Migrant camp up close: house of prayer in the director’s office and food disputes

Basketball that brings you closer

A ball bounces off a Soviet-era gym in a small town. One by one, several blacks toss it into the bag slowly and without emotion. A little further on, another muscular man performs strength exercises. A small company is indifferent to us. They are already used to the attention.

The situation changes a bit when I offer to play together. Although it is not possible, I take off my mask, take the ball in my hands and swing it several times towards the basket. The last time I played basketball maybe in fourth grade, but a couple of shots hit home and that makes the hosts look up to it.

Soon the ice cream melts. Even the angry mountain of muscles in the other corner of the room takes an interest and comes to see what’s going on here. We shake hands and continue to support each other with shouts and applause when someone’s throw hits the finish line. The ball melted the cross-cultural walls in a matter of minutes.

Talk about life in the camp, but not about yourself.

After a while, I dare to ask to show you how they live. Such a magician will always say and show more than he can see and feel on his own.

Herve immediately says that he does not want to talk about his trip and how he got to Lithuania. This topic is taboo for almost all immigrants who have entered Lithuania illegally. The man only says that he studied engineering in Cameroon for four years and then went to Belarus to study Russian. From here he came to Lithuania.

We don’t push it. Today, our goal is to see how migrants live, not to sneak into their souls or delve into illegal migration schemes.

We want to attach a microphone. We are trying to find out where. There is nowhere to hitchhike because Herve is half naked. Seeing our gazes, he clearly reluctantly walks over to the bench and prepares a bright red T-shirt. I would have preferred to film without them.

In classes of a dozen to a few dozen residents

We walked down the hall, which until recently was run by the Vydeniai children. Now the beds are built here on the borders. They were led into the hallway by cleverer school residents, because it was hot and short of air to sleep in the classrooms.

Ten migrants were housed in each class. They sleep three feet apart in folding military beds. Women and men stay separately, but during the day, nothing prevents them from communicating or going as guests with each other.

Herve keeps opening the door as he passes by and asks if there is something against us if we journalists enter. There is not much burning in the desire to show us our living conditions. The girl class agrees, but asks for a few minutes to sort it out.

Hervé himself lives in a room with a capacity for forty men. There is hardly any space between the arranged beds. However, this company has a great advantage. And soon Hervé invites us to climb into an old-school chair and climb the roof window sill.

A separate life boils here: clothes are drying and men sitting on the ledges talk to each other and look curiously at the newcomers with cameras and cameras.

The principal’s office is a Muslim house of prayer.

Walking down the hall, I find a new friend. He took over Herve’s work and in English trying to help me. Open a door and ask those who live there if it is possible to take a photo. They do not agree. This is how we go through a couple more classes.

The traveling companion opens the door with a wooden table hanging on it, on which the Director is carved, and puts his head in the cabinet, although the whole body remains in the hall. Through the crack I see an empty cabinet and a man standing and praying in it facing the east wall.

“This is the Muslim house of prayer,” explains the new magician. I ask if I could take a photo. He nods his head in agreement. Will I replay because I want to make sure I don’t disturb such an intimate moment by clicking the camera? Reaffirm that all is well here.

I quickly bring my head closer to the camera and, after pressing the shutter a couple of times, pull it back. The worshiper doesn’t even turn his head towards me during that time.

Later, the elder of Vydeniai, Genutė Ramaškienė, said that the migrants found this office themselves and set up a house of prayer in it without listening to anything, and then only asked not to be evicted from there. The old man did not object and left everything as before.

Ask for more rice, vegetables and milk

The time to speak comes at noon. When he returns, Herve offers to go upstairs, where the food rations are shared.

At the bottom, in one of the small offices, a desk is built at the entrance, which separates the food warehouse from the crowded crowd in the corridor. At first glance, there is no clear line. Everyone has a sheet of paper in hand. Food portions are issued according to them. Some came with all the fiber; they also bring food in disposable jars to their friends.

In the past, illegal immigrants received food rations three times a day. Now, without sufficient funds, two. It is produced by women in the school cafeteria. The ration consists of soup, meat, garnish and a few pieces of vegetables.

The women who share the food say that those who live here most miss it and ask for rice and vegetables. However, it is difficult to help because you are already doing what you can, within the possibilities available.

School residents are unhappy with the food and complain that it is low and bad. But nowhere have we seen the demonstrative picture of the food rations that we have found in the Greek islands and other immigrant camps abroad. Elder Genutė recalled that once the bars were brought in, they caused such confusion that the police even had to be called. It is true that after that everything calmed down peacefully.

When we left, one of the migrants had started asking him to buy milk quite obsessively. Another asked for cigarettes and a third even offered money to bring them food from the store. Perhaps a shop on wheels that runs through the towns of the district could also become an outlet here?

Complains about hygiene conditions, but shows no initiative of his own

Herve shows a broken faucet and complains of poor hygiene. The bathrooms are few, the water taps are hacked, and the wash doesn’t look much like that.

Even without going to the bathroom, the steam from the urine in the hallway fills your nose so you don’t even want to take pictures of that dark room anymore. However, they are in no rush to self-manage and improve conditions. All facilities are cleaned and maintained by a cleaner. It is true that it does not pick up food containers and other debris thrown out the windows, so the wind blows plastic and other debris in the garden.

Not only is food distributed free of charge to current schools for the population. Shampoo and hygiene packages are given to them.

Migrants complain about the lack of clothes and shoes. Once they brought the women a small consignment of clothing. They were placed in the hallway and anyone who needed them was expected to pick them up and use them. It later turned out that several women immediately took all the clothes and began to sell them. Since then, the charity exchange system has changed. Now they are shared in person.

Interrupted, but without losing faith

Before saying goodbye to Herve, we sat on the stairs of the school. A few more men are sitting here. Herve asks what awaits them. During the quarantine, their phones were taken away and they were isolated from the world. Therefore, they cannot find out anything or get in touch with their loved ones.

I explain that if they have applied for asylum, it will be considered. If he is rejected, he will have to leave the country, but so far no New Wave migrants have been deported. So you just have to wait.

We talked for a while without cameras. In Hervé’s eyes you feel the uncertainty, confused with hope and the belief that everything will be fine.

We said goodbye to him and the other residents gathered in the courtyard, shaking hands vigorously. Probably until next time, because this crisis will not end in a day.