Calais Jungle what is it: the story

Stories and News No. 918

According to Calais Migrant Solidarity since 2009 there have been 100 to 5,000 migrants in Calais, come with the hope of arriving in the UK.
People from around the world, such as Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Somalia, Egypt, Syria, Sudan, Palestine, Chad, Eritrea, Iraq, Albania, Senegal, Kurdistan, Libya and Ethiopia.
But why jungle? I read that the name is the translation of a word in Pashto, an Iranian language spoken in Afghanistan and Pakistan, which means forest
.

There was once a jungle.
Which in our language is a land covered with dense vegetation dominated by trees, and the nearest corresponding scientific term is maybe seasonal tropical forest.
Well, then we might as well say there was once a forest.
But it does not work, right?
Because if someone tells you a story of forests, then you think of woods, talking animals, fairies and

fairy tales.
No, there is no place for such things, here.
Because, despite the fact, the jungle is not or should not be kids’ stuff.
So, once upon a time there was a jungle.
But not like those of Emilio Salgari’s novels.
Where the good ones are the alleged wild people and the bad guys are the real invaders, safe
beyond the sea.
Here things were different.
Because, since the stories exist, who tells them decide the rules.
Then, there was once a different jungle.
Yes, different, because whereas in adventure novels is difficult to enter, and you need great courage and recklessness
to cross the intricate trees, here it was exactly the opposite.
Indeed, despite all the courage and recklessness of the world, you could spend there the whole of a life time.
Then seeing history repeating itself.
Yet.
And yet again.
Therefore, there was once a different jungle where it was difficult to get out.
And where it was easy to stay endlessly.
Moreover, to deny any connection with the previous narratives, here there were no striking exotic plants and fascinating views to distract from the infamy of life.
Nor ferocious felines and impressive elephants to freeze a blood already frozen.
There were no robust lianas to rise from a never satisfied pittance.
And not even secret passages in ancient ruins to escape somewhere.
There was once a different jungle, for short.
Where you remained forever, once entered.
Read as living perpetually dissatisfied, searching in vain for a way out.
You know what is the most ridiculous story? That the previous sentence seems the caption of one of the many privileged creatures north of the world.
Maybe this is the reason why understanding what this jungle was and why people went there, for many, it is even more difficult to get out of it…


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