Like many of you, I've been watching the unfolding refugee crisis across Europe with horror and sadness, and a gut wrenching sense of futility. I ask, what can I do? Well, I have some useful skills, a whole lot of Aeroplan points, a backpack, an education in global development, experience in the field, and a willing heart, so yes, I'm going there.
The situation has only grown more dire since I first committed to go, with people living and sleeping in wet tents in fields of mud and grime. Volunteers on the ground report that through the night they hear children coughing and hacking and crying and moaning. Physically and psychologically, it's a hellish existence with no clear resolution in sight. Yesterday a 27 year old pregnant woman, her 17 year old sister, and a cousin drowned trying to cross a river to cross the border. One wonders at the desperation to cross a border knowing you'll probably be sent back to the mud. Regardless of your politics, it's a shameful and dehumanising response from the organized international community. It's only the volunteers, and humanitarian orgs who are offering some small hope, and that is why we're going.
It's a daunting exercise to prepare for this journey. It's not like any other I've done. The information coming out of Greece daily is a shifting sandbar. I've subscribed to all the refugee links on Facebook (which by the way, is the platform of choice for the many, many volunteer orgs in the field) who are all in flux. I'm overwhelmed with decisions - Lesvos, where I'm registered to volunteer with Better Days for Moria, has slowed down for now, although there are many in their camp, it's not calling with urgency as is Idomeni on the Macedonia border. I am now waiting to hear from another organization who have indicated they would like me to come to them: Nurture Project International, who provide lactation and infant feeding support to mothers and babies experiencing crisis. I like this org, and I can't think of a better cause than supporting women and babies. It remains to be seen though, where I'll be, as things change daily.
By no stretch do I imagine anyone is waiting for me, I'm just one of many hundreds of global activists who are booking tickets, driving trucks, taking boats and offering hands and hearts. There's no lack of information, too much in fact, but I've made contact with other volunteers and I have faith I'll find myself just exactly where I'm supposed to be. I might not have a room booked, or know precisely where / what I'm supposed to do when I get there - but I have a home. A nice home, warmth, food, friends, community, safety and security to come back to. The people I'm going to assist have only their memories of home, and hope for one to come.
I'm really touched by those of you who have sent me funds for my donations. Angels, all of you, and in no small part, you're all coming with me. Next week I'll be off on a shop for supplies for women's sanitary care packs. A friend and I will be packing ziplocs with underwear, socks, sanitary pads, soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes and various other sundries for the women in the camps. It's a small thing, but needed, and I thank you all for helping me make a contribution on arrival.
So, that's my first blog post. I'm still accepting donations if you want to private message me through Facebook, and I have to admit that I'm more nervous than excited at this point. That's life though isn't it?
The situation has only grown more dire since I first committed to go, with people living and sleeping in wet tents in fields of mud and grime. Volunteers on the ground report that through the night they hear children coughing and hacking and crying and moaning. Physically and psychologically, it's a hellish existence with no clear resolution in sight. Yesterday a 27 year old pregnant woman, her 17 year old sister, and a cousin drowned trying to cross a river to cross the border. One wonders at the desperation to cross a border knowing you'll probably be sent back to the mud. Regardless of your politics, it's a shameful and dehumanising response from the organized international community. It's only the volunteers, and humanitarian orgs who are offering some small hope, and that is why we're going. It's a daunting exercise to prepare for this journey. It's not like any other I've done. The information coming out of Greece daily is a shifting sandbar. I've subscribed to all the refugee links on Facebook (which by the way, is the platform of choice for the many, many volunteer orgs in the field) who are all in flux. I'm overwhelmed with decisions - Lesvos, where I'm registered to volunteer with Better Days for Moria, has slowed down for now, although there are many in their camp, it's not calling with urgency as is Idomeni on the Macedonia border. I am now waiting to hear from another organization who have indicated they would like me to come to them: Nurture Project International, who provide lactation and infant feeding support to mothers and babies experiencing crisis. I like this org, and I can't think of a better cause than supporting women and babies. It remains to be seen though, where I'll be, as things change daily.
By no stretch do I imagine anyone is waiting for me, I'm just one of many hundreds of global activists who are booking tickets, driving trucks, taking boats and offering hands and hearts. There's no lack of information, too much in fact, but I've made contact with other volunteers and I have faith I'll find myself just exactly where I'm supposed to be. I might not have a room booked, or know precisely where / what I'm supposed to do when I get there - but I have a home. A nice home, warmth, food, friends, community, safety and security to come back to. The people I'm going to assist have only their memories of home, and hope for one to come.
I'm really touched by those of you who have sent me funds for my donations. Angels, all of you, and in no small part, you're all coming with me. Next week I'll be off on a shop for supplies for women's sanitary care packs. A friend and I will be packing ziplocs with underwear, socks, sanitary pads, soap, toothpaste, toothbrushes and various other sundries for the women in the camps. It's a small thing, but needed, and I thank you all for helping me make a contribution on arrival.
So, that's my first blog post. I'm still accepting donations if you want to private message me through Facebook, and I have to admit that I'm more nervous than excited at this point. That's life though isn't it?
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