Reflections on Greece: Emptying and Filling

This statue is right at the port of Mytilini, basically she is Lady Liberty of Lesvos. Lesvos has always been an island that refugees come for, the first boat of Afghani refugees landed here 20 years ago. But it has only grown to this degree of crisis in the past 4 years. 

These are the boats that refugees travel here in. I took this picture one morning before we took the ferry to Turkey. A boat of refugees had just landed and they were waiting on the blue bus to the left of this boat to be taken to Moria camp. I was shocked to actually see a boat and refugees right after they had gotten out of the water. Today 8 boats arrived in Lesvos, carrying 329 people. That many boats haven't come in one day since 2015, when the crisis was at its worst. The camp has over 10,000 people now, over 3 times its official capacity.

I met a woman from Turkey a few weeks ago at a meeting that I attend every week. This meeting is for our main partner, Synaparxi, which is made up of a group of community leaders and members that are dedicated to helping refugees and locals coexist peacefully and happily together. Synaparxi has a sister organization in Turkey, just across the water, working on similar things from the Turkish side. Synaparxi is like the old boys club of Lesvos, with all the most important and influential people involved, and thus they have a lot of subtle power to make a difference. They are the reason we are allowed to work in the refugee camps on the island (since we are not a Greek NGO we normally wouldn't be allowed to, but since we are under Synaparxi's partnership/wing then we are allowed access). I think they have a lot more influence than they let on too, because as we are discussing the local and national elections and how the right-winged party that won is going to start changing things, they said "well there haven't been any official statements yet so we can't intervene. But as soon as policies are announced that will be detrimental to the refugees, then we will get involved." Not only are they powerful, but they are very very nice too. Anyways, back to this Turkish woman. 

She asked me how long I had been here and how long I was staying. Because of new visa laws and requirements, Americans are only allowed to stay in Europe for 3 months maximum (I always joke with the refugees and say that Europe doesn't want me either so we are in this together) so we are leaving at the end of August. She asked how I have liked working here in the camps and how I have enjoyed Lesvos. That question is hard to answer. Of course I have liked it and of course the island is beautiful and we have enjoyed much of our time here, but that answer seems pretty shallow when I think about all the different things I have grappled with, seen, and felt here. I have struggled more here than at any point in my life for various reasons, the greatest of which is the difficulty in seeing and hearing the realities of life as a refugee and not being able to do anything to help. So I tried to answer genuinely to this woman while still maintaining a more casual conversational attitude, and I said it is so important to be working here and there are so many good things being done, but it is hard too. But even though it's hard, it's also worth it. She praised me for taking time out of my life to come do service/humanitarian work like this which is also a common response, although I'm not sure how deserved it is as I don't think it makes me anymore saintly than the next person. She said she wished her son who was my age had taken some time to forget about school and work and just go help people for a while. I felt a little strange because I never know how to respond when people say things like that. Of course I want to be helping people and that's why I am here, but I don't think people who don't do this are not concerned about helping people too or thinking beyond their self-interest. This field definitely does not have a monopoly on those motivations. But then she looked at me straight in the eyes and said, "This work is so fulfilling isn't it? There's nothing more important you could be doing. But it is very emptying also. It's both. Emptying and filling." 

Then our meeting started and we didn't talk to each other again, and after the meeting we both were caught up talking to other people, then everyone left. I will probably never talk to this woman again in my life, but I will never forget how perfectly she described every feeling I have had while being here. It has been extremely emptying. I have never felt so drained of hope or motivation or niceness. But it has been extremely fulfilling as well. I have never felt so much love towards random strangers or legitimate concern for a stranger's life. That level of concern is both emptying and filling as well. I have never felt so happy for hearing a simple thank you when we're distributing dinners to everyone or handing back people's freshly laundered clothes after we washed and carried and hand-delivered them. I've never wanted to stay in and leave a place so much at the same time! 

I think this is just another paradox of the refugee crisis - emptying and filling. In some ways it doesn't make sense that it could be both. Some people would probably say that it all depends on your attitude, like a glass half empty/half full type of situation. But at the same time, it all makes perfect sense. From my short almost 23 years in this world maybe the biggest thing I have learned so far is the fact that the good things are only good because you have to work for them. Things that you don't work for are typically never as good. The greatest satisfaction, happiness, love, and fun I have ever had have always been a direct result of me working at something with all of my effort and/or time, and it's only really super good after the struggle has been experienced and appreciated. So it makes sense that the most fulfilling things would also be the most emptying, requiring the most effort, perspective, patience, and honesty with myself to reach the point of fulfillment. 

There is a caveat to this idea: I don't think that this emptying and filling relationship is linear. I don't think something is always emptying then filling. I don't think once something is filling it will never be emptying again. It can be both, even at the same exact time. I have moments in the refugee camps where I will literally go from empty to full to empty again in the space of 100 feet, walking from one protected zone to another, or from one classroom to another, or from the office to the bus. I will feel so much joy and love for two seconds and then immediately feel the strain and frustration of working (with impossible teenage boys who sometimes don't want our help for example) jump right back in. The fulfilling stuff isn't gone in those moments, it's just that I am simultaneously being emptied. I have definitely not mastered the ability to hold on to the fulfilling things and let the emptying things go without phasing me. I definitely get phased, most of the time I let myself get way to empty. That is something I need to work on, and something Braxton is way better at than me. He doesn't let other things empty him too easily. But it's the work and the struggle that allow for the fulfilling moments. 

That is one of the most beautiful concepts of Islam, in my opinion. The fifth pillar of Islam is "Jihad", meaning struggle. A lot of political actions taken by political groups in predominantly Muslim countries will be labeled as "jihadist", meaning radical and/or war-like. Some more extreme groups translate "jihad" as holy war for Islam. This justification has been used to fuel some of the worst things that have happened in modern history. 9/11, ISIS, the Palestinian intifadas, and so much more. But something that most people don't realize, especially most American people (you may not realize it or you may think we are growing past it, but anti-Muslim sentiment is still especially strong in America), is that the more radical ideas that have fueled these political actions are simply that: political. NOT religious. If you say to any Syrian refugee here that ISIS is an Islamic group, they will completely deny that ISIS has anything to do with Islam. ISIS is an Islamist group yes, but that is a political term meaning it is a political group that takes action based on an Islamic ideology, but it is NOT a religious group. Most Muslims will even say that ISIS doesn't even act on true Islamic ideology. My point in writing all of this is that the ideology behind the principle of jihad is not what we hear portrayed in the news. It is not the jihadist radical groups. That is a political label. What jihad means as a religious concept is simply the struggle for faith. Don't we all believe the same thing? Christians believe that we us take up our own crosses and walk the path to Calvary alongside Christ to truly become like him. Go to the Western Wall in Jerusalem, also known as the Wailing Wall, and you will see that even the way Jews pray indicates an internal struggle to reach God. Having faith isn't easy. It requires us to struggle, usually with ourselves the most, sometimes with the actions or words of other people. The only holy war that is occurring is within ourselves as we struggle to overcome the emptiness with the fulfillment, or the hate with love, or the sadness with happiness. Back to those paradoxes again. We all should practice the pillar of jihad - we all need to struggle to make the good moments better. Without the struggle, there wouldn't be any faith or love or happiness or joy or success or fulfillment. There would just be emptiness. Because even happiness can be just as emptying as sadness. It matters how we have created that happiness, and I truly believe that if we didn't struggle in the process, the fulfillment won't stay full as long. It will empty very quickly. 

Here is just one example of emptying and filling. This was one of the most emptying and filling moments of not only this summer, but of my life. 

I came into the camp in the afternoon this past Tuesday, after a morning of working on reports at home. I walked in, and as per usual, there were already about 10 people who needed 10 different things asking me for help. But Mohammad Gambia, our intern, came up to me and asked specifically for my help in room 1 on the unaccompanied minors section. I walked in there first and saw a Somalian woman caring for her extremely sick son with another young man at their side. Mohammad asked me if there was any way to get permission for the young man, the sick boy's cousin, to stay in this protected section and care for his sick cousin for the next few hours while the boy's mother went to pray, eat, and take a nap. I didn't know the context of what was happening, but I could see that the boy was paralyzed and moaning and completely unable to care for or control himself. He was probably in his teens, but he was wearing a diaper and his mother was periodically moving his legs for him. The only people that are allowed in the protected zones are the people that live there, and there are only sections for unaccompanied minor boys, single women, and single women with children. Each of those groups is only allowed in their own section, they cannot go into any other sections within the protected zone. This mother and her son were put in the unaccompanied minors section because it was the only section with open beds. So the mother and the cousin needed special permission and documentation to be allowed to enter the section to care for the boy. And the only person that can give permissions like that is the section director. Alexandra is the section director of this section, and she is a single mother of 2 kids who cares immensely for all of the refugees, but especially the boys that she is in charge of in this section. We have worked very closely with her this summer and have a very good relationship with her, so I went into her office to ask about this situation. The mother and the cousin followed me into the office and sat down, along with Mohammad.

We explained what they needed, and she asked me if I knew what they had just been through. She said that they had been at the hospital to receive treatment (the boy has been paralyzed for awhile but had gotten very sick with something - I'm not sure what - since arriving here in the camp 4 days earlier. They had been sleeping outside on the benches in front of the new arrivals office for 4 days until he went to the hospital), but the hospital released him and refused to keep him over night, even though he should have been in the full-time care of medical professionals, not his exhausted and stressed mother in a room full of teenage refugee boys. So they put them all in an ambulance, drove them back to the gates of the camp, and threw the boy down on the road and left them all there, not even delivering him safely to a bed. I have never seen such fury in someone's face as I did when Alexandra was telling me this. She said "I am ashamed of my country. How can we treat them like this? They are not animals, they are people." She then told the mother (through the translation of the cousin since she didn't speak any English) that she would do everything within her power to get them transferred to a house or a better situation as soon as possible, and until then she would give them correct documents so that they could stay in the section with the son, not just come and care for him during the day but also have a bed to sleep in next to him at night. Then she said to the woman, "I am sorry to ask this and I don't mean to be rude at all, but I don't understand. How did you manage to travel here all the way from Somalia with your son in this condition?" The cousin translated the question, and the woman began to cry, and held her arms out in front of her like she was carrying a baby, indicating that she had carried her paralyzed teenage son here. From Somalia to Lesvos, Greece. Alexandra started crying too. Then she looked at me and said, "That is motherhood, Melody." And she turned to the woman and told her she respected her strength. That part didn't need to be translated. 

Alexandra and I both walked out of the office after the mother and the cousin had been given the right papers, and we just looked at each other and shook our heads. Nothing needed to be said, it was obvious what we were both thinking. This woman had traveled thousands of miles literally carrying her son to safety and peace. If that isn't a perfect example of love I don't know what is. The strength of a mother's love; that is more filling than almost anything else. But the tears that she shed and the pain I cannot imagine she felt as she watched a hospital kick her son out and literally drop him on the street, what could be more emptying? The fact that she even had to make the journey here in the first place. Or the fact that they had been sleeping outside with no tent for 4 days because there isn't enough space inside the camp's housing units/tents. Or the fact that she couldn't even take a break to go pray because there were other men in the room and the only private place we could give her (the classroom) didn't have a place for her to wash before praying. All of that is very emptying. But her love and strength and courage; that is filling. I'm not a mother yet, but is there anything more simultaneously emptying and filling? 

Braxton and I talked later that night about how blessed we are but how unfair it is that we will almost certainly never have to carry our babies across countries and oceans fleeing for our safety. We won't have to give birth to a baby in a refugee camp where the ambulance won't even come pick you up until after the umbilical chord was already cut (yes that happened to one of the African women in the protected zone; she gave birth on the gravel right outside of the section because the doctors wouldn't call the ambulance and when they finally did, she had already given birth with the help of all of the African mothers in the section and one of our volunteers who is a nurse). What an emptying and filling truth. How blessed we are. Yet how unfair the world is. These people here are just as human as you and I and yet for some reason they are here while we are all comfortably enjoying our American homes. I don't think we should feel guilty about our blessings, we should be grateful. But we should also be willing to share in the struggle and fulfill our obligation to help fill up some of the emptiness in this world in anyway possible. 

We provide emergency baby care in Kara Tepe, the Disneyland of refugee camps here in Greece. It is well run, extremely friendly and safe and clean. When parents need to go to the hospital or to their asylum interviews or things like that, we play with their kids all day. 

They paint for us:)

One of those filling moments, this little girl is 10 and wanted to paint our nails. She picked the colors and did them for us, and we did hers. 

More filling moments during English class. We asked people to write about their gifts and dreams/desires. These are what 3 of the boys wrote.

This is one of the protected sections where the unaccompanied minors live. We painted it with bright Greek themed colors, but the bars and barbed wire is still there no matter what color it is.

Filling. 

I'm extremely grateful for Braxton's grandmother who immigrated to the States to find a better life and created a future for her family that I happened to join into a few generations down the road. Immigrants and refugees are different, but no human being should be illegal, regardless of their status as immigrant, refugee, or citizen.