4 Lessons I Learned While Volunteering in Lesvos

I recently returned from a two week stint volunteering on the Greek island of Lesvos, at the Moria refugee camp. Moria is essentially a hub on the island, the place where all refugees have to pass through to register before they can continue their journeys.

Over the past few days since I’ve been back I’ve found myself recounting my experience to friends and family, but these repetitions only seem to scratch the surface. Instead of just repeating those stories, here are some of the lessons I learned while volunteering in this humanitarian crisis.

1. The world is smaller than you think.

Despite the occasional disorder both inside and directly outside of the camp, there is a very international feeling that hangs in the air. You never know which language someone will begin speaking when they approach you, and it can sometimes be difficult to tell if someone is a volunteer or a refugee. (And of course there are people who are both.)

I had the opportunity to meet a number of people from around the world, both volunteers and peace seekers. I even had the privilege to get to know some of them, and learn a little about their lives.

One of the people I met is Wissam. Right now Wissam is traveling to Germany with his family of ten people, two of whom were seriously injured in the war in Syria. I met Wissam when a fellow volunteer introduced me to him. He didn’t have enough money to buy ferry tickets for his whole family, so we tried to help him out.

During our conversation I learned a lot about Wissam. He’s 26, only one year older than me, but he looks several years older. I noticed grey hairs beginning to show through his otherwise dark hair. He and his family are from Syria, so I can only imagine the torment they have been through. Clearly the stress of the situation over the past several years has been getting to him.

Wissam told me that he recently finished medical school in Syria. He hopes that after a few years in Germany he might be able to begin practicing medicine. Hearing this saddened me, because I know it will be extremely difficult for Wissam to achieve this goal. But he seems to have a good perspective on the situation, and knows it will be a lot of work.

Meeting Wissam really helped to bring the refugee crisis closer to home for me. He’s the same age as I am and he’s been forced to put his dreams on hold because of war. He’s trying to find safe passage for his family, taking them to a new country where they can live in peace.

It is only after meeting Wissam and the countless other peace seekers passing through Moria that I truly feel the privilege of my American birth certificate.

2. There is always another side to the story.

There are at least twenty taxi cabs waiting outside Moria camp almost every day. Many cab drivers make their living by driving volunteers and refugees back and forth between the camp and the nearby city of Mytilini.

However, there is some visible tension between the cab drivers and volunteers. As a volunteer who often worked “the bus line” I was subject to that tension, which sometimes turns to rage.

A volunteer’s job on the bus line consists mostly of providing people with information. Newly registered refugees would approach us asking where they could buy a ferry ticket and we would tell them: “You can buy a ferry ticket in Mytilini, it usually costs about 50 euro. To get into the city you can take the bus for one euro, or a cab for 10.”

Cab drivers hated this. I’d heard stories from more seasoned volunteers about run-ins with angry cab drivers who approached them yelling, and occasionally getting physical. They thought we were taking away their business by telling refugees about the bus.

One day I finally experienced this for myself. I was working the bus line with two new volunteers (who also happen to be female). We had just been approached by a refugee asking for directions. After he walked away, the angry cab driver approached us. He immediately began shouting at me for taking away his business. He was tall, threatening, and it was clear that nothing I was going to say would appease him. Somehow I managed to remain calm.

“Do you need to yell at me?” I asked as gently as possible.

“YES I DO!” He shouted. “BECAUSE YOU ARE TAKING AWAY OUR CUSTOMERS! WHY DO YOU TELL PEOPLE TO TAKE THE BUS?!”

“Well,” I said, “not everyone can afford to take a taxi, and the bus is cheaper.”

“WELL GIVE THEM YOUR MONEY!” He shouted back at me.

“I don’t have enough money to pay for each refugee to take a taxi.” I said, half laughing.

Despite how terrible this interaction was, I can see both sides of the issue. Greece’s economy is in the gutter and has been for a number of years. Tourism on Lesvos has also decreased since media coverage of the refugee crisis has ramped up. Cab drivers, and many other business owners on the island, are desperate to stay afloat.

This was by no means the only situation where I was able to see multiple sides to a complicated issue, but it sticks out in my mind.

3. You have to let people make their own choices.

There were rumors of a whole underworld in Moria, including mafia, human traffickers, and smugglers. As a volunteer I was not privy to this, but I have little doubt of it’s truth.

It can be difficult to accept that some refugees may once again choose to put their lives in the hands of smugglers, given the tumultuous journey many of them have recently taken over the Aegean Sea, but for some people it is necessary. Moroccans, Algerians, Tunisians, and others cannot get registration papers at Moria and therefore cannot legally travel beyond the borders of Greece. If they are found they will be sent back to their home countries and likely imprisoned. For this reason, many people who find themselves in this situation seek alternative methods of entry into Macedonia and the European Union.

As tempting as it is to discourage someone from taking this potentially dangerous path, I know that it is not my decision to make. The most you can do as a volunteer is provide these people with accurate information, and the knowledge that you care about what happens to them.

4. Small actions can have a big impact.

During my first week as a volunteer I met a family who I know I will never forget. I was working down at “the Syrian gate” receiving buses and acting as an information point. We had just received a bus of refugees, and after everyone had entered the compound to begin the registration process, I noticed a family sitting by the side of the road looking dejected.

I asked a volunteer from the Swedish group I AM YOU if he knew anything about this family. He told me that they were Syrian and they’d just finished the registration process, but they had no money to continue their journey. I asked the I AM YOU volunteer to tell the family to come with me, that I might be able to help them.

Thanks to the generosity of my friends and family members, I was able to bring about one thousand dollars with me on my trip to use as donations. I knew immediately that I would use this money to help this family. The I AM YOU volunteer translated for me, and we all began walking up the hill to the Better Days for Moria (BDFM) camp.

We walked slowly, as this family had five small children with them. On the walk up to BDFM I introduced myself to the father and asked his name. He told me his name is Mohammed, and thanked me for helping them.

Once we reached the BDFM camp I told the mother and children to wait near the children’s tent so the whole family wouldn’t have to stand around while I tried to figure out how to buy ferry tickets for them. Mohammed and I went into the information tent where I spoke with the day shift coordinator about ferry times and prices. I quickly received all the necessary information.

Once we stepped out of the information tent I told Mohammed that I intended to buy ferry tickets for his family. It was clear that his heart instantly lightened. He kissed me on the top of my head in a sincere gesture of thanks.

I found us a ride with a pastor from Dallas, Texas who was also a volunteer at the camp. He was more than happy to give me and Mohammed a ride into Mytilini. Our first stop was at an ATM, where I took out about 300 euro to cover the cost of tickets. Next we went to a travel agency.

The travel agents were very helpful. I was able to buy tickets for Mohammed and his family to Kavalla, with additional bus tickets to the Macedonian border. I also gave Mohammed an additional 60 euro for his family. But it didn’t feel like enough.

When we got back to BDFM, Mohammed and his wife were extremely grateful and continually thanked me for my help. His wife kept kissing me on the cheek, and Mohammed told me that she considered me a sister.

I tried to give them instructions on what to do next, but I was at a loss for words and couldn’t figure out how to translate what I wanted to say. I ended up just telling them to go back to the gate where we’d met, knowing that they would either catch a bus to Kara Tepe (the family compound) or find a place to stay within the Moria camp.

After we’d said our goodbyes, I walked over to the tea tent to take a break. I felt overwhelmed. I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced the feeling I had at that moment. I didn’t feel as happy as I thought I would. All I could think of were the many difficulties that Mohammed and his family would inevitably face along their journey.