Across the sea: the words of Michael

Hi, I am Michele, I am 26 years old and I live in Treviglio, a small town in the province of Bergamo. I studied international cooperation and I am currently in Sierra Leone doing international community service with Caritas Italiana. Talking to a friend who had done an international volunteer experience with the Scalabrinians in Mexico, I thought that since I was waiting to apply for civil service, I could spend myself volunteering somewhere and that is how I met ASCS and left for Calais.

Calais and the flap of water to cross

Calais is a city located in northern France, in one of the poorest regions of the country, is a city of modest size, with wide beaches overlooking the English Channel and from which on sunny days one can see the white cliffs of Dover. But, perhaps, Calais is not known for this, but rather for the encampments (Jungle) spread almost everywhere in the city and for the thousands of migrants who wait patiently for the propitious moment to cross that strip of water (40 km) that separates France from England, for a new life, across the sea.

“Open up” and Maison Effatà.

In this emergent and ever-changing context, Maison Effatà offers some stability, a place welcoming place to stay, to rest, waiting to start again. “Effatà,” an Aramaic word meaning “open,” used by Jesus to heal the deaf-mute, is the name of the house run by ASCS with the support of the Scalabrinian fathers present in Calais, and this is the symbolic word of my experience and an invitation, addressed to me, “open up.”

Migrants arriving at Maison Effatà are identified and proposed by Secours Catholique (the Caritas France) among those deemed most vulnerable and, after a brief interview, welcomed inside the house.

Migrants can stay up to 6 weeks, with some exceptions in the case, having available meals and a bed, although most of them during their stay, still attempt the crossing, especially at night.

The maximum capacity of the house is 10 guests and only 2 other facilities in the whole of Calais accommodate migrants in transit, all the others (and we are talking about thousands of people) live, or rather survive, in makeshift encampments, tents or abandoned warehouses.

Maison, “home,” there couldn’t be a more apt word than that, but before you welcome someone one has to be welcomed, and so it was for me, I was welcomed into the house by Michele (house coordinator) and Sofia (volunteer), still disoriented in the place I had heard so much about and was now there around me.

Life in the house did not follow a real routine, as indeed in any house, there were some common moments, such as dinner and the weekly meeting, but much of the time the boys were free, often going to the various jungles (divided by nationality) to make travel arrangements or, on open days, to the Secours Catholique center.

Importantly, all the people who pass through the house have as their goal to reach England and, therefore, Maison Effatà is placed as a piece within their journey, not yet the destination.

Sharing everyday life

My presence in the house I think was more like that of a roommate than a volunteer, or at least I like to think of it that way, not a place where you go for a few hours a day to provide “service” but a place that you inhabit, where you stay, spaces that you share with young people, often younger than you, 24/7…you’re not just volunteering but something even deeper, you’re sharing the everyday with these people and that, trust me, changes everything.

Indeed, it is in everyday life that you come into contact with these people, but not as someone to be cared for or who needs help, but simply someone with whom to share a hot tea or a game of cards. It is by being in relationships that the dichotomy between those who help and those who are helped, between those who offer a service and those who receive it, slowly gives way to the flourishing of a “healthy” and therefore true relationship.

It is in this space, in this way that your eyes and ears finally “open.”

Some thanks

So “thank I wish” (as Mariangela Gualtieri would say) Yussef, for his incredible ability to take care of others, Mohamed, for teaching me that the word lawyer and avocado are spelled the same way in French, Abdu, for acting as our translator during meetings, Ammar for playing ludo and teaching me to snap my fingers the “Sudanese” way, Omar for being a silent presence, Walid for being a leader despite his young age, and all the others I was lucky enough to meet.

And finally, a thank you, perhaps the biggest thank you, goes to Michele and Sofia, two truly spectacular people (not they paid me to say it quietly), with whom I am grateful to have shared a piece of my journey and whom today, despite the miles of distance, I can call friends. Thank you from me for what you have done and, in Michele’s case, are still doing for the migrants in Calais, and also a thank you, I am sure, from all those people who knocked on the door and found you opening it, “Welcome home.”

P.s. I would like to dedicate this short article to all the children, fathers, mothers and brothers who lost their lives in the crossing, in the hope of a better future, across the sea.