Wednesday morning we left Sofia, Bulgaria for a seven hour bus ride to Kavala, which is a port on the North-East peninsula of Greece. We had a 7 hour layover before our overnight ferry that would drop us off on the island of Lesvos by 6am Thursday morning.
After a short nap, we left for our first shift at the refugee camp. For legal purposes, I am unable to say the name of the camp or details identifying refugees as I recall the stories and experience throughout this month.
I wasn’t sure what to expect as well rolled up behind a charter bus full of new refugees that had just arrived to the island that morning. The camp is at a prison that was designed to hold 1,800 people, but since being transformed into a refugee center it holds over 5,000 refugees of multiple nationalities.
A majority of the refugees are from Afghanistan, but there are a number of other nationalities fleeing from their countries like Syria, Iran, Iraq, Congo, and many other Middle Eastern and African countries.
As we walked through the camp, tents were set up everywhere. Kids wandered around unattended. One was even sliding down the concrete hill in an emptied crate and went tumbling out once he reached the bottom. With a big smile on his face he picked himself off the concrete floor, grabbed his crate and headed back up the hill, probably to do it all over again.
We had a tour of the camp site. It was split into sections: vulnerables (families, unaccompanied minors and single women), and then by ethnicity and language. We heard more about what the process is like to get refugees moved into Europe, starting at Athens. Apparently families with small children are moved through the camp much faster than single men that have travelled alone. Some families move through in a couple days to a few weeks, while some single men have been waiting to be processed for a year and nine months. Some of the men that speak English fluently volunteer as translators to help bridge the communication gap between refugees and the volunteers.
After orientation we were thrown into action. They started giving us small assignments until we naturally ended up where we were best needed. I started by helping with housing. I was given a tent number and told to find out which families lived there and to let them know a new family would be moving in soon. I took a translator with me and introduced myself to the families.
These are probably 8-person tents fitting anywhere from two to four families with sheets as dividers between quadrants. There was a family of five on one side and a family of three on the other. When I told them there would be another family moving in soon, I was immediately met with resistance. Although there wasn’t anything they could do, they still tried to defend what space they had.
Next I was assigned to help clean the New Arrivals tent. It’s this huge community tent where all the new refugees first go to while waiting to get documented. There were mainly bunk beds and cots lined all around the tent and through the middle. The walk ways were narrow and we tried to sweep what small floor space there was.
After only eating a small pastry for breakfast post ferry ride in the early hours of the morning, I was finally able to catch a break for lunch around 3pm. I had the left over camp food that they handed out to the refugees. I was about half way through eating when a volunteer asked if anyone was good with computers. I looked around and raised my hand while I shovelled food in my mouth with the other.
I followed her to the Isobox, which is like a container/trailer, at the New Arrivals tent. The Isobox at New Arrivals is where they hand out kits and supplies to the new refugees as they are waiting to get their housing assignment from within the camp grounds. It’s also where they serve food and answer any questions. I would fill out the spreadsheet while another volunteer gathered the kit for each refugee in line.
The kit includes a backpack full of hygiene essentials like toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, and shower gel, two blankets, a sleeping bag and a bag of clothes with has a shirt, pants, one pair of socks and underwear.
The most rewarding part was seeing the soft smiles on their faces once they walked away with all these things piled almost higher than their heads. It wasn’t much, but you could tell it was the start of a new beginning for them.
Before I knew it the end of my shift had rolled around at 8:30pm. It was probably the longest most exhausting day of my life. But I knew we were tangibly making a difference. These long-term volunteers do this day in and day out and hardly have the man power to support the needs of the camp. Not to mention, its a 24 hour job at hand. They need overnight volunteers to man the gates and help at different stations all throughout the night as well. Its a thankless job, but we’re here to support the long-term staff as much as possible.
We will have 9-hour shifts, six days a week and there are 18 of us (three of the seven teams that make up our squad).
Pray for rest and rejuvenation for the long-term volunteers that stay for months at a time. Pray for the refugees, especially the single men who have no choice in how long they stay at the camp, unless they voluntarily deport themselves back to their home country. Pray for the Greek Police force that man these gates day and night. Pray that more short-term volunteers continue to come as man-power for the organization. Pray for monetary donations, so they can buy the supplies that they provide the refugees in bulk at a decent price. A big shipment to a greek Island can cost $2,000 from the mainland of Athens. Let’s wrap this camp and these people in prayer and lift them up to the Lord, who has all the finances and resources in the universe.
Thank you guys for reading this entire blog post. It’s a longer one, but a story worth sharing. I wanted to paint you all a picture of what it’s like here and I hope I can do it justice since video and photography are not allowed inside or outside of camp walls.
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