Welcome to Paradise: Lesvos, Greece
The Bombardier Dash-8 Q400 often struggles to land. In the aviation industry it’s known as a ‘belly landing’, when the landing gear fails to fully retract forcing the captain to put the plane down on its underside. How did I come to know this? Twenty minutes before the flight, sitting in the terminal with airport Wi-Fi, I regrettably Googled the model and incident history of the aircraft I was about to board.
From the gut-wrenching looks on the people lining up beside me, it’s clear my stomach wasn't the only one churning at the site of a turbo-prop aircraft. Scandinavian Airlines ditched their whole fleet of Dash 8’s back in 2007, but I decided to keep that fact to myself. There was a guarantee to get into the sky with the Dash, but the landing was far more perilous.
Scanning the aisles, everyone except the two young and ecstatic women in the back appeared to be either volunteers or journalists. My pre take-off check list involves stowing Margaret Atwood’s ‘Oryx and Crake’ in the pocket in front of me, plugging my earphones into my phone and awaiting the all clear to turn it on.
Sitting next to a random person on a plane is awkward. If you've boarded a plane in your lifetime you’ll be familiar with the social norm of ignoring whoever is next to you. But those on board flight OA250 are anything but the norm.
Next to me is Jilly, an aid worker who has a strong British accent and currently resides in Mongolia. Jilly embraces a nomadic lifestyle while constantly providing humanitarian aid. She will be staying in Lesvos for a month, visiting the main refugee camps and travelling North to assist with the incoming boats.
After showing me the photos of those she helps in Mongolia, her grandchildren in the United Kingdom and her work in Calais she asks a fitting question. “What does your mother think of this?,” she asked. I'm about to land in an area currently in a state of crisis, an island off Turkey which is one of the main entry points for the largest movement of people since World War Two. “She’s an Irish palliative care nurse who has seen it all, she knows I’ll be all right,” I replied.
Ten kilometres away, a group of refugees are preparing to board an inflatable raft. With water leaking in through gaps in the hull, this isn't a seaworthy vessel. Their tickets to cross the Aegean sea have cost them more then $1,000 USD and they are pushed off from the shore by armed smugglers. As they become familiar with the motor powering their journey across the sea, they are aware that this may be their last view of the world.
The abyss that lies beneath them has become a graveyard for men, women and children of all ages.
On arrival they are greeted by volunteers with space blankets to keep them warm and water bottles to quench their thirst. They are overrun by a range of emotions, some cannot contain their joy upon the realisation they have made it to Europe, while others are fearful of what is to come next.
As the plane touches down in Mytilene airport, refugee boats are landing just a few hundred metres away. This is an average day on the island paradise of Lesvos, Greece.
With over 600,000 refugees having arrived in Greece so far this year, around half of those travelled through Lesvos. It has been a shock to the system for residents and the environment alike. For decades the island has been a site of invasions, but the formidable Castle of Mytilene now acts as an identifying feature of a safe haven rather then a fear-inducing stronghold.
Speaking with the taxi driver who provided me with a tour of the island during the one and a half hour journey to Molyvos, it became clear there was a common concern amongst locals. “We want to help in any way we can and especially save the children, but we’re worried our island will become unrecognisable,” he said while driving past a cluster of olive trees.
For an island that thrives on tourism, olive and goats cheese exports, becoming a hub for refugees was never foreseen. Beaches and roads are lined with Yamaha life jackets (often overpriced fakes), crushed water bottles and articles of clothing soaked in sea water. Apart from the desolate centre of the island and a few mountain ranges, it is impossible to escape a reminder of the crisis taking place around the island.
With tourists usually concentrated around the main port, it was horrific for Theo to suddenly see thousands of desperate refugees walking around 60 kilometres across the middle of the island to arrive at a camp. Buses are now able to chauffeur people between landing points and camps but there have still been reports of some individuals having to walk for hours to reach shelter, food and comfort. “Much more needs to be done,” Theo told me when discussing the assistance provided by larger NGOs.
In an attempt to reassure the locals, individual volunteers and smaller groups are making an effort to purchase all supplies from the island itself rather then importing from other cities in Europe. Many hotels and residents are offering their support in any way they can, whether it be a discount in accommodation, car lifts or providing a meeting spot to coordinate volunteer efforts.
Lesvos represents a small portion of humanity banding together to provide the urgent assistance that these refugees so desperately need.
As I walk along the crumbling walls of the largest fortress in the Mediterranean, three boats land on the shore. Two volunteers are already in the water guiding the boats in, helping them to land and ensuring everyone gets off safely. Compared to the often chaotic scenes that take place when a boat lands in almost complete darkness, this was a more serene event. The weather had been clear, low winds had resulted in a calm sea and the boats were in a decent condition.
They had made it. For some the realisation brought them to tears while others were joyous and thankful to those who were there to provide assistance. As the volunteers deflate the boats and start collecting life jackets, I am the only person standing on the road where they congregate.
Hand shakes, thumbs-up and smiles. All simple human gestures that transcend any language barrier. I was thanked by young children, women and men who were now safely on land and able to continue onwards. After a conversation with four of the men who had just arrived, they looked at my camera and pointed at it for a photo. With nothing more then backpacks and plastic bags, these men were filled with joy having escaped the nightmare where they had lived for so many years.
In this moment, the last thing on their minds was the rest of the journey they still had to undertake in order to find a country willing to accept them as refugees. Having looked back at this image many times, I see four innocent humans, all who have decided to flee from conflict zones in order to find a better life. But in the days following my departure from Lesvos, it is heartbreaking to have an understanding of the hatred, fear and numerous barriers they are yet to face.
The volunteers working on the island of Lesvos are providing these refugees with a warm welcome. They are providing them with food, water, shelter and the comfort that they need after fleeing their homes and risking everything. Armed smugglers are pushing boats from the shore, governments are ordering barbed wire for their borders and hundreds of thousands are turning a blind-eye to those in need. But in Lesvos, all of the volunteers and many locals are providing refugees with comfort and warmth on a physical and emotional level. Sadly, this will quickly disappear as they travel on through Greece and to other European nations.
The island of Lesvos, in all meanings of the word, is a paradise.
You can help support the refugees fleeing from their war-torn homes by donating funds or applying to volunteer with the following organisations:
http://redcross.org.au/misc/syriacrisis.aspx
https://www.savethechildren.org.au/donate/syrian-refugee-crisis
