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.
How can this all be? From the uncomfortable comfort of my home, I thank you Frank. You are HOPE.