Special Report: Escaping the Jungle - why they come, what they want and the lengths refugees will go

AN African man, a refugee, stands while holding hands with North-East volunteers as highly prized shoes are handed out from a van. He has asked for a hi-vis jacket and is trying to keep the crowd of desperate people in order; in some kind of queue. He stands for hours in the sun. At the end of the day a volunteer from North East Solidarity offers him a pair of shoes, among the best, kept back specially. He turns them down.

PHOTOS: Pictures from inside The Jungle refugee camp in Calais

He just wanted to help, he says. Not be a ‘refugee’ for a few hours. That was his reward.

Not to be naive – we’re told by many inside the camp that this is a dangerous place – the African man is far, far from alone in his decency. The vast majority of the ‘jungle’ people are prepared to talk, many even wanting to joke, although there are signs that is beginning to change: one man shouts: “Why are you filming? Why are you filming? You want this life?” Another actually has a placard: “No Tourist, No Picture.”

Despite the placard, there is, at times, almost too much interest in the journalists, people taking to chance to tell their story. The first man I speak to, a 25-year-old Palestinian, Ahmed, has the same basic message repeated many times over the next two days. “There is war, always, in my Middle East. I want to live a good life.” As he speaks we’re surrounded, perhaps by 30 young men, some accidentally pushing against me. Nervously, I shake Ahmed’s hand and move away.

Others, in quieter areas, casually tell of their extraordinary stories about their journey to Calais. Their determination to escape and make it to the UK is often astonishing.

That determination is evident in a group of six Syrian friends, befriended by the North East Solidarity volunteers. One of them, a smiling, happy-seeming, young economics graduate has persuaded his friends to help distribute aid. “I was a refugee worker myself,” he explains, “I helped in Syria.” From refugee worker to refugee. He and his friends worked all Saturday, despite not having eaten for the previous 24 hours. They’re given biscuits and sweets, unasked for.

That night, our new friends agree to come for a meal in Calais and are eager, at least at first, to talk to a journalist, later wanting simply to laugh and joke. The smiling graduate explains he was anti-Assad and would not serve in the Syrian army. “My friend, he was in the army, he wouldn’t shoot on the crowd (of protesters) and they shot him.” He eventually crossed nine borders, taking more than one beating.

And it is precisely that level of determination that worries some people in Britain. It is a concern expressed by David Cameron when he said: “You have got a swarm of people coming across the Mediterranean seeking a better life."

There are 59.5m refugees and displaced people in the world according to the UN of whom 117,161 were in the UK at the end of 2014. The vast majority stay in countries close to their own, for example Turkey has 1.59m refugees (the most in the world), largely because it neighbours Syria. Italy and Greece have camps far, far bigger than that at Calais, tens of thousands compared to 4,000 or so.

Even then, many of the refugees in the so-called ‘jungle’ were originally happy to stay in France rather than attempt the crossing to England. France provides about 30,000 beds for 60,000 asylum seekers and other assistance is severely limited. Some wind up in the Calais camp simply because it is somewhere to stay, a place where aid workers deliver food and clothing.

A Darfurian, Ismail Salih, fits the profile as someone who would have stayed in France. He is happy to stay. “Compared to life in Darfur this is easy,” he explains, “here I can eat every day and here there is no war.”

But, in truth, there were far more people who were determined to get to Britain, a place where they often have family or friends and can speak the language. And some are prepared to pay. The lowest figure to pay a people trafficker your reporter heard in the camp was just 630euro to a Sudanese. Others laughed at that figure, saying he was simply going to lose his money to a shark.

Several Syrians, the group probably most likely to have family with some money and therefore able to pay without resorting to prostitution or terrible debts to the traffickers, put the figure as at least £3,000 to be smuggled on to a lorry. “And the driver doesn’t even know,” said one Syrian, yet another university graduate who attempts the crossing every, single night. “For the driver to know, you pay £6,000 or even £7,000.” An old hand volunteer on the camp, John from Gloucester, says that up to 100 people can make it to the UK on any given night. On the other hand it is easy to find people who have been trying most nights for many months with no success.

During our time visiting the camp there has been a demonstration. It’s peaceful. At times even joyful; with dancing and music.

The protest march from the camp to the ferry port involves walking through an overspill area, the “new jungle.” Further from the clean water and aid trucks, it is even more squalid. Two days after the demo, tired and emotionally drained, our small group of refugee volunteers and journalists return home to the North-East to the news that the ‘new jungle’ had been destroyed by French police: 400 refugees evacuated; their tents, passports, photographs and possessions destroyed.