Moments of Impact

     Last night I got home from our amazing trip to Greece. I barely had enough energy to eat and catch up with my husband before I collapsed in bed. I was so exhausted, yet as I slept the faces of the people from Camp Moria floated through my mind. I heard their voices, their cries, their laughter. The lines of worry on people's faces are imprinted in my memory and my heart swells with empathy and admiration for their resilience in the midst of hardship. 

     As I fell in and out of sleep last night two interactions I had while serving in Moria kept coming up in my mind and I would like to share them here with you... 

     The first story begins with an older Afghan woman. At the camp there is an information booth of sorts where people can come and ask Euro Relief questions about anything from housing changes to United Nations transfer tickets. I'd been at the camp for three days but it was my first day working at "info" as they call it. As the sea of people grew, my attention was drawn to this older woman. She had a sad, troubled look that encompassed her entire body. She looked weary, as most people in Moria do. When it was her turn I got one of the Farsi translators (a 21 year old young man) to tell me what her question was so I could see how we could help. He told me she was asking if she could get a UN transfer ticket to Athens because her daughter is there alone, pregnant and sick. I shared her question with one of the Euro Relief staff and they told me to walk her down to the "stats office;" the place at camp where they would have an answer to her question. 

So I motioned to this woman they way we needed to go and she instantly grabbed my hand. In an instant all of her worry and fear transferred to me. It was as if I could feel her saying, "I want to have hope but I am afraid to." She held tightly to my hand the entire way and when we got to the entrance I led her up the steps and explained her situation. Thankfully there was another translator there so she could communicate as well. We waited for their answer and after a few moments they told her no... No UN transfer ticket today. Her name was on the list to get a ticket but it could be several more months until she received it.

 So then she asked, "My daughter is sick, is there anyway you can call a hospital and get her some help?" Again, they answered no. I watched as her eyes filled with tears. I was fighting back tears in my own eyes. We gripped each others hands tightly and walked slowly back to camp. I couldn't believe they had told this woman no but that is the reality of the system. When we reached where she lived she turned to me and said thank you many times and patted my hand then walked away. I stood in the street trying to wrap my head around what I just experienced, knowing this would be a moment I will not forget. I took a few moments to take a deep breath, let a few tears out and just shook my head as I tried to process what I just experienced...

     The second story is about two siblings named Abby and Alexander. I was working the 4pm-12:30am shift and my job was to gate guard section C. Section C is a part of camp that is for women only and no men, at any time, are allowed into that section. So I was guarding this gate and playing soccer with a young Arab boy when these two siblings invited me to come eat dinner with them. I was instantly struck by their friendly faces. I sat with them and shared in their dinner of fresh veggies, bread and baked eggs and asked them about their story and they said it was alright if I shared it with you. 

Abby and Alexander are 19 and 16 from Pakistan. They left Pakistan because of the violence and constant bombings. They have been living in the camp for about three months and both described Moria as "living in hell." Moria was originally a Greek military base before the refugee crisis broke out in 2015. It is a place made up of high chain link fences, topped with barbed wire, police guarded entry points and drab gray concrete. Thankfully there are people like Abby and Alexander there to remind us that Moria is not just a military, prison-like camp but a place full of the breadth and width of humanity. 

 

Imagine being so young, leaving your home, leaving your family to make a dangerous journey to a completely unknown place only to find out that you have to stay in an over crowded camp for an uncertain amount of time. To put it simply, I was in awe of these two people. They exuded such strength, I felt honored and proud to even share a meal with them. At one point during the meal I asked Abby, "What is something you want the rest of the world to know about your experience?" 

With wisdom I have rarely encountered by a 19 year old she responded by saying this, "I think people need to focus more on how people become refugees in the first place and work to stop that. It is nice to have people come and help us here at the camp but I think we need to figure out how to stop the things causing people to become refugees." 

Mic drop, am I right? I think my jaw was literally hanging open after she said this to me. All I could think was how true her words were. I have no idea what living out her response looks like in our world but I admired her boldness and hope for a better world. 

As she and I parted ways that night, I hugged her and told her I admire her, that she is so brave and I was honored to hear her story. She is such a beautiful soul and she changed how I will look at the world. 

     These are just two of countless interactions that deeply impacted me. I experienced intense moments of hope and despair during this trip and I am still processing how to hold those emotions equally. 

May all the stories shared on this blog impact you deeply. 

~Adrienne