Most of the inhabitants are male, aged between 14 and 30, although every so often a young woman darts past from one filthy room to the next. Small piles of possessions dot each room: a few clothes, a tattered Bible, a torn rucksack, a jumbo-sized bottle of ketchup. There is no electricity, and the windows are either boarded up or covered with blue tarpaulin.
Outside, rubbish is piled up high against the walls. Old sleeping bags lie on top of empty milk cartons, tins of soup and yet more flies. There is graffiti on the walls, most of it in Tigrinya, the main Eritrean language, although the occasional, quaintly old- fashioned slogan is in English: “Be sociable to everyone, a friend to many and enemy to no one, faithful to one,” reads one wall. “God help Africa,” says another.
Despite being further from the rubbish, the smell upstairs is worse. The previous night, I am told, the local police threw tear gas into this house, trying to make life so difficult for the squatters that they would be forced to leave. But, other than sneaking inside one of the trucks that queue near here en route to the UK, these Eritrean refugees have nowhere to go. They spend their days washing their clothes in a nearby canal, or waiting for food hand-outs from one of the local charities.
Issayas tells me he is 14, but looks much younger: “I have been here one month and two weeks. I came via Libya, then Italy.” Like most of the Eritreans seeking asylum, he has made the treacherous journey alone. So too has Michael: “I have not seen my family for six months. They are waiting for me to send money. I paid $6,000 to get here, and I can’t call them until I get to the UK. I’ve been here three or four months but I can’t tell them.”
The residents of Africa house are nervous of our presence, and only describe their journeys from Eritrea upon guarantee of anonymity. They are even more reluctant to go into any detail about why they left the country of their birth. According to a damning Human Rights Watch report from earlier this year: “Many of the refugees were fearful of describing their experiences in Eritrea, because they were concerned that doing so could result in repercussions for their families.”
Yoseph is sitting on a dirty mattress with his broken leg bandaged. “On the way from Libya, soldiers caught us in the sea, so I spent five months in prison there. After prison, I pay $700 to come to Trablous [Tripoli], then $1,500 to cross to Italy, and from Italy I came here. It’s very difficult. I have been here six months.”
Broken arms, legs and ankles are a common sight here, a result of the refugees jumping over the high fences and falling off the lorries. On a typical day, a minibus from Secours Catholique or one of the other local charities might take 10 refugees to hospital. Those with broken limbs carry a resigned look, knowing their chances of slipping quietly into a truck have diminished further.
Many attempt to cross into Britain several times a night: “One night I tried three times,” says Merhawi, who has also lived in this Calais squat for six months. “The border is very hard, the police are serious. I left home two years ago, I don’t have anything.”
Earlier this month, the UN refugee agency (UNHCR) set up a Calais office to help people claim asylum in France, Italy or elsewhere in Europe. But many of these refugees still want to come to the UK because they perceive their life prospects to be better here.
“We explain the French asylum system, we offer other solutions for them,” says Marie-Ange Lescure at the UNHCR office in Calais. “A small number apply for asylum in France, but most of them speak English and there is an Eritrean community in England, so they want to go there. If they haven’t been fingerprinted [elsewhere in Europe], they will try to claim asylum in Great Britain.”
Shockingly, even those who have been fingerprinted elsewhere (and therefore only qualify for refugee status in that country) will often go to the extreme measure of burning their hands in the mistaken belief that it will remove their fingerprints. “The problem is that once they’ve had fingerprints taken in Italy, under the Dublin convention they are supposed to continue to stay in Italy,” explains Ben Rawlence of Human Rights Watch. “But they want to go to a country with a much better support system where they can get training, housing and a helping hand to start their lives.”
The Eritreans are not the only asylum seekers here in Calais. There are an estimated 1,600 migrants sleeping rough in the city. Much has been written about the 400-600 Afghans living in a makeshift camp known locally as “la jungle”, but there are also Sudanese, Somalis, a handful of Vietnamese and these 50 or so Eritreans, all of whom have entrusted their lives, and often thousands of pounds, to people-smugglers in the hope that they can get them in to Britain illegally.
Calais’ citizens appear to be divided into those who openly hate the migrants – barely hiding their disgust as they drive past the food distribution area – and those who feel such compassion for them that they regularly bring food and clothes and offer them the chance of a shower. So regularly, in fact, that the French government has threatened to arrest any locals found to be harbouring the migrants in their homes. Fresh reports suggest that many of the Afghans who were living in la jungle have now left after learning of the French police’s plans to bulldoze the area. Some have headed to Paris, sleeping rough in the parks near Gare du Nord; others are now thought to be squatting in Calais, in houses similar to the one occupied by the Eritreans.
While it is generally known that the others are fleeing war or persecution in their home countries, the plight of the Eritreans is largely ignored. After all, Eritrea is neither at war nor considered much of a terrorist threat, and as such is hardly ever mentioned in the news. However, this looks likely to change. Earlier this month, Reuters reported that the UN security council had threatened Eritrea with sanctions following claims by the Somalian government that Eritrea is aiding Somali rebels, destabilising peace in the region.
When Eritrea declared independence from neighbouring Ethiopia in 1993 after a 30-year civil war (which ended in 1991), much was hoped of this small country on the Horn of Africa. But in recent times the situation in Eritrea has gone from hope to despair. Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch and the UNHCR all refer to it as one of the most closed and oppressive regimes in the world. In both 2007 and 2008, Reporters Without Borders placed Eritrea at the bottom of its world ranking for press freedom – that’s worse than North Korea, Burma and Iran.
“Eritrea is like a giant prison. All the youth are conscripted into national service and face military service or forced labour at the discretion of the government – it’s no wonder many are trying to flee,” says Rawlence. “But they are caught in a trap because you can be shot for illegally crossing the Eritrean border, and if you desert national service you face imprisonment and possible torture upon return. Moreover, the families of all those who flee are punished with a fine or – for those parents who cannot pay the €3,000 – jail.”
Faced with what Human Rights Watch describes as a choice between “state repression and indefinite conscription” or jail, hundreds of Eritreans regularly try to flee the country illegally (those under 50 rarely get exit visas), knowing that they risk being shot at the border or imprisoned if they are caught. “Despite these risks, Eritrea is now among the highest refugee-producing nations in the world,” Rawlence says.
Tesfamicael Gerahtu, the Eritrean ambassador to the UK, denies this, saying Eritrea has no greater number of citizens fleeing than many other countries, and the vast majority are economic migrants following the “illusion” of western prosperity. Gerahtu also questions the independence of human rights groups who have criticised abuses in Eritrea, and says the US state department has a long record of hostility towards Eritrea.
“The reports for most cases are fabricated and baseless and sometimes exaggerated. There could be some mistakes that we have made, but even these are exaggerated. Eritrea is a country where there is tolerance, freedom of religious beliefs and respect of religions. For more than 1,000 years, Christians and Muslims have been coexisting with respect.”
The journey from Eritrea to Calais can take anything from six months to a year, and can cost around $10,000. Those who attempt the most common route, to Libya from Sudan, do so by paying a people-smuggler. From Libya they cross the Mediterranean in overcrowded boats to land on the beaches of Malta, Greece, Turkey and Italy.
“I’ve been in Calais for one and a half months,” says Issac, 20, sitting with a group of fellow Eritreans on a grass verge in front of the Calais squat. “My journey took one and a half years: I came from Eritrea to Sudan by car, then from Sudan to Libya by car – that took three months – then from Libya to Italy by boat, then from Italy to France by train.”
Samson, also 20, tells me: “Eritrea has many problems, big problems, that is why I left. I came from Sudan to Libya by car, then from Libya to Italy under a truck. I am alone in Europe. It is hard here, but to live in France in this house is better than to live in Italy with no house. In Italy I was on the streets. I paid $10,000 to get there, and my family are waiting for me to send money home. I have tried to cross to England many times. I don’t count any more.”
Asked what would happen to any refugees who give up this seemingly hopeless quest and return to Eritrea, Gerahtu says “they were more than safe” and most would be reintegrated into their communities. “The government has said that anybody who wants to return can return and be reintegrated into their work or study.” He adds that each refugee who returned to Eritrea would be questioned because they had left illegally, and a few might have to be punished. “If there is a case where this is needed, we would never appease anybody.”
Meanwhile, Britain and France are at an uneasy standoff over who is responsible for those in the illegal Calais camp and in the Eritrean squat. The Home Office considers it a French problem and is unhappy at what looks like France turning a blind eye to a queue of people plotting to get into Britain illegally. The French just want the camp, and its inhabitants, to disappear. It is UK Border agency officials who search lorries as they enter the Calais port, but anyone found hiding in a lorry is handed over to the French authorities.
The one thing nobody wants is for the camp in Calais to turn into Sangatte mark two, and as such, there are plans to clear it with bulldozers, rather than improve the living conditions. “While we accept the need to provide basic humanitarian facilities, the French government has made it absolutely clear it will not allow a new migrant camp, which would act as a magnet to the traffickers and smugglers who prey on the vulnerable. If someone is genuinely fleeing persecution, they should claim asylum in the first safe country they reach,” says the border and immigration minister, Phil Woolas.
In April, his French counterpart Eric Besson said of the Afghan camp: “We will take the time necessary to prepare the dismantlement of the camp, but the ‘jungle’ must be gone before the end of the year.” And the same, presumably, goes for the Eritrean squat, hence the use of tear gas.
If, or rather when, the Eritrean squat and the rest of the illegal camps are cleared, one thing is certain: these desperate people will keep risking their lives to come into the UK. “Life is like a wave. You go, come back, go, come back, this is the way of life,” says Naga, who came to Calais via Sudan, Libya and Italy. Naga has already been deported from Britain once, when the UK Border Agency discovered he had already been fingerprinted in Italy. So why does he keep trying to get into the UK, rather than stay in France or Italy?
“In Italy we were like animals – no, like garbage. I cannot survive my life in Italy, it was impossible. And my life in Calais is very hard too. So I will try again to arrive in the UK, this is my dream. The UK has humanity. But when they get my fingerprints, they will try to send me back. I will ask, where will I go? I have no alternative but to come here. So I ask the UK government to please, please help me.”
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Caroline Woods is a pseudonym. Additional reporting by Patrick Barkham. All names have been changed.
