Letters from Samos — Day 2

My second day started with tough negotiations getting a deal on a rental van, which I put to work immediately. I headed for the warehouse in the mountains above the town and got to work with the team. The heavy lifting feels good, like you know you are doing something to help in your aching muscles.

My first visit to the detention centre or “camp” was next. This is where the refugees that don’t have papers go until they get processed or wait quietly while they are not. I spoke to guys from Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran and Morocco all who had been there for more than a week and all of whom said it was dirty and cold and everything was broken. The place looks and feels like a prison although the gates were open and many had decided to pitch camp outside the razor wire fences and were burning fires and cooking. There are so many kids and babies playing or sleeping and the atmosphere is tense, everybody waiting and hoping for papers and not knowing when or if they are going to be processed. After we left that night there was a big fight, apparently started by a group of Iranians throwing stones at Afghans and the subsequent retaliation.

The wind was howling which means no boats should be leaving Turkey but one turned up with twenty or so people on it. The first question from the senior volunteers on hearing the news is always the same, “how many dead?” On this occasion thankfully the answer was none and they were dry and not injured.

The enormous Hellenic ferry arrived on time at 10pm and the refugees with papers were lined up on the port. The police found several people in the queue with fake papers and these poor souls were taken off to the detention centre. As the queue began to move in the howling wind a lady passed me her child and I took the little girl in my arms. She hugged me tight like Amy does and I welled up with sadness and pride and all sorts of powerful emotions. I walked up the gangplank with the refugees and deposited the girl at the boat security where her mum and her two sisters were waiting. I said goodbye and good luck and have never had to work so hard to fight back my indulgent tears.

Elena the relentless and seemingly indestructible volunteer coordinator encouraged us all to smile and wave the guys onto the boat to make them feel positive about the uncertainty ahead. She was hugging and kissing the children with whom she had briefly bonded. In the calm and quiet after they left she told me how sad and flat she feels every night when they leave, that she feels emotionally trapped by the whole situation — helpless when she works with the refugees and guilty when she is at home. I can’t claim to comprehend this emotional roller coaster life but have boundless and deep respect for her and her reaction to what she sees as her human responsibility to help where help is needed. Without Elena and many other beautiful people here like her many, many lives would be colder, wetter, hungrier and a whole lot less loved.

This piece is part of a series of letters one impossible user sent daily to his wife while he was volunteering on Samos, Greece. He has shared them with us as an insight into what is happening there and how much help is needed.
We’ll be posting one letter each day for the next 9 days. Follow us.

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