Is the situation ever hopeless? Dunkirk Human Being Camp 19th Jan 2017

So I am back working at the Human Being Camp in Dunkirk.

The atmosphere on the camp is very different than it was last year, less hopeful I feel. The population is a fraction of what it was then with about 1100 folk of all ages. A lot of children are living here and we are working on rebuilding the women's kitchen and safe space after a fire all but destroyed it a couple of weeks ago. We are working directly opposite the children's centre and it has been heartwarming to see this up and running and being enjoyed by the kids who live here. The volunteers who manage and provide this resource are doing such valuable work for our future. For children to become rounded adults with a healthy relationship with life requires that they should always have time, inclination and opportunity to do three things; 1. Play 2. Laugh 3. Learn. The Children's centre provides these traumatised and bored kids with the opportunity to do all three.

There are however fewer smiles and more dejected faces among the men on the camp young and old. There is a haunted look about them and a sense of fearful resignation on so many faces. I suspect many of these folk are suffering profound depression as they watch their lives and hopes bleed into nothing as the long days and freezing nights drag by.

Yet still I receive genuine smiles of welcome from some familiar faces and new bonds of friendship are being forged even though so many of my friends seem grim and morose.

I can hardly blame them.

It is almost a year now since this camp, the best thing Europe has to offer these people, was put together and I worked with the ABC crew and other independent volunteers to evacuate them from the mud drenched tent city of last year's "jungle" camp in Grande Synthe. In that time the dynamic of the camp has changed significantly. Although there is still a volunteer presence (the ones doing the real work as usual) it is now officially managed by an organisation called Afeji. I will refrain from commenting here about this organisation or its motivation for existing. It's not just the CRS that are supporting the fascist agenda. Talking of the CRS, they seem able to turn up at will to patrol the camp now - despite all the promises and assurances that this would not happen. Volunteers and the ever generous public need permission to come on site at all. Private security people man the gates in a permanent bad mood and the whole feel of the place is one of institutional confinement.

My heart cries out for these people. They are a people forgotten and abandoned by all but a stalwart few. A people whose hope and dream of a better life has driven them to this surreal existence in a garden shed on an old piece of disused land where every day is a choice between soul eating cold and health destroying carbon monoxide poisoning from unsuitable paraffin heaters in overcrowded cramped huts.

Today was a good day. We got a lot done and made good progress with no dramas. None for us that is. For these people life has become a dull and tragic drama played out on the world stage with them the uninspired actors while the rest of the world assume the role of an apathetic and disinterested audience.

My heart cries out to That Which Is for all of us as I think of the implications of all this - what it says about our culture and our nature. What we are becoming. What we have become.....

.....and yet the light and warmth of hope burns on in the efforts and friendship being offered by these beautiful grassroot volunteers that remain engaged with these peoples lives. The Divine Archetype and highest ideals of humanity show themselves in the willingness of those who give whatever they can - be it time, skill or money - to make life here on Earth better.

By doing so they define us. They define the quality, meaning and beauty of what it means to be alive in these times of intense upheaval.

All else I can think to say is this....

....."Je suis un refugie"

So I woke up early this morning.....

I woke up early this morning to this intense muscle ache all through my body. Everything hurts. My hand can hardly open a jar, my arms can barely lift the modest weight of a few plates that I take over to the sink. My head is throbbing, my shoulder is stiff and sore with the feeling of some invisible gremlin chewing away at it like a demented thing, feeding off whatever energy I am leaking from that point. I haven't had my full strength in my left arm for quite some time now. I have abdominal pain (lower right hand side) that has become so normal and everyday I hardly notice it anymore, except on mornings like this when it gives me sporadic gyp.

Every bone I ever managed to crack or break in my life starts to hurt me in the cold weather. My right hand is a constant agony this time of year ever since that drunken trippy episode on the tequila and "special" truffles when I felt justified to try and punch my way through a concrete floor - don't ask. The scenario does not cover me in glory, but it did manage to mash up the knuckles and joints of my right hand and wrist pretty effectively.

My right ankle feels weak and swollen. I have to walk with care as I quietly pad through the house in my slippers, careful not to disturb my fellow house-mates and community builders, careful that the ankle doesn't do it's usual trick of giving way on me all of a sudden causing a decrepit fall as my body throws all of it's weight onto the ankle rather than the foot. It does this from time to time ever since that drunken and emotional mixed marshal arts fight I had with a traffic sign all those years ago, and the subsequent five mile hike on a broken ankle too drunk to realise I was doing myself worse damage as I hobbled to relative saftey on it. Needless to say the traffic sign won.

At least my ribs are not bothering me this morning. They tend to wait until it rains a lot. Then they all remind me of my impressive exploits. Twice I have broken two ribs and once I managed to crack a few more. The later was actually a play fight with a mate who turned out to be a lot stronger than I anticipated. A friendly bear hug and crack they went. That hurt, but it was nothing to the time I was pedaling like a maniac through Northampton town whilst coming up on some very strong MDMA and managed not to stop in time to prevent my crashing into the back of a transit van, instinctively trying to turn out of the way at the last second causing the handle bar of my bike to jab me hard in the ribs resulting in two broken ribs and a bruised pancreas. More recently there was also the time, high on life and caffeine, that I managed to land awkwardly onto a metal gate while trying to maneuverer a large gas bottle over it. It was "the ankles revenge" I think as my right foot failed to do what it is supposed to and my body was slammed hard against the metal bar. Two broken ribs that took bloody ages to heal. I suppose it takes longer as you get older.


I don't know why I'm writing all this down here this morning but I suppose it is by way of an observation, namely that I have been a drunken toss pot most of my life and my own worst enemy.

Like a lot of you I find myself constantly amazed and dismayed by the rampant stupidity, selfishness and recklessness of the human species, but I sometimes forget to make the connection with my own self sabotaging and self destructive ways.

Why are we so intent on destroying our planets natural systems like rain-forests and ice caps and natural meadows or ancient woods? Why are we so hooked on fossil fuel energy when we know it is harmful, to us and to our world? Why do we keep earning and spending the currencies our slave masters print off at will when we know it is a worthless and meaningless concept that serves only to keep us all dependent on those same vampric overlords that print the stuff? Why do we kill our brothers and sisters when we know it is wrong to do so? Why do we allow our brothers and sisters to drown in the sea in their thousands without lifting a finger to help, but instead applaud measures such as gun boat patrols and razor wire fences when we know in our hearts we are being less than human when we do?

I'll tell you why.

Because like me we are all addicts.

Addicted either to our material privileges or the sense of superiority or comfort they give us.

Addicted to the oil that warms our houses and fuels our lorries and vans.

Addicted to cheap flights, mobile phones, Hollywood movies, celebrity gossip and Facebook likes (the new TV for a new generation of screen addicts).

Addicted to the convenience of a centralised distribution system for our food and drink that we know is screwing everything up by over packaging everything, over processing everything and wasting most of it.

Addicted to the high carb cereal based diets laced with sugar and chemical additives that we've been raised on, diets that are killing us in our droves either through obesity and heart attacks, depression and suicide or gradual liver failure.

Addicted to the unsustainable farming methods that produce these unsustainable foods, and the unsustainable fossil fuel industry that keeps those unsustainable farming methods going - for now!

Addicted to the money, and the futile and absurd dream it inspires in us that one day we will have enough of the stuff to be happy.

Addicted to the privilege of a relatively safe and peaceful life that we know in our deepest selves is being bought and paid for by the blood of innocents across the seas.

The starving keep us over fed and the indiscriminately murdered keep us safe in our beds. We know it. We know it is wrong. But we are addicted so we cannot stop, and we need help!


So what do we do about this situation? We are going to have to go through one hell of a collective withdrawal process and it won't be fun. The first step is being able to acknowledge the problem for what it is. It's not what "they" are doing, whoever your preferred "them" may be. It is what you and I are doing. It is our addictions and our denial that is the problem. If we can break through that, while creating mutually supportive communities that empower folk to identify and overcome their addictions together, all of them, then we might stand a chance of turning this around.

You game?


Love, Courage and Strength to you all.

(We are going to need it, because the supply lines that maintain our addictions are all about to start withering up, and, like it or not, we are going to be going through our withdrawals together.

I'm going to ponder on that while I enjoy a morning roll up with my morning coffee!)