I've been privileged to be part of The Migration Museum's latest project, "Call me by my name: Stories from Calais and beyond". This thoughtful and important exhibition explores the human stories of the Calais refugee camp through words, photographs, drawings, sculpture, video and installations. (The powerful work pictured above - “Wanderers” by Nikolaj Bendix Skyum Larsen - is the first piece visitors encounter as they enter the gallery).
I have heard reactions from visitors to the exhibition saying how much it has moved them, how they have seen aspects of the Calais camp that they have not seen in the media - images that have challenged their previously held views about the 'Jungle'.
There are many stories to be told - many of them complex and painful. But there are also stories of hope, love, resilience and above all, of humanity and community. With just a few days to go before the EU referendum, and amidst a terrifying build-up of misleading, fear-fuelling propaganda in the media in recent weeks, I feel more strongly than ever that we need to continue building communities, to acknowledge our shared histories, and seek out the things that connect us rather than what we think divides us. This exhibition couldn’t have come at a more critical time.
These are the eight images I have in the exhibition - all taken during visits to the ‘Jungle’ with The Calais Sessions between December 2015 and April 2016.
The simple wooden shelter The Calais Sessions use as a makeshift recording studio is normally a designated space for language lessons or other classes. When it’s not being used for teaching, it’s a reading room, or simply a warm and dry space to sit, chat, and just hang out. The arrival of musicians and instruments in the ‘Jungle’ always attracts a crowd, and so the studio becomes an informal meeting place for many different people, languages and cultures.
In the shelter next to the Kabul Café in what used to be the heart of the Southern area of the camp before it was bulldozed earlier this year, traditional fabrics lined the walls and ceilings, and rugs covered the seating area around the edge of the room. Cigarette smoke hung in the air. Urged on by the clapping and drumming, young men got up to dance, whilst others joined in the singing. The faces of these young men, stranded in Calais, lit up. The strength of the human spirit and the need to connect shines through in the toughest of circumstances.
As night falls in the Calais ‘Jungle’, the pounding generators kick into action - like a queue of trucks waiting to drive off. In this area of the camp bright white street lamps illuminated the water-logged road, casting milky reflections in the puddles. Here the tents and flimsy tarpaulin shelters gave way to a string of bustling cafes, restaurants and small convenience stores run by refugees. Restaurants offered the comfort of home-cooked food, strong sweet tea and coffee and a warm place to hang out, smoke, play cards, or simply watch music videos on the TV.
Abdullah’s woollen hat frames his face tightly, accentuating his dark eyes. The studio falls silent and he begins to sing. His tone is sweet and mellifluous; short and simple phrases become more elaborate as his poetic improvisation intensifies. Abdullah is a Kuwaiti Bedoon. The Bedoon have no passports, and no right to education, health care, housing or work, and are often marginalized and persecuted. You can read more about Abdullah in this previous blog post.
The generosity with which Abdullah shared his music and stories, and the beauty of his singing was one of many memorable experiences on my first trip with The Calais Sessions back in December.
Ismail is from Afghanistan. He’s an accomplished singer, and plays the dambora, a traditional, two-stringed, long-necked lute. Ismail tells us the harrowing story of why he fled Afghanistan with his wife and children. He rolls up his right sleeve to reveal burn scars, explaining that the Taliban plunged his arm into scalding water to prevent him from playing. He also shows us a gun-shot wound to his stomach. As he records in the makeshift studio, Ismail is completely immersed in the music – animated and exuberant one moment, reflective and absorbed the next. There’s more about Ismail and his recording session here.
The modest church in the Jungle where a small community of Ethiopians and Eritreans regularly gathered was demolished less than 24 hours after we met a group of women there one Sunday morning in January 2016. The perimeter zone of the camp had already been systematically cleared by the French authorities, yet the church tent stood strong.
After a couple of songs led by the UK group Get Gospel, the Pastor encouraged the women in the congregation to sing one of their traditional songs of praise. What followed was a beautiful exchange of music, prayers and worship. Later the Ethiopian women taught the members of Get Gospel some of their songs, which they then recorded together in the makeshift studio. Read more about this story here.
“Call me by my name: Stories from Calais and beyond” is at the Londonewcastle Project Space in Shoreditch until Thursday 22 June. It’s free, and is open from 12 - 8pm each day (apart from this Wednesday when it closes early for a panel discussion at 6pm about people smuggling).
You can read earlier posts about my visits to Calais with The Calais Sessions:
The Calais Sessions in the ‘Jungle’ - Part II
The Calais Sessions - a space for sharing music in the ‘Jungle’
The Calais Sessions - at the Grande-Synthe camp in Dunkirk
