Dividing the Greek island of Chios and the Turkish coastline is a strait no longer than the distance between Howth and Dun Laoghaire. The proximity between the two is tantalisingly close. Every day, dinghy after dinghy floats ashore. Children, adults, the sick, the scared and the relieved step foot on European soil for the first time.
Over the last few years, hundreds of thousands of people have made the journey to Europe’s shores, escaping war, persecution, famine and economic hardship. Thousands more don’t survive the journey across treacherous bodies of water. When these people land in ports such as Chios, they are no longer lawyers or farmers. They aren’t Syrian or Kurdish. Their identity is that of a refugee or asylum seeker. To others, they can represent something else completely.
Eileen Fleming, who lives in Kinvara, Co Galway, is one of thousands of volunteers working across Europe to help these people. When I call, she is in the car with her husband Frank. It is 7pm Greek time and they are on their way to meet a boat that is approaching the Chios port. First, they are heading to their warehouse where they will pick up basic supplies such as dry clothes. This boat is the fourth one to land on the island that day. While boats can have an average of 50 people on board, the pair don’t know what to expect of this one. It could be a herd of children with a few parents. Alternatively, it could be a group of men who have left their families in the hope of finding prosperity in Europe. The couple have to be prepared for all situations.
They, alongside other volunteers, including a medical group that is based at the port, greet people off the dinghies. Their first duty is to check people for injuries or illnesses and then give them a dry set of clothes. As this group is arriving late in the evening, they will be stuck in the port overnight until the camp re-opens in the morning. If it is warm enough, they will sleep outside. If not, they will be squashed into a holding facility, which Fleming says resembles a garden shed.
Working as part of an independent volunteer group between the NGOs on the island and the camps, the couple and other volunteers “fill the gaps” when NGOs, delayed by vast swathes of administration and paperwork, can’t react quickly enough.
You were just welcoming people off boats, drying them off and giving what they needed or sending them on their way
When a crisis was officially announced throughout Europe two years ago, a woman Fleming knows from Kinvara decided to go to Greece and see if she could help out. Since then, approximately 15 people have gone over from the south Galway region to volunteer. When Frank first went in early 2016, the borders were still open. “You were just welcoming people off boats, drying them off and giving what they needed or sending them on their way”, says Fleming. She couldn’t go on this first trip due to work commitments in Ireland. When she did make it over later that year, the situation had changed completely: “Everyone was just stuck here and the process was so slow and everyone didn’t know what was going to happen or where they were going to go.”
The Greek locals, who were suffering themselves as the country’s economy tanked, didn’t know how to deal with the influx of people. Frustrated by the lack of support from the rest of Europe, there were attacks on the camp and one of the distribution containers used by the volunteers was burnt down. Intending to stay only two months that time, the pair were there for six altogether.
This time, the amount of people arriving has not slowed. Originally, there was an open camp in the town, which the volunteers could enter. During the summer months, however, there was a crackdown on people smugglers on the Turkish side, which led to less boats. During this time, the camp was largely cleared out of the town. Now, people are based in a closed army-run camp outside the town. Designed for 800 people, there could be up to 1,600 in there currently, although Fleming can’t say for certain because they aren’t allowed into the camp.
Talks on expanding the camp are ongoing but, with no promises of a watchdog to ensure conditions are suitable, people are being left to create makeshift tents and fend for themselves.
The people that arrive in the port in Chios show a “mixture” of emotions. Some are quiet due to the trauma of the journey while others inform the volunteers that they’re on their way to Germany or other European countries. Fleming says that the volunteers are aware that they most likely won’t be leaving the island soon but that they “try just to be as calm as possible with them and don’t tell them anything because we don’t know what it’s going to be like or where they are going to be sent”. The kids “are just kids” and she says that when you start to play with them, all they want to do is play back. “It is the quiet kids you really have to watch out for that they might be sick or traumatised”, she explains.
As well as providing support to the people who arrive on dinghies, the couple have also been involved in several projects to help improve the lives of the people on the island. Last year, they set up English lessons in the local park, which are staffed by volunteers. Mostly attended by men – single men are the biggest cohort on the island – Fleming says that camp life isn’t suitable as “there is just nothing for them to do”. The lessons gave them a purpose while helping them adjust to European life. When the weather became too cold to hold lessons outside, they rented a building in the town, which they hoped would turn into a community centre. Here, people continued to learn languages and were also given cultural education about the world they were soon to enter. Legal groups would also come to the centre and give advice about the asylum process.
I’d say most of the Syrians I’ve spoken to want to be in Syria. They had a great life
Another project the volunteer group is involved in is a parent and toddler house, where parents can bring their children for a warm shower, change of clothes and some healthy food. As well as providing the basics, these projects provide a touch of normality for people outside the camps where tensions can run high due to cramped and substandard conditions. “I’d say most of the Syrians I’ve spoken to want to be in Syria. They had a great life”, explains Fleming.
Fleming also spent some of her time on the island working in a refugee school that is run by NGOs and other volunteers. Speaking fondly of the teenagers there, she says their courteous behaviour would “put Irish teenagers to shame”. Having been denied so much of their childhood, they recognise the chance they now have. She tells me of one Kurdish boy she met while teaching. A lover of rap, his accent was that of an American: “I had been using textbooks in the class and one day he took it up to his nose and said ‘oh my god I have missed the smell of textbooks’ because he hadn’t been in school for years. You know he was 17 and he had missed all those vital years of schooling.”
Since the crisis began, the Irish government has committed to taking in 4,000 refugees. So far, 500 have arrived with more due in the new year. This is on top of the people who have been in Ireland for years and are still waiting on their citizenship.
Naomi McBride works as a volunteer in Globe House, a direct provision centre in Sligo, teaching the arrivals to cook. The centre, which sits on a hill overlooking Sligo town, remains a mystery to many of the town’s residents. In line with Irish law, the people based there aren’t allowed to work and receive only a small amount of money each week. On the face of it, it seems a waste to allow people – many highly skilled with careers in their native countries – to remain inactive and unable to provide for their families in a tightly controlled environment. At least, this is the argument of the many and varied critics of the direct provision system.
Men are based on one side of the centre, while families are located on the other. There are two small kitchens that families can rent out or they can go to the dining hall where food is supplied.
Attracted initially by her own love of food and cooking, McBride became involved through Volunteer Sligo, a not-for-profit body that runs various projects throughout the county. “Cooking is terribly important to them”, she explains, “and eating food from their own country is huge”. The centre houses people from various different countries, who are all expected to get along for the sole reason that they have found themselves in the same building. Culture clashes can be seen in everything from food to religion. McBride talks of a Nigerian woman she has befriended, who acknowledged that life is often easier for the women. “The young men find it very, very hard and indeed any man of working age finds it hard because you’re sort of cast adrift. You’re not allowed work”, she explains.
Starting in the spring of this year, McBride started to go to the centre with another volunteer every two to three weeks. She says that, going in, you never know who you are going to meet. “They are professionals. They are doctors. They are lawyers. They are writers. They are whatever. They are the same as you and me and nobody wants to leave their homeland.” McBride never asks why someone has left their native country. Anyone who does volunteer their story, she explains, tends to have a very unhappy one.
Initially, they created dishes that they thought people in the centre would like. As they became more familiar with its inhabitants, however, requests started to flow in. From Nigeria to India, the range of nationalities is vast. The inhabitants can then take this food into the dining room and have it as an alternative or a supplement to what they’re already offered.
“You see a lot of the women cooking for themselves and their children in their little tiny kitchen that they’re allowed to book and that’s really, really important to them”, says McBride. Some people won’t accept the food she brings or that which is offered in the centre. “They really care about their food.”
Speaking of one Nigerian woman, McBride says that the woman’s son, who is no older than seven or eight, “longs” for the food from home that his mother cooks. As many people arrive with little to no possessions, their food and culture is one of the things they can carry with them.
For a town that has been living with a direct provision centre for years, there seems to be a sudden urge to discover more about the people it houses. The Model Arts Centre, also based in Sligo town, has become the hub of an initiative called Global Kitchen. Recognising the limitations of direct provision centres, the project invites people of different nationalities to come and cook and share their culture with anyone who wishes to attend. Initially started by artist Anna Spearman with the help of then-Director of the Model, Megan Johnston, the nights have been a huge success.
You see a lot of the women cooking for themselves and their children in their little tiny kitchen that they’re allowed to book and that’s really, really important to them
Smaller rural communities are also getting involved. Beltra Country Market, in which McBride is also involved, has hosted three international mornings over the last three summers. Located in a small hall in the Sligo countryside, everyone was invited to come along. Paying for a coach to bring asylum seekers based in Ballaghaderreen, Co Roscommon, to the morning event this summer, locals made Syrian pastries and invited various musicians to perform. A magician came and entertained the crowd with disappearing tricks. Syrians were dancing with Irish people to music from both countries, while others sat around eating food from Nigeria and Bangladesh. “They just said what they really missed was community and there they were in a real community that morning”, says McBride. With integration and involvement the aim of the morning event, it also involved drumming workshops, which were hosted by Debbie Beirne, co-ordinator and facilitator of Rúach Rhythms.
“Drumming is a really powerful way to connect with people”, says McBride. A tent was set up outside the hall so that more people could be involved. “It’s something that three-year-olds and 83-year-olds can do side by side so it is very inclusive”, she explains.
A community activist, Beirne has been involved in helping to integrate the mostly Syrian refugees in Ballaghaderreen since their arrival in early 2017. With over 120 people currently housed in a local restored hotel in the town, Beirne was part of an initial welcoming committee set up to welcome the people to the area. Looking back, Beirne says it has been a rollercoaster journey with many of the group wearing “rose-tinted” glasses when looking at what their role would be.
The Irish system for processing people is one of the slowest in Europe and a source of frustration for many of those involved in helping people in direct provision or seeking asylum. Those in Ballaghaderreen have been in the hotel for just under seven months now. For Beirne, grassroots groups are important but NGOs are even more important going forward.
Social media has been crucial in raising awareness of the group in Ballaghaderreen. It has allowed several groups to link up and provide supports such as English lessons, art classes and other activities, which have proved crucial to the group. “People in the community just want an opportunity”, she explains of the local area’s wish to help.
Despite people vying to help, Beirne concedes that you are always going to get social media commentators who are not interested in the work they are doing. Comments often revolve around dealing with Irish issues before helping others, while others are viler still. “People can write anything”, she says.
The importance of engaging people is therefore invaluable. All three women agree that awareness is the only way forward with this issue. Fleming notes that when she and her husband told their friends that they were returning to Greece, many were confused, believing that the lack of media coverage meant that the issue had been resolved.
Volunteers returned for various reasons. For McBride, she says she’s “learned more from them than they’ve learned from me”. Beirne says that we need to “pump money into communication” so that Irish people remain aware of what is going on.
Despite the hard work these women and many others are putting in, it is hard not to feel frustrated at the lack of progress in changing opinions and progressing our laws. Media coverage on the issue is focusing on the “threats” that these people bring rather than the contribution they could make to our society. There is a sense that once people make it as far as our shores, they should be grateful for being here, regardless of the shared conditions, tedious waiting times for citizenship and inability to provide for their families, simply because they are “safe”.
Leaving behind your native land and undertaking a journey that can span thousands of miles is not a decision any person would take lightly – a point that is often forgotten in the debate on how we should treat the people knocking on our door for help. Expressing frustration at the lack of empathy that can exist, Fleming reflects on everything she has witnessed over the last year: “When you see a little old lady in a wheelchair coming in one of those boats, you just think, how horrible must it be?”
