The wind is strong, funnelled by the high wall snaking the link road that connects Calais port to the French autoroutes. At the foot of the wall, sagging tents house young Eritrean exiles who have escaped their country’s repressive autocracy. Most have family and friends in the UK.
Merhawi, his back to the wall, tells me a story in fluent English.
Once there was a rich young man who lived in a beautiful big house with ten bedrooms. One day he decided to invite Jesus to stay with him. When Jesus arrived, the man offered him the best bedroom in the house. "This room is all yours, Jesus. Stay as long as you like."
Nearby, young Eritreans sit on camping stools around the fire. Smoke stings the eyes and throat and permeates everyone’s clothes. It’s the signature scent of the Calais refugee. ‘Sit, sit. Come and drink coffee.’ The circle widens. The winter light fades fast.
Night came and there was a loud banging at the front door. The young man went downstairs. He opened the front door to find an angry man demanding to be let into the house. After a great struggle, he managed to shut the door. "I don’t understand,” he thought. “Jesus is in my best room sleeping while I am downstairs fighting a crazy demon.” The next night there was even louder banging at the front door. This time three big violent men tried to get into his house. He fought and fought and finally managed to shut the door. He didn't understand this at all. "Why didn't Jesus come to my rescue? Why did he allow me to fight all by myself?”
This is Calais, a vast open-air prison with kilometres of concrete wall and surveillance cameras where people express their despair. So many have been shunted around Europe, their requests for asylum rejected. ‘Why does nobody want us?’ they ask. ‘Why is there no love and respect in Europe?’
Next morning the young man spoke to Jesus. "I don't understand. For two nights I fought the demons while you were sleeping. I thought that once I invited you to live with me that you would take care of me.”
"I do care for you,” replied Jesus. “But when you invited me to come here and stay, you gave me this lovely room and you shut the door to the rest of your house. I am Lord of this room but I am not Master of this house. I have protected this room and no demon may enter here."
"Jesus please forgive me. Take all of my house – it’s yours. I want you to have control of everything."
After that no more angry demons came to the young man’s house and his door was open to everyone who needed shelter.
His story finished, Merhawi leaves the circle and melts into the night. I message him before I leave Calais, telling him I would say goodbye the next day. As promised, I come at midday - no sign of Merhawi. An hour later, a message: ‘I’m in Birmingham, Alex. Yesterday I got into truck and am now in UK.’
For Merhawi, the door had been opened