The silent tragedies of ‘Moria’
Judging from his attire he could be any young professional: white shirt, black pants, and a black briefcase. Indeed, Karim* worked in Münich as a doctor, but when the war made its way to Mosul he returned to help his family in Iraq. It is dusk at Moria Camp and Karim sits alone on the concrete. His family is not with him; they were killed in the cruel bloodshed. Finally, after sleeping many nights outside Karim has been allocated accommodation. However, no one took into account that his assignment is an extremely long walk away, and that his injured leg could not carry him there. He slept outside again.
The sharp increase of arrivals in June has shed light on the fragility of the asylum system and on the limited capacity of the authorities to respond. In situations like these it is always the most vulnerable that suffer the harshest consequences. Karim is one of many individuals who experienced tragedy prior to Moria, and now his struggle continues in the form of unfulfilled promises and the absence of human rights and dignity in the camp.
Due to the callousness witnessed in Moria at the peak of the refugee crisis, the benchmark for “acceptable conditions” has dropped far too low. Children, families, and the sick are sleeping on the ground of the first reception center where people faint due to hot and overcrowded circumstances. As a wide-eyed child sits on his mother’s lap, still wearing his lifejacket from the night’s journey, he is surrounded by tired voices complaining about the poor quality of food, the lack of beds, and most pressingly concerns over health and hygiene.
The first reception center foreshadows the conditions that many will endure for the months to come. Moria is not fit to facilitate the number of arrivals, and as a consequence families have been crammed into shelter that is not designed for their safety and wellbeing. Moria struggles, and the Olive Grove is once again occupied by tents. Our welcome sign is still standing there, at the entrance of the hill, but nothing about this olive grove camp resembles the almost magical place volunteers created and run each day and night from November 2015 to April 2016. It’s soulless, a poor, scary reflection of Moria.
Although the UN recently allocated new shelter compounds in Kara Tepe for up to 500 people, families were not transferred for many days and the reason remains unexplained. The future spells uncertainty for the developments of the camp. For many weeks a new register of residents in Moria is being compiled following the implementation of the UNHCR cash program. This should enable people to seek private accommodation on the island. Not only does it appear that the island does not possess enough available housing, but even real estate agents, locals, and NGO ground officials fail to see how this project will be executed, despite the fact the process is due to begin soon.
A young boy, whose head is deformed and scarred from a shrapnel wound, plays with the gravel. Behind him, his family, and at least a dozen others wait for their medical screening to take place. However due to lack of staff, the rise in arrivals, and the thousands of people still awaiting for an answer on their asylum claim, asylum seekers are currently being registered without medics screening for vulnerabilities or illness.
When people are not screened, their wellbeing, as well as that of the entire community, is put at risk. Additionally, errors can occur in their asylum application if their medical vulnerability is not recognized. These errors produced in the asylum applications are difficult to alter once the files have been uploaded and their cases are being processed. This means that vulnerable individuals may receive a wrongful negative decision from the asylum service due administrative error and a subsequent lack of understanding of the person’s case and its severity.
Understaffed medical actors work under high pressure. Additionally, one medical screening is not always enough, particularly when it comes to mental health assessment. If these conditions are not addressed, people will not receive the care they need and their health may deteriorate. Following the departure of MDM, the longest standing medical actor in Moria, we have seen no continuity of care, to the detriment of residents. This can be clearly seen with those in need of mental health services and those in need no longer receive anxiety and depression medication.
The sudden release of people who have spent months in detention conditions further reveals a lack of continuity and communication between actors. Many of those detained were done so arbitrarily through the “Pilot program’. The people released, several resorted to swallowing razor blades, engaging in distressing levels of self-harm, or drug use. These people showed suicidal tendencies and threatened to harm themselves and others around them, and cannot be ignored by authorities and medical staff. While they don’t speak coherently as disorientation and withdraw symptons get the better of them, the tears and bloodshot eyes say more than enough.
Far too many have been forced to spend so long in the insufferable conditions of Moria that their mental and physical health deteriorate drastically. This is witnessed in the self-harm and suicide attempts that haunt the camp. Perhaps the clearest example of the failure of the asylum system is when an asylum-seeker, who has spent a year and four months in Moria, would prefer to return to Afghanistan where he suffered tortured by the Taliban, because waiting so long in Moria for a decision is far more than anyone can and should endure.
Some say it takes tragedy to effectuate change, but in Moria, despite tragedies such as people with disabilities spending nights on the concrete without medical attention and suicide attempts that don’t receive emergency care, change remains pending. The reason is simple: behind the tall walls and barbed-wire fences of Moria, tragedy can occur quietly and without accountability. We should not have to wait for tragedy in its rawest form to occur before action is promoted. So, share not only this article, but your stories and beliefs. Demand humanity, cooperation, and clarity from those who dared to take on responsibility for a camp like Moria.
Alex (Better Days Paralegal Intern)
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* name was changed in order to protect the individual.