Calais, a sunny autumn afternoon, the trees beginning to change colour, the grass in Saint-Pierre Park a rich green. The slight breeze carries downwind a diaphanous mist from the centrepiece of the park: the bronze fountain of the Three Graces. Between the tiers of the fountain stand the slim figures of the Three Graces. Protected by a curtain of falling water, they stare out into the all but empty park. Thalia, representing youthful beauty; Euphrosyne, laughter; and Aglaea, elegance.
How many of the citizens of Calais, I wonder, are aware of the graces in their midst? Because in this economically depressed city, where smiles amongst its resident citizens are as rare as hens’ teeth, where refugees experience harassment, intimidation and violence from police and local racists, it is amongst the community of several hundred refugees, most of whom live 24/7 outdoors, that the Three Graces abound.
Let me bear witness to the group of young Eritreans and Ethiopians amongst whom I have lived for many weeks this year. We’ve eaten together, cleaned together, prayed together. The small house in a back street of Calais offers sanctuary to a very small number of refugees. The priority: minors and those discharged from hospital. Habte was in hospital for two weeks after being badly beaten on the head by the police. Samuel walks awkwardly on crutches, his ankle truncheoned by a member of the French riot police. Michael returns to the house at 7.30 in the morning, his jeans saturated in blood just below his left knee after a beating from the police. He describes the weapon used: a telescopic truncheon with a steel ball on the end. Yet Michael is someone who can have the whole room in laughter, the living embodiment of the spirit of Euphrosyne.
Each Sunday half a dozen or so young Eritreans come to the house. One of them is a Deacon in the Orthodox Church who will lead a service of Christian worship in Tigrinya, the language of most of the Eritreans in Calais. The energy they bring is palpable. Despite months of living outdoors in the wastelands of the town, they smile and laugh. There are hugs all round. The house is flooded with the spirit of “The Three Graces”, youthful beauty, laughter, and elegance. There’s elegance in their politeness, in their gratitude, in their gentle reverence during prayer. And, with a bit of licence, elegance in their attire. These young guys, mostly still teenagers, want to look cool. Incongruous it might seem as winter approaches, but many wear fashionable skinny fit ripped jeans.
Amongst the young Ethiopians and Eritreans Christians I met, faith seems as second nature as breathing.
On their way to the kitchen to eat some breakfast many of the boys go first to the chapel to pray. As they leave the house, many ask Br Johannes for a blessing.
Last January, I arranged for a Belgian journalist and his cameraman colleague to meet two Eritrean boys who had just arrived back in Calais. The journalist said he would buy us all a meal. What would the boys like to eat he asked. Pizza they said. Off we went to Pizza Hut. After a long wait, the food eventually arrived on our table. The journalist, the cameraman and myself immediately tucked in. I then looked across at the boys. The boxes their pizzas were in remained unopened. The boys’ heads were reverently bowed, they were making the sign of the cross, praying in Tigrinya, then once more making the sign of the cross. Only then did they begin to eat. In my shame, I made a quick sign of the cross before continuing with my food.
“A Christian’s light can’t be hidden; such a bright lamp can’t be concealed. So, let’s not neglect this.” St John Chrysostum. How true these words are as a reflection of the young Eritreans and Ethiopians in Calais.