As I sit in front of my laptop at the end of this day the word that comes to mind is "stories". Stories I can tell about things that I've lived today. More than this; stories that I've heard from my brothers on the march.
After a night of heavy rain and thunder, the morning started with a visit to the local Salvation Army hall and a while later to Victoria Square.
Maria (the local SA officer), Jan (my IES colleague) and I went to the square but soon the rain started and we sought shelter under a cafeteria's canopy. Soon we were sharing the space with a number of Afghan refugees.
I got to speaking with Bahbood (pictured here next to me) who is one of seven brothers and sisters. He is on the big march with his sister, her husband and their two children 10 and 1 years old. They spoke of suffering, of a life lived in fear and insecurity.
They spoke of young men well educated who are not able to make a living or know that there may be a tomorrow for them.
Being a father myself, I ask the question: "How can a mother or father not want a tomorrow for his children in a land where there is safety above all?"
Then I got to speaking with Noor (pictured here) and some of his friends
As we were speaking the cafeteria owner came threatening to take down the canopy because my friends' rucksacks were leaning against his young olive trees.
I've heard from Noor of their march that took them 30 days, of the dangers, the threats, of smugglers who would cut a person's nose or an ear because they didn't respond to demands for more money. He spoke of crossing the sea and arriving in Greece, of the relief of making it alive to Europe. And he finally spoke of his sadness about the violence that he saw within the camp in the Greek islands, as they waited to be registered, and of the lack of food and water.
As we were leaving, we witnessed some of the Afghan refugees leaving the square and recommencing their march towards a bus that was waiting to take them to the Greek border. I couldn't understand why they were being led by someone holding a mobile phone and acting suspiciously. I said to Maria, "I cannot understand this. One of them showed us his ticket that they paid to get on the bus". Maria had to enlighten me that although the ticket was for 35 euros, these young Afghans probably paid 50 or more to those traffickers.
Back to the hall and we all gave a hand to bring in a shipment of goods from Holland that DHL dropped. Dutch Parcels, a charity from Holland sends shipments of clothes on a daily basis.
The joke of the day is that after I had finished speaking with my Afghan friends (earlier today) and I turned to go, I saw many of the refugees wearing raincoats in all colours and shapes. "Some charity must have come and given these raincoats" I said to Jan and Maria. They both started laughing and soon explained that while I was "skiving" a group of volunteers came from the hall bringing the raincoats which they helped to distribute. I must say, a sense of pride came upon me as I heard that we were the ones who also cared to protect the refugees from the rain in the square.
Finally at 4 pm we made it back home for some lunch and at 6, Jan and I were back at the square.
I was so happy to see Noor again whom I thought would have gone by now. Their stay in the square is not long. They come to find transport to get to the border.
Then I understood the reason of why Noor and his friends were still around. Speaking with Noor, Hashmant and Behroz (pictured here with Jan) I found out that they ran out of money and had to wait for their families to transfer some money to them.
"Through Western Union?" I've asked naively.
I was to be enlightened by my friends that because they had no ID as such to receive money they had to depend on people who obviously were taking advantage of this whole situation. They are people of Afghan origin who have settled in this country; the money is transferred to them and they receive a 20% commission.
I feel sick with the idea that one can try to take advantage in such a ruthless way from people who have taken their lives in their hands in order to escape conflict and persecution.
My three young friends, all graduates of Economics, told me of the suffering of their people the Hazara. Being Shia they have become a target by the Sunni Taliban who believe them to be heretics. They kill the Hazara people who are 15% of the Afghan population just because they are not like them. The words of Pascal came to me who said: "Men never do evil so cheerfully and freely as when they do it in the name of religion".
When I was leaving my corps to come to Greece I was handed some money by our Cameo Club and corps members to help someone. I took 50 euros out of my pocket gave it to them and said: "This may help". They were very touched. It's the seeds of kindness we sow, I thought to myself, that may help heal the trauma that these people have lived for years.
.
Then back to the Hall and the making of sandwiches was in full swing. There were days that the volunteers at the Corps made up to 1,000 sandwiches to distribute to the refugees. This evening was a quiet one, a little over a hundred would be sufficient.
Back home, exhausted but happy.
What a day!
After a night of heavy rain and thunder, the morning started with a visit to the local Salvation Army hall and a while later to Victoria Square.
Maria (the local SA officer), Jan (my IES colleague) and I went to the square but soon the rain started and we sought shelter under a cafeteria's canopy. Soon we were sharing the space with a number of Afghan refugees.
I got to speaking with Bahbood (pictured here next to me) who is one of seven brothers and sisters. He is on the big march with his sister, her husband and their two children 10 and 1 years old. They spoke of suffering, of a life lived in fear and insecurity.They spoke of young men well educated who are not able to make a living or know that there may be a tomorrow for them.
Being a father myself, I ask the question: "How can a mother or father not want a tomorrow for his children in a land where there is safety above all?"
Then I got to speaking with Noor (pictured here) and some of his friendsAs we were speaking the cafeteria owner came threatening to take down the canopy because my friends' rucksacks were leaning against his young olive trees.
I've heard from Noor of their march that took them 30 days, of the dangers, the threats, of smugglers who would cut a person's nose or an ear because they didn't respond to demands for more money. He spoke of crossing the sea and arriving in Greece, of the relief of making it alive to Europe. And he finally spoke of his sadness about the violence that he saw within the camp in the Greek islands, as they waited to be registered, and of the lack of food and water.
As we were leaving, we witnessed some of the Afghan refugees leaving the square and recommencing their march towards a bus that was waiting to take them to the Greek border. I couldn't understand why they were being led by someone holding a mobile phone and acting suspiciously. I said to Maria, "I cannot understand this. One of them showed us his ticket that they paid to get on the bus". Maria had to enlighten me that although the ticket was for 35 euros, these young Afghans probably paid 50 or more to those traffickers.Back to the hall and we all gave a hand to bring in a shipment of goods from Holland that DHL dropped. Dutch Parcels, a charity from Holland sends shipments of clothes on a daily basis.
The joke of the day is that after I had finished speaking with my Afghan friends (earlier today) and I turned to go, I saw many of the refugees wearing raincoats in all colours and shapes. "Some charity must have come and given these raincoats" I said to Jan and Maria. They both started laughing and soon explained that while I was "skiving" a group of volunteers came from the hall bringing the raincoats which they helped to distribute. I must say, a sense of pride came upon me as I heard that we were the ones who also cared to protect the refugees from the rain in the square.
Finally at 4 pm we made it back home for some lunch and at 6, Jan and I were back at the square.I was so happy to see Noor again whom I thought would have gone by now. Their stay in the square is not long. They come to find transport to get to the border.
Then I understood the reason of why Noor and his friends were still around. Speaking with Noor, Hashmant and Behroz (pictured here with Jan) I found out that they ran out of money and had to wait for their families to transfer some money to them.
"Through Western Union?" I've asked naively.
I was to be enlightened by my friends that because they had no ID as such to receive money they had to depend on people who obviously were taking advantage of this whole situation. They are people of Afghan origin who have settled in this country; the money is transferred to them and they receive a 20% commission.
I feel sick with the idea that one can try to take advantage in such a ruthless way from people who have taken their lives in their hands in order to escape conflict and persecution.
My three young friends, all graduates of Economics, told me of the suffering of their people the Hazara. Being Shia they have become a target by the Sunni Taliban who believe them to be heretics. They kill the Hazara people who are 15% of the Afghan population just because they are not like them. The words of Pascal came to me who said: "Men never do evil so cheerfully and freely as when they do it in the name of religion".
When I was leaving my corps to come to Greece I was handed some money by our Cameo Club and corps members to help someone. I took 50 euros out of my pocket gave it to them and said: "This may help". They were very touched. It's the seeds of kindness we sow, I thought to myself, that may help heal the trauma that these people have lived for years.
.
Then back to the Hall and the making of sandwiches was in full swing. There were days that the volunteers at the Corps made up to 1,000 sandwiches to distribute to the refugees. This evening was a quiet one, a little over a hundred would be sufficient.
With funding received from the International Headquarters of The Salvation Army, the corps has distributed well over 20,000 sandwiches. Polis told me that they have lost count by now.
We gave a hand to finish, and Polis, Jan, Kostas (a volunteer who is blind and comes and helps with the wrapping up of sandwiches) and I went back to the square with 120 double sandwiches and 60 litres of milk.
Within a few minutes it was all distributed to Afghan men women and children. Their hearts full of gratitude and our hearts full of thanks to God that He would chose to use even us to bring some sense of comfort, love and reconciliation.
Back home, exhausted but happy.
What a day!
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