Sikander and I are sitting at a small table in a small shed. The shed is filled floor-to-ceiling with books: chick lit, thrillers and a neat set of Agatha Christies line the shelves, alongside a large atlas, a few dictionaries and grammars, and the thin green spines of children’s learning-to-read books. More books spill out of boxes stacked in the corner, and pens, notepads, bags of clothes, a globe, a guitar and a game of Battleships are useful flotsam. We are in Jungle Books, a library which British volunteer Mary Jones set up a few weeks ago in the Calais migrant camp known as ‘The Jungle’.
Sikander, a lean Afghan, tells me that the last book he took out was about starting a small business. He tells me about the restaurant he has set up in the camp and the new one he is planning. He is fizzing with energy and ideas, such as introducing vouchers which people who want to help can buy and give to those in need. Sikander segues from plans for his restaurant to plans for the library — the extension they will build, the films they will screen, the discussions they will host. Some 50 of the camp’s 3,000 or so migrants are regulars at the Jungle Books but Sikander is sure more will come if there’s space to sit and browse. ‘I’m just helping Mary,’ he says, when I ask how he is involved, ‘Of course I have to help her, just as she helps us.’
While we’ve been talking, a young Sudanese man called Babiker has been engrossed in a novel by Jean Plaidy. He asks a volunteer, ‘Can I take it with me?’ There is no issuing system, no dates stamped on the front page, and happy assents meet any requests to take books out.
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