From the front line of the refugee crisis

When the headlines die down, it can be hard to imagine that people are still desperately fleeing into Europe, trying to find a safe haven from war, persecution and poverty. For most of us the crisis is far enough away to forget in our daily lives.

One impossible user (who requested to stay anonymous) was so moved by the plight of the refugees that he spent several weeks volunteering on Samos, Greece. He wrote daily to his wife and has shared these letters with us, as an insight into what is happening there and how much help is needed.

We will be publishing a diary entry daily so you can follow his highs and lows from the front line of the refugee crisis.

Letters from Samos — Day 1

I have been here twenty-four hours and it already feels like I have travelled further than a couple of short flights and a taxi ride could ever take me.

Samos is a small island with a pre Greek crisis population of about thirty thousand, reduced dramatically after many people fled the economic difficulties for the safe havens of Australia and parts of Europe. It sits only 1300m at its closest point from Turkey which should make it a manageable trip for those arriving from there but many boats get into trouble. The incredible coastguards constantly scan the waters for people clinging to rocks or worse.

Samos Town is quiet. They are overwhelmingly reliant on tourism here and the summer season is short and sharp. The refugee crisis here is good for the local economy and many enjoy the hotels and restaurants being frequented by wealthy refugees and foreign aid workers. A lot of people here have a refugee story in their own family and people have been turning up for more than ten years, though not in anywhere near the same numbers as of late.

Today was a fine day and as a result a boat turned up bringing with it two hundred or so people. As I walked into the camp the first person I saw was a man in his thirties soaked through, holding a baby and asking for help. There was a calm and swift response from the veteran volunteers who have seen it all before and been here when thousands turn up in a day . There was no time for me to react emotionally as I tried to make myself available without getting in people’s way. I was dispatched to the warehouse with volunteer Tom and his two year old to retrieve tents and blankets for the night ahead.

As we arrived back at the port many families gathered round asking for somewhere to sleep and for warmth. Humble, patient and desperate — it would have been emotionally overwhelming if I had any time to contemplate but instead I buddied up with Antonino from Crete and started building tents on the concrete for the families with the most or smallest children. Other families with babies sleeping or crying in their arms waited patiently for us to finish before we could help with theirs. The great big smiles and outpourings of gratitude as each temporary home was completed made me feel ten feet tall and the whole journey worthwhile already.

The refugees I spoke to were from Syria and mainly extended family groups — uncles and aunties with cousins and children all making this journey together. There weren’t many people over the age of fifty. They seemed tired and calm but scared. Faced with the difficult, uncertain and dangerous journey ahead of them their phenomenal bravery is truly humbling.

The Greeks are amazing. They didn’t ask for these people to turn up and they are really struggling themselves to make ends meet but their enormous generosity, humanity and respect for the plight of the refugees has made me ashamed to be British.