***Some readers may find the images below distressing***

The publication last September of a picture of three-year-old Syrian boy, Aylan Kurdi, washed up on a beach in Turkey brought home to many people the reality of the refugee crisis which, up until then, had remained distant and disconnected. It led to the possibility for genuine engagement on a global scale, as the image was shared widely on social media. Many people were mobilised and sought a meaningful way to respond to what they were becoming aware of.

One such response was the organisation of an Irish convoy to Calais’ Le Jungle in early October 2015, which sent a health team in an effort to address some of the medical needs of the camp’s 5,000 residents. Over a five-day period, we treated more than 1,200 people for a variety of medical complaints: some population health issues; some injuries caused by prolonged walking or by falls from trucks; and other injuries inflicted by police.

Le Jungle is described as a ‘camp’ but I use this word guardedly, for it is no camp! My idea of a camp is of a bounded space, with structure, order and facilities. When I returned to Calais in February this year, the only boundary I noticed was that created by the ever-attendant riot police who formed something of a ring around it.

There was no order or structure outside of that which had been developed by the people themselves and this has been gradually destroyed by authorities. Sanitary facilities were few, with limited clean water, little safety and significant public health issues.

On the most recent visit I was told that people had to queue for up to four hours to access a shower, and this was often in freezing or wet weather. That this exists in a rich 21st Century European country which prides itself on the values of its republic - liberty, equality and fraternity – lends credence to the idea that different realities can exist, side by side, and be grounded in very different value systems.

It is also an indictment on Europe, that it has stood by and accepted the emergence of such spaces, making excuses which have dehumanised these people in its citizens’ eyes - justifying their exclusion from the values upon which the European ‘project’ was founded.

I am reminded of the many stories which were relayed to me by people within the camp. During my first visit, an older man from Iraq told me of the torture he had endured when held for a month by the self-styled Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham (ISIS).

"I dressed this man’s skin wounds but his real wounds were much deeper - all I could do was hold him and cry with him."

As he showed me the marks the hot poker, used to persecute him, made on his ankles, and described the daily threat of having his throat cut, he explained: "They [ISIS] tortured me and treated me as an animal." Describing his current predicament, he noted that, "In Europe, they do not torture me, but they still treat me like an animal."

I was to see the effects of torture again, during my recent visit, when an Afghan man asked to see me alone. As he struggled to remove his blood-stained t-shirt, eight circular wounds were revealed - two rows of four, each of about 2cm diameter, each weeping. These were the result of Taliban torture one month before. I dressed this man’s skin wounds but his real wounds were much deeper - all I could do was hold him and cry with him.

***Some readers may find the image below distressing***

Photo courtesy of Fintan Sheerin

"I saw only six children in the tent and asked where the others were. The father answered, 'they are in the water.'"

Another family told me of their journey across the Mediterranean Sea with their 13 children. I saw only six children in the tent and asked where the others were. The father answered, "they are in the water". I remember the pain of another father as he struggled in his distress to recall the name of his child back in Kuwait.

The horror and pain of these people’s realities is palpable and sometimes all we could do was cry in solidarity. I did not witness the anger and resentment which I felt should have accompanied such experiences and the reality that human rights in Europe are protected only for a valued section of humanity.

Photo courtesy of Fintan Sheerin

I also encountered religious spaces within which I experienced the intense presence of spirituality and of God - living spaces of hope, acceptance and humanisation. Among the spaces I visited was St Michael’s Ethiopian Orthodox Church, constructed from tarpaulin and wooden laths. I was again moved to tears at the creation of such prayerful spaces in the midst of suffering. As the Eritrean elder of the Church put it ‘we are all humans; all are welcome’.

Such acceptance of others speaks not to a religious fundamentalism but rather to a fundamentally spiritual awareness which offers the possibility of current realities being transformed far beyond Europe's founding ideals into ones that are truly humanising.

Fintan plans to return to Le Jungle next week (from March 14th) for four days. If you would like to donate to the aid efforts at the refugee camp, you can do so by clicking one this link: gofundme.com/calais2016