Sadness, anger, love, fear, amazement, shame..
Just to describe some of the emotions of the past week. I really have no idea what to write, and I certainly don't know if there is any way at all to describe the lives of the people in the camp. But I will write because 'Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter' (Martin Luther King Jr.).
Here I sit in my lovely studio furnished with kitchen, hot shower, toilet, television, air conditioning, king-size bed, washing machine and sunny balcony in Panagiouda, a small seaside village close to both the camp and the capital.
Here I stand right in front of the camp. A camp that was initially used as a transit camp, i.e. a place where people would be acommodated for a few days, interviewed and then given the chance for a safe and better future, just like you and me. A camp set up more than 5 years ago for 3,000 people, but a number that has increased fivefold over the years (with a low of 19,000 people in Jan 2020). A place where people no longer stay for a few days, but where they are waiting for an interview that might take place in 7 months. A place in extreme heat where there is a great lack of all facilities (toilets, showers, water) that we take for granted.
My eye falls on a (with fences) demarcated guarded area. That will be the camp. However, I also see a lot of 'structures' and people outside that area. That is the 'jungle'. Everybody goes looking for the 'best' place, looking for a piece of liveability. What also strikes me is the number of (young) children. Children who belong to play, go to school, have fun and are entitled to a carefree existence. Since the camp is in lockdown, all activities have stopped and the school is closed. This makes it even harder for the children, but of course also for all other people, which has caused a distressing increase of psychological complaints among the residents (https://bootvluchteling.nl/toename-psychische-klachten-sinds-lockdown-moria/). I see people's faces, people apparently coming from another country/culture, some have been worked up, others seem tired. These are all people with a different history and story. I prefer to talk to them, but for now we have to move on.
People express their gratitude to us and are extremely hospitable, while I really only stand here. People sell clothes, food, drinks, breads, simcards and I even see a sports shoe store. People are cooking, baking bread, washing and cleaning. Everyone is trying to make the best of it.
Back to yesterday (Tuesday). I read the following article on NOS: (https://nos.nl/artikel/2346265-jonge-vluchtelingen-nog-deze-maand-naar-nederlandse-opvang-griekenland.html). I'm not sure what to think of the Dutch solution. I am angry and frustrated. Is it so incredibly difficult to offer 500 vulnerable children who live here in extreme misery a chance for a future? Can't Europe work together to solve this misery permanently for once? Is it so incredibly difficult? Of course the Netherlands at least does something, but still.. In the end, the feeling remains that the Netherlands wants to offer help and funds, as long as you Greeks keep the problems with you.
I am ashamed. I am ashamed of the fact that after this first visit to the camp I am going to my luxury studio close to the beach. I am ashamed of my visit to the supermarket where I buy drinks and food to fill my plate again tonight. I am ashamed for the shower I take right away at home. I am ashamed of the car I get into. I am ashamed for my visit to the cafe during my bike ride over this beautiful island. I am ashamed for the injustice and inhumanity. Has anyone ever been allowed to choose his or her place of birth? Has anyone ever chosen war, famine, persecution, hopelessness? Life is not fair.
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