NO BORDERS, NO PROBLEMS

Ventimiglia literally means 20 miles in Italian. 

20 miles is the distance between Ventimiglia and Nice. 

But that's a coincidence, because the name has actually got nothing to do with numbers or miles.

Every evening, around 7 p.m., 100, 150 or even 200 people form a single file line, waiting to receive a hot meal in the parking lot in front of Ventimiglia’s cemetery. That’s not a coincidence.

Most of them haven't had a bite since the breakfast roll.

Most of them sleep under the bridge next to the parking lot. A dump of broken mattresses, plastics, half extinguished campfires, shoes without their pair, and t-shirts worn-out from the sun, the wind and the hopelessness.

This is a migratory bottleneck.

Human beings, fleeing poverty, discrimination and violence, embark in Libya or Tunisia, and die.

Others don’t.

They survive and reach the Italian coasts.

 From Sicily, Lampedusa or Calabria they move north.

Coming from francophone countries, many people want to reach France, where they have family or friends, and where they believe they will be able to restart a life that deserves another chance.

But then they arrive in Ventimiglia.

And those 20 miles that separate them from Nice become hell.

On the train, the French gendarmerie detain them, turn them back, deny them their right to ask for protection, to be seen by a judge, and to use the law to obtain justice.

In the mountains, the cliffs of the Alpes-Maritimes offer more risks than opportunities.

Some manage to cross.

Others are rescued by helicopters.

Others try to walk along the shoulder of the highway, between tunnels and bridges.

Others don't make it.

Welcome to EU!

After more than a year visiting the area to understand the needs and possible ways to help, the NNK team has just arrived in Ventimiglia.

By July 2023, we installed the first shower under the bridge.

The same bridge under which people sleep, cook and dream.

It hasn’t been easy.

Marwan, a guy as smart as he is friendly, showed us where to refill the water tanks. And so together, we refilled the super heavy tanks – thanks to the boys, helping out.

This is what the Kitchen is all about, working together, those who migrate and those who don't; mutual support.

The shower is a backpack with a small portable heater, a siphon, a bottle of gas to light the wick, and one of those Decathlon tents, to give some sense of privacy.

A wonderful engineering by our colleagues of the Collettivo Rotte Balcaniche Alto Vicentino. Thanks for always helping us so much and so well.

Hidden in the bushes. The shower presented itself shy and hesitant, like all the Kitchen team.

Would we be welcomed?

This thing of arriving somewhere as the messiah who will solve everything doesn’t usually turn out well. People, everyone, whether they have a home or not, deserve respect and privacy. 

We hate refugee safaris.

And sometimes we are afraid of being perceived as..., those who do refugee safaris.

But we aren't.

Idris was the first guy to take a shower. Total success.

He came out as good as new, happy, radiant. It had been a long time since he had felt clean water, soap, bubbles running down his body.

Dignity sometimes comes in the form of soap.

First day: 30 showers in one morning.

This looks good.

It's going well.

Now it's your turn.

Want to support?