A Community Beyond The School

 

I have been remiss. The truth is, I’ve had writer’s block. My first 3 weeks here in Doliana have been a whirlwind and every time I sat down to write I found myself overwhelmed by the amount of things I wanted to say and gave up. I’ve since come up with a writing schedule I hope to stick to. Today I want to write about the camp here in Doliana. It took me some time to figure out the dynamics in camp and I’m sorry to say that they are not always the best.

In my last post I mentioned that Doliana camp has received very little attention from larger organizations as the number of residents are smaller than other camps in the surrounding area. When the first member of Doliana Solidarity asked refugees what they felt they needed the most, their answer was English classes; that is how this project began. Upon further reflection, I’ve noticed that what is also needed in this camp is a sense of community. There is a lot of tension amongst the different cultural groups and fights and arguments tend to break out fairly regularly amongst the Syrians, Afghans and Kurds. There is also infighting amongst the families of the same culture. Unfortunately these fights sometimes end in physical altercations. Each group feels that another is favoured by us volunteers, organizations that drop into camp once a week or the military (who have jurisdiction over the camp).

Doliana from the top.

While this is a sad reality, it is not entirely unjustified. When you think about it, many, if not all of these migrants had no intention of staying in Greece this long. Being shipped off to a mountain village for an undetermined period of time with no sense of purpose or belonging would be disheartening for anyone. Add to the fact that many have fled dangerous situations and you can understand why they might feel that their futures look bleak. The camp itself is housed in a former boarding school (a music school if I’m not mistaken), where these is little insulation, communal bathrooms and no formal dining space. As the temperature begins to descend into winter weather, their living conditions will become harder.

A windowless room in camp. Thankfully, Oxfam has now placed insulated windows in time for the cold weather.

Tents are placed in rooms to give families privacy and to retain heat.

I don’t intend to bring the mood down, however these are the realities of the situation here. I was given more perspective on this when I visited another camp, Katsika, located south of Ioannina (the major city of the region). Katsika has had a community of volunteers since its inception. While their numbers have dwindled from 1000 to just over 200, the sense of community there is inspiring. At Katsika, I visited a building called Habibi Works. It is a collective art and technology space that includes a kitchen, a carpentry room, a textile room, computers, 3D printers and all sorts of materials to make art, jewellery, clothes, and even a weight machine (the kind you would find in a gym) all made from scratch by refugees. The textile room is filled with designs created by refugees that get screen-printed onto t-shirts and are sold online. The proceeds are divided amongst the artists, the camp and toward the maintenance of the space at Habibi Works. We were also shown a weight machine built by refugees that was welded from metal scraps and other recycled materials, it looked like something you would find at a state of the art gym. While we were there, one of my teammates asked in awe, “Aren’t you worried that materials and equipment will get stolen or destroyed?” The answer, to put it simply, was no. Because the residents of this camp have been given volunteer attention for so long, they understand the value of their work there and don’t want to do anything that will upset the synergy that has been created in this space. The difference between Katiska and Doliana seems to be just that, cooperation and harmony.

To that end, I feel like we have begun making some progress in this respect in Doliana. Over the last few weeks, there has been more of a presence from larger organizations like Solidarity Now, International Medical Corps and ARSIS. Our team members have begun working closely with them to help improve the overall atmosphere of Doliana Camp. But things move quickly here and at the end of October, the Greek government implemented a law that all refugee children would begin attending Greek schools. I want to note that this has not been completely welcomed by the Greek community (read more about that here). This process is said to begin as soon as possible and as a result we here at Doliana Solidarity may begin seeing dwindling numbers in our children’s classes. While this would be sad for us, as we have developed close relationships with the children, it would also mean that we could shift our focus to improving our adult language classes and implementing more community time for the residents of the camp. If anything, I feel like our mission here is to create a space for refugees that makes them feel valued, included and appreciated. All of this remains uncertain at this point and planning is therefore difficult. Having said that, our presence here has not gone unnoticed and our efforts will not be for nothing.

Teaching in my “Advanced English” Class for Farsi Speakers.

Back in Greece and not going anywhere!

Hello again, it’s been a long 10 months since I’ve posted on here. Since my last stint in Greece I have done a lot of different community work at home, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. My life at home was missing purpose and before long I knew it was time for a dramatic change. So after much thought, I quit my jobs (yes I had several), rented my apartment and took out a small loan so that I could take a year to travel the world. My first mission was to come back to Greece to continue doing relief work with refugees who have come to Europe in search of a better life.

As many of you probably know, since March all of the European borders closed due to the EU/Turkey deal and many refugees who were still on route to their final destinations were left stuck in the country they found themselves at the time. In Greece, this number amounted to over 50,000 refugees stranded in various camps around the country, many left uncertain of what their futures hold.

I got to Greece (and more specifically Athens) about 2 weeks ago and spent my first couple of days playing tourist, as I had never been there before. It’s a beautiful city; full of history and culture under every step you take and with every turn you take. Originally my plan was to go work at a camp outside Athens, translating for Farsi speakers. Unfortunately (for me), the organization I was meant to partner with had no room as they had anticipated so I was left to find a new project. This is how I came across an independent effort being made by 3 individuals in the small town of Doliana, just outside the Northern city of Ioannina and close to the Albanian border.

The camp here in Doliana houses about 250 refugees of Syrian, Afghan and Kurdish descent. When I got here I was told that there has been little to no aid from NGOs at this camp. That’s why a fellow named Adam started providing ad hoc English classes for the residents, he was soon joined by a couple, Edmund and Erica and together they opened a classroom and library space in the village, minutes away from camp.

They began running regular classes for the children and adults and when I joined I was able to begin aiding them with teaching the Afghans as I speak Farsi (and they do not). From my first moment in Doliana I was very welcomed, by both the volunteers and the refugees. The children immediately started call me “khaleh”, an endearing term for women that are not part of your family, but considered close family friends- it’s true translation means “aunt”(specifically on your mother’s side).

I dove into my classes immediately and already many have improved in the short time that I’ve been here. As a result, my Farsi has improved a lot as well, though they often laugh at how American my accent is. I have found that everyone is extremely appreciative of the effort we are making, despite the sometimes confusing schedules and infighting amongst the families- for this reason, we have had to divide of some the classes to avoid any issues in the classroom.

There is so much to write about, from the relationships and atmosphere found in the camp, the sporadic help that comes from larger organizations who sweep in for a few days and then leave again, to the stories that have already been shared with me by some of the refugees. I hope to cover all these and more over the next few weeks. My original intention was to stay only a month, but within 48 hours I had already understood that the need for me to stay longer was more than necessary. I’ve now decided to stay in Doliana through to the end of December. Tomorrow, we are welcoming two new volunteers who will help with English programs and will hopefully begin a sports program for the children. (They have a lot of pent up energy that needs to be let out!)

As I mentioned, this is an independent effort made by us individuals. There is no funding from larger organizations and through donations from friends and family and money out of their own pockets, Adam, Edmund and Erica were able to bring this project to life. Any donation is greatly appreciated it as it goes towards the rental of the classroom spaces and classroom materials and books for the students. We are hoping to begin some new community programs, like knitting classes for the women and movie nights twice a week (one for the Arabic speakers and one for the Farsi speakers). To check out the project, visit:  http://dolianasolidarity.org/

Until next time!

Final Reflections

Apologies for the dwindle in posts, I’ve never been much of a journal keeper as after about a week I tend to forget or get distracted by other things. I’m back in Italy now, having returned from Greece two days ago, and have spent most of my time sleeping and doing laundry. This last post is going to be a long one, so hold on to your hats.

I’ll start off with detailing my last two days in Lesvos which I spent in Moria once again. I ended up hitchhiking both days to camp (sorry, Dad) which was an experience in and of itself. The first day I was picked up by two Algerian guys who wanted to know all about my life in Canada and even asked me to help them move there. (I had to tell them that I wasn’t exactly in a position to do so but wished them the best of luck and jokingly told them to call Justin the Good to see if he could do anything.) The second day I hitched a ride with an older Greek man who didn’t speak a lick of English. When I made it clear that I was going to Moria he pointed to me and said, “Syria?” I figured out that he thought I was a refugee and had to explain to him that I was in fact a volunteer from Canada which I only managed to do by using Google translate. Considering these were my first two experiences hitchhiking I’d say they went reasonably well.

Overlooking  Afghan Hill at Moria

Back at camp I spent my last two days mostly translating; it was kind of funny because once people caught on to the fact that I speak Farsi I found myself running all over camp helping relay different situations. I eventually started spending more time in the medical tent as well which I concluded I was actually much more useful in than I had originally thought I would be. All the stories told in this post are from people I met in the medical tent.

I also spent some time at the non-Arabic speaking registration line (i.e. the non-Syrian line) helping keep things in order as the police let people in one by one. Due to the bad weather Moria has been fairly empty and Frontex has more or less managed to catch up on registration. I last heard there were only 200 people in the camp (UPDATE: Moria is quite crowded again since the weather conditions have gotten better). That day the registration line was pretty calm and the refugees were waiting very patiently. The police officer I was working with, Vassily, was an intimidating mountain of a man; he was bald, wore aviators, smoked like a chimney and spent most of his time joking with me about his ability to speak Arabic (he spoke none). I’d heard that the Greek authorities have been rather rough on the refugees but I found Vassily to be very docile and quite concerned about the wellbeing of the refugees. He asked me to relay to them that they should take cover or come back if the rain were to come and had me figure out which families had elderly family members or small children to make first priority.

Outside the Frontex Compound at Moria

At one point I was asked to bring an elderly woman to the medical tent and on the way she told me about her 5 children, 3 of whom she’d already lost to war in Afghanistan. With us was a young man who had met this woman and her family along the way; because he was travelling alone the family took him in and the woman even started calling him her son. Once in the tent, we spent a good 5 minutes trying to figure out her age as she wasn’t sure. This is something that seems to be quite common, particularly with women, as a lot of them don’t have birth certificates or any other documents to tell them their exact birth date. (We had one guy come in who adamantly told us he was 29 even though he definitely looked over 40.) Eventually she decided that she was around 70 and we just left it at that. She was particularly concerned about her blood pressure because she had lost all her medication in the water (something that happens to a lot of people) and began crying when the doctor gave her the BP results. Eventually we were able to reassure her that her levels were only a little higher than normal and were likely due to the stress of the trip. She began kissing all the doctors and telling them that Allah would look kindly on them; it was funny to see the doctors’ reaction to this as some of them were not sure what to say in return. On the way back to the registration line she told me she wished Allah to give me a happy life in which I would find a very good looking husband to have beautiful children with. (She made me promise her that I would have at least 2 boys and 2 girls, so I guess I had better get busy.)

I also met a woman who had been travelling for several days and told us her baby had been crying non-stop since they had left. I could tell she was tired and sick herself but was more concerned for her child than her own well-being. We managed to rehydrate the baby and she was able to nurse him for a while. At one point, a man (another refugee) started speaking to us and told her that she should cover up if she was going to be breast-feeding; it was entertaining to watch her tell him off by pointing out that he didn’t have to start talking to her while she was feeding her child. We talked about it afterwards and I told her that things were not that much different in the West as people still lose their minds when a woman breast-feeds in public. We laughed about how stupid this was and under her breath she said, “I guess men are the same everywhere.”

The last story I want to share is of a woman whose story truly broke my heart; I’ve considered whether or not I would write about it but in the end I realized that it serves as a great reminder of the reality a lot of these people face. I’ll start off by saying that while all of the hardships that the refugees face are tragic, I hadn’t yet heard a story quite this heartbreaking. Maybe that’s because I’d been careful not to ask too many questions or probably because most people were not forthcoming about their past. In any case, after helping translate for a doctor I went back into the waiting area of the medical tent to find a woman sobbing hysterically as a nurse held her hand. I asked if she had any pains and how I could help, instead she told me the reason she was crying was because 20 days prior she was separated from her 16 year old daughter, Lena, somewhere between Afghanistan and Iran. She had already lost her husband (who was murdered by the Taliban) and only her and her 14 year old daughter were left. She didn’t know whether Lena was alive or dead but could only hope that she wasn’t still in Afghanistan as she was sure she would be killed. To be honest, there are no comforting words to say to someone in this situation. We told her that she was safe now and that we would do everything to find her daughter but how are you supposed to comfort a mother who has lost her child? Worse yet, who doesn’t even know whether her child is alive or dead? We contacted the UNHCR and the ICRC who are working to reunite families and they were happy to take down her information. I don’t know how much better the woman felt after that but she seemed a little more at ease and grateful for our help. After she left, the nurse (who was holding the woman’s hand) and I hugged and cried for a long time. It is something that I will never forget and continues to bring me to tears every time I think about it.

My time in Moria was challenging yet rewarding. In all the chaos, there were still light moments to be found and we were all grateful for them. On my last day some clowns came to the children’s tent and played music for everyone as the kids danced around. Slightly further up the hill there was a guy from Texas dancing hip hop while some refugees and volunteers looked on. Eventually some of the refugees joined in with their own traditional dances and there was much laughter about as each man started trying to imitate the other. (I suppose it should be noted that no women danced.) The Texan guy also started rapping which the refugees were quite taken by. When you’re in the midst of it all it’s hard to see the good amongst all the bad and I think for refugees and volunteers alike it’s crucial to have these brief moments of relief when you can forget the circumstances that brought you all together in the first place.

A quick note on the life jacket projects: the projects are growing and I’m happy to say that my two friends who started the mat project were able to pass off their ideas to other volunteers after they left. A solution was made for the tents and the vests are now being laid side by side to create a large surface which is being put under the tents in Moria. This way they are not seen by the refugees, will not be thrown around and will still provide a minimal of insulation from the ground.

Picture courtesy of Anezka and Mads, Life Jacket Pioneers

The woman who made the sturdy mattress from the life jacket foam and the rubber from the dinghies was able to get in contact with someone from the UNHCR and show them her project; they’re currently in talks for funding to create more of them.

I’m also happy to report that the project with the bags being sewn out of the life vest material is well underway.

Lastly, if you haven’t seen it, up in the north of the island there was an enormous peace sign created out of discarded life jackets.

My time in Greece was definitely not long enough. In truth, after observing the situation around me, I’m not sure how much help we’re really giving these people on a macro level. Once they go to Athens and then on to other places (many refugees I spoke to planned to go to Germany, Sweden, or Norway), they still need to seek asylum and start new lives. A lot of them don’t have money, documents or even family left and to be certain many of them will face discrimination and systemic barriers as they try to settle in the West.

With what’s been happening in Germany, France and Egypt over the past few days I can’t help but worry about the wonderful people I’ve met and the journey they still have ahead of them. I also worry about the many who are still on their way to Europe. With the harsh weather over the past week the trip had been more dangerous than ever. Just a few days ago, 34 people tragically lost their lives on the Turkish coast trying to cross over to Lesvos. What’s more, the Turkish government just confiscated a bunch of fake life jackets that have been given to the refugees- let me be clear, when I say these jackets are fake, I mean they are not buoyant and people are drowning. I had heard about this before and even did some investigating with some of the life vests stored at Pikpa but wasn’t able to determine their usability.

To be certain, the situation is bleak on all sides. There are people running for their lives in search of a glimmer of a life that, to be honest, is not necessarily waiting for them on the other side; there are people taking advantage of refugees at any possible moment; there are organizations who are limited by red tape and bureaucracy and  governments who are refusing to address the issue with any real, sustainable solutions; and finally there are individuals who are doing the best they can to provide the minimal amount of relief to those in need. It’s far from perfect and more needs to be done by those in the position to do so. However from what I’ve seen, the people on the ground are working their hardest to make the refugees’ stay as comfortable as possible and as I’ve said before, those brief moments of relief are more than needed.

Safe Passage (Pikpa)

I’d just like to take a minute to thank anyone and everyone who’s read this blog. I’ve gotten messages from family and friends who have told me how much they enjoyed it and their support is immensely appreciated. As you’ll have noticed I was careful not to post many (if any) pictures of refugees as in the end I decided that I could tell this story without showing their faces. (The Syrian government is diligently scanning social media for pictures of people who have escaped Syria and it just feels better to be safe rather than sorry in all cases.) I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about my experience as I’ve definitely enjoyed writing about it. Before I started this trip I was a little worried about how I would get through it all, both  emotionally and physically. I have to say I faired better than I thought I would; of course it was physically taxing and there were moments when tensions and emotions ran high but overall I feel this trip has started me off on a path that will bring me back to similar situations in the future. I’m going to keep this up for anyone who wants to read in the future and hopefully for more adventures somewhere down the road.

Until then, take care, be safe, and be kind to one another.

Chloe

A Question of Dignity

The last few days have been both tiring and emotionally draining. To be honest I’ve been having trouble finding the words to detail my experience and haven’t felt much like writing. However, today was a good day and I felt like we made a lot of progress. After sharing a lovely dinner with a bunch of other volunteers, I’m feeling energized and ready to dive back into this story. This is going to be a long one, so bear with me and enjoy the pictures.

One of two castles on the island, just outside Mitlini (a little out of focus)Greek Coast Guard

I’ll start with the night shift I had in Moria a few nights back. We had expected it to be a quiet night as many people had left the camp earlier that day and the weather was expected to be quite nasty overnight. However once we got there it quickly became obvious that in reality there is no such thing as a “quiet night” in Moria.

I spent the shift working in the clothing tent where refugees can come get fresh, dry clothing in exchange for their wet ones. As the buses rolled in one after the other, we were constantly running back and forth trying to aid as many people as possible. What was meant to be an 8 hours shift turned into 11.5 hours for me and 15 hours for another friend who decided to power through the day (he left the camp at 5 pm).

The clothing tent is an exceptional experience as it really gives you insight into what kind of mentality refugees have when they come to us. This may be a little hard to explain, so bear with me. At the clothing tent there are two lines (as well as two changing areas), one for women and children and another for men. I worked with the women and children most of the night. Something that you have to remember about people in this situation is that they are often coming with very little of their own possessions, sometimes with only the clothes on their back. Most of the time, not only are their clothes wet, but everything that they have brought with them is wet too. To ask them to change into ill-fitted clothing and hand-me downs is often a blow to their self-esteem. As one woman I was working with pointed out, we really are making them look like refugees by giving them these clothes and asking them to hand over their nice (but wet) ones. Many of the women come wearing beautiful dresses and ornate accessories that get ruined by the water. Often they don’t want to part with their clothes and even more often they reject the clothes you try to give them.

One girl I was helping rejected just about everything I tried to give her despite the fact that she was shivering and her hands were turning blue. It’s easy to get frustrated in these situations because there are so many people to help and a limited amount of clothing. (Items that are really lacking are shoes, pants and gloves.) Having said that, it’s important to remember that in a way we are stripping these people of their last inkling of dignity and it only makes sense that they will fight tooth and nail to keep that for themselves. Eventually I was able to figure out that the girl’s favourite colour was red and soon we were able to put an outfit together that was both warm and to her liking.

The other challenging part about the clothing tent is that I speak Farsi. This would seem like a good thing but it can be tricky once people understand that I speak their language. All of a sudden, I’ll have 5 or 6 people making requests at the same time and often they try to coax me into doing them favours because I am their “sister”. I’ve heard things like, “I know you can help me because you understand me,” or “You don’t have to tell any of the English speakers, but please can you do…” This hasn’t been the experience of the people who speak only English and can more easily turn people away. I’ve wondered if it’s worth pretending that I too only speak English, but I know in the end that this would be a horrible waste of a skill that is greatly needed as their are very few translators to begin with.

As the night progressed the weather got colder and around 6 am the power in the lower part of the camp gave out. Luckily it was in between buses and power was restored just before the next bus rolled in. However there were some women and children still in the changing tent and the children became really scared of the dark. I took the opportunity to make it a light moment and started making shadow puppets with my headlamp. The kids loved it and the mothers were appreciative to have a moment to themselves as we scrambled to get them their last items and send them off to sleep.

The clothing tent

As I mentioned, there are a few items that seem to be constantly lacking in the clothing tent. The biggest one is shoes, as just about everyone comes in with wet feet. One solution to this problem is giving them dry socks and wrapping them in emergency blankets before putting them back in their wet shoes. It’s not ideal but extremely efficient, even if the refugees are not always happy about it.

After the night shift, I went back to my hotel and slept for about 19 hours straight, something that only happens when I’ve pushed my limits beyond reason. I’ve had to be careful with how much I do physically due to my chronic pain condition and admittedly I didn’t pace myself properly the first few days.

Once awakened from my mini-coma, I went back to Moria and did some more work in the clothing tent as well as help stock tents with lifejacket mattresses. There seems to be a little confusion around what to do with these mattresses by the refugees. We’ve been finding that some of the refugees understand and appreciate their use, while others just chuck them out of the tents. We also realize that there is likely a negative connotation that comes with the jackets (which is why we have avoided using the bright orange ones) and are currently trying to come up with a way to make them less discomforting.

By the way, the lifejacket project made to national Greek news! You can check out the article and video here. Look out for a little cameo by yours truly.

At the clothing tent I met a young Syrian girl and her 3 year old brother who had a particularly nasty cough, so I took them into the medical tent to get looked at by the doctors. Despite his cough, this little boy was a chatterbox. Though I have no idea was he was saying (they spoke Arabic), he did not stop talking and laughing from the moment I met them. After leaving the tent, I found their father and did my best to explain to him what had happened with gestures and a few common words (i.e. doctor and medicine) until he understood. He was grateful for my help and the little boy gave me a big wet kiss before going off on his way.

Skipping ahead to yesterday, it finally started raining as promised around 3 pm and did not stop until late into the night. A few of the LUSH tents started collapsing (while people were inside) as the earth underneath became soft from the rain. Around 7 pm, when it was already dark we started going around and distributing blankets to people in the tents. Many were huddled up closely together to fight off the cold rain as it poured down. Earlier in the day, a woman had been separated from her children after having fainted and being taken to the hospital. Apparently she was so traumatized that all the medics could get out of her was that she wanted to see her children. We took the opportunity to look for the children while distributing the blankets and eventually they were found and reunited with their mother.

“The Inside” 

Today was a beautiful day in the morning. I recently moved to Panagiounda, the town just south of Moria and was able to walk to camp, passing olive groves, farms and sheep! on the way.  The sun had dried out a lot of the enormous puddles in Moria that had developed overnight but many of the tents had pools of water and mud inside. We spent the afternoon cleaning them out and setting up the ones that had fallen up again.

I also brought an elderly woman to the medical tent and helped relay her pains to the doctor. As it turns out, she had fallen a few days prior and had gone to see a doctor in Istanbul who bandaged her up. However, while getting off the boat here in Greece she fell again and the doctor believes she may have cracked one or more ribs. We got her some pain killers and found her a place to rest, as well as some new clothes as her dress was still wet and uncomfortable. Her family plans to leave in a couple of days but told me that they will wait until she feels up to travelling again. I was left thinking of my own grandmother who has  her share of health problems and felt good about being able to get this woman the attention that was needed.

Earlier tonight I had dinner with several volunteers I’ve met over the past several days. It’s incredible to meet so many like minded people from all over the world and share this unique and daunting experience with. We laughed, ate delicious food and planned for the next few days. Many of us are leaving within the week (as we all have to go back to work), but others who are staying longer are hoping to continue on with projects such as the lifejacket mattresses and the maintenance of the donated tents.

My time is coming to a close here and it doesn’t feel like enough. It seems like no matter what you do, the work is never ending. I know that in a small way I’ve contributed my part but there is still so much that needs to be done. The truth is, Moria isn’t being given the assistance and support it needs by the Greek government, Frontex, and other EU contingents. Thing is, I’m tired now so that explanation will have to come in another post.

No One Is Illegal

Yesterday I had the chance to go to Moria. I started my morning off in Pikpa, where we once again started assembling mats made of lifejackets. One volunteer also had the idea to take only a little insulation out of the jackets and wear it under his coat to keep warm. As it turns out this works brilliantly, so we made a few of those as well.

Afterward we loaded up the car and drove over to Moria which is located north of Mitilini in the hills amongst the olive groves. Just as we arrived, the LUSH Cosmetics tents were delivered and a group got straight to work putting them up. Kat, the woman organizing the delivery, asked me to come around with her to serve as translator while she interviewed some of the families moving into the tents. More on that below.

LUSH Cosmetics Tents

Due to the political issues surrounding the situation, the Greek government is not allowing Moria to be called a Refugee Camp, instead it is a Registration Camp. This means that once refugees have received their registration documents, they are free to enter Europe through Athens (which they get to by ferry). However, since more people come in over the course of day than can be processed by Frontex (the EU Border Agency) many are left waiting for several days, at times weeks, in order to be registered. Upon arrival to Moria, refugees are given a ticket with the date they arrived and a number. Everyday, outside the barbed-wire gates, Frontex announces which dates and numbers they will be processing; usually they are several days behind. Just to give you an idea, yesterday, was the 31st and Frontex was still processing people who had arrived on the 27th.

The camp is divided into two parts, the inside and what is being called Afghan Hill. It’s a little difficult to explain the terrain as (at least in my head) it all sort of blurs into one. This is part of the reason why the situation in Moria is so chaotic. There is little organization and close to no fluid communication amongst the Greek government, Frontex, NGOs and volunteers. What’s more is that the NGOs are severely limited by the kind of services they can provide and are not allowed to develop any infrastructure (i.e. bathrooms or running water) without several permits, which the Greek government has made nearly impossible to acquire. Currently, the land is being privately rented from the proprietor.

Afghan Hill from above

Abandoned tent on Afghan Hill

Currently there are refugees coming from Syria, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, Iran as well as Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia. However at present all Moroccans, Algerians and Tunisians are being denied registration all together and have been forced to set up on the beaches. The ONLY aid they are currently receiving is from Kitchens Without Borders. Furthermore, the Greek government is not even deporting people back to their countries, so many are simply stranded on the island.

From what I am told, the situation at Moria has been very calm over the past several days as there have been very few boats coming in. This has meant that the registration lines have been shorter (there were at most 50-60 people in the Syrian registration line yesterday, something that is practically unheard of). While I was there, the atmosphere was fairly serene; there were some clowns walking through the camp singing and dancing for the refugees and one man had even managed to get “the wave” going with a bunch of people who were waiting in line for water from the only clean source on the site. The weather however was quite bleak and the temperatures dropped below zero again last night.

As I mentioned, Kat had asked me to walk around with her and interview some of the families moving into the newly set up tents. We met one young man from Afghanistan who is hoping to move to Norway and study Computer Science. He had been travelling for 2 years, had left most of his family behind and told us he is looking forward to the day he can leave this journey behind him and start a new life.

We also met a family of 18 (8 of them children) who had been travelling for over a month, some of it by foot. They told us that their dream is to get to Germany where their children can study. One of the young girls, Leila, told us she wants to be a doctor and her family was quick to mention what an excellent student she was. After talking for some time one of the women asked Kat if it was possible to use her phone to call her sister in Afghanistan. Kat obliged and after a few attempts we were able to get connected. This was the first time the family was able to communicate with their relatives back home since leaving. (Kat and I had tears in our eyes, and even as I write this I can’t help but become emotional.) Just as we were about to leave them, the family was told they were up next for registration and to gather the children as they would soon be on their way.

I also had a long conversation with two men from Iran who were extremely friendly and chatty, as many Iranians (in my experience) are. One man, Ali, had been split from his partner 35 days ago (she is now in Finland) and he showed me a video of his newborn daughter whom he has yet to meet. He also showed me videos of his Martial Art competitions and told me he was one of the leading champions of his division in Iran. Ali is currently one of the refugees that is volunteering at Moria and plans to stay there for a little longer before going to join his family. The other man told me about his long and dangerous journey to get here. He said that travelling in the boat from Turkey was both the most dangerous and stupidest thing he has ever done; there were moments where he felt sure they would not make it to the other side. However after a moment he said, “But you know, I had to leave a bad situation back home and if this is what I have to do to start a better life, it is all worth it. Inshallah.” He told me about his plans to move to Denmark where a friend is waiting for him and asked me to tell him about my life in Canada. We drank some chai together and as we parted he thanked me for being here and we hugged.

Tonight I am off to do the night shift at Moria (Midnight- 8 am). As I mentioned there have been only a few boats coming in lately as the waters have been quite dangerous. This morning there were none that came into Mitilini, however I did hear that 4 boats (approximately 200 people) arrived on the north part of the island, Molyvos. The camp should be quiet tonight. My roommate told me many people were leaving on the ferry to Athens today and the general atmosphere is quite calm.

The weather is going to be warmer over the next couple of days, though they are projecting for quite a bit of rain. It’s hard to say which is better or worse frankly, the bitter cold that comes at night or the higher temperatures with rain.

I guess we’re all about to find out together.

On the outside of the main building at Pikpa

Lifejackets, who knew?

Yesterday I was in Pikpa, a camp that is currently hosting refugees who are in a vulnerable state and cannot continue their travels right away, i.e. pregnant women, children, older adults and people with disabilities. It is also a place where families can wait to be reunited. The camp itself is located just outside Mytilini, steps away from the coast. Currently there are about 40 people staying there and we were told their capacity is about 150; as the weather gets colder they are hoping to move more people to Pikpa from Moria.

As I said, the weather here is getting colder. Yesterday there was a high of 6 degrees and the temperatures went below freezing last night. With the temperatures dropping so low, there is a large concern for those staying at Moria as there is little shelter and most people are sleeping on the ground. Fire wood is expensive and last we heard, Moria was burning up to 3 truck loads of wood a night. As there is a lack of wood some nights, the refugees started to burn anything they can find to stay warm. Volunteers are trying to encourage refugees to stay awake at night and sleep during the day when the sun is out and it’s warmer; but as you might imagine this is hard to explain, especially with the language barrier.

Yesterday, a fellow volunteer came up with the idea to attached lifejackets with zip-ties to create a sort of mattress that would allow people to have some kind of insulation from the cold ground. 

After making a few prototypes and sending them to Moria, we were given the OK to make more with great enthusiasm. In total we made about 50 and are set up to make several more today. The residents of the camp also started helping and came up with ideas on how to improve the design. The collective effort was really wonderful and you could tell the sense of pride the residents had in being able to help. Even the children got involved and despite the harsh wind and overcast, people were laughing and smiling as we strung the jackets together. As lifejackets are often discarded along the coast, volunteers have been driving around to gather them and have started bringing them to Pikpa.

There are other projects that are currently underway. Using the inside of the lifejackets and the lining of the dinghies that are used to bring people to shore, one woman made a prototype of a mattress that is several inches above the ground. The foam lining of the jackets are being rolled up and laid flat side by side and then being covered with the plastic from the dinghies. The foam is also being used to create insulation walls to hang in the tents as the wind is powerful and makes it seem much colder than it actually is.

Another woman has taken the outer shell of the lifejackets that have been stripped and has started sewing together bags and purses out of them. The hope is that with donations she can get more sewing machines and begin selling the bags to raise money for the camp. There is also talk of getting some of the refugees involved so that they can take the bags with them as well as develop a marketable skill to have in the future.

As nothing goes to waste, the scraps of the inner lining of the jackets are going to be used as an insulation layer on the ground in the 50 tents that were donated by Lush Cosmetics, headed for Moria today.

Pikpa is also the place where meals are made for people staying at Moria. Last night we packed almost 900 containers of rice, carrots and onions that were quickly transported off to Moria.

As it’s the 31st tonight, there is a party going on at Pikpa, as well as another camp for New Year’s. To be honest, I’m not sure I’ll manage to stay awake that long so I’ll just wish everyone a Happy New Year now.

See you all in 2016.

Arrived Safe and Sound

SECOND POST ALREADY?! WHAT IS THIS?! A LIVE FEED OR SOMETHING?

Just joking. Arrived in Mytilini safe and sound.

On the plane I met a fellow Canadian on a Mission Tour with a group of fellow students travelling all the way from Australia! (And I thought I had a long way to go!)

Once at the airport, I met a woman who was convinced she saw Ai Weiwei on our plane. This is entirely possible as I just checked and he is indeed on the island! That same woman, Kat, was met by her friend and along with their other friends, they offered me a ride to my hotel. The kindness of strangers is something that always gives me a few moments of grateful pause. It would also seem that my life as a semi-vagabond has already begun.

While in the car my new friends told me about their experience on the island and what to expect. Kat told me that LUSH Cosmetics has donated 50 tents that are due to arrive in the port tomorrow, on their way to Moria (a major camp in a near by town on the island). I myself will be off to a camp called Pipka tomorrow with my new friends, where many women and children are staying at the moment. From what I am told, this camp is a little less chaotic than Moria and is a good place to start.

Once at the hotel, I met my 22 year old Polish roommate, who lives in Sweden and made friends with Nikos, the hotel manager who told me all about the Greek origins of my name (apparently, a budding plant). I then took a stroll into the centre of town and got myself a gyros (because when in Greece…). This port city is incredibly beautiful and I still have yet to see it in the day light.

A few things I’ve learned so far:

1. Pedestrians DO NOT have the right of way here. Something my Canadian upbringing has caused me to take for granted.
2. Although packing your clothes in a dry sack initially seems like a good way to save space, it’s a pain to get what you’re looking for if you didn’t have the foresight to pack it with things in the order you might need them.
3. Stray dogs are not always friendly dogs. (There are strays everywhere here.) Having said that, there seems to be a culture of communal responsibility when it comes to strays and that is a beautiful thing. I walked by the very restaurant mentioned in this Buzzfeed post from a few days ago and there were dogs hanging out and sleeping next to patrons enjoying their late night tipple.

Off to bed now and on to a new adventure tomorrow.

Chloe

And So We’re Off…

Currently, I’m on my way to Athens from Milan and then on to Mytilini on Lesvos Island after that. (This is being posted during my layover in Athens.) As you may already know, the purpose of my journey is to volunteer my time in Lesvos to refugees fleeing crisis in the Middle East. I will be spending one week on the island; not as much time as I would like maybe but hopefully enough time to make some sort of a difference.

Doing this kind of relief work has always been an ambition of mine, even from a young age. In high school I had decided that international aid, in some capacity, was for me; though back then I had no idea where any of this might take me or if I would even get to a point in my life where it could be possible. There were many detractors too; I was constantly told that such dangerous situations were not for “delicate” people like me.

“You’re the perfect target to be kidnapped and held for ransom,” said my mother.

 “You’re too sensitive for that kind of work,” someone else told me.

I once had the so-called “privilege” of meeting a Canadian diplomat whose career had taken him all over the world. I remember finding his story inspiring and knew that I wanted to commit myself to a similar path. When I approached him to ask him for advice and words of encouragement he told me that as a woman I would probably find it hard to be a diplomat, especially if I planned on having children. He told me I would be better off working domestically for some international component of government (maybe foreign affairs) if that’s what I really wanted to do, but frankly my time would be better spent doing something else. I was 17 and completely dispirited. Thankfully now, at 27, I know better than to listen to the out-dated musings of an over privileged white male who probably spent most of his career perpetuating discriminatory culture more than anything else. Nevertheless, this rhetoric really worked on me for a long time; I really believed that the kind of work I wanted to do wasn’t something I could ever realistically achieve. So I did other things, I went to school, worked in offices, taught dance to kids, took summer vacations and led my life as the good, domesticated young lady I was meant to be. Still, the urge never went away and despite liking my work (for the most part), it’s always felt like something else has been waiting for me. So now here we are 10 years later doing exactly what I was told I shouldn’t even bother consider doing in the first place. Suck it, old white man.

The inspiration for this trip came from a girl I used to work with who had spent the last while working with refugees on the island; I’d been following her posts on Facebook and found myself a little jealous that she was doing what I had wanted to do for so long. My decision to go the island was made at 3 AM one Sunday night/Monday morning a few weeks before leaving for Europe. At the time I was planning my holiday to Italy to visit family over Christmas and was contemplating where to spend New Year’s. In the past, I had always spent it in a different European city either meeting up with friends or exploring new places on my own. After considering a few places where I knew I could meet with friends I found myself feeling frivolous for even wanting to take a New Year’s trip at all. But then, at 3 AM, while scrolling through Facebook, the whole thing seemed so obvious. More than obvious!

At first, the idea seemed too crazy – one that would never actually come into fruition. After all, it was 3 in the morning. What would my family say about their “delicate flower” running off to some random island in the middle of the Aegean Sea to help people in their greatest moment of need? Luckily, and to my surprise they were more than supportive. (Not that I needed their blessing, but I would need a ride to the airport so their support was and is greatly appreciated.) And so with that, I took an extra week off work and started planning my trip.

The truth is, I still have no idea what I’m doing once I get there. After researching the situation in Lesvos, joining endless groups on Facebook and connecting with people from all over the world, the only thing I really have set up is a place to sleep, and not even for the whole trip- just the first few days. My plan is to work in the warehouses for the first couple of days, sorting through donations and getting them ready for delivery to various parts of the island. After that, I hope to get in contact with groups on the ground and figure it out from there. The opportunities are endless from working in the camps (both inside and outside the barricades currently being controlled by the Greek authorities); to translating in the medical tents (though I don’t think my basic Farsi will be very useful there); to greeting people coming off the boats; to collecting discarded blankets and clothes to be laundered and redistributed; to delivering donation items to various places.

I have absolutely no idea where this journey will take me and while I’m aware of the situation I’m about to enter, I’m pretty sure nothing has prepared me for what I’m about to witness. All I can really hope for at this point is the mental, emotional and physical capacity to make it through this trip. I don’t expect it to be easy, and I don’t expect to make it out completely unscathed. What I do know is that I’ve never felt surer about an unsure decision in my short and domesticated 27 years.

Stay tuned and wish me luck!

Chloe

P.S. I plan to take pictures and post some along the way, however I’ve felt very conflicted about this from the beginning. While I want to be able to depict as much of a full picture as possible, I’m not entirely comfortable with the idea of posting pictures of refugees as they are trying to make their way out of a dire situation. Not only does it seem insensitive, it’s also not what I’m here for. I hope to get a better feel for this on the ground, but as of right now I’d rather err on the side of caution. I will only post pictures with explicit permission and would ask that anyone who reads this blog does not reproduce any pictures without my consent.

P.P.S. While I personally have not made any effort to raise money for the refugees, I have been directing people to my friend Nancy’s GOFUNDME page. Nancy is the wonderful human who both inspired and help make this trip possible. I encourage everyone who reads this to make a contribution (of any amount) to help her reach her goal. All donations will go directly to helping refugees arriving on the island as they continue their journeys to new homes.