Calais: One Year On

J, Eritrean, wanders around with a thin stick, gently hitting volunteers and his friends with it around the legs. Ow! Ouch! We cry, pretending to be hurt. He laughs. “My friend. In Libya, we get hit with sticks very hard, you know? Some people die. This is nothing.”

“You Go UK?”

This week, I popped over to London for a day or two to catch up with some friends and family, a trip which was absolutely lovely but also fully reaffirmed my need to be in Calais for the moment. I could harp on for days about my issues with London as a place to live…

Dubs.

Dubs Not good, my friend, not good No sleep No bread today It rains Today is not a good day My mother is sick I was detained I was deported On a plane I know not why My family is in the UK My future is in the UK I paid a smuggler £5k And…