Where Have You Been?

I was in Greece during the coldest winter for years, working to ameliorate the lives of refugee women, men and their families there. I'm haunted by it. Not so much by the stories, which are monuments to human destruction and human triumphant resilience at the same time. But by the ego-based failure of those who wish to help, to really do anything effective.

I just heard news from Raqqa. The families there have no human choice. Stay and die. Leave and die.

What will we do? What is to be done?

I remembered the stories I heard when I was in the camps in Greece. And this song was going on and on in my mind.

A woman with bomb pieces in her hip.

Families who know they will never see their homes again.

A man who lay bleeding for hours in Aleppo.

A child who was thrown from her father's arms to her uncle's, as her father was dragged back to Turkey.

A child who makes money for the family selling sex ... while her mother takes care of her baby.

A man who walked with his wife, children and his mother across several countries to make a better life, who is angry because he is stuck in northern Greece.

An artist who painted the pictures of terror.

A child with a look of horror who walked around the hotel lobby playing a tin drum.

A predator extorting refugees for money.

A volunteer leader who is cruel and greedy.

Some children in a military camp killing a litter of puppies.

A baby dying of hepatitis.

A young man dying while the doctors were at the gate being questioned for papers.

The boats arriving through the fog and snow.

Boxes and boxes of stuff sitting waiting in warehouses while paperwork gets done and people are cold and underfed.

Couples wanting to make love and condoms tied up in bureaucratic red tape.

A young man in jail in Turkey for no reason.

A family with a newborn with nowhere to live.

And what do you do now, my darling young one?

Volunteer Conspiracy: making a difference?

I arrived in Thessaloniki to a huge mess. The snow was only about a foot high, but the city was completely paralyzed. And people living in tents or warehouses were suffering, of course, not only from extreme cold but because we couldn't get there to do our work, for about two days. On the third day, the one car we had that was functioning (mine, because I had wisely left it at the bottom of the hill).

We schlepped out to the camp, bearing supplementary food packs (for pregnant, breastfeeding mums or children under two), diapers, and smiles. Our smiles probably looked a bit grim by the time we arrived because on the way, our chains fell off the front tire so we had a little crisis.

The second night I was there, my glasses broke but they were effectively fixed with white electrical tape so I have looked like a bag lady during this whole time, which probably increases my approachability.

We arrived to the news/rumour that the UNCHR was closing the camps, and they started by removing the vulnerable people, including families with pregnant women, babies or children under two. This made the volunteers' jobs much more difficult because we did not know where everyone was, and we did not have "official permission" to visit some of the hotels that people had been relocated to. Apparently. 

More volunteers kept arriving. The apartment became full of wonderful people, all willing and able to lend a hand where it was needed. I lived with thirteen volunteers at different times during my stay in Thessaloniki and worked with six coordinators of various types.

I would like to share with you what I have seen about the people who give up their jobs, family responsibilities, lives and lovers, homes - for even as short a time as two weeks - to live in a crowded, cold, disorganized small apartment with many other people - just so that they can provide support, care and whatever is needed to the people who are stuck here in Greece after fleeing incomprehensible violence and terror.

I met three other women from Canada. Yay Canadians! I love us for our toughness, kindness, "can do!" attitude, knowledge of chains and snow, sense of humour, sense of responsibility ... political savvy.... 

I met two women from America. One from Portugal, two from Spain, one from Wales, seven from England, and more from Italy, France, and Bahrain...

They brought skills! Knowledge of breastfeeding, midwifery, the art of being a doula (the most valuable skill!), women's health, massage, yoga, Arabic, ... they were dedicated. They were authentic. They were sensitive. 

One was a young soul who loved everyone and everything. She brought joy to everyone she met. One was a wise woman who brought peace. One was a chemist who never complained. One Canadian got grease up to her elbows trying to fix the chains in freezing winds on a Greek highway. One was a firefighter, her friend was a midwife - their friendship made us all feel hope in the world. One was 17 days older than me. Two are from another world, a world full of love, kindness, and amazing food. One is an unbelievable organizer, and makes everything better.... one does African dancing on the balcony... 

We got along! We didn't fight! We cooked together, and cleaned sometimes (sorry Molly) ... I think I was probably the biggest bitch there because I can be an awful bitch. But generally, we laughed, we knit, we took care of each other, we listened.

In the end, it wasn't enough. I have a dream. My dream is just starting to become a reality, and I am gestating it. Many of you know me as a person who gets things done. I am going to get this done. 

Imagine

Imagine you're a professional with a pregnant wife, children and your mother, and you find yourself running through a foreign country, getting captured, and being sent back to where you started from,

which is also a foreign country.

Imagine you're a barber and you finally find yourself in a community, even though its made of tents in a factory, so you set up your barbershop, and then you have to close because everyone is being relocated.

Imagine you have five children under six and you are living in a tent and you're the only adult because the other adults fleeing with you ended up in different places, and a volunteer from elsewhere comes and sets up a tent with a heater and warm water and bathtubs.

Imagine you have to leave your home, your country which isn't perfect but at least it's your country, and you don't think you can ever go back because it's been destroyed so completely, and you know a lot of people think you're a terrorist but all you really want to do is have babies, have a big house with a garden, get a job, maybe have a dog, and eat well.

Imagine - yes, you! Imagine you had to move from your nice arm house into a tent in a warehouse. Imagine when you get up to pee in the night you had to go outside, here:

Imagine you love to create good food, and you can do it anywhere, even in a refugee camp.

Imagine your heart got broken every few minutes and then fixed again and then broken again and then fixed again. This is what it's like. I am hearing terrible, awful stories. I attend lovely pregnant mums and see beautiful newborns and young children. I see the look on a teenager's face when she hears her baby's heartbeat for the first time. I see regular people leaving their jobs and families to come and help out for a week or two, or a month or two. I see pictures of untold horror. I see the love in peoples' hearts.

Day One, two, three

Everything here in northern Greece has been slowed down incredibly because of the snow. Of course, being from Montreal, I can laugh at the 6-8 inches we have here, but the fact is that many of the roads were closed on Tuesday, and my car has been sitting at the bottom of the hill so that we could be sure of having transportation, even if we have to trudge through the snow and ice to get there.

Monday I arrived:

Tuesday I got settled. Bought some groceries for myself, and a hot water bottle! I froze in my bed on Monday night and thought about the people living in tents or on the street. I had to park my car at the bottom of the hill and walk up with the groceries ... then later I walked back down with another Canadian volunteer to get chains for my tires. No snow tires here! 

Wednesday we went to visit a family with a newborn. Lovely family, we spoke at length with the neighbours, listening to their heart-wrenching stories. 

There was a field, dogs running, birds swooping down onto the snow, kids running and playing.

A child rolled around on the floor playing a noisy game on the phone. Her parents kept reminding her to turn down the volume. Sound familiar? 

A man was building a snow sculpture on the wall of the building. Maybe he taught art at the university before he was pushed into this life, or maybe he was a graphic designer in an advertising company.

You have to realize that the people - "refugees" or whatever labels you use - they are people like you: they have lives, families, kids, phones, tablets, worries, ... did YOU ever imagine you would be living in a tent? Neither did they.

Today we will be distributing food and necessities to other families, and visiting prenatal and postpartum mothers. It's a beautiful day.

"What can I do?" We are all asking ourselves. You can volunteer:  check out this link if you have free time and energy: http://www.greecevol.info/index.php

You can donate money: have a look, see what you want to support. There are organizations that work with every different sector of the population: children, mothers and babies, housing, employment...health ... 

You can get political. The borders are closed. People are stuck in the southern European countries with no work and no status. Their families have been torn apart. The political realities seem unchangeable and too complicated for normal people like us to change. Perhaps this is true. Then do your part to change the small things. Support the refugees in your country and make them feel at home. 

We are not made of snow and ice. Together, we can change the world.

A Drop in the Ocean

I got to "Y" in my gratefulness alphabet that I started several months ago.

Today, I don't have to ask "why" when it comes to being grateful - I can see it in front of me, in so many ways.

It's so humbling to realize that people are behind me, supporting my project, wanting to spread the word, the word that people CAN do something, that we CAN help, even if its just a drop in the ocean.



About two weeks ago, I decided I would go to Greece to assist the (mostly Syrian) mothers and babies who are living this cold winter in a foreign country, with very little of the things we take for granted: shelter, food, heat ... there are families living in borrowed housing in Athens, or on the street, and there are tens of thousands of people living in camps in the north of Greece, waiting for permission to move north so that they can start the difficult process of rebuilding their lives.

I started a campaign to raise funds. I had no idea I knew so many generous people! I reached my original goal in eight days! I am still accepting funds, because I now know that I may need to buy supplies when I am there, and if I have money left over I will be donating it to the organizations I will be working with.

I have bought my ticket, and I'll be spending some extra cash on excess baggage. I'm taking newborn diapers, underwear, and a few extras to distribute.

One of my young friends is SEWING UNDERWEAR for me to bring - that is one of the clothing staples that people are in great need of.
A woman came in to the cafe today, with a huge bag of new underwear her husband donated from his store.

Everyone is giving, whether it's money, love or things. I am so grateful to you all! When I'm there, on Monday, I will be working hard to make sure that mothers and babies get the care that they need, but I will keep you in my heart and I will send updates every day.