Glimmers of civilization amid squalor in Calais camp as 6,000 migrants gird for French winter
{{#rendered}} {{/rendered}}Residents of France's biggest refugee camp near the English Channel port of Calais must combat hunger, filth and illness in a tent village as they scramble to build hard roofs for the winter.
Many of the estimated 6,000 residents spend hours queuing for six-minute showers and one daily meal at a government-funded facility on the camp's Atlantic-facing edge. Elsewhere, campers stand in mud to collect cold water from batteries of hose-fed taps and burn tree branches to cook and boil water, turning the air acrid with smoke.
Dozens of wooden-framed shops and restaurants, mostly Afghan, stock shelves with supplies bought at Calais supermarkets. Aromas of cardamom and aniseed, cumin and ginger waft from the tarpaulin-covered shacks advertising fire-blackened chicken. Diesel generators and gas canisters keep lights burning and curries sizzling.
{{#rendered}} {{/rendered}}More are built daily as aid workers and migrants work together, hammers and saws in hand, constructing hard roofs with tarps and insulation over tents.
Shops offer power top-ups from extension cords overloaded with smartphones. Some campers use stationary bikes to charge phones, taking turns pedaling for two hours or more per device. A new WiFi signal boosts campers' connections.
Piles of garbage are omnipresent despite valiant efforts of Doctors Without Borders collection crews. Most of the approximately 50 portable toilets are unspeakably foul. A French court this month ordered Calais to double the toilets and taps and take command of garbage collection, but little has changed.
{{#rendered}} {{/rendered}}A visit inside a small tent shared by three Eritrean women reveals how dignity and hospitality survive. Their side-by-side beds, topped by perfectly folded duvets, are firm and comfy. Devotion to hygiene ensures not a fleck of mud invades their home. Coffee, presented after 10 minutes hunched over a fire, comes in white china alongside homemade dabo bread on an ankle-high candlelit table.
They have lived here together since spring and must find space in the new year for another soul. One of them, Mimi, expects a January baby.