Going to Lesv/bos
OK so it's two weeks to go before the trip to Lesvos. Notice the spelling? Some of the islanders are irritated about these gay women co-opting their island's name, and actually took a lesbian group to court about it back in 2008. They lost. Anyway, Lesbos prefers to call itself Lesvos these days, so that it doesn't make anyone think of lesvians.
It's quite something if an island of 89,000 people suddenly finds itself in the epicentre of a refugee crisis. People have always crossed over from Turkey here, because it's so close, just 10 kilometres. But whereas in the past just one boat a week might come over, with 10 people or so, now there are 100 boats a day, with 50 people in each one. The people smugglers are just middlemen, but once people have bought their tickets they they are at the mercy of the Turkish mafia who actually organise the boats. These people are utterly despicable. They force people onto the boats, far too many in each one, even if the wind is too high, and then leave them to navigate themselves. Greek fishermen go out to save lives every night, and save an average of 400 people every day. Sadly, lives are lost every week as well. Today a coastguard vessel collided with a boat and seven people drowned, including three children.
I bought a few supplies, such as emergency blankets, rain ponchos, toothbrushes and so on, to give to anyone I come across who needs them, or otherwise to leave at one of the camps. And I bought a grabber, one of those sticks with a clamp at the end that helps you pick things up without bending down, so that I can help to clean up some of the rubbish as I move around.
I have no idea what I'm going to be doing yet. I'll be working with the volunteer group at the Captain's Table, a restaurant where Melinda McRostie runs the initial aid effort, but there are about forty volunteers working there at any one time, and many different tasks. Since I speak Greek and will have a car, I may get sent off to fetch packages from the post office. And there are piles and piles of clothes to be sorted.
OK so it's two weeks to go before the trip to Lesvos. Notice the spelling? Some of the islanders are irritated about these gay women co-opting their island's name, and actually took a lesbian group to court about it back in 2008. They lost. Anyway, Lesbos prefers to call itself Lesvos these days, so that it doesn't make anyone think of lesvians.
It's quite something if an island of 89,000 people suddenly finds itself in the epicentre of a refugee crisis. People have always crossed over from Turkey here, because it's so close, just 10 kilometres. But whereas in the past just one boat a week might come over, with 10 people or so, now there are 100 boats a day, with 50 people in each one. The people smugglers are just middlemen, but once people have bought their tickets they they are at the mercy of the Turkish mafia who actually organise the boats. These people are utterly despicable. They force people onto the boats, far too many in each one, even if the wind is too high, and then leave them to navigate themselves. Greek fishermen go out to save lives every night, and save an average of 400 people every day. Sadly, lives are lost every week as well. Today a coastguard vessel collided with a boat and seven people drowned, including three children.
I bought a few supplies, such as emergency blankets, rain ponchos, toothbrushes and so on, to give to anyone I come across who needs them, or otherwise to leave at one of the camps. And I bought a grabber, one of those sticks with a clamp at the end that helps you pick things up without bending down, so that I can help to clean up some of the rubbish as I move around.
I have no idea what I'm going to be doing yet. I'll be working with the volunteer group at the Captain's Table, a restaurant where Melinda McRostie runs the initial aid effort, but there are about forty volunteers working there at any one time, and many different tasks. Since I speak Greek and will have a car, I may get sent off to fetch packages from the post office. And there are piles and piles of clothes to be sorted.
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