Refugees in Calais – By Another Way

World Refugee Day 2018

We are outraged by the current treatment of refugees massing and being turned away at our southern border. The greatest offense comes from the abhorrent, immoral, abusive and destructive separation of children from their parents. The God who welcomes little children and who over and over again, tells us to care for widows, orphans and “strangers”. Will not look kindly on how our nation acts today—and none of us are innocent.

Today, on World Refugee Day, I put my outrage aside for a few moments to celebrate the refugees I have come to know and to encourage readers to follow the advice of Pope Francis to “Share the Journey” with refugees.

For almost 12 years I visited immigrants in detention in our NJ jails with First Friends. A few have been characters who I will not miss, but the overwhelming majority have been people whom I enjoyed sharing hours with speaking on a phone and looking through a plate glass window under the strict supervision of the jailers. About half of those who I met were deported, the others have been returned to their former lives. Although I visit only in New Jersey facilities, none of those I visited came from New Jersey. They either lived in New York City of were refugees who arrived at the Bergen County Jail from the borders where they asked for asylum. I have brought wives and children to the jail to say good-bye before deportation, brought parents to visit, given a few bucks to their —accounts and helped post a bond a couple of times.

The large majority of those I visited do not keep in touch and I understand because that time is one they want to forget. A few have kept in touch over the years through Facebook and phone calls, and one lived with us for nine months after his release.

I was also blessed by the four weeks I spent at a refugee camp in France where I met so many good people looking to start their lives in places where (relative) peace reigned.

Each of these men and women have helped open my heart and helped me to see how blessed we are in the US, and to realize the truth: that I did nothing to deserve my birth to a good Irish-American family in America. No one has anything to say about the country into which they were born or the color of the skin they will live with. We all have a right to live in peace. That realization helps keep me humbled and aware that I should be sharing the good news I have received.

Pope Francis, last September asked us all to “Share the Journey” with migrants and refugees. He recommends we learn four verbs to govern our responses to migrants and refugees who now number over 65.6 million worldwide. That number is still growing.

First, we are asked to welcome them, to make it easier and simpler for them to come to our country…working to put a stop to separation of mothers and children at the border is a start. Secondly, we are asked to protect them, an ongoing effort to defend their rights as newcomers. We do not want them detained indefinitely even with their children. Thirdly, to promote them is to create paths they can follow to achieve their potential as human beings. Finally, we are asked to integrate them into our society in a way that is respectful of, and does not cause them to lose, their own cultural identity,

Over the years, I’ve had many opportunities to share the stories of refugees so I am so happy to pass on the pontiff’s suggestions. You can read about some encounters of my friends and I in earlier blog posts such as The Tables Turned.

One practical way to “Share the Journey” is to sit down and “break bread” with migrants or refugees. You can do it in your home, or in a larger group, such as your congregation. Pope Francis hopes we will listen and hear some truth they have to share that we may need to hear. Get beyond discussing what we do for a living and how many children we have to sharing what our dreams and hopes are and what fears we have. If we are honest in our sharing, we will see that the hopes and dreams are the same. When real listening takes place, the walls that already exist between us begin to crumble and the need to build more walls becomes just a bad memory.

What is most exciting is that sharing the journey present an opportunity for “us and them” to become “we”.

One human family.

Happy World Refugee Day!

Rescue the Children

What little coverage main stream media has provided would lead you to believe that the Jungle camp in Calais France is demolished and the refugees moves safely to other locations where their paperwork can be processed more quickly.

The camp is not emptied. About 1,500 unaccompanied youth ages 10-17 were left behind, placed in containers while their future is determined by feuding government ministers in England and France. Each country wants the other to take responsibility for more of the youth, and because they are not able to come to agreement, the youth are caught in the middle of the struggle. Conditions are very poor.

Water has been turned off to the container site.
Rain has turned the campsite into a swamp
Large construction vehicles are still demolishing the camp while unattended youth are free to ride their bikes in and around the machines. Anyone who has raised young children-especially boys-know that is an irresistible temptation and a disaster waiting to happen.
Charities are trying to feed the youth but are hampered by the lack of on-site facilities and very limited access due to the limited number of passes issued by the Prefecture of Calais.
Human rights attorneys are denied access because the limited number of passes were offered to charities and journalists only.

Each country has responsibilities as signatories to the UN Convention on the Rights of a Child, and neither country is living up to those most basic responsibilities.

Francois Hollande said that the youth would be moved to more suitable conditions soon, but they have been sleeping, some outdoors, since last Wednesday.

Brother Johannes reports that at least two youth he is aware of have attempted suicide over the weekend.

These children have suffered war in their home nations, grueling, dangerous travel to Calais and are now abandoned in a desolate area with no services. Is this the way civilized nations treat young persons?

Do we want to encourage terrorism, or do we want to meet the needs of these young people so they can re-start their lives in relative peace?

A reader’s questions about Calais

A thoughtful reader posed some questions to an early post and rather than respond to the comment only, I thought I it might be helpful to express my thoughts here. A similar discussion came up with other volunteers in a tent in the Jungle during the same week.

How are you able to reconcile these intense, emotional interpersonal interactions with the fact that you may/must return to a privileged life while your new friends must stay there with little hope for the future? What has your being there left behind for them? What had your being there left with you as you return?

The decision to go to Calais was in part a response to a discernment (a prayerful, Spirit-led consideration of present realities and opportunities to respond) given to our CSJP congregation in the Chapter of 2014. A Chapter gathers as much of the congregation as possible to discern direction for the next six years. Our Chapter Call was a call to the kind of radical hospitality witnessed in the live and ministry of Jesus. Joining in project like the Catholic Worker House in Calais offered us an opportunity to serve, to learn more about the hospitality to which we are called and took into account the fact that our congregation is getting older and starting such a project on our own might be too formidable.

Personally, I chose to go in the hopes of learning how best to live out our chapter call to assist in my work for the congregation and to offer what charitable and pastoral assistance I could to the already progressing project. In early discussions it was made clear that it was important to keep peace within the camp between the different ethnic groups. I hoped that my experiences with and study of nonviolence would be of assistance as well.

The fact that most of my work addresses needed systemic change, I looked forward to being able to do some charitable work, which would need no justification. As reported from the first day in the camp, I found that the tables were turned.

Now that I have returned home there is a natural tension. I wished I could stay longer, the needs are so great but I have responsibilities to my family. I also was physically worn down after a month.

To suggest they are left without hope is not true at all. They are more hopeful than am I. They have traveled across deserts, seas and through outlaw countries to reach Calais. They will not be deterred. As dismal as life in Calais can be, they find it better than what they left behind. Most have great hopes of getting into the UK, despite the increasing difficulties of passing the 20 or so miles from Calais to Dover. Neither I nor they know how long the Jungle will go on. It is hard for me to believe that a “civilized” nation such as France would destroy the camp sending as many of 10,000 persons scattering throughout their countryside. It makes no sense from a humanitarian or a security perspective. Homes must be found for them.

For some in the camp, the hope may be a false hope until or unless the UK does more to welcome these men and women, instead of paying France to keep them out.

A typical dinner at St. Marie Skobtsova House

A great sign of hope are the residents and the work St. Maria Skobtsova house, the Catholic Worker House where we lived. The house residents include some faith based volunteers and refugees assisted by people from the neighborhood under the vision and leadership of Brother Johannes Marteens. Each of the refugees have applied for asylum in France and are taking French lessons 4 days a week. We were all learning to live together despite difference in languages, cultures, personal habits and skin colors. These are among the most caring people I have ever met. They have volunteered their time as translators in hospital visits. I have seen them use their own very limited resources to purchase food and treats for friends in the hospital. They use their connections and experience from being in the camp to bring to our attention those who need special help. I am delighted at the opportunity I had to live in that house and to share my life with the people there. Hopefully I have made a contribution to their lives as well.

Americans often look at hospitality as a time to perform or as an inconvenient social necessity. Our lives and agendas are too important to be disrupted. The people of Calais see hospitality as duty, delight and privilege. We have a lot to learn.

The truth is we only have one planet for us all to share. There is no far-off universe or island where these refugees will be sent. The refugees of Calais, and in Syria, and in Turkey on the Southern U.S. border and all over the globe have every right to a safe share of our planetary home as we do. We should all work to be sure they achieve the safety they seek.

I did not return home whole. Part of my heart is still in Calais with the folks in the house and those in the camp. But I came back with a resolve to help all of us understand we cannot wish these people away. Nor can we call ourselves civilized, much less Christian, if we keep them penned up in conditions like those existing in the Jungle.

Coming and Going

Wednesday, Donna Clifford, CSJP-A arrived from Seattle as did Sr. Francois, with three of her colleagues who are Ignatian Sisters from Paris. The sisters will be opening a house a few blocks away in support of Brother Johannes and his work with the refugees.

Omar, a young Iraqi with computer repair skills, who wants to be come Christian moved into the house for a few days on Wednesday.

Thursday, we drove the two Jesuit philosophy students, Oliver and Joakim to the train station so they could return to their studies after a retreat that starts Monday. They had been with us since Sunday.

Now it is my turn to depart. Last night, as has become a tradition in the house they had a cake for me to say good bye. I should have anticipated it and prepared something to say, but as anyone who knows me will understand, I do not like being the center of attention and hoped the moment would pass. But I was genuinely moved by the words from many around the table who thanked me for my service. Even quiet Hussein, my hospital visiting buddy and translator made a speech in English. Several made remarks that were then translated into English for me.

My thoughts and words were genuine, but it also helped deflect the emotions of the moment to talk about how we can continue to work together after I return home. Perhaps leading the bible studies via Skype?

I will not miss the teargas (yesterday afternoon) the absolutely inconsistent police checks every time I was asked to drive into the Jungle, the too small kitchen for preparing meals for 30, which also serves as the crossroads of the house, or the flies.

But some of the best people on earth live in that house, all of us are flawed people to be sure, but willing to love each other in spite of our own weaknesses and the struggles with the work we do together. I will miss each one of them.

I am tired, my back hurts and I have not slept for three nights because of either bed bugs or fleas. (Bed bugs would make this an authentic Catholic Worker experience, wouldn’t it?) So it is time to go. But, as I have warned my bride, I do not return home whole. Part of me will never leave Calais and the beautiful people I have met here.

I hope to return.

Perhaps to celebrate the close of the camp and integration of its beautiful

Sudanese night kitchen gathering with Ibrahim in foreground

residents into our societies.

Thy Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.

Letting go

This morning, (Thursday) Richard Rohr’s meditation offers ‘as an absolute statement’: that “all of spirituality is about letting go.” In the first reading for today, Paul tells us to let go of human wisdom and to trust the wisdom of God.

Much of my time is Calais has been about realizing the need to let go of my comforts, my presuppositions and my understanding of the refugee crisis. That crisis has moved from an intellectual one—human wisdom—to a heart-felt one motivated by the simplicity and genuineness of the hospitality shown by Jungle residents. There is no pretense as they invite us into their dwellings for tea or more (if we will accept it.)

Yesterday’s invitation came from Michael, an Eritrean Catholic who attends the Orthodox church with some of his countrymen, but holds firmly to his Catholic faith. Before leaving his home he spent years of his life in government service working on water systems and general plumbing. He invited us into his home where he prepared tea to which he added cloves which he crushed in front of us. He also patiently poured honey out of plastic packets onto pieces of bread for us. He did not waste a drop.

Frank & Donna in Michael's home — Frank & Donna in Michael’s home

Michael is also a lover of nature which he says was created by God for our comfort and sustenance. The modest caravan where he lives with his wife and 8-year-old son had well-watered plants on the tiny counters. When not working his job, he planted over 700 trees in his home town which he had grown from seeds. He was visibly upset as he told of how the new government, a warlord dictator came into the town and closed the schools, ended public services and cut down his trees.

He shared his faith in God, how he hoped God would help him find a permanent home in France where his son could attend school. As he says, “if it is God’s will.” He preached a sermon on today’s first reading: “all belong to you, and you to Christ and Christ to God.” (1 Cor. 3:23) He proudly showed us his well-read bible and pictures of his wife and son. Donna and I shared pictures of our own families.

Donna Taking in the view from Hashemi's deck — Donna taking in the view from Hashemi’s deck

As he shared the difficulty of getting settled, I could not have felt more helpless. So many when they hear I am from the U.S. tell me it is their dream to go there.”If it is God’s will.” I know the doors are closed to them. The Statues of Liberty stands in mockery of her former welcome.

But maybe we can recover our humanity.

I have had to let go of our western notions of civility that have become so many ways to keep ourselves insulated from the marginalized in the world, or from across town. Most Americans, do not care about the refugees, don’t even know the Calais Jungle even exists. “We have our own immigration problems.”

I grieve for us all.

I will also have to let go of my anger, it is too heavy a burden to bring home There is another way… I can carry the stories of the wonderfully simple, truth-filled people I have met, who offered their love to this stranger.

Monday, Monday…

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).

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA — Door to psychiatrist’s office

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 grateful good-bye

I can’t believe it has been 3 weeks since I arrived in Calais. As I am on my way to my community, I feel myself being most sincerely filled with gratitude for this opportunity to be in Calais.

I also feel gratitude towards God, for God’s spirit inspired me to say yes to God’s call and to live in Jesus’ example of radical hospitality. I am thankful for to each and every one of sisters and associates who supported me through their prayers, emails, and encouraging words. My sisters and community members have genuinely made me feel prepared for this mission, and that I am here as a messenger for our community.

My sincere thanks to Frank, I couldn’t have asked for a better person to accompany me in this journey. In the first week as I was finding my way around Frank made sure that I was doing ok. I can’t thank him enough for helping to put the first meal for 20 people on the table. The list of my gratitude toward Frank is is too long to list here. Our coming together not only helped each other, but we were able to reflect together about our chapter call.

I can’t express enough thanks to Brother Johannes and his friends for being a great inspiration in my life. What inspired me most is the way this community (including the refugees and volunteers) makes a difference in the pain, suffering, and injustice that people are struggling with, especially in the refugee camp.

The stories of each refugee we heard are heart breaking. It is easy to get emotional, but here in this house I leaned and experienced how to live together as one despite differences of ethnicity, religion, language. (There were 14 of us from at least 7 different countries, with one shower and one toilet.) This state of constant togetherness helped us be able to bring healing to humanity. It is a reminder to me that mere awareness of suffering is not enough to change it; if we are truly committed to a more loving, peaceful world, we must ACT.

Though I fail so many times to put this philosophy into practice, I believe this experience will inspire and motivate me to see that we are stronger when we stand together, and that our compassion for another must extend beyond borders and it should transcend all concepts and realities of race, religion and gender.

Finally, as I leave this place, I thank God and each and every person I came across here for being God’s face in my life, revealing God’s love and peace, and God’s continuous suffering in humanity. I also thank God for using my hands, feet, voice, smile, and silence as His instruments to reach out God’s people. Bro. Johannes, Frank, Alexa, Babak, Ali, Moein, Hussein, Ibrahim, Abdullah and Nazer, your love towards me was so genuine, I couldn’t hide my tears when I said good bye to all. You all have made a difference in my life. I will be remembering you with much gratitude and prayer.

Mother Clare, you continue to ask me “would you be my brave, noble, large minded and courageous soul?” Mother Clare, I tried my best, and in gratitude I remain open to your call wherever the continuation of this journey may take me, and I believe this is just beginning of many more yet to come.

With love and gratitude,
Sr. Sheena, CSJP

Several degrees of hot

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.

Sheena's Last Supper in Calais — Sheena’s Last Supper in Calais

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.

Sr. Sheena’s last visit to the hospital

As Frank wrote before, one of our missions here in Calais was visiting the refugee patients in the hospital. Many of our patient were able to speak a little bit of English. We had translators (who were also refugees themselves) who spoke both languages accompany us. Tuesdays and Saturdays were our hospital visiting days. Yesterday was my last day of visiting the hospital. This was truly a ministry of presence, and I was so happy to experience how God allowed our visit to these patients, allowing a moment of hope to re-enter the lives of those who had given up.

These are the words of my friends in hospital: “you came now four times, each time you encouraged me, thank you.” “I won’t forget your words, when one door closes God will open another.” Another one of my friends said, “you came and made feel comforted, I was not feeling like eating at all these days, you brought food and looked into my fridge, cleaned them and encouraged me to eat. Now you are going, when are you coming back?”

I assured them there will be someone else who will follow up in my place.

As I shared before, life in the jungle is tough, but in the hospital it is harder. Their physical health is deteriorated, and in addition to this they feel lonely. They miss their loved ones, their friends are trying to cross the border, and they are living in a state of uncertainty not knowing how their

future will turn out. In our visit, there were moments of silence, laughter, and gentle touch: above all, we were fully present to each other. So as I am leaving this place, please keep our refugee patients who are in the hospital in your prayers. Especially Usman, he is losing his muscle strength both in his arms and legs. He is unable to walk and is bound to the wheel chair. He is in his early 20s and very much worried about his future. Reaching Calais from Sudan by foot and sea was a hard journey which he doesn’t want to recall. And now the journey ahead of him seems to be harder, but our presence and prayers can work miracles.

Sammy

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.