A moment Frozen in time that melted my heart

Not only do we have apples, but we have gardens and houses, and freedom. And each other, writes Suzanne Harrington

IT IS a small Frozen backpack that melts me. Some little kid whose name I don’t know has given it to her mum to donate to the refugee children in Calais, whose camp is soon to be demolished by the authorities. The small girl is upset at the idea of other little kids being homeless, so she gives her favourite thing to help one of them carry their stuff.

Another six-year-old called Betty makes a colourful poster which her mum sends to a few primary schools, asking if anyone has any luggage they no longer need. So that when the Calais refugees are displaced once more, they will have something in which to carry their few possessions.

Arriving at the first school, there are mountains of suitcases, backpacks, holdalls, all piled up in the playground. Amidst the adult-sized wheely suitcases and big rucksacks are small ones — Scooby Doo, Ben Ten, Peppa Pig. Some stuffed with packets of biscuits, others with chocolate bars. Russian-dolling the luggage, the head teacher and I engage in a car-packing version of Tetris, trying to insert each bag full of bags inside the car.

When we have finished, we are sweating and the car is groaning, stuffed to the roof.

There will be many more cars like this, filled with stuff from ordinary people, to be given to other ordinary people who are in the midst of an extremely stressful situation over which they have almost zero control.

Filling a car with old suitcases, warm jumpers and tins of beans (ring-pull, because displaced people tend not to have tin openers) might seem a bit hopeless, a bit inadequate, when all you have is one carload and there are 10,000 displaced people in Calais alone, never mind the hundreds of thousands everywhere else.

This is where the hummingbird theory comes in — that even a tiny hummingbird can help when there’s a forest fire, by filling their beak with water, over and over. A young woman I know set up an impromptu charity called the Hummingbird; the idea caught on. We could all be hummingbirds. All that’s needed is the energy. And you know what? It makes you feel better. Less helpless. Less reliant on the powers that be, who fiddle as Aleppo burns.

Governments might not be doing anything, but that didn’t stop the little kid giving her Frozen backpack, or Betty making her poster, or parents rummaging in attics for luggage. Or someone donating a box of apples from their garden, with a long note about how organic they are.

Because organic really matters when your wonky shelter is being demolished by JCBs and riot police.

What truly matters is that somebody cared enough to pick the apples, put them in a box, and attach a note about their freedom from pesticides.

That’s how lucky we are. Not only do we have apples, but we have gardens and houses, and freedom. And each other.

A moment Frozen in time that melted my heart.