Letters from Samos — Day 9

This morning has been tough. I spent more than an hour on the internet booking my flight home and decided to come back just a couple of days shy of two weeks here. I felt really guilty about booking my flight and scared to mention it to the rest of the team, not because of what they will think of me as I truly think that everyone respects we have lives at home, but because I feel like I am letting them and the refugees down by leaving them like this.

I needed to sort this out as I am feeling low in general. Tiredness, extreme emotions, late nights, beer and the whole journey have left me feeling pretty frazzled. I don’t feel like small talk with the other volunteers or moving boxes up and down hills and really could just do with a cuddle.

Thankfully it was slow today so I took myself off on a drive in no particular direction looking for something to eat. It took me about 30KM, two dead ends and a beach full of discarded lifejackets to finally find myself a ham and cheese sandwich and a cappuccino to sort me out. On the way home Billy Ocean’s Get Outta my Dreams, Get into my Car came on the radio, compelling me to sing along as best I could and cheered me up no end.

The evening’s distribution was busy with hundreds of people bustling and not queueing nicely. A few drunk guys were being a real pain in the arse. Volunteer and ‘King of the Port’ Neezo, one of the nicest guys you could ever want to meet, had had enough of one of the drunks who had pushed, shoved and threatened him. Now Neezo is a keen amateur boxer and can look after himself but this guy was looking down on him for his ethnicity and it was all he could do to keep his temper.

I tried hard to keep the drunks away and when the usual humour and jokes didn’t work I had to push, shout and swear at them. When the evening drew to a close it was clear how pumped on adrenaline I was and I couldn’t quite remember what I had said to who but I knew it had been stressful. Was I losing it? I didn’t wait around for the usual post-mortem at the pub and headed home quickly and quietly.

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 2 days. Follow us.