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  • Writer's pictureMechthild

July on a Greek Island

Updated: Aug 3, 2019

Sounds nice, you think? Well, it is better than fearing bombs in Aleppo, or being kidnapped in Istanbul, or sailing on a fishing boat without your parents when you are 9 years old. I went to Lesbos (Greek: Lesvos) to let refugees tell their journey.



In a few days the woman's house will be ready - with view of the waters to Turkey. Everyone has a story about that rubber boat passage.


Starting with the end.


It is the last day of July. I am sitting on the ferry back to Athens with time to reflect on this past month. I have learned a lot about refugees, about NGOs, about myself.

It is a complicated puzzle with many pieces missing, but I see no rosy picture of humanitarian help, of a solution on the horizon. Quite the contrary: I see obstruction, whether by intent, ineptitude, or inundation; I see refugees crushed between powers, paperwork and procedures they do not understand. I see large families lacking any understanding of the global consequences or personal struggles which will be required to feed and educate their kids.


My plans vs. reality


I came to let refugees tell their stories of humanity, of dreams any family can share. The human plight behind the statistics can soften the heart of us jaded readers. I found those stories, and I found so much more: good, bad, and ugly.

I also wanted to teach a media class using mapping tools to tell their journey. Well, that had to be rethought to work without a classroom, and without fast internet. Mapping happened on paper, and you will find some transfers to Google Earth in this blog as well.


I came to know myself better, my need to have a ‘normal’ day, a day in a museum or a gallery. Why was I so weak? Many in the camp have not had a ‘normal’ day for years, or have forgotten what that feels like.

Some numbers


Let me give you a sense of time and place. I spent July 2017 on Lesvos, a major arrival point for refugee rubber boats from nearby Turkey. Near the main port #Mitilini are two large #refugee camps, former military structures, repurposed to accommodate hundreds of arrivals daily.

#KaraTepe houses about 850 vulnerable persons and families. #Moria, which is 5 km further out, has a capacity of 2,000. It now crowds in 3,200 at a rate of 14-24 people per container unit. (Update November 2017: few departures and massive arrivals have swelled the camp to close to 7,000. The new arrivals are housed in tents on wooden pallets to put 4” between them and the rainy mud). Noise, music, and incessant smoking make sleep impossible until the morning hours. Friction lets tempers flare and tests the patience of both refugees and neighboring olive farmers. The administration seems overwhelmed, paperwork (yes: paper!) is lost, procedures of the application process are foggy to the applicants. Blame and frustration takes the rounds between Greek, EU, and UN organisations for a faulty and overwhelmed system.


Why I am sharing these stories


All refugees need help, but most have family to comfort them, either at their side or a skype call away.

Even hardship comes on a scale. Some refugees have no family, or have been swindled, robbed by fellow-countrymen, kidnapped by ruthless traffickers. They are not even able to return for shame of having lost the family's hard-earned money.

I hope these stories put a human face on the millions of refugees and soften the reluctance and fears their numbers have caused. Most fears are of the unknown. So join me on this blog and get to know the immense courage, the desperation, the injustice - but also the optimism, friendship, the human gestures, the open hearts their stories reveal.





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