I HONESTLY didn’t know what to expect before we arrived at the Grand Synthe refugee camp in Dunkirk, says Post reporter Lewis Brown.

I had seen pictures and readarticles, but knew I wouldn’t be able to fully comprehend the situation until I had seen it with my own eyes.

Arriving in France at Calais, we passed the notorious refugee camp on the edge of the city, known as the ‘jungle’. Just days after our visit, the French authorities went in and forcibly cleared part of it.

We had heard that the road to the camp at Grande Synthe near Dunkirk was being used by refugees leaving the ‘jungle,’ desperate to get out, to get somewhere safer, but all we saw, were trees and land.

One thing I did notice though was a strong police presence. Vans and patrols at the Calais ferry port and further along the road a police officer with a sniffer dog was searching a lorry car park.

We then reached our pre-arranged meeting point with the aid workers – a superstore’s car park. We were asked to park up and walk down to the camp first, which was quite ominous.

We followed the road to the site and were greeted by two French police officers keeping guard at the entrance. After talking with a friendly volunteer in a self-made information tent, we met up with the aid workers we had arranged our trip with.

It became clear to me that it didn’t really matter at first why we had arrived there that day and what we had to deliver. Almost immediately we were asked to help unload some things further down the main muddy path in the campsite.

We then brought our van into the camp site. Everything seemed on edge at this point as we had to load some butane gas – which is like gold dust to the refugees who need it for cooking.

Many looks of fascination came our way as we drove slowly down the main campsite thoroughfare. We parked at the end of the road and such was the popularity of the butane gas we had to covertly pass the bottles into a nearby delivery tent before we could think about unloading our donations.

Nearly every truck which opened its doors on the camp was engulfed with refugees trying to grab whatever they could to make their lives a little easier – food, clothes, gas and other essentials. A few people tried to ask what we were unloading, and it was quite often throughout the day I would hear “for family” as their reason for enquiring.

We then set off around the site to meet people and see up close how they were living. The muddy conditions were unreal. Straying from the main path meant navigating our way over wooden crates, mattresses and random bits of furniture sunken in the ground for access from one place to another, otherwise it was wading through thick mud.

We then trudged through the gloop, delivering some of the butane gas bottles. It was not easy work but every day this essential work has to be done. As we delivered the bottles, you could see just how grateful every person or family was. We were invited in for tea several times and handshakes were exchanged.

I’d like to say it gave me immense satisfaction handing out the donated items from Post readers from Petersfield and across East Hampshire to the refugees who clearly needed them.

But it didn’t.

After seeing just how dire their plight as and just how much aid was required, potentially for many months to come, how could it?

Donations are always needed and will always be very welcomed, but what’s needed more is people and their time to truly make a huge difference.