Solidarity at Europe’s Borders
Lighthouse Relief in Ritsona Camp
By Zoë Dings, LHR Child Friendly Space Intern
Solidarity. It’s a much-used, almost holy word in this time during which COVID-19 has brought the entire world to a standstill. Solidarity with our elderly, our healthcare workers, and frankly, everyone else around us.
Initiatives to make social distancing more bearable are popping up everywhere; people are donating to food banks and are giving free concerts in front of nursing homes. But at the same time, the Dutch government refuses to take in 500 unaccompanied minors from Greek refugee camps. Several other EU-countries have voiced a similar unwillingness. Thus, solidarity seems to stop at the borders of Europe. But isn’t the point of solidarity to stand together, even with strangers, no matter what?
118,000 refugees and asylum seekers are now in Greece, 42,000 of whom are still stuck on the Greek islands. These are enormous numbers — and maybe that is part of the problem. These numbers do not acknowledge that each of them is an individual person. We forget that behind all these numbers are faces and stories, hopes and fears.
In Ritsona, while working for Lighthouse Relief, I have seen a fraction of these faces, these identities, and that has affected me more than numbers ever will. We forget numbers, sometimes even the minute after reading them. They enter our mind but are too abstract to really touch us. Moments, on the other hand, stay with us. They can send a chill down our spine, make us laugh, cry, and grow. There are many such moments from my time in Ritsona that have resurfaced at random points since I arrived home.
“118,000 refugees and asylum seekers are now in Greece, 42,000 are still stuck on the Greek islands. These numbers do not acknowledge that each of them is an individual person. We forget that behind all these numbers are faces and stories, hopes and fears.”
When I hear on the news that primary schools in the Netherlands will open again in May, I see that little boy with his huge black backpack who asked me on multiple occasions to count in Greek. I could never remember the number four, but he knew it by heart. Every time, like a teacher trying to motivate a student, he would say with a big smile: “Tessera! Tomorrow you know!”
When one of my siblings proudly shows me a trick on the trampoline, I think of that girl who is for sure the best rope-jumper in camp and showed us her skills with a similar sense of pride. 19, 20, 21, she jumped higher than any of the other children. “Bravo,” we all shouted, “Bravo!”
When I walk past the aisle with the coloured straws in the supermarket, my mind goes back to when a 12-year-old asked me to help him with the craft. He and his friends usually feel too old to join in the activities and sometimes even disrupt programming a bit. But this time, sitting next to me was that same boy, completely focused on making a necklace out of straws cut into little pieces.
When I see crying toddlers in the park, I think about that tiny girl who never cries. During circle time, when all the children are singing songs and dancing, she just stands there and looks around the circle with a questioning, observing look on her little face.
And sometimes on warm days, I look up at the sun and the cloudless sky and think of the boy I was chatting to on the last day I was in camp. The following week, Lighthouse Relief would have to suspend all its activities until further notice, due to Coronavirus. But on that warm Friday, I didn’t know that yet. I was supervising the football practice when he came over and sat next to me. I mentioned how much I loved the weather since it was one of the first truly warm days of the year. “I like rain,” he said, “because in Iraq the sun is so hot it hurts.”
These are tiny interactions, not heart-wrenching nor epic, just simple and small moments that I wanted to share. I feel incredibly grateful to have experienced these moments and to be a part of the Lighthouse Relief team.
This month marks the four-year-anniversary of Lighthouse Relief’s activities in Ritsona and it’s sad that we cannot have a celebration. 33 people have now been infected with COVID-19 in Ritsona Camp. Although residents continue to be tested, Lighthouse Relief won’t be able to resume programming in camp until protective measures are lifted, which could be in as much as two months.
The organisation has faced and overcome so many challenges over the years. The community has grown tremendously in the last months, from 900 to almost 3000 residents. Starting in January, when the camp expanded, up to 120 children participated in the Child Friendly Space programming daily, as opposed to only 30 before the expansion. On multiple occasions after heavy rainfall, the space has been flooded, causing serious damage. There have been times the space was run on very few resources, whether in terms of volunteers or creative and sports supplies.
“Lighthouse Relief keeps growing, keeps learning and keeps adapting to what the community needs.”
But Lighthouse Relief keeps growing, keeps learning and keeps adapting to what the community needs. Now, in the middle of the Corona crisis, an online platform has been created as one of the ways to keep supporting the youth of the community from afar. Over the years, the organisation has built a relationship of trust and compassion with the children and adults of Ritsona. And it continues to show solidarity, in its purest and most honest form.
