Louisiana Floods, 2016

I got deployed through my job at the Red Cross for a 2 week work assignment in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The flooding in this area was the worst disaster in this country since Hurricane Sandy in 2012, and was more widespread -in terms of geographical areas impacted--than Hurricane Katrina in 2005.

I arrived in week 2 of the national disaster response. The water had mostly receded. Although the remains of the flash flood were everywhere-- cars upside-down in ravines, piled on top of fallen trees; bridges with debris piled high on them; street after street lined with mounds of people's discarded histories (family portraits, cribs, TV sets) ruined by the water. As one young man told me, gesturing over to a growing assortment of things on his family's lawn, "That's my life. That's the life my parents built for me when they moved us away from Oakland. Everything in that tiny room was my world. But, now I know that it's possible to start over, so here we go again." There were several times I was sent into communities to do needs assessments and met people like this young man, but for some reason he stuck out to me. He had this resilience in his spirit that was palpable and reminded me of the young men I'd met in The Jungle last year.

Mainly while in Louisiana I worked as a Government Liaison and in Community Partnerships. I worked with the Emergency Operation Centers, and help establish relationships that could bridge shelter clients with stated  or observed needs.

The two main questions I got asked when I got home were:

What was it like? 
That depends on where you are. If you're working in the community it's like this:
Imagine the worst thing that's ever happened to you in your life. Then imagine that on the same day that has happened to your neighbor, and their neighbor, and the people you grew up with, and your postman, your grocer, your kid's teachers, your church congregation. That's the emotional fragility you're surrounded by every day. Then imagine that following that worst day of your life you have a lot of strangers from places you may have only seen on a map coming to try to help you piece your life back together. It's confusing. It's hard. It's frustrating. You? You're the outsider that's trying to be both supportive and empowering while making sure you're recognizing the capacities and wherewithal, knowledge, and culture that existed there before you and will continue to be there after you leave.

If you're working in headquarters it's a little different: You're trying to organize the field while not being in it. You're helping piece together everything behind the scenes to support the workers on the frontline who are interacting with survivors every day. They're telling you what they're seeing and what is needed and you're trying to work with your internal resources, as well as government, businesses, and NGOs to help make it happen.

Did you have fun? 

This is always the hardest question to answer. Anybody who has ever worked to alleviate the suffering of people in a humanitarian capacity can tell you that this is a really tough paradoxical quandary. "Fun" is a hard term to justify in these cases; it's not entirely the most fitting word, while also not being devoid of accuracy. Is it Empowering? Yes. Fulfilling? Yes. Is it motivating? Passion fueled? Emotionally evocative? Intense? Yes, yes, yes, absolutely.

The thing is, these disastrous and emergency circumstances are what drive the people who work in this field. It gives us purpose as much as it helps those around us. Many of us are more comfortable in those early days of chaos because it's what we are best at managing. So, in this manner, because it's what we're driven to do, yes-- it is fun. It's enlivening. Yet we feel horrible saying so because it seems unethical or selfish to also derive pleasure and fulfillment from the work given the reason(s) we're there.

You know what, though? It's also stressful as hell. It can be very emotionally draining. The hours you work are so long that you quickly lose track of what day it is and before you've finished blinking a week has passed by. A disaster or disastrous living circumstance quickly brings out the best and worst of humanity, and you'll get to deal with both. In fact, you might exhibit those traits yourself. You get paid in peanuts and poor immune systems. And you're never not tired.

But everyone else is right there alongside you, in the same exact haphazardly built boat, so there is also real camaraderie and brief history built that nobody but your colleagues and survivors will ever truly understand. You build a family for two weeks, a month, three months, a year--however long you're attached to the job.
 
So, is it "fun"?

Sometimes.

The Jungle refugee camp - Calais - Post 3 (Musings of a First Timer and FAQs)

These are some of my random thoughts about all this and in no particular order: 

1.) The camp is separated into country/community areas. This is important to think about if you meet someone you want to find later. If you don't have time for them to show you where they are living then find out the country they are from, their age, and name. This almost always works in locating them again-- you can just go to their village in the camp and ask for them.

2.) Jules Ferry center is at the back of the camp and is where the one meal a day is distributed, which is provided by the French government. You will not be allowed in there ever, under any circumstance, unless you have a contact with the officials there or you can get the NGO L'auberge des Migrants to give you their stamp of approval (even then, that doesn't always work).

3.) Do not expect to be able to use the toilets. There is no central or official coordination of the camp. Nobody has stepped in to provide skips or rubbish collection services. There is no agency--government or otherwise--providing jungle-wide hygiene. The portaloos almost always have poo piled higher than the seats. Bushes to wee (or otherwise) in are easy to find, but be careful because there are lots of stinging nettles in the area.

4.) There is loads of information online about the right way to do a distribution, and how to organize it. Following those is essential. It prevents upsetting both the refugees and the long term NGO volunteers! One thing I actually haven't seen anyone write yet, though, is this: There is sort of an unwritten rule that big distributions don't happen at night. The vibe of the camp changes. To me personally, it doesn't feel particularly dangerous, but people are certainly a lot more agitated and fights are a lot more likely to break out and, indeed, have over really simple things like a bicycle or yogurt.

5.)  Emotionally it won't be easy; I met a boy who was one of 5 survivors of a boat capsizing in which all the other hundreds of people drowned. I made a friend who left his country after his father and best friend were both killed in the same week, both in front of him. There is a boy who lost his parents along the way here. A man in camp drowned trying to cross while I was here. We witnessed someone almost die from a bicycle accident. When we arrived he had been laid in the sand and nobody had called the ambulance. The dehydration and malnutrition he was suffering certainly didn't help. He still hasn't returned to camp and we've tried to get information on him. Other things hit your emotional triggers: serving an older man who has all the pride of the world in his eyes, but is wearing dirty clothing 2 sizes too big, flip flops and has the saddest smile you've ever seen. When your friend comes to tell you goodbye because they're going to try to cross that night and you know that the best possible scenario is that they'll make it to a land that won't always be easy for them, and the worst possible scenario is that they'll die on the journey and all the options in between are pretty awful as well. For me I have really tried to shut that emotional part down while I'm in front of people because it seems offensive and inappropriate. Crying seems like a selfish act, like "Oh poor me, I cannot handle the emotional stress of your situation." Truthfully, though, everyone on the ground here is here because they are full of compassion so it's hard not to let it sink deeply into all your pores and crevices, stored for much later whenever you leave here and have the time and privilege to let things process. Mentally preparing yourself for this reality might make it easier.

6.) Don't hesitate to try out the food in the restaurants that have been set up around camp by the refugees. These can usually be identified by the size of the tent-- the really large ones usually aren't housing people. The food is so good, and if you're nervous about food at least try their milk tea or milk coffee. It is so delicious! Good sized meals usually run around 4 euros (expect a cushion of a euro on either side as prices for visitors tend to fluctuate.)



Here are the questions I've been asked the most by friends from home or people arriving for the day at camp:

I've seen on the news that there is so much unused clothing laying around the camp! Surely people can't be that badly off if they're wasting clothes like that?
- I really want to stress that this is an issue created 100% by people coming in to distribute things that either aren't needed (some of my favorite have been stilettos, sequined ball gowns, poo stained underwear, etc.) or are basically forced upon people. For example, I witnessed a distribution the other day where someone was handing people trousers without letting the refugees take the 10 seconds to see if they're going to fit or not by measuring it against their waist and around their neck (a trick I learned here!) The guy with the donations meant well, but the result was a bunch of dejected people presumably feeling insulted that they stood in a massive line for clothing for which they weren't even given the respect of being able to say "this doesn't fit."
One of my friends came up to me laughing afterwards. The trousers that had been thrust at him were indeed humorous; he could literally almost fit his entire body into one pant leg. When there is a ton of inappropriate stuff given, or wrong sizes thrown at people then it winds up in a pile. There is no rubbish system in camp, and it's a bit foolish to expect the refugees to collect it when they're busy thinking about other things like, you know, day to day survival. Sometimes creativity kicks in and it's used for fire kindling if there isn't enough wood.

Who runs the camp?
If there was central coordination it might make things a lot easier, but the truth is that the Jungle is not run by anyone. There are some really amazing agencies that have been here for years: L'auberge des Migrants, Secours Catholique, Salam just to name a few. Other agencies doing really great things like CalAid, and Care for Calais, No Borders, Medicins du Monde, etc. are other big presences around the camp. The reality of the matter, though, is that it's just primarily a bunch of volunteers trying to figure out how to make things manageable and livable. That's really the best we can hope for right now. I'd like to say that we want to make it nice, but that's stupid. Nobody living here wants to be here, and it's really not a humane way to exist whatsoever. But everyone working on volunteering on the ground here is just sort of doing their best, the agencies are working together a lot. On seldom occasions it can get a little bit political, but pretty much everyone is on the same page and trying to do the same thing. (Except the French government, in my independent opinion).

Why do so many people want to go to England?
- This was one of my biggest questions as well when I first came to Calais. After spending the past week getting to know people it's become obvious that a lot of people already have a connection in the UK or have lived there previously. There is a half Syrian-half Tunisian man in the camp with a hint of a northern English accent. He lived in the UK for a decade growing up, and was deported. Several people have stories like that. There are other people who have a brother, an uncle, or several family members there. The Sudanese are taught English in school, as are several other community groups. They have said that it makes England a good place for them to be. Everyone also seems in agreement that it is easier to find work in England than it is in other places. Lastly, almost all of the refugees I have spoken with really aren't huge fans of French. They say the language is very hard to learn, and --in my own opinion--I think given what they've faced with the the police and the public response in France it's hard to feel comfortable with the idea of living here long term.

Is it scary being there?
- I've been asked this several times and I understand why. I think that people see the news of the rioting or police fights or whatever, and assume it's all doom, gloom, and dangerous. It is doom and gloom in terms of a living situation. This is not an inhabitable place. It isn't sustainable as a lifestyle. It really lacks the basics for human rights and dignity. But, honestly? In my opinion as a 5'1, little blonde woman, it isn't scary at all. I haven't been scared one time since I've been here. That isn't to say that bad things never happen, because it's a microcosm of a larger society as a whole, isn't it? With 3500-4000 people it's the size of a small town so you have all kinds of people-- the good, bad, funny, weird, normal, etc. Just like everywhere.

It's different because people here are incredibly desperate to get the things that they need, and that is palpable. Especially during distributions when they will wait in line for 30 minutes in the pouring rain for a long sleeved shirt, or a food parcel. I think this is the most intense it gets. I won't deny that I've had to lock myself in a van a few times when helping people who arrive with stuff to give out, and had to drive away quickly when things got out of hand. But as soon as you drive away things go back to normal and people resume their activities. I don't personally feel like anyone would intentionally try to hurt me here, and I almost think that if they did there would be several people to step in and stop it. Ive seen this happen on smaller scales. So... that's that.

How did people get money to set up their businesses in camp?
- Being a refugee doesn't necessarily mean you're poor. There are people in the camp who had money back home, and still have some money. Those community members left their homelands fleeing violence and persecution not economic disparity.

What is the biggest population of people by country in the camp?
- The Sudanese.

Where are the Syrians?
- You can find the Syrians behind the medical tents (Medicins du Monde). There are 150-200 of them.  There are a lot of other Syrians that have formed their own camp in the city centre.

Where are all the women/ Why aren't there more?
- I don't know. The camp is about 10% women, and most of them live in a separate area. Some choose to stay integrated in the camp and you will see them wandering around--especially the Ethiopian area. I've been told by several people that there are also women who have traveled here that we aren't likely to see because they stay inside their tents at all times because they are afraid of the amount of men in camp.

How can I help going forward?
The absolute best thing you can do is to make a contact at one of the agencies mentioned, or multiple ones even! See what they need. They've been here quite awhile, have spent a lot of time in camp and with the refugees finding out what they need and want, and will have a solid idea of this. If you want to come out make sure you reach out to someone at the agencies at least a couple of days before arriving if you want help with your distributions. If you don't want help and plan to do it yourself educate yourself online on one of the many pages where the how-to has been posted. If you're interested in volunteering also contact one of the agencies on the ground.

The Jungle refugee camp - Calais- Post 2

I have had a lot of friends and family asking what the situation is here. It’s difficult to explain really, and I would like to write about it when I get more time. Our work here in camp is rarely less than 12 hours a day, so it might not be for a bit. But I am attaching a video I found interesting that might explain it a little. This was several months ago, and the number of people in camp has increased dramatically since this news footage was put together. I was shocked at the scenes showing the overpass where the lorries are at the 8:33 minute mark because now there are only tents beside the road there. There is no ground visible. In fact, pretty much any parts in the video where you see grass it has now been covered by tents. It is like a small town, separated into little community villages— the Sudanese, the Syrians, Afghanistani/Pakistani, Kuwaitis and Iraqis, the Ethiopians/Eritreans and the other people who arrive find their place. The estimated number of people living in the jungle is 3500-4000 now. We had about 5 new families arrive in one day a couple days ago, but it seems that every day at least one new person or family arrives. There are also several other smaller camps that have popped up outside the city and in the city centre. 

The school depicted in the video is up and running. Many people spend the entire day there taking French or English classes. The Sudanese man who built it is trying to get the resources to expand it. The “one meal a day” referred to in the film is provided by the French government and people begin to queue 2-3 hours before dinner because there is never enough food for everyone who wants it. The police fences are all up so most who are trying to cross walk 2-6 hours (depending on how they plan to go), some make this journey every night that they are able.

http://www.theguardian.com/…/calais-migrants-jungle-camp-vi…

Probably the most difficult thing about being here is trying to understand how this absolute fight for basic survival and pursuance of human rights is being met with such hostility around many parts of Europe (as it is in the US). It’s literally unfathomable to me. 

A friend of mine in the camp who was forced to flee Syria in his university years took his chance at crossing two nights ago in a truck, and he was caught. He was lucky, because he was just sent straight back to camp. It was his 21st attempt in 1 month and 8 days since his arrival. Another friend of mine from Kosovo is waiting to cross until his leg heals— on his last attempt he fell off a fence and broke his leg in 4 places. He says he feels that god was on his side because the hospital here in Calais has dozens of indefinite patients that have been electrocuted on train tracks after falling off of the trains they were clinging to headed for England. A Sudanese friend is currently in jail after trying to cross into the UK and will now have to seek asylum in France, where he knows nobody and doesn’t speak the language. It only makes you question the desperation and danger of people’s lives back in their native countries that they’re willing to go through such hell to pursue the hope of a better life. 

I wish I could say to each of these adversaries I see commenting on the news or spreading their venomous philosophies on Facebook, “please come here. Meet these people that you’re so against. Meet these people that you’re afraid of. They’re lawyers. Doctors. Engineers. Orphans. They are teachers. Environmental activists. University students. Musicians. Artists. Football lovers. Nurses. Children. Business men. They are your neighbors. What exactly are you so afraid of, because the most intimidating thing about 99% of the people I’ve met here is their resilience and seemingly unbreakable spirits."

The Jungle refugee camp- Calais - Post 1

I have been in the refugee camp in Calais for less than 48 hours and I'm not really sure how to go back to my normal life. It is not something you can un-experience. I am humbled by the hospitality of the refugees that dance with us, invite us into their tents for tea, laugh with us through our mutually broken language skills; friendship is extended and gratitude expressed towards us westerners whose governments were implicit in the refugee's need to flee their homelands. Their journeys have been arduous and terrifying and, still-- almost all the people I have met while here conduct themselves not with (much warranted) anger, but with dignity and grace. That being said: I have read a few really disparaging and callous comments lately on Facebook. I don't think I actually have to say this to my own friends, but just in case-- please don't assume that everything you read in the paper or see on the news is true  heart emoticon Duh.