Lesvos Refugee Trip Part 2 of 5

Today was what one might call baptism by fire. In complete contrast to yesterday I was thrust into action working in the main refugee camp at Moria. I'm back in my freezing hotel room, showered, but the smells of the camp linger. My thoughts are so scattered trying to process all that I saw and experienced. The most important thing I learned today is in fact that there is little I know, little any of us know.

As with the life of a refugee life at a refugee camp is pretty much a chaotic mess. If you asked me what I did all day I couldn't summarise it in one or two sentences, or even a paragraph. The tasks were so varied, and so rapidly changing. I felt like a pinball being tossed from one thing to the next.

People come here from all over the middle east, arriving freezing, haggard, wet, exhausted, and scared. At Moria they register with the government, a process that is extremely unpleasant that includes hours in queues in freezing temperatures, dealing with often abusive police. Their journey from countries all over the middle east (Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran, Lebanon, Palestine, Yemen--just to name a few) has already been long and arduous. They arrive here, and in many I see a glimmer of hope that they have finally arrived at a place where they will be able to rest and get real help. The sad truth is Moria is not that place. My heart breaks to see that glimmer snuffed out when they realise there is no place to sleep here for most, the queues will be long, we've run out of dry clothes and worst of all that no one has any answers for them.

Today I felt as if I was back in the middle east. Mostly Arabic surrounded me, and I found myself wishing I knew more than the handful of Arabic words I've picked up from my travels. The people I met today were just like you and me. After today I feel like I have more questions than I have answers, but I can say with certainty of heart that these people are my brothers and sisters. In the small moments of helping people get dry clothes, find a doctor, holding a mother's baby when her arms grew too tired, find a warm place for a family to sit while they wait for their their turn in the queues, help a girl find water, help confused people get their registration tickets, play games with the children in the queue, I saw mothers, fathers, children, grandparents, families . . . and I catch glimpse of the real people behind the plight. Their identities as "refugees" melt.

The worst part of being a refugee volunteer is not having answers for people, or being able to help them (as is often the case, mostly due to the high volume of people coming through). The best part is when you are able, even if just in the moment, even just with something small, to actually help. And in that moment it's all worth it. I held a baby in the queues for over an hour. My back was aching from standing and running around all day. As we stood in the queue to try to find the single mom a place in the family camp, she fell asleep. She had no idea really who was holding her baby. She was too exhausted to care. But for a brief window she found relief. It will take 1000 more moments like that for her to get where she can rebuild her life and a life for those children, but we do each make a difference. It is not with one grand act that humanity is brought to pass, but a thousand tiny ones.

I didn't take that many photos working the camp today. It mostly doesn't feel right. This is not voluntourism. I did spend a half-hour at the end of the day snapping a few to share. #IWasAStranger

Lesvos Refugee Trip Part 1 of 5

Last November I was feeling a nagging in my heart, inspired by my dear, dear friend Hayley who decided to take her skills and passion to help and spend Christmas and New Year's helping refugees on the Greek island of Lesvos.  I decided to join her for a few days.  My purpose was manyfold.  I felt I had the time and resources to offer real help.  I decided I wasn't just going to go and offer manual labor, which I wasn't sure was even needed, but that I was also going to raise needed supplies to bring with me to distribute.  I also felt I had the ability to share the real story of these refugees through word and images.  I was growing weary of the negative talk I had been hearing both generally and even from people I know about helping refugees and why we shouldn't, so I wanted to go and do my part and bring back their stories in hopes that people may see things in a new light, and one from a first-hand source.  So I went.  I decided to help raise funds to contribute to the aid relief fund Hayley had begun by selling my art.  I also collected supplies to bring with me.  I am so grateful for the many that supported my efforts, both through donations and also through supportive, encouraging words.  This is my Lesvos story.

80kgs (175lbs) of supplies, mostly waterproofs (ponchos, jackets, etc.), I collected to take to Lesvos

My first day on Lesvos was not at all what I expected. And the first thing I've learned about refugee life is there is no plan and things never go as anticipated (snow in Athens en route from London should have been my first clue!). Due to rough waters the past few days, there have been hardly any boats the last couple of days, which translates to very few incoming refugees and empty camps today. So today was an unplanned volunteer day off here. There are so many volunteers here, a whole community of them from all over. Many here on their own, and also lots of organisations represented. The efforts here have evolved greatly over the last many weeks and months. So with a day without much work to do, we drove around the north end of the island to see if there was anything we could do. It turned out to be a sort of orientation day for me.

First we encountered a newly arrived raft (maybe the only one for the day?), which was an interesting experience. The refugees on board had already made it ashore and were progressing through the system of camps here (there are several stages of camps they go through before leaving for Athens and onward). But the landing was fresh and we spent a few moments understanding the nature of their journey feeling what the raft is like from inside it. Inside the raft sits a pool of water and a few stray drowned gloves. Probably 40 people crammed in the raft. Such a terrifying journey.

Hayley trying to understand their journey stepping into the raft

Hayley and Anna, and Melena

Melena, Hayley, Anna and RJ

Next we visited one of the shoreside camps, where the refugees are first taken to get warm, change into dry clothes and collect themselves (sometimes overnight) before making their way to the next camp. This camp was very special and I could feel a lot of love, even a play area for the kids.

In the afternoon we visited the life jacket graveyard, aka the dump, where thousands of life jackets are dumped. It certainly put a visual on the scale of the numbers.  About 450,000 refugees have come through Lesvos alone. This is the life vest graveyard where most of the used life vests are deposited. There are many more strewn all over the island, and there is an initiative to make use of them (i.e. for mattresses at the camps). If you look at the photo closely you can see a tiny figure on the path towards the back, to give you a size reference. It's really a life vest mountain . . .

With calmer waters today, we expect many more boats tomorrow . . .

The beautiful harbour town of Molyvos, where we stayed during our time on Lesvos.  It was an hour commute to and from the camps we worked in, but that was just the way it worked out.  Such a beautiful place, you'd never know people were fighting for their lives on the shores below.  

The gyro cafe, Friends, that we ate at every single day for dinner.  It was a comfort having our daily dose of pita and souvlaki with fries and lemon fanta after a hard day's work.