I haven’t seen or read the news in over a month. The few times we get wifi are usually spent blogging or catching up with family and friends rather than spending time on current events.
I have no idea how the news is portraying the situation going on in Syria, or the arrival of the refugees here in Greece. All I know is the reality of the situation, the experiences and the stories of the volunteers here, the experiences and the stories of the refugees, and the things I’ve seen for myself.
Here’s what we learned in our first 48 hours on the island.
The journey from Turkey to Lesvos, Greece is 9km. From where we are living/working, we can see Turkey. The journey isn’t far in numbers, but the journey sure is treacherous.
To get from Syria to Greece, they have to go through Turkey with the help of smugglers. The smugglers, on a clear sunny day, charge 1000 euros per person. Just to get through Turkey, to the island, which is just the beginning of the long journey ahead to asylum.
For those that can’t afford 1000 euros per person? They wait for bad weather to come. Rain, cold, and rough waters, a time when the 5 mile trip is far more difficult and far more dangerous. The only time that they can afford to leave because instead of 1000 euros per person, the smugglers drop the price to 700 euros per person.
Over 90% of the refugees that are fleeing arrive on this beach in Lesvos, Greece. During the entirety of 2014, there were 44,000 refugees that came through this beach. In August of 2015, just one months time, 45,000 refugees came through. More people came through in August alone than in the entire year of 2014.
The numbers don’t lie. Statistics are spiking. But these people aren’t just statistics. They have families, stories, and an entire life that they left behind. They sold everything in order to have enough money to get through Turkey, some of them borrowing money from everyone they know in order to make the journey.
As they reach the shore, they are filled with a sigh of relief. They made it. They are alive.
The gravity of the journey ahead hasn’t quite hit them yet, but arriving on shore, they have so much to celebrate.
They arrive on rubber boats/rafts, meant to fit 12 people but are holding anywhere from 50-60 plus children. They are soaking wet and have no idea what will happen when they reach land. Some boats flip and not everyone is recovered. Just a few nights ago, a mother arrived to the transition point and had lost one of her children somewhere along the way.
Volunteers are waiting on the shore to receive them. To wrap them in blankets and foil in order to radiate body heat. To take care of the children and attend to immediate medical needs. From there, buses and vans take those that they can fit to the transition point. Those that can’t fit inside the vehicles, walk around 4-5 hours to get there.
It’s called a transition point, or a bus stop, because the word camp is frowned upon. The locals here in Greece don’t want anything to do with the situation. One of the volunteers described it like this: “if they just close their eyes, it will all go away.” The word camp refers to something permanent. The locals fear this situation becoming anywhere close to permanent.
The locals depend on tourism for income but with the refugee crisis, there is no tourism. They only worked 3 months this year and they are full of fear.
Just a couple of days ago, the transition point was about to be shut down or put in the hands of a different organization. A place that was only meant to hold 200-300 refugees was keeping up to 2,500 or more just last week.
Over 2,000 refugees and maybe, if even, only 20 volunteers to help run it. In order to meet their basic needs, 24 hour coverage is needed. You can imagine how burnt out these volunteers were.
They were praying for more hands, they needed more volunteers in order to keep the transition point up and running.
And then Y Squad arrived. We are, quite truly, an answered prayer.
Each team is working a different shift at the transition point – some are working in the clothing tent and some are helping pass out bus tickets, to help the flow of people.
My team is in charge of inventory. People and organizations all over the world want to send supplies for the refugees but in order to send those supplies, they need to know what to send. In order to know what to send, the people on the ground in Lesvos need to know what they don’t have.
Something as simple as water, that they can get very easily – if they don’t know how much they have and how much they consume each day, they run out.
Same thing for medical blankets. They cost less than a euro and can save a life coming out of the frigid water, battling hypothermia. In order to know when they need supplies, they need to know what they have and how many they’ve used.
At first, my heart dropped a little when I found out we were chosen as inventory. Inventory meant little, if any, time at the camp and no time with the refugees. To be so close to them, yet so far away, just seemed unfair.
But Kevin, one of the contacts we are working with directly, told us that administration is something they need the most help with. So we arrived to our first shift excited and eager to start sorting.
Did we start sorting right away? Nope.
We arrived to the site and the incredibly large, green US Army tent had collapsed. The main cross beam snapped in half and the tent was now covering the hundreds of boxes and bags containing all of the clothes, shoes, blankets, food, and who knows what else that we were supposed to be sorting.
We jumped right in to start fixing the tent. The ground was so muddy that every time we took a step, several pounds of mud came too (imagine snow shoes made out of mud). Not only was it muddy and slippery, the wind was out of control. The sides of the tent were flapping violently.
After about an hour of trying every possible scenario there was, the tent was unfixable in the midst of the wind storm. After a couple phone calls later, we were told there was a second tent! Other than the directions being in Dutch, the problem was solved.
We sent someone off to find a translator and began gathering the necessary materials. Several hours later, the first of two tents were up and one more was being sent to the transition point to be assembled for more space.
Whether or not I get to interact with the refugees this month, I’m not sure. But either way, my heart breaks every day for what they are going through. I couldn’t imagine going through this situation without hope and faith in Jesus Christ.
The most amazing part about all of this? The first people that thousands of Muslims interact with are all Christians.
What an opportunity to show the love of Christ.
These people desperately need us. They need us to survive and they need us to get to their next destination.
And we, Y squad, need you. You may be thousands of miles away watching on the news, but you can still make a difference here in Lesvos, Greece. In partnering with Samaritan’s Purse, my squad has the opportunity to be the hands and feet of Jesus.
We need your prayers. Prayers for the experiences we’ve had and the experiences to come. But most importantly, for God to protect our hearts and protect our minds. That we will be able to love these people like Jesus would through the process.
Here is a link to a video that the Samaritan’s Purse put out about the refugee crisis here in Lesvos, Greece.
If you would like to walk alongside Y squad as we continue to work here in Lesvos, you can do so by donating to the refugee crisis here.
*I wrote this blog yesterday. As I post it, my team and I have just come off of our shift at the inventory supply tents. We received a phone call that more hands are needed tonight at the camp, so we are headed out there now for the rest of day/night. Keep us in your prayers as my team interacts with the refugees for the first time.
