There but for the grace of God or lucky chance of life

We see images of refugees on our televisions, but what is a refugee camp actually like? What goes on there? Is it something we need to know, or it is just one of those awful things that happen to other people?

If I am honest, three months ago I would have been in the latter group: it is awful, but…

Then my wife’s best friend went to Lesvos as a volunteer nurse. She returned saying that there was an urgent need for help, so she and her husband, my wife and I bought air tickets and booked accommodation to go out in January.

We have just returned and I am shell-shocked.

The numbers are staggering, nearly 500,000 people came through the little camp at Moria where we worked in the last year: babies, little children, married couples, single young men and elderly gentlemen and ladies. I put it like this since I had thought refugees were in some way different. They are not; they are like you and me.

They have fled tyranny in Syria, Afganistan and other places; we heard that the Syrian government pursue them even in the camps. 

They travel from their home country to Turkey with an initial onward destination of Athens. There are plenty of ferries running from Turkey to Athens, but they are not allowed to take these. Instead have to pay hugely inflated fares to smugglers to take them in groups of 50 or 60 the six miles to Lesvos in rubber boats certified for 30 people. It is dangerous, many have drowned and all get wet and cold. The smugglers insist that children are drugged to ensure they are not a nuisance.

Volunteers watch out for boats crossing, mainly at night and take the refugees in coaches to the transit camps. When they arrive the first thing is to get dry clothing; that is what we were doing. All the clothing is donated or bought locally with donations - there is never enough - particularly shoes and waterproofs. They are then given food, again all donated, before they engage with Frontex, the EU computerised border system. Young and old, they are made to queue for hours under the uncaring eyes of the hopelessly under-resourced local police. The police seem to have had time though to disrupt the volunteers in their efforts.

If anyone is ill, there are volunteer doctors and nurses on site. My wife took a man with an injured leg to the local hospital. The welcome was not warm and the wait long. This was in sharp contrast with the gentle care she received only days later when she broke her wrist. The doctors in her case asked how they too could volunteer. 

Once registered the refugees take a bus to the port to catch the ferry to Athens. At the time of writing, the storms have been so severe that no ferries are running and everyone is getting soaked yet again; all the waterproofs have gone and hypothermia is rife.  

From what I gather, the journey onward from Athens is even worse, with hostile police and razor wire fenced borders.

Amid all this horror, good things happen. The local Greek people, many of whose families sought refuge in Lesvos when they were thrown out of Turkey in 1920, are sympathetic to the refugees and welcoming to volunteers, in spite of being poor themselves. There are many volunteers, many young and from many countries, not least the USA. These people, and I count myself among them, have the opportunity to engage with each each and discover that the world is much smaller than they thought. Vastly more importantly we engaged at first hand with wonderful human beings going through hell. There but for the grace of God go all of us.

Published by the Lincolnshire Echo on line

If you would like to support please go to http://lesbosphilandmaggie.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/donations-needed-urgently.html or this link