left to go to the school to fetch him. Over 100 Sudanese live in this small camp area all from the Darfur area. They appear universally concerned for their young friend, and one of the leaders from the compound, a 30-year-old accompanied us to the medical area. We brought the young man to the office where he met the lady doctor and a male translator. They entered the office for a one-hour session together.

While we waited, we met several interesting men. The first, was a seriously muscled Afghan who greeted me in French. When I said “Hello” he thought I knew more French than I was letting on, and thought he would surprise me with his English. We began a conversation which turned into a monologue as he told me how he hated Americans—not the people, just the government and the army. He was a translator for U.S. Army units and for the CIA, but was abandoned in a bad position by them when the Army pulled out. He was forced to leave the country to escape Taliban reprisals but was not welcomed in Germany either. He made his way to Calais where he said life is also terrible. We had some more conversation before Hussein, who had been called away returned to ask if we could help another man sitting at the door of the medical dorm.

This man had been shot 6 days ago in the leg, purportedly by a Kurdish man on the main street in the Jungle. He was very concerned about being released from medical care and back to his tent where he may be found and shot again. He was seeking asylum in France or preferably the UK. I took pictures of his paperwork to show to Alexa and perhaps we can arrange a meeting for him with the Secours Catholique legal team. I promised to look in on him Tuesday.

While talking to him a van pulled up transporting Jungle residents from the main hospital. Sitting in the front seat with a big smile was Ali, an Afghan we had been visiting in the hospital since I arrived here. He was released to the on-site medical unit. We embraced and his smile was as big as I have seen. He still has a crutch to support him with his rebuilt hip but was moving pretty well over the sandy terrain. We will continue to work with him on his legal issues.

As we waited for the young Sudanese to finish his appointment, we saw Anissa, a young Iranian woman from London who was staying in our house for the weekend. She had gone to the hospital to pick up an 18-year-old who had an epileptic seizure and was found on the roadway Sunday. After an overnight in the hospital, they needed his bed. He was brought to the Jungle medical unit where he was to be given the medicine he needed. The medical team at the PASS unit knew nothing of his case, had no such medicine on-site and did not have a bed for him. Anissa reported just after picking him up, he passed out again.  Anissa had to leave the Jungle, find a pharmacy to get the man the medicine he needed for the night and get him to his tent.

After his appointment, we walked the young Sudanese man back to his compound and trekked over the paths through the grass where the south camp used to be, headed to the church where our van was parked.

From there I dropped people at the house, went food shopping and made dinner for 14 with the help of Ibrahim. Then home to rest an increasingly aching back.

Donna arrives this afternoon, the third CSJP to serve the Jungle. We’ll have a few days together before I leave here Friday afternoon for home.

I should note, that for reasons of privacy and out of  growing respect, I am reluctant to take or show some pictures of those I describe in posts like this. I also find it increasingly difficult to ask for permissions for photos,  not willing to interrupt the conversations we are having.

A Sudanese man was found dead in the brush at the Jungle after violence Sunday and Monday evenings. May he rest in peace.

Sheena was part of a team this morning who went to help part of the Sudanese community who identified one of their members as exhibiting mental illness. The Jungle hospital (P.A.S.S.) unit has help available but in such a tension filled environment, where it is difficult to know who to trust,  convincing anyone to seek help is the challenge. Thankfully, the session went well and Sheena accompanied the young man to the P.A.S.S. unit where he met with a psychiatrist and received preliminary diagnosis. He has another appointment on Saturday. Additional cases of mental illness are being identified throughout the camp and creating a team who can help connect those in need with services available is an important step forward.

Wednesday’s visits to the Jungle was conducted in extreme heat. Everyone was looking for shade and little is to be found. The “Dunes” area  where the Jungle is located is on the coast. The Jungle is essentially a large sandy beach-like area with shoulder-high grasses in the areas where the South camp once existed. The whole camp area is treeless. The internet truck, usually a hot spot for communication, surrounded by refugees had only a few standing on the shady side of the truck, or laying under it. The women running the free tea wagon were taking turns out of the van because the heat was too intense. The weather here is rarely ever that hot.

Water stations, located throughout the camp area were liberally attended as people washed up, washed clothes and filled water containers.

We even declined tea in the Welcome Restaurant  because it was too hot for tea.

Add to this the growing tensions in the camp and surrounding the camp in the local community and you have a dangerous mix. Nevertheless, we walked freely through several parts of the camp I had yet to see, usually receiving warm greetings and some offers of tea.

We had another wonderful dinner prepared by Sheena, for house members and those who come for Farsi Prayer night. We pray every night for the residents of the camp. We pray for peace.

We closed with cake in the evening to celebrate Sr. Sheena’s service here. She will be missed.

Monday, Sr. Sheena and I went back to a Sudanese tent we visited on Thursday. They had asked for some shoes so we brought a few pairs. Many are barefoot or wearing flip flops in the Jungle which has pathways strewn with broken glass and nails.

When we walked in we saw a younger looking guy we had not met sitting in a chair sporting a hat that said “Paris, the Pride of France. It looked brand new and still had a sticker on it. He was introduced as Sammy, and was reluctant to speak because he had little capability in French or English. Sammy is 16 years old and had just arrived in the camp the evening after we last left. None of the men in the tent (which sleeps 25) knew him, but they made room for him and a fellow 16 year old who also recently arrived.

Sammy was wearing a pair of croc-like rubber shoes that looked like they had walked from Sudan, through Egypt to Libya, then from Italy to Calais. We opened our bag and gave him a pair of size 41 sneakers…and his face lit up when he tried them on and he saw they fit. We also welcomed him with chocolates which we also gave to each of the men. Again, we shared where we came from and there were dreamy eyes and thoughts of America, a land they see as far beyond their reach but a place beyond their dreams.

In the discussion I shared that most Americans do not even know that the Jungles exists. And if any do, they think it is full of Syrians which it is not. These Sudanese are determined to get to the UK one way or another.

You have to consider what courage it took and what a push there was behind them to make two sixteen year olds from different parts of the Sudan to leave their families and homeland to try and reach the UK. Sammy has an uncle in the UK. But the only address he has is London. We are told that the families will give up their lives and fortunes to send a child away to start anew. Such is the violence, despair and death in Sudan.

The refugees have as utopian a view of England as they have of the United States. They do not realize that with the exception of a few communities they will be no more welcome there than they are here in Calais.

Yesterday, the Prefecture (administrator) of Calais declared there can be no more tents erected in the Jungle, and no more building. These Sudanese we visited just completed construction of a new house in their “compound.” The one we were sitting in will become a common kitchen and sitting area while the new structure will be for sleeping. Since Thursday my untrained eye noticed at least 15 tents that were new. There are people who left Syria, Sudan, Afghanistan or Iran 2-3 or 4 months ago with the hope of coming to Calais. They are determined; and I do not see how they will be turned away.

You can see why there is a constant tension in the Jungle. Violence breaks out some evenings usually after we have left and the fighting has been fairly limited. If the authorities continue to provoke the residents of the Jungle it is not hard to imagine more trouble may come.

Yesterday was also the Feast day of the Queenship of Mary. The Ethiopian and Eritrean church celebrates that feast after 12 days of fasting. We came to the church are near the end of our day and were given a plate of food immediately. “Eat! And celebrate with us!”  Solomon, a lay church leader continued; “We want to celebrate in a real way, the right way, with a proper feast when we get to the UK, not with the little we have now.”

Faith has such power.

P.S. Sammy asked that his picture not be taken. The photos above are some of his tent mates.

Thursday morning I was challenged by a police officer at the entrance to the Jungle. I have presented my driver’s license to the police, probably 40 times before that morning. But the officer today told me I am not allowed to drive in France on a New Jersey driver’s license. I was told I needed an International Driver’s Permit. According to the State Department, U.S. licenses are usually acceptable in Europe—I used mine to rent a car in Scotland in October of 2015—but apparently not when driving into the Jungle to spend time with refugees.

The good news is spat over the license was enough to distract so that when a replacement driver was summoned, the gendarmes did not check the back of the van to see we had a generator and fuel we were delivering to the church.

Overnight I hosted a Sudanese couple in the studio apt. where I have stayed since arriving. She is 8 months pregnant. The gynecologist told me she would be picked up in the morning for more tests. The husband told me they would come at 10:30. That would be close but I should still make the 11 AM  Bible Study class I was asked to present. At 12:30 PM the doctor called to say she would be “a little late.” Thankfully, Sheena came to be with them so I could start the class. We all had a late start on Friday.

It was also my turn to cook on Friday. I did a vegetarian lasagna, without lasagna noodles, just using pasta layered with eggplant, mozzarella, and zucchini. It was baked in a large baking dish Johannes and I bought at a second hand shop for 8 Euros.

Saturday started slowly. Actually most of life here is much slower than at home. There are no 4 AM wake up calls here. Morning prayer in French is 8:15 but we have silence in the house until after morning prayer in English which starts at 9:15. Then breakfast. No one seems to stir in the Jungle until 11. The fast paced life and long days of our first week here are fading memories. But here, that can change in a minute.

Sheena, Babak, Hussein and I visited the hospital on Saturday. We brought clean clothes to some, and candies to all. The patients seem to appreciate our regular visits now. I teamed up with Babak again and only saw two men. The third was in a different hospital for a few days.

Babak is especially helpful because of his own experience as he discusses the medical progress of the guys and helps them understand the process of obtaining status either in France or the UK. There is little we can do here about status in the UK, but agencies we work with like Secours Catholique can help with the legal work in France.

On to week 3.