I arrived at camp in the morning and was briefed by other staff members on how the night went. With my fear of contamination, I prefer not to sleep in sheds or tents – so at the camp in Brussels I could always return to my studio at night. During those morning briefings we discussed things like internal disturbances and practical problems, if they had arisen. Something had gone wrong at a demonstration. The police had been hunting down asylum seekers who had joined the demonstrations at night - and other activists did not tolerate this. So tensions were running very high.
The morning went on and we were very on our guard. I was in the welcome tent, close to the camp's entrance gate, briefing an activist when I heard the first sirens. Crying, shouting, chaos. A group of activists stormed into the camp – and they were chased by the police. Someone had to intervene here – our main person in charge, Ringo, was not here now, but on the other side of the camp – and I made a decision.
“Call Ringo on the walkie talkie!”
I shouted to another employee in the welcome tent. I saw him reach for his walkie talkie and I walked towards the entrance. There was a group of police officers, with plainclothes officers at the front.
“The activists are safe in the camp!”, I said as loudly and soothingly as possible.
I broadened myself.
One of the plainclothes officers signaled for me to come to him.
I took a small step forward.
“Here is the entrance to the camp and you will stay outside without a search warrant.
That was the agreement. Outside the camp it is your responsibility.
“Here in the camp it is ours,” I said. I felt that more and more activists were coming behind me. There were more of us than them.
“We want to talk to you alone,” an officer called to me.
I was familiar with this tactic – it sows division among activists, because it makes it seem like you're collaborating and colluding with the police, rather than protecting the group. I refused.
“You have crossed a line and are not welcome here.
“We are here at home and you are on the street. You have to leave."
I still don't know how I managed to remain so steadfast and loud yet calm at the same time. Those were perhaps the naughtiest shoes I have ever put on. The tension was palpable. The police left – and my heart was able to start beating normally again. Applause, cheering, I heard everything around me. I was spinning a bit – probably from the adrenaline subsiding. I saw Ringo walking towards me.
“I'll take over from here, Luc,” he said.
Phew, thank goodness. I was able to return to my welcome tent.
“Before you know it they are in the middle of the camp and then we have misery, but oh well done".
He patted me on the back.
Many people who had previously kept their distance from me now came to me. I had gained their trust and respect.
For the rest of the camp I took responsibility at the welcome tent and the large entrance gate. As long as it was quiet, the gates were open. At the slightest disturbance or threat of disaster from the police force, the gate was closed. During the largest demonstration of the entire camp, I would stay on site overnight. Every helping or supporting hand was going to be needed, both on the streets and in our safe haven. The medical post was only minimally staffed, because so much care would be needed on the street itself. Together with the other guards, we had divided all the necessary tasks and responsibilities among ourselves. As long as the manifestation was going on, it was a tense calm before the storm. Here and there we heard reports of heavy fighting, but we did not know which information was correct. I didn't know what to expect. The first returnees trickled in at dusk. They had participated in the demonstration, but had not gotten into a fight. The first wounded followed later, staggering, supported by their comrades. Many refused to be hospitalized for fear of arrest. Administrative arrests happened very often. This was often the case for nationals without too serious consequences. For people without papers that was a different matter. From a certain point I got the feeling that the police were forming a circle around the camp. A little later a friend confirmed that this was the case. Through that circle we could stop anyone they wanted. They let many pass, but the hard core was arrested. Many activists who had been administratively detained were released in the middle of the night. I was exhausted, but couldn't sleep because of the adrenaline. I helped the returnees with what I could. At 8 o'clock in the morning two teenage boys arrived at the gate. One was holding the other. The other was covered in blood.
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