Funny old days. Having braced ourselves for a camp full of resident refugees, nothing happened. The shit missed the fan. The next day no boats came. Nor the next day. We heard that the Turks were escorting refugee boats to Greek waters and that Greek naval ships were picking them up and taking them to Mytilene to register and then straight onto ferries to Athens. Or in other words, doing what they should have been doing all along.
The sun shone and there was a mood of cautious optimism (with undertones of suspicion) on the shore. We watched the patrolling ships and marvelled at the beauty of the deadly sea. A meeting was called. It was decided that we would use the lull as an opportunity to improve things - e.g. build a bigger women and children’s changing area, cut up boats, etc I set about reorganising and making an inventory of the medical unit. Jenny started work on an induction package for future medics. Grace went beach cleaning.
One evening we went to a slightly grotty-looking and remote taverna/hotel where Proactiva (voluntary Spanish lifeguards) are based and had the most fabulous traditional Greek food (including a whole fried squid) to celebrate Milou’s last night. Milou is a very lovely young Dutch girl, whose Paediatrician father was here too, last week.
The next evening we climbed up into a derelict hotel on the cliff behind the camp and watched dolphins leapfrogging across the pink sea then stayed up late drinking with Flo, a Swiss retired lawyer who insisted on paying for all the wine as it was his last night.
There are volunteers here from all corners of the globe and all walks of life. Eric, the 55year old Alaskan paramedic. Karen and Colin, the middle-aged British couple. Justine and Julie, Swiss students. Marie, Spanish nurse. Lots of Catalonians. Stefan, German film-maker. Curtis, 19year old EMT from Portland. Cath, Australian nurse. Mustafa, Swedish doctor of Pakistan origin. And Lasse, 74year old Swede who works tirelessly, chopping wood and cleaning out dustbins. What a guy. The joy of being surrounded by people with the same view of the world. And ZERO bigotry. That’s definitely the best bit.
Newer volunteers wondered whether Lesvos had seen its last refugee boat. Long term volunteers were more skeptical; there had been a similar hiatus in November.There were speculations about the reasons - is it a result of pressure from the EU? Or is it because of the presence on the island of visiting dignitaries? Or is it because the Greek football team staged a sit down protest about the latest tragic drownings?
We started hearing various rumours and detected an air of anxiety amongst the NGOs. The camp had a visit from officials who said we were no longer permitted to cook food for refugees or volunteers. We worry about the fate Carolina, the camp black lamb who likes to sleep in the kitchen, so a barrier was built to keep her out of that particular tent. She’s very upset. We have been asked to throw out all out-of-date medication and all codeine, opiates and benzodiazepines have been taken away as they are illegal. It looks like we will have to get rid of all non-Greek medication too (basically all of it) and restock, somehow, with Greek meds. Marie, a Spanish nurse, returned from a visit to the Hope Centre where she had found a sombre mood - they had had a visit from Greek officials who had declared their operation illegal. They had no licence and were not permitted to house refugees, even on a temporary basis. All volunteers, independent or attached to NGOs are going to be required to register at the Ministry of the Aegean or risk arrest. Everyone is a bit twitchy. Except Platanos, the anarchists, who don’t give a fuck about rules and regulations and won’t be told what to do by anyone. Go Platanos, you brilliant people.
It feels as if there are moves afoot to criminalise NGOs and discourage volunteers from coming to Lesvos. A local Swedish nurse, who is married to a Greek and has lived in Skala for 26 years (and works every day at Lighthouse), tells us that some local factions feel that by welcoming refugees on the beaches the NGOs are encouraging them to come. I sympathise with local Greeks - not only is their economy crippled but they have lost their income from tourism because of this crisis. But there is NO WAY a mother or father would put their children in a flimsy rubber dinghy on icy seas in the pitch black, with full knowledge of the thousands of previous drownings, unless they were fleeing death or a life not worth living. No way. They certainly wouldn’t be encouraged to do so by the promise of a dry pair of socks and a cup of sweet tea.
Having been lulled into a false sense of security, yesterday the boats started arriving again. Marit (the Swedish nurse) lives in a house on the beach and last night in the early hours she was woken by shouting. A refugee boat had made it to shore. It wasn’t a dinghy, but some sort of speedboat, with 27 refugees on board. It was hotly pursued by a Frontex boat (Frontex is the European border agency) and the police on board threatened the refugees with guns, forcing them to sit down on the beach or they would be shot. Four or five refugees tried to escape but were captured, and all the refugees were then taken on board the Frontex boat, which took them off, presumably to Mytilene. Marit has never known this to happen before.
At camp the next morning I received a call on the medical phone from Greenpeace to say two boats were headed to Skala. This took everyone by surprise and there was a bit of confusion (there are organised channels of communication regarding news of refugee boats, which Greenpeace don’t seem to be entirely familiar with), but the boats arrived safely and everyone was OK. Except one man, who could speak no English, and handed me his mobile phone. A friend of his told me in English that this man had lost his family - they had been separated in Turkey - and wanted to know how he could find them. I had absolutely no idea. He was given the number of the Red Cross who are working to reunite families. I hope they are alive and that he finds them. He looked utterly bereft.
One of the Proactiva lifeguards said that the Greek coastguards have a brand new boat, and there was a big inauguration ceremony yesterday, hence the absence of the coastguard on the water and the ‘slipping through the net’ of refugee boats. But that’s just speculation. There’s a lot of speculation.
In the meantime we shall wait, with baited breath, dry clothes and a welcoming smile.
No comments:
Post a Comment