As we’ve begun our work here in Lesbos, we’ve been better informed on what the refugees actually go through on their way to us. The story below is a work of fiction following one young male refugee and is based on various true stories that we have heard. Some refugees have an easier journey, and others, far more difficult. For a better understanding of what this looks like, click here to view pictures that were taken just a few days ago. Please be in prayer for this dangerous journey that thousands of people undergo every day. Another blog will be up in a few days with more information on our specific work here. Please keep all the volunteers in your prayers as we work to serve the refugees as unto the Lord.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Today I finally reached freedom. After years of saving, months of planning, and weeks of dangerous travel, I have made it to European soil. I left my war-torn country a few weeks ago to avoid being forced to fight in a war that is killing my friends, neighbors, and family and turning my home into rubble.
I paid five-thousand euro to be smuggled through Turkey and have a place on a boat to cross part of the Aegean Sea. I say “boat”, but that’s being generous. It’s really more of a glorified, inflatable dinghy with a motor on the back. When I studied my route to Europe and looked at pictures back home, the cross from Turkey to the Island of Lesbos really didn’t seem like it would be that far or difficult. As soon as I stepped off Turkey and onto the boat, I realized just how wrong I was. The small part of the sea on the map now stretched before me far wider than I ever expected. Howling winds partnered with an ominous fog to bring a cold that set deep into my bones and wrapped itself around the fear that already resided there.
There was no going back though. Behind me, our smugglers crammed people onto the boat at gunpoint and in front of me was the possibility of a new life. I was the last of our group of 25 refugees to be crammed onto this horrible boat including families with elderly members, children and even one very young baby. Over the cries of the children, the smuggler yelled out instructions to me on how to work the motor, told me to head for the light, and pushed our boat off shore. It all happened so quickly I didn’t even have time to ask him the questions that screamed louder than anything else in my mind, “You’re not taking us there?! You’re giving me the responsibility to get us across in this horrible weather?! I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO SWIM!”
I sat in shock trying to comprehend what was going on until icy-cold water sprayed over the side of the boat and brought me back to my harsh reality. “Head for the light” he had said, so I scrambled to figure out how to work the motor and eventually got us headed in the direction of the light I saw shining faintly in the distance.
An hour later, we were only halfway there. At least three inches of water filled the bottom of the boat and everyone latched on with whatever strength they had left after being tossed around for so long.
What a sight it was seeing these people who were dressed in designer clothing to represent the wealth they possessed, now draped in sopping wet, week-old attire.
The worst part of the trip though, was the moment when the motor sputtered to a halt.We’ve been told by those that already made this passage that this is the absolute worst thing that can happen. Sure, the coast guard boat may be within eyesight, but they aren’t allowed to help us unless there is a “dire situation”. In other words, someone on the boat must greatly harmed or facing death. This is how my sister died. During she and her husband’s passage, the motor gave out completely and one of the passengers with their group who could swim resorted to puncturing the boat with his knife so that it would begin to sink. Only half the people on that boat could swim and by the time the coast guard could intervene, my sister, two other adults, and one baby were lost to the sea.
As soon as our motor began to sputter, fear and chaos took over the group. Another man helped me as I tried over and over again to get it to start back up. Finally, by some miracle, it lurched back to life and we continued to head towards the light.
Only now do I know that light was in fact a lighthouse, warning ships about the rocks and rough water there, not a guide to our safe passage.
We were close to making it to land when suddenly the boat lurched to a stop, a small boy fell out of the boat and landed on the rocks that were blocking us. Screams from his mother rose as his father immediately jumped in after him and I thought for sure that we would lose them both. After a few moments of struggle, the father emerged from the freezing water and pushed his son up onto the boat, back into the arms of his mother. Then, instead of getting back in the boat, the father grabbed the rope at the front of the boat and began pulling the boat over the jagged rocks.
As we passed broken wreckage of less fortunate boats, I looked up to see a few people standing at the shore! I didn’t know who they were or why they were there, but they helped us get out of the boat, wrapped us in thermal blankets and pointed us to the road where we could walk to find more help. I couldn’t understand everything they were saying as most of it was in English, but I didn’t care. We had made it! We were finally free! The boy and the father were taken in a car because hypothermia had begun to set in even more for the two of them than the rest of us.
After an exhausting 4 hour walk, we finally reached the first site that we were welcomed into, given new clothing, food, and a bus ticket.
Some of the men sitting next to me offered hundreds of dollars to one of the workers for them to call a cab. I later found out, that it would’ve been illegal since picking up a refugee in an unregistered vehicle can land the driver in jail with accusations of human trafficking. After a few hours of waiting crammed alongside a thousand other refugees in a tent meant for a few hundred, I was finally bused to the next leg in my journey. I’m writing to you now from this camp where I’ve been told that it will still be weeks until I can get settled in a country that will take me. At this point I don’t even care where it is. Any place in Europe surely must be better than life was back home. So for now I wait until I am allowed to continue on, looking for a new place to call home.
