The Migrant Diaries. Lynne Jones
But all social spaces are in the southern part: the Youth Centre, Jungle Books, and the Ethiopian Church. But should people move into these new spaces in the northern half when their legal case to stop the eviction rests on residents remaining present in their homes in the southern half, while the arguments are pursued in court?
The legal action was discussed by all the communities at the coordination meeting last week:
– The Sudanese people already decided 100% no one is going to move. We are prepared to die—Riyad had said. Afghan, Eritrean and Kurdish representatives all agreed.
It is a paradoxical situation. No one actually wants to stay in the Jungle. As one refugee said—it’s shit—but their experiences at the hands of French authorities have made most wary of any offer of protection from the French State. When three young Sudanese men dressed in bright red, warm anoraks, clean trousers and smart trainers turned up at the coordination meeting last week to explain what happened if you accepted accommodation in France, most of the refugees walked out, and those that stayed would not believe their accounts. Later that same evening at yet another meeting, the anger was palpable.
– They say to seek asylum here, but eighty percent of those who do get rejected. They don’t keep their promises. We are not on holiday. We came because there is war and conflict in our countries, and we all suffered losses.
– They destroyed Sangatte in 2004. They destroyed the first Jungle in 2008. I tried asylum in France. I have been trying for nine months. Nothing! Please go to court and explain what is happening to us. People have been killed; people have disappeared. I have taken children to those centres. They promise they will go to the UK soon, but it does not happen. So many of you come to help us, but nothing happens. We don’t trust the French government. We are in deep trouble and they don’t care about us. We came to save our lives, what are you doing? Please do something! And even if the authorities do provide sufficient accommodation, most refugees don’t want to move into the Containers.
– The children refuse, how can I force them? Nahida asked me. There is no kitchen, no water—it’s just a container, and a container is for animals, not humans, and there is no school.
One Afghan boy who moved in 20 days ago, told me it was miserable. – It’s twelve people to a room. There is nowhere to lock your things. The toilets and showers do not work. There is no drinking water. You have to get food outside at Salaam, and there is no social space of any kind. So, forget education or physical activities. The gates are locked at night, and if you stay away more than 48 hours, you lose your place. His biggest concern is that they fingerprinted him on entrance, and he worries that will mean he can never go to the UK.
What the Containers and dispersal cannot offer is the dignity, humanity and interconnected community that refugees have created here, out of nothing. At its heart, a constant lively interchange is going on: it is a marketplace, an art show, a school, a library, and a café—all places where it is possible to learn or sit, meet and talk, or just relax. These spaces offer the chance to feel human, become dignified, and treat others with dignity. It is both filthy and intoxicating. Ben told me he knows of refugees who made it to the UK and returned because life in a lonely bedsit was bleak in comparison.
The Jungle, Saturday 20 February
There is music and drumming at the Ethiopian Church when I get to the camp. Men and women wrapped in the long white shawls come in and out making obeisance to the Cross. The dignity and beauty of other people’s religious rituals is always moving, even for a non-believer. The building and ritual and warmth and light state: this is who we are. This is what matters. We are civilised and decent, respect us. Solomon who built the church, sits quietly on the bench at the side of the compound watching people come and go. Then a Mercedes drives up and parks near the church. Two men get out and start handing out packages from the boot. A cluster of men immediately gather around, and a fight ensues. The combatants are quickly separated by other refugees, but the tension remains. I ask the men why they did not take the stuff to the warehouse.
– We’ve promised to put it directly into the hands of refugees.
– But, this way, it’s only going into the hands of the biggest and strongest who live nearest the road.
The man shrugs and turns away, and I give up interfering.
What’s remarkable is that, even in these times of extreme stress, there is still not too much violence or crime in the Jungle. Bahirun told me the other night that since the emergence of a community leadership, consisting of respected elders from each ethnic group, relationships within the camp are much better, communities can sort things out pretty quickly and there are fewer fights.
It would be wrong to idealise the situation. Sarah had her phone stolen from her at ten in the morning a few days ago. I know of two sexual assaults, and there are still tensions between ethnic groups.
– I have had Afghans threatening to burn down the shelters of the Eritrean women because they were getting built first—Ben told me. His solution was to take the Afghan making the threat along to an Eritrean part of the camp and offer him a lighter.
– Of course, he did not really want to do it. It was just frustration and bluster. Just imagine if you got a bunch of English, German, French and Dutch young men dumped in these conditions. They would be drunk in minutes and fighting in hours. These men have had incredibly traumatic experiences—many have been in the army or fled bombs falling on them. Many have never encountered cultures other than their own. Given all of this, it’s miraculous that there is not more trouble. The only death was an accident in a drunken brawl when someone pulled a knife.
– This IS a jungle—Nahida said to me—no trees, but a people jungle. There is no law, so how to live together without law? But refugees do want to help one another.
She is right. People do form queues, they do come to meetings and listen attentively to get information which they share, and they do take care of themselves and one another.
The same with the volunteers, who somehow assimilate and see where they might help. Later in the day I meet a man wearing gloves and carrying a plastic bag. He has flown all the way from Canada to pick up rubbish.
– Why? I ask.
– Because this place is the most extraordinary thing on the planet.
The Jungle, Sunday 21 February
The response of the volunteers and refugees to the threat of eviction makes it clear that this is a solidarity movement, not a humanitarian operation. The threat has galvanised the community into action. There are nightly meetings in Jungle Books to share information and ideas. Some, like Sarah, work night and day, collecting testimonies from refugees and volunteers as to why eviction will be damaging to people’s dignity. Other volunteers offer training in non-violence, first aid and legal rights if arrested.
Since Friday, I have been doing regular trainings in psychological first aid, both in the warehouse and in the Jungle. The freely downloadable handbook from the WHO website does not include forced eviction from a migrant shanty town in its examples of possibly stressful situations, but this is just as high stress as the conflict and disaster scenarios provided.9
I explain that the before and after periods are equally important: before, when people are extremely stressed about not knowing what is going to happen and how to prepare; and after, when, if worst case scenario arises and the bulldozers come, there may be arrests and confrontations. They are likely to be disorientated and confused, lacking information as to what they can do.
The message that we can all provide psychological support to one another in times of extreme stress, and that counselling tents, a degree in psychology, or training in ‘debriefing’ are not required, goes down well with both volunteers and refugees. The key actions of attending to people’s basic needs, making sure they are safe, providing information and immediate