My mind was outside with families in wet clothes seeking shelter and warmth
Dr. Azmi Al Astal, director of the Palestine Red Crescent Society’s psychosocial department in Gaza shares his experience of working Greece alongside Hellenic Red Crescent in their response to the arrival of thousands of migrants.
While I was in Greece, I met many Hellenic Red Cross volunteers that work day in, day out to provide help to migrants in difficult situations. I could easily tell that the volunteers I met were suffering from the painful experiences and stories they heard from people they were helping. In order to keep working, some had been keeping their feelings inside. In spite of their pain, all held strong desire to continue their daily humanitarian work.
In my job, I too was told personal stories of difficult experiences by many of the people I met; I listened to them; I felt they often were in despair, but many also marveled of the kind treatment of the staff and volunteers. I saw moments where parents could scarcely believe that they were safe following a family’s dangerous journey across the water.
Children were often closely attached to their parents, always trying to understand what was happening. They tried to explore the feeling of safety by looking at the things around them, trying to forget their hunger, their torn and wet clothes, damp shoes covered in mud and even the cold weather.
With support from the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies, the Hellenic Red Cross provide a variety of services Kara Tepe, which is a camp that hosts migrants from Syria only. Distributing clean used clothes is one of the daily activities, as more families arrive each night. Along with my work on psychosocial support, I worked side-by-side with local Red Cross volunteers distributing clothes to those who needed them.
On one of the very cold days in the beginning of January, a gale was blowing through the camp, plucking tents from their holdfasts. I was working with the team to provide clothes to families that needed them — many were shivering from the deep cold, wet after their long journey. One particular family stood out, they were six together.
The parents came to ask for proper clothes for their children. One, a 12-year-old boy stood slightly away the family. His parents tried to find some clothes that would fit him, but with no luck. Mohammed walked away, and his parents continued to trying to find clothes for the rest of the family. I walked towards him and offered my help — I knew he needed help to change his wet clothes and torn shoes, and do something for the cough I could hear he had. But the boy repeated over and again to me: “I do not need clothes, I am OK.”
I didn’t give up, and eventually he told me his name and began to open up about the journey they made to cross the sea. They family had lost all their clothes when the heavy rain filled their boat. That very morning, they had been rescued on the coast by Hellenic Red Cross volunteers, and were lucky to have reached land alive. A frightening experience for anyone, but more so for a child of Mohammed’s age.
While we were talking, Mohammed’s father came over to join us. He asked his son to come with him to where the clothes were being given, explaining that there were fewer people now so it would be easier. Mohammed looked up at me in doubt, but with some encouragement from both his father and I, we were soon looking through the clothes together. While we searched, the father asked us asked how the family could travel to Athens without getting on another boat; after their last experience they were afraid to face the sea a second time.
We found clothes that would fit Mohammed, which he accepted with a shy smile. As I watched the family head back to their tent, the cold wind picked up and rain began to fall all the more heavily. For some time after they left, the echo of Mohammed’s cough stayed in my head, and in the evenings, while I sat by a heater trying stay warm, my mind was outside with families in wet clothes seeking shelter and warmth.
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