Peeling six layers of dripping wet clothes off the first screaming, terrified infant thrust in my arms was challenging. Getting her diapered, redressed, warm, dry and reunited with her mother even more so. Especially when the surrounding environment in our make-shift tent had grown to over 100 women, children and babies. They were all crying, asking for items of clothing or calling for their loved ones in a crazy caucophany of languages: Farsi, Urdu, Norwegian (from my fellow volunteers) and who knows what else. It was pure insanity.
And then the heart-warming part when the families were reunited, warm, dry, with water and a snack, waiting for the bus to take them to a registration camp to start the next leg of their journey.
Their faces haunt me as I wonder how they are, where they are. What happened to the young girl I helped who was totally emotion-less, stiff, staring at who knows what horror in her mind? Were the refugees able to reach Europe? Were they welcomed? Are they detained in one of the horrible camps in Calais or Dunkirk?
How many didn’t I meet because they died on the crossing? The night of my first rescue experience, we welcomed 200 refugees that miraculously made the crossing on a double decker ferry that the untrained “captain” obviously had no idea how to manage. The next day, 37 bodies washed up on the shore of Turkey…from a boat that broke apart on the crossing.
The stories are endless. The people are real. The men, women and children I met were humble, extremely grateful, exhausted, traumatized, terrorized…yet resilient and optimistic about their future. They are finally safe…..or are they?
I cringe thinking about what these people have endured just getting to Lesbos Island. Walking for miles, smashed in a truck for an overland trip of 12 hours with NO stops, being thrown on a raft made for 17, but filled with closer to 40…wearing a life vest filled with roofing paper.
The dilemna haunts me. It is personal now…with these men, women, and children who want nothing more than to have a safe place to live…yes, just LIVE. Something we all take for granted…but then no one is bombing our island into a barren wasteland, indiscriminately killing everyone and everything in sight.
Their plight continues. The numbers of refugees on Lesbos have grown so much in the past week that ALL the camps were filled to over-flowing. I want to be there to help….I want to hide here in my warm bed….I need to go back to help.
Will this nightmare ever end?
[Editor’s Note: Orcas Islander and humanitarian Kate Jewell arrived on Lesbos Dec. 29 and left Jan 13. She joined the SCM (Salaam Cultural Museum) team of medical volunteers there as a Humanitarian, and worked with several international groups such as “Drop in the Ocean” and Starfish, as well as Greek lifeguards, Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF), and more.
She considers daily whether or not to go back….where…and when. There is still much to do and many great groups to work with.]
I felt with you throughout what you wrote because we are all one. The reality is that it brings out our greatest fears and our greatest love for one another and for this we have come to witness and to choose.
We too at Angels of Hope have been in touch over the past few years with Salaam Cultural Museum to send Angels of Hope and Tees for Angels to refugees in Jordan, Egypt, Syria, Lebanon and Turkey, through Nu Day Syria. Thank you for making me aware of Orcas Issues.. love, Arnie
Thank you and bless you for what you are doing Kate. There is so much injustice in the world. You, and those like you are certainly a part of the solution.