Maajid Nawaz lays a trap

I was at Sussex University today (15 October 2016 ) at the Migration Awareness Day and about to talk about NGO's and refugees, about my experiences at War Child and about my book, 'Left Field', which deals with these issues. The phone rang. It was LBC asking me if I was prepared to be interviewed by Maajid Nawaz. I told them that I was co-founder of War Child, author of 'Left Field' and guest at this conference and could speak in those capacities. They asked me it was it true that I had been Press Officer at STW and I said I had not worked for Stop the War for years. I asked them to call back at 2.30 after my talk and assumed that the call was a result of the conference taking place at that moment. As you can tell from this excerpt the invitation had nothing to do with the migration awareness day and all to do with ensnaring me in Maajid's venomous trap. Pity they stopped this recording just before I screamed my anger at him and shut him down. For those interested in uncanny happenings. I think I have been called twice in the years since I left STW. And this call, five minutes before my talk, seemed to me obviously connected to my talk. Obviously not. Watch the interview here.

Bristol? £8,000

I spent the weekend at the Calais 'Jungle'. Yes, it's still there. Several thousand people who have fled the chaos caused by those who have plenty of money for wars in the Middle East and Africa, and now for barbed wire on the channel coast. I met some wonderful people: Abidkhan, Azama, Atieyb, Agely, Passel, and many others. I went there with Calais Sessions musicians, brilliantly organised by Vanessa Lucas-Smith, Carl Burgess and … the list is long. Much of the weekend sessions were recorded by Danny Rowe who managed to contribute bass guitar to his recording work. The 'studio' was a makeshift hut whose plastic roof flapped its rhythm to the music below. I spent some of the time 'teaching' guitar, but quickly roles were reversed. After 30 minutes of C, G, A and F chords, Assi thanked me, smiled and asked if I'd like to learn Ethiopian Tizita pentatonic scales. I wrote them down and am already playing them – badly! The conditions there are terrible and the stories I listened to as bad. Atieyb who had brought his guitar on the long journey north. It only had two strings. Next visit – take some strings. One young Syrian didn't want to play guitar, but told me he liked to be close to music. 'It gives me', he said, 'sanity'. Why did he want to get to the UK. All his family had been killed – 'I don't want to talk about that, but my sister is in Bristol. I want to go therel.' Can anyone give me one reason why he shouldn't? His only chance right now is to find £5000 for the armed smuggling gangs whose white vans can be seen 'hanging out' on the surrounding roads. Guaranteed passage is £8000. But payment in cash and up front. The situation is disgusting. I would like to force David Cameron to learn some guitar chords and send him to Calais to teach. Wait a minute. I wouldn't wish to be responsible for adding to these people's misery. More photos later (thanks Sarah Smith for this one) and here is Calais Sessions:  www.thecalaissessions.com

photo: Sarah Smith

The Calais 'jungle'

I have just returned from “The Jungle” refugee camp in Calais. Thousands of people who have made it to the Channel coast, fleeing from the abyss of destruction, death and chaos our bombardier politicians have rained down on them. It was a dry day, but there were pools and streams of dirty water. Sand was blowing around and, despite the sunshine, the bitter cold invaded life and health. I went there as a guest of some wonderful homeopathic practitioners and, with their translator Najeeb Khan, the group approached numerous families. Only one didn't have colds, coughs, sore throats and worse. We were welcomed with warmth and too many cups of sweet tea. There was an eagerness to talk about their lives and what had brought them so many thousands of miles from their homes. How had they arrived on the channel coast? On EasyJet? Eurostar? Hired coaches? Many of them had walked across Western Europe. When you next fly or train it to southern Europe, look down at the ground. Walked? There are many volunteers working there – doctors, nurses, musicians, youth workers at the Baloo Youth Centre and at the Jungle Books library. At the large and well organised warehouse mostly young people unload foods, clothing, medicines and sleeping equipments. There is optimism and hope amongst the refugees. Another world that is not only possible, but being brought into being under these terrible conditions. As one of the founders of the UK NGO, War Child, I have a few questions. I am aware that Médecins Sans Frontières is present on a small scale in Calais and Dunkirk. That Save the Children has funded some of the volunteer work in the camps, but where are the larger NGO's 'on the ground'. Why are they not at least advocating for the refugees? Last year Save the Children did say this: “The UK government is very generous in aid and should be proud of rescuing thousands of people from drowning in the Mediterranean this summer. David Cameron deserves real praise.” But if they cannot speak out, where are they? Is it true they cannot get directly involved because neither the French or British government have declared a humanitarian emergency? Doesn't NGO translate as 'NON-Government ? A number of other questions. Does the French government take money from the UN to keep people at the camps, but do little or nothing in return? Is it true that the Calais camp has been partially, but not completely, destroyed so that this situation can continue? Is it true that with the destruction of the camp the French and UK governments might face court action? I am sure I am repeating rumours. Perhaps my questions are naïve. Perhaps. "Left Field' will be published in six weeks. Published by Unbound & distributed by Penguin Books

Masks of Anarchy

In contempt and despair I hardly need change a word of Shelley's 'Mask of Anarchy'

As I lay asleep in Italy
There came a voice from out of the Sea,
And with great power it forth led me
To walk in visions of a cemetery.

I met Murder carrying bombs--
He had a mask like Cameron--
Very smooth he looked, yet grim;
Seven blood-hounds followed him:

All were fat; and well they might
Be in admirable plight,
For one by one, and two by two,
He tossed them human hearts to chew

Which from his wide cloak he drew.
Next came Fraud, and he had on,
Like Lansley, an ermined gown;
His big tears, for he wept well,
Turned to mill-stones as they fell.

And the little children, who
on the beach played to and fro,
Thinking every tear a gem,
Had their brains knocked out by them.

Clothed with Mail and Sun, as with light,
And the shadows of the night,
Like Duncan-Smith, next, Hypocrisy
On a crocodile rode by.

And many more Destructions played
In this ghastly masquerade,
All disguised, even to the eyes,
Like MPs, lawyers, media liars.

Last came Anarchy: he rode
On a white horse, splashed with blood;
He was pale even to the lips,
Like Death in the Apocalypse.

And he wore a kingly crown;
In his grasp a sceptre shone;
and on his brow was worn--
'I WILL STAND AND FIGHT THIS SWARM!'

With a pace stately and fast,
Over the Middle East he passed,
Trampling to a mire of blood
The suffering multitude.

And a mighty troop around,
With their trampling shook the ground,
Waving each a bloody sword,
For the service of their Lord.

And with glorious triumph, they
droned through whole countries proud and grey,
Drunk as with intoxication
Of the wine of desolation.

O'er fields and towns, from sea to sea,
Fled the People hand in hand,
Tears at front, a corpse behind;
Till they came to Calais town.

And each person, panic-stricken,
Felt his heart with terror sicken
Hearing the tempestuous cry
Of the triumph of Anarchy.

For with pomp to meet them came,
Clothed in arms like blood and flame,
The hired guards, with Hammond's bid
`Fight marauders and their kids'.