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 A few make it. But the vast majority face another day living with
the squalor, disease and ever-present threat of violence in a place
that, with Italy's Lampedusa or Greece's Lesbos, is the latest
symbol of Europe's failure to manage migration.
Like any community, the "Jungle" has its notables, like the young
Nigerian polyglot who built an on-site school from little more than
tree branches; distinct neighborhoods, tied to religion or origin;
and gossip, such as the tale of the migrants who make so much money
wheeling and dealing in Jungle that they have their own apartments
in Calais town center.
The deaths in the Mediterranean this year of hundreds of migrants
trying to get to Europe on overcrowded boats have sent immigration
to the top of the European Union's agenda. But the bloc's 28 states
have repeatedly failed to agree what to do with the migrants.
This is a typical day in the life of the largely African, Middle
Eastern and Central Asian occupants of the camp, as witnessed by a
Reuters multimedia team there last week.
06:00 am local - As the sun comes up, a line of dejected figures
return to the camp along the N216 highway, some on foot, others on
rickety bikes recovered from rubbish dumps. The new tactic is for
hundreds of migrants to try and penetrate all at the same time the
fencing around the tunnel eight km (5 miles) away from the camp.
Last week a possible new record was set with around 3,500 attempted
incursions over two nights on Monday and Tuesday, with many migrants
trying repeatedly in the same night. France responded by drafting in
120 extra CRS riot police. Some of the migrants coming back to camp
say they will grab a few hours sleep and head back; others will rest
until nightfall.
09:30 am - With a steady stream of arrivals, the population of the
Jungle is hard to pinpoint exactly - some local charities say it is
more than the official 3,000 figure. But for a small strip of land
occupied by so many people living rough, the camp is surprisingly
silent in the morning with many inhabitants still asleep after the
night's exertions. Slowly, around 30 exhausted-looking Africans line
up as a van pulls up and a couple in their 50s hand out yoghurts.
"We collect food from hypermarkets, they give us their surplus or
damaged goods, food that is considered soiled," said Carolyn
Wiggins, a British national who married a Frenchman and has lived in
France for the last 25 years.
"We help maybe five times a week. People don't tell you personal
stuff ... You see broken legs and crutches because of their
attempts. The more they try, the more there will be accidents. They
are becoming more desperate."
11:00 am - By late morning, the camp becomes more animated. People
emerge from home-made tents to shave and wash in plastic basins.
Fresh water comes from one constantly gushing pipe; with no refuse
collection and insufficient portable toilets, the camp stinks and is
covered with cans and food cartons building up by the trails carved
in the sand that are the camp's "streets".
The poor hygiene only aggravates the poor state of health of many
camp residents. Bone fractures and injuries suffered during attempts
to breach barbed wire fences do not get the treatment they need.
Some complain of respiratory problems because of the sand constantly
being whipped up by sea winds.
"There is scabies, lots of it; wounds that become infected;
intestinal problems because of the bad food," said a worker from the
Medecins du Monde medical charity who was not authorized to speak to
media and so asked not to be named.
"There's about 10 of us here. The idea is to convince authorities
that something more substantial has to be set up."
12:00 midday - Some of the tents sealed up earlier are now opening
and becoming little shops where men and, more rarely, women, come to
buy telephone SIM cards, water, soap, razors or drinks for 40-50
eurocents ($0.45-55) a can.
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2:30 pm - Many of the camp's Moslems gather in a large green tent,
with Arabic signs painted in white on it: the mosque. A similarly
makeshift church caters to Christians in the African-dominated
sector of the camp. It is made from wooden branches and white canvas
with pictures of Jesus, candles, crosses and an African djembe drum.
"I am the acting priest because I studied theology," said Mima, 29,
from Ethiopia. "The church is full, I'd say 150 to 200 people come
along."
The "Secular School of Dune Way" ("L'Ecole laique du Chemin des
dunes") has a low canvas ceiling, a few tables where some 20
students can sit three by three, a traditional blackboard and wall
posters of basic French verbs: to be, have, eat and drink.
It was the brainchild of Zimako Jones, a Nigerian in his 20s who
fled home over what he would only call "political problems". With
his friends, he built it from branches and abandoned wood panels
transported to the camp in supermarket trolleys.
"Personally I am not trying to make it over onto the other side,"
Jones says in fluent French, adding that he has plans for a second
school and an infirmary.
A rota with the names of Calais locals volunteering to teach is
posted outside. While most migrants have their sights set on
Britain, some of these volunteers want to equip them with enough
French to support an asylum request in France.
"They need to have contact with French people, for them it is very
important. Those that learn are doing it because they want to stay,"
said Veronique Soufflet, an insurance sector worker in her 40s.
5:00 pm - This is when everyone gets their one guaranteed meal of
the day, provided by local authorities. Just before, a pickup
arrives and men dressed in white protective outfits and helmets come
and wash the toilets with high-pressure water guns. One of them says
they come every day at the request of a local NGO.
9:00 pm - As the sun sets, attempts are made at what passes for
leisure. Groups kick a football around; improbably, a sign
advertises "Cricket, soccer, volleyball & Bushkasi on bikes" - the
latter being the Afghan sport in which players on horseback try to
drag the carcass of a calf or goat into a goal.
From a big blue rectangular tent a muscular sound system starts
belting out Ethiopian music: This is the "disco tent". Later the
music switches to the incongruous strains of Michael Jackson's 1983
dancefloor hit "Billie Jean".
But the mood in the camp sharpens in the evening. Men with beer cans
in their hands approach us. They want to ask us who we are, what we
are doing, why we are taking pictures.
"Every night, some people drink and get into fights. Some men need
women, they become aggressive," said Abae, 27. He fled Eritrea 10
years ago and stayed for several years in Greece on a fake ID. He
said he shares a tent with another man and a 13-year-old boy who now
calls him father.
"There are more and more women and children here. The site where
women are is full, that's why," he said of the former holiday camp
next door which Calais authorities have set aside for women and
children.
Groups of migrants are starting to head in the direction of the
tunnel entrance, hoping that this time perhaps they will not return
to the Jungle. On their way out, they pass a poster which reads: "We
must all learn to live together, as brothers. Otherwise we will all
die together. As idiots."
(Writing by Matthias Blamont and Mark John; editing by Janet
McBride)
[© 2015 Thomson Reuters. All rights
reserved.]
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