Anlässlich meines Geburtstags im März sammle ich Spenden für Dråpen i Havet. Mit dieser gemeinnützigen Organisation habe ich selbst letzen Sommer in einem Flüchtlingscamp in Nea Kavala gearbeitet.
Die Organisation versorgt Menschen u. A. mit
– warmen Decken für den Winter
– frischen Lebensmitteln
und bietet den 750 Camp-Bewohnern die Möglichkeit, alle zwei Wochen eine Waschmaschine zu nutzen.
Weiteres habe ich in den letzten Monaten in diesem Blog beschrieben.
Die Not ist nach wie vor groß und die Perspektiven unklar. In den letzten Monaten ist ein großes Armeezelt komplett der Witterung zum Opfer gefallen und zwei der Wohn-Container sind bis auf das Alugestell ausgebrannt.
Ich freue mich, wenn ihr die gute Arbeit vor Ort unterstützt.
Liebe Grüße und ganz herzlichen Dank im Namen vieler Menschen, die unverschuldet in Not geraten sind.
Two other Dråpen i Havets volunteers and I spend the next two nights at a big house at Pigi, that’s near the mountains and next to the border to Makedonia.
We spend the whole day at the garden listening to a stream next to our garden.
I’m happy about the day off. Many times, it’s not easy to be a volunteer at a refugee camp. I really like going to the camp every day and working there, being with the people, but sometimes I’ve got sleepless nights. I write my thoughts into my laptop and I chat for hours with my friends at home who support my project over here. Sometimes I get awake feeling that I had been clenching my teeth while I was sleeping.
And we prepare a delicious meal. It is like a holiday.
Help people in a difficoult situation by shopping for them in Dråpen I Havets
A friend had asked me to describe how people used to live at the camp and what their future prospects were.
Imagine a small village with one long street on a never used military airport runway. Along this road there are built about 160 containers.
Syrian artists painted the sanitary buildings to give some colour to the tristness of the refugee camp.
A few weeks ago, they had added a big army tent with small sleeping cabins to give another 100 people space. At the camp there are lliving about 750 people.
While I am taking some morning mood pictures, a man from Iraq comes to talk to me. He tells me, how difficult it was living at the camp. It would be dirty, he shows me that he was bitten by many mosquitos and he complains that there was almost no possibility to get medical help when needed. He had been over here for about two years waiting for documents to leave the camp.
I would like to help him if I could.
The service buildings are usually cleaned regularly but they are very scabby. The plumbing’s are rotten, they have many lacks. At some places the plumbs are missing, and the water runs to the ground.
The camp would need an installer to repair many of the pipes, but I’ve never seen anyone doing work like this.
This camp is meant to be temporary, so these little aesthetic repairs probably would never be done.
Because of this temporary concept there is not one flower planted in the whole camp.
“I love giving English lessons at the Women’s Space.”
It is the second time for me to work at the women’s English class this noon. At the camp they offer English classes level one and two for women six days a week. Level three takes place in mixed groups for men and women. Only a few women visit them because often their husbands don’t allow them visiting classes together with other men.
The afternoon I work at the laundry, that is one of my favoured jobs. As the days before many people, mostly young men come to sit next to us in front of the laundry. They like to talk.
Mostly done communication content is smaltalk, “How are you?”
“Where do you come from?”, ” How long have you been here?” The answer to the first question normaly is “fine, how are you?”. That like it’s used to in USA, I don’t know if people would do in their own language.
A young Syrian tries to communicate by speaking into his mobile phone and letting an online translator write a translation. That seems to be a good idea, but many times the translation doesn’t make any sense.
One guy was just returned from his language class at Polycastro and asks me to help him with his English homework.
Bit by bit I’m starting to really like everyone around here. They are all so hearty. Among the inhabitants of the camp there are many children and young man in my sons age.
I think that many of these young men could get a job in Germany if they would ever get a visa. They are so polite, and they really would like to learn and to work.
The big difference between these young people and my own children is that my children have had a save childhood, and now they are grown up and just have to choose their way of living.
Icecold winds from Sybiria will bring a cold winter to Greece. Donations for blankets and sleeping bags:
In the morning we have a team meeting and get instructions of what to do in case of an emergency. If an emergency occurs, our safety is always priority number one, even if it means leaving the camp so that equipment or buildings could get destroyed. That makes all of us volunteers feel very safe at the camp.
After the meeting I’m scheduled to the job at the laundry again.
A young woman who speaks fluently German has a special request: Her husband is badly injured and has open wounds and therefore he needs extra clean sheets washed at 90 degrees. They both use to live and work in Germany. Because his mother was very ill he left Germany without any permission. When he tried to go back home he had an accident and now he is badly injured. Because of this he is not able to travel to Athens to get the new visa for Germany. Now he lives at Nea Kavala. And because he is not registered in Greece, there is no doctor responsible for him. A teacher from Germany help’s them by writing an email to the German embassy, but it will take a while to get an answer.
the language connects people
In a strage way I feel connected to the young couple, even if I don’t know them. Is it pehaps because they live in Germany and we speak the same language?
In the afternoon we do some handcrafts and play games with children. I am told to take care that they don’t take away all off the stickers. One boy puts a cute little baby on my table to let her do some paintings. The one-year-old girl knows how to use a pen and draws nice circles on the paper.
I am very surprised about that, but the stickers are gone by some “Alibabas”. That’s a game the boys love to play.
Evening mood at Nea Kavala. Refugees and volunteers dancing in front of the Drop Shop.