Our Chair of Trustees’ first visit to refugee camps
“It’s freezing”, these were the words I used to greet Amber, CEO of forRefugees and San (former Trustee and Amber’s best friend), at 8am on a Friday morning in late February 2023 in Dover.
“Well I did warn you that it was going to be cold” she replied in her semi-noticeable Scottish accent and cheeky smile.
Delia, San, Amber & Laura at 8am at the Port of Dover, UK
This was sadly not the first nor the last time that the bitter cold would be the topic of conversation!
I joined the brilliant forRefugees as Chair of Trustees in January 2023 and have known Amber for approximately 4 years, initially as a colleague when we both worked at the same organisation. What raised my awareness of the problems facing refugees was the heartache I felt upon seeing the lifeless image of 3 year old Alan Kurdi washed up on the shore of a beach. At first I didn’t really understand much about the refugee crisis, nor the extent but, over the years, partly by supporting Amber and forRefugees from the sidelines, my knowledge grew; and from seeing the horrific rhetoric towards refugees, my upset and sadness developed into a feeling of anger to the point that I could no longer be a bystander. When Amber asked me in December 2022 to join her organisation, I was unable to say no. It’s this chain of events that led me, accompanied by one of my dearest friends, Laura Aknin, to offer to volunteer for a weekend at refugee camps in Northern France.
On the ferry with forRefugees’ friends from Herts for Refugees
The warmth of the lower deck of the ferry was gratefully received as we sat alongside Angus Clark (CEO of Herts for Refugees), and other volunteers from the same organisation whom, by coincidence, were also volunteering at the camps over the weekend. We were definitely an eclectic bunch from all walks of life, different ages, different life experiences and it was a beautiful and humble feeling to be sat amongst people that were so passionate in their efforts to help strangers. I somewhat felt like an imposter amongst these people because this was such a new experience for me. The weeks leading up to this weekend had filled me with an unfamiliar nervousness. I was worried about what I might feel when I saw the realities of the camps to the point that I tried to push all thoughts of the trip out of my head. Laura and I never spoke much about the trip and any questions she had for me were oftentimes met with the response, “Ask Amber when you meet her”.
Amber did her best to inform us as much as she could regarding the situation we were soon to encounter; truthfully, I was half listening. It had been an early 5am start, we were approaching midday and I was hungry. The irony of us traveling on a ferry, in a warm cabin with food available to us whilst people who have fled the harshest of situations attempt to cross the Channel was not lost on me. As my thoughts drifted back to the conversation, I heard Amber mention the CRS.
“What’s the CRS?” I asked.
“A subset of the French police, in this context, paid for by the British Government to remove refugees from their camps, destroying their tents and little that the refugees have, often by intimidation and force, occasionally by violence”.
Why had I never heard about them? I’ve an above average interest in the refugee situation compared to the average person and I’d heard plenty in the British media about the ICE Agents in the US during Trump’s reign but nothing about this organisation. Their actions sounded scarily similar.
“Are they going to be problematic towards us?”, I asked.
“They’re not interested in us, just keep your passport or driving licence on you, you’ll be fine”, Amber replied.
The shared warehouse in Calais, France
Our first stop in Calais was a large and chilly warehouse that housed the efforts of numerous NGOs. We saw shelves, some full, some not, from floor to ceiling with items either donated or purchased by individuals and organisations that care. We were met by Louis from the Calais Food Collective (CFC) who explained the role his organisation plays on helping the refugees. Laura and I were educated on the fact that the government provide absolutely no food or water, it is down to organisations like CFC to provide these essential basic human needs.
We learnt that a once major donor (a well-known refugee charity) that they relied heavily upon has pulled all of its efforts of helping refugees in France and there’s real cause for concern as to whether they will be able to continue with their work post May. The port city of Calais is under governance of Marine Le Pen’s party (a French far-right party), so there is immense hostility by the authorities towards helping refugees. There were measures put into place to prevent food and water being given to refugees, however Louis and the Collective have momentarily managed to overthrow the initial ruling through the courts. In doing so they are able to do food drops and water runs in the camps and specific areas in town. Despite what is reportedly said by some ill-informed members of the British Government, the charities are not doing anything criminal in helping to keep people alive. What shocked me to learn was that the actions of many governments with this overwhelming refugee crisis are not only immoral but also contradictory to international legislation therefore illegal. I also learned that part of the reason behind why the British Government are so keen on sending people to Rwanda is because one of the many self-inflicted wounds of Brexit means that the UK is now out of the Dublin Agreement, essentially meaning that they cannot send anyone back to the last country that they arrived from which all EU countries are entitled to do.
Ensuring refugees can access clean drinking water
Having received a field briefing from Louis, Laura and I were then put to work to help Kieran on his last water run for the day. A large plastic container of water situated in the back of a specially modified van is filled from a tap at the warehouse and this is then transferred over to one of a handful that the Collective have managed to install near camps and haven’t been destroyed (either by the authorities or right wing vandals). With funds for only one van being modified to do the job, once a container is filled, the van then needs to be returned to the warehouse for refilling before it can move on to the next. It’s a time-consuming job but a vital one to ensure that the refugees can access clean drinking water. As we travelled with Kieran, he brought us up to speed on the realities the refugees in Calais faced. The mistreatment of these people by CRS officers was apparent when we were informed that the tents and the very little the refugees have are destroyed on at least a weekly basis.
Laura and I were curious about the smugglers, we were told that this was a real situation and not one that anyone has any control over. If there was a safe and legal route for the refugees to seek asylum, then the smugglers would essentially no longer be needed. Laura and I were shown around a few camps (plots of land with tents pitched on them and no other facilities, including toilets). We got out of the van to fill a tank but despite layers of clothing, the cold wind was bone-chilling and felt like lashes from a cane against our faces. I couldn’t imagine how anyone coped in these conditions having only the bare essentials to survive on. We had decent weather in comparison to what it could have been, there was an occasional shower of rain and the temperature wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been during the deep winter months. Keiran was an impressive and humble young man with a Masters Degree in Architecture. He wrote his thesis on the refugee crisis and has plans to use his degree to make a difference in social housing and helping people, he’s certainly destined for greatness and I wish him only the very best.
As Laura and I were back in our hotel getting ready for dinner that evening, we received a group text from Amber in her hotel, “Turns out the CRS stay at my hotel…”,
Laura’s response, “On my way….”.
Earlier in the day, Laura had expressed a strong desire to speak to the CRS Officers to try to understand how they can do what they do, however none of us expected her to have the opportunity to go ahead and actually do this! We jumped in the car and were at Amber’s hotel within 10 minutes of the message. The CRS officers were stood by the door, Laura approached them and got straight to the point. I stood by her side trying to understand what was being said in the conversation. As they were speaking, despite the intimidating uniform, they actually came across as polite and open to the conversation which I wasn’t expecting. Essentially Laura questioned them on why they felt the need to treat people that have escaped horrific situations with even more contempt. She said that as a proud French woman, she felt saddened and disillusioned to hear that the French police could treat people that were helpless and vulnerable in such a way and wanted to understand why. They explained that they were paid by the British Government and that they were under orders to do what they do. They mentioned that the situation in Australia was far worse and that there were enough French people in France struggling and there was no capacity to help these people. As I looked at them, there was one closest to the door that was definitely of North African origin. He wasn’t engaged in the conversation, instead I saw him look at the ground as Laura was questioning them on their motives. I wondered how he really felt as he did his job, was there a sense of guilt or did he feel that he was superior to these people in the same way that our current and previous Home Secretaries have demonstrated. Either way, as Laura walked away from them, I felt like she did strike a chord in the main CRS officer she spoke to and hopefully the next time he does his job, he will have Laura’s voice ringing in his ears.
Yet another early start on Saturday morning, we giggled over the words of a meditation we tried to listen to the night before to help us sleep. The person on the app was telling us to think of a memory from the day and that was exactly what we were trying not to do! It felt good to laugh for a brief few moments, there hadn’t been much reason to laugh so far. Amber had given us the directions to our first stop in Dunkirk, it was a 45 minute drive. We had been warned that conditions in Dunkirk were just as intense but more dire. We were yet to experience why although it was impossible to imagine how given the terrible conditions we had already seen. The directions led us to a beautiful residential road and as we drove on, we saw the familiar royal blue of some of the tents in the distance and thought we had arrived at the dreaded camp. As we drove closer, we chuckled as we recognised it was some tarpaulin protecting the toys of a children’s playground from the harsh winter weather conditions. The chuckles soon ceased as the realities that it’s the very same material that’s being used to shelter humans hit us. We drove into a disused distillery where we met Amber and San alongside Tom from Roots, another of our partner NGOs that we fundraise to support. What was becoming very clear over the weekend was that the volunteers we were meeting were incredibly smart, driven and super inspiring people. Tom was no different and I couldn’t help thinking that if these people were in power instead of the governments we currently have, the world would probably be a much better place. As Tom showed us around the grounds that he and his team lived in and worked from, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the owners of the property greatly supported their efforts to help refugees. This was possibly fuelled by the fact that the land they owned was once taken over by the Nazis in the 2nd World War, rendering their families refugees themselves as they had to flee from their homes.
Working alongside the Roots Team was another NGO that we met, No Border Medics founded by Hana which consisted of medics from Germany; one volunteer doctor and nurses who daily tended to the needs of the refugees in the camp. The pockets of kindness I was seeing and hearing from all of the people we met felt like a rainbow pushing through dark and stormy clouds, it felt good to see that beauty and light can exist amongst the darkness. As we push-started a rickety old car containing much needed supplies for the camp, it was clear that we, forRefugees, really need to roll up our sleeves to help try to fill the void.
The Dunkirk “camp”: vast, barren land with tents pitched
We drove in a convoy to the camp 15 minutes away. This was a new site that the refugees had set up in within the last 2 days as the CRS in Dunkirk had forcefully evicted them off their previous habitation. It was a vast barren piece of land that we drove towards and as we pulled up in the car, we saw the now too familiar sight of tents pitched up in this field. It felt much colder than it did the day before and yet, despite the fact that we had even more layers on, we still struggled to feel warm as we stepped out of the car and headed towards the field. As we walked in with Amber and San, Amber informed us that there weren’t many people around as they tend to stay awake during the night to ensure that they survive to see the morning and that the exhaustion usually gets the better of them around 5am so this is when they inevitably succumb to the fatigue.
The Roots team pulled up their van and started to set up two large marquee style tents that they construct and deconstruct at the end of the day on a daily basis. Within these tents, they provide mobile phone charging stations for the refugees.
Tom and Laura putting up the marquees for charging
Laura, Amber, San and I attempted to help them with their efforts. I was surprised to hear that they did this 7 days a week, regardless of the weather as it is critical that the refugees are able to use their phones. Initially I thought it was just so that they were able to get in contact with loved ones but as the day progressed, I soon learnt that essential items within the camp from the NGOs are distributed via text messages and if their phones are not charged, they could miss out. As we were helping the Roots team, we noticed other NGOs also setting up. There was a group there that had a station offering hot teas and coffees, Amber told us that they sometimes played music to try to lift people’s spirits and sure enough that was the case later on.
As the refugees started coming out of their tents and towards us, I felt the overwhelming need to be close to Laura and protect her and I questioned why I felt this. Indeed, we were two new female faces in a sea of what was predominantly men but there was no cause for concern from any of them and their behaviour. It was clear that the negative rhetoric from the government, some media outlets and social media that I had been privy to had clearly infiltrated my subconscious and despite my stance on helping refugees I was still so indoctrinated by what I’ve seen that the fear of the unknown kicked into me. Quite honestly, I felt shocked and ashamed of myself for this. If anything, the refugees that were there seemed to be more fearful of our new faces and kept their distance. One or two smiled and said hello to us as they saw us helping the team from Roots that they were clearly familiar with. If I, someone who is all for helping refugees has this initial subconscious fear of the unknown, is it any surprise that members of the general public who might not be as familiar or as knowledgeable as me towards their plight might choose to feel threatened when faced with them in their towns and communities?
Her eyes were fixed on 3 young children
As I pondered all of this, I stood close to the now fully functioning charging station and I felt Laura nudge me. I turned to face her and saw that her eyes were fixed on three very young children. I saw one woman in a camp in Calais but to see children in these conditions was something I wasn’t prepared for. As a mother of three, I could see that Laura was especially struggling with this sight. Amber walked over to us and we voiced our disbelief at what we were seeing, I say voiced but we both really grappled to find the adjectives to describe what we were seeing. As we stood by the charging tent, a male refugee cautiously approached us.
“Hello” he said.
We replied. He was the first person to speak to us. He very politely asked how we were and explained that he was from Iran. He asked us where we were from. In broken, but clear English he said that the situation in his country was terrible. Something we both knew from what was being shown on the news and on social media, especially regarding women’s rights. He then apologised before asking if we could help someone he knew, he pointed at the woman and her 3 children that we had seen moments before. He explained that she was pregnant and unwell, and he wanted to know if we could help her get out of the camp. Luckily Amber took charge as she knew the organisations that could help and as it was acknowledged that help was available, the gentleman hugged all 3 of us and you could see the burden being lifted off his shoulders. We later learnt that he was her husband, 2 of the children with them were young girls. Given everything we know about the political situation in Iran, if I lived there and had the chance to get my family to a better and safer life where my daughters could be free to do and be anything they want, would I make that trip? Absolutely! If I spoke the language of a country that could provide that, over another that I didn’t speak, I think that I too would chose that option so that I could integrate into society quicker and use my skills to find a job and provide for my family. Although I cannot speak for this man and his family in particular, these are the choices many refugees face. Unfortunately, we all knew that the only way this family was going to be able to get to the UK was via the horrendous boats as there is no safe passage for asylum in the UK. Whether they survived the journey or not, we will never know. The only comfort from that situation was that for at least one night, they had somewhere warm to stay and that’s only thanks to charities that help.
It all became a little too much for Laura and I so we retreated to the car to take a breather. We had no words for each other, we were drained. We sat in silence for a few moments.
“The worst part of all of this is there’s no hope.” Laura broke the silence.
“This is 2023 and we’re in France! C’est pas possible, on est en France!”. She exclaimed in exasperation.
She was right, it was impossible to believe that we were in France, one of the richest countries in the world and seeing what we saw. It’s shameful beyond belief and in years to come, people will view this time in history and scratch their heads in disbelief that it was even a possibility. As long as politicians continue to use refugees as scapegoats to distract us from the real issues, she’s right. We both knew this.
Laura’s 11 year old daughter Lea called us. Lea is one of forRefugees’ Junior Ambassadors and helps with raising awareness and fundraising. As they FaceTimed each other, Laura showed Lea the harsh realities of what the camps were like. Lea really wanted to join us but I didn’t think that what she would see would be suitable for a young child. The irony of my sentiments and the reality of seeing children younger than Lea trying to survive in the camps dawned on me. Should I have shielded Lea from this when there are children younger than her living in these conditions? I wanted someone to shield me.
Around 30 minutes passed and Amber knocked on the car window to check in on us. She saw that we were struggling.
“Fancy coming to visit another organisation that we support?” Amber asked.
Mobile Refugee Support (MRS) Warehouse
The two of us could not have said yes faster. We drove for around 10-15 minutes away from the camp to a warehouse belonging to MRS (Mobile Refugee Support), another incredible organisation that distributes vital material and humanitarian aid to refugees and displaced people. Jed gave us a tour of their warehouse and then we followed them back to the camp. As soon as they arrived a polite line was formed by their vehicle. They knew a few of the refugees by name and seemed to lift the spirits of everyone they met. Laura jumped into the back of their van and helped distribute some of the clothes they had. I went and stood by the front door of the van whilst charged power banks were being distributed to their owners in a very organised manner. People seemed more at ease with me as I stood by the MRS van and I noticed a young boy, around the age of 14, looking at me in a curious manner. I smiled at him. He smiled back and asked where I was from.
“England”
“Ok, but where are your origins, you are from Eritrea?”
“My parents are Sri Lankan.”
“Oh, you have an Eritrean face, I thought you are from my country, I thought you were my sister, you are still my sister. Hello my sister.”
I smiled, the truth is we are all humans and, in some respects, if I’m to go by my Catholic upbringing, according to the Bible we are all brothers and sisters. This is partly why it’s so hard for me to see my fellow humans struggling when there is no need.
We exchanged a few pleasantries and he walked off with a smile on his face after our conversation. I have nephews and nieces his age, I worry about them travelling to school alone, I couldn’t imagine them making the journey these kids make and knowing that they would have been abused in all manner of ways on that journey (Amber’s adoptive son was one of those kids, you can read about his story here - Haben’s Journey).
San & I reflecting, by the MRS van
Another young man, not much older than 17 approached the van, he had a big smile on his face.
“Anna, after you finish, come and join me, I have some nice food.”
“I’m glad you liked the food today and it was a good meal.”
“Yes, nice, I kept some for you, come and join me please.”
“Ah, thank you, I won’t have time today so please eat all of it but maybe tomorrow I can join you.”
I could not believe what I was hearing. The little that this young boy had he wanted to share with the volunteers to express his gratitude. Anna explained that this often happens and sometimes it’s hard to say yes to one person as everyone would want her to join them. I later mentioned this to Amber and she said it always happens to her, she gets invited to the tents in the camps she visits across Europe and that the refugees take pride in showing their gratitude through their hospitality.
When we reached the hotel, Laura and I were mentally, physically and emotionally drained on levels that are hard to fathom. We had an early dinner and Laura went to bed, but I joined Amber and San in a nearby bar. The conversation we had that evening was emotive to say the least. I had so much anger in me that I didn’t know how to direct it or to deal with it. Anger and helplessness at everything I had seen and experienced over the past two days. There was one more day to go and I was dreading what that day would bring.
On the Sunday morning, we returned to the warehouse we first visited on the Friday in Calais and we were told that there was a group of over 20 volunteers arriving from Cambridge that day and Amber said we could get an earlier ferry if we wanted to. I jumped at the chance. Never have I ever wanted to be home and have the ability to shut myself off from the world as much as I did that day. My emotions were all over the place. On the ferry home; Laura, San, Amber and I were discussing various issues on the topic of refugees and I found myself again shouting as I did the previous night, not at any of them but from the frustration of knowing that the situation facing these people does not need to be happening. It’s only happening for sheer political clout and what really hit me was knowing that the two people that are responsible for the worst of it in Britain are women who are of South Asian origin like me and unlike me, they both have refugee ties in the story of how they ended up in the UK. It makes absolutely no sense to me whatsoever that anyone can have the attitudes they have, let alone given their backgrounds. What was also hard to comprehend was that I had the luxury of a ferry making the same journey that the lovely people we met will be making but risking their lives to do so in dire conditions. We also learnt, on the ferry home, that a boat carrying 58 refugees had sunk off the coast of Calabria, killing everyone on board, including a baby.
It’s been 2 weeks since I came back home, I slept a solid 14 hours on the day I returned. Luckily, I took a day’s leave from work on the Monday, I didn’t think I would need it but I did. When I told Amber about how long I slept, she told me how one of her other adoptive sons (another young refugee) slept for over 24 hours when he first arrived at her house and knew he was safe.
The first week back was unexpectedly more intense than I thought it would be. I thought I could shut down and focus on my normal life but it was the week that Suella Braverman decided to go on a fully public campaign regarding her dislike of refugees and declare that anyone coming to the UK on a small boat would be removed and banned from future re-entry as well as being barred from applying for British Citizenship. The fact of the matter is that no one wants to leave their home to be a refugee, no one! Of those that end up as refugees, 86% seek refuge in neighbouring countries. It’s a minority of people that take the risk to enter the UK, and the UK takes in less people than France and Germany. Most people that come over are from countries where people fear persecution or are fleeing conflict. There are, of course, a minority of people who are not genuine in their claims, but this is where the government needs to better invest their money to ensure that these people are identified.
We’ve spent £61m to pay for the ‘services’ of the CRS, £200m as a ‘gift’ to Rwanda and if we use their detention facilities, we will be charged extra per person and more recently, a further ‘investment’ of £480m has been given to the French to help stop Channel crossings. Absurd beyond belief especially when you consider how better that money could be spent seeing that we have a people from various sectors striking in the UK for better pay and conditions. It was also during this time that I heard that 200 refugee children have gone missing in the UK and nothing is being done about this, as well as the time that Gary Linker standing up for refugees evoked much wrath with the powers that be in the BBC! The support Gary had from the public was the first thing to lift my spirits upon my return from the camps. It was beyond comforting and reassuring to see how the majority of people do not agree with the actions of the government and the horrific rhetoric that we are being bombarded with on a daily basis regarding refugees.
“Humanitarians Together” at Parliament
I have really battled with my emotions over the last few weeks. It has taken me a long time to finish writing my experience of visiting the camps in Northern France because I kept breaking down in tears whilst doing so. I have truly struggled to process what I saw and experienced in general let alone put it down in words to fully describe the atrocious conditions these people face in the camps. This recollection is the Parental Guidance version of a horror story that no one should ever see. What gives me a slight glimmer of hope is that Amber and I are part of a group of people fronted by Lord Roger Roberts who meet at the Houses of Parliament to create a cross-party manifesto proposing a humane approach to asylum in the UK. The plight of refugees in this current crisis that they are facing will inevitably be a dark stain in our history, but I live in hope that through the actions of many, the end is in sight.