A Road To Nowhere

Walking home from dinner tonight in the village next to Idomeni, right at sunset I saw a long line of imigrants moving up the railroad tracks. They were families with small children,  the children singing as they ran along the tracks, heading for the Macedonian border, which is heavily patrolled.The adults had an aura of fear, you could tell they were trying to be invisible. Each person carried a small backpack- nothing like what we would pack to go camping for a week. All their wordly goods. They were so tired.

Earlier in our teen therapy group, the older girls talked about how they had given up having any hope in their lives.. But the younger girls(12-15) giggled and talked about boy problems in the camp, small crushes they have, and before long everone was laughing and making macrome bracelets.

Thanks to Zeina Khodr, of AlJazeera news, for consistent and precise reporting on the unfolding crises.

http://www.aljazeera.com/news/2016/04/protests-greece-turkey-eu-refugee-deal-160403162049390.html

Molotov Cocktails and Kittens

Today was a stressful day. We were in a therapy group with the children in the tent, and we heard screaming, and the sound of molotov cocktails. I stuck my head out of our tent, where the 6 small children continued their task, and saw men with black shirts over their faces running by, with metal poles in their hands, yelling, Our director called to tell me that they were evacuating most of the NGO's in the camp, as there was a violent outbreak happening between the Kurds and the Syrians in progress. I looked around, and about 200 meters away saw the line of riot police. Our director said, "How close is the tear gas?" I answered, "Oh, about 200 meters away." She said, "Get out immediately." Somehow the children had already scattered in the chaos, leaving us with one little 3-year-old. We walked around in the chaos looking for her mother. I remembered that we had brought a very special birthday cake for one of our adolescent girls, and it suddenly became very important to find her and give her the cake. She had said her only birthday wish was that she could have a "normal" birthday. Somehow this was seeming more and more normal.

We headed out across the camp, on the other side of the railway tracks, where everything seemed surreally calm. The school was in progress, and some adolescent boys were sitting with a baby kitten that they had rescued from the road, They were tenderly looking for milk for the poor little thing.Bands of thugs were running around with chains and sticks, looking for the opposite ethnic group.

So it seems the police are using more and more tear gas in the camp. I've been noticing children with chronic red eyes, which they say is a reaction to this,. According to Wikipedia:Tear gas, formally known as a lachrymatory agent or lachrymator (from the Latin lacrima, meaning "tear"), is a chemical weapon that causes severe eye, respiratory, and skin irritation, pain, vomiting, and even blindness. In the eye, it stimulates the nerves of the lacrimal gland to produce tears. Common lachrymators include pepper spray (OC gas), CS gas, CR gas,

Lachrymatory agents are commonly used for riot control. Their use in warfare is prohibited by various international treaties. DuringWorld War I, increasingly toxic lachrymatory agents were used.

Allowed in the refugee camps, , but not allowed in warfare...hummmmmm

 .The boys were unafraid. One Kurdish teenager told me, "We already survived the war. What more can they do to us?"

Week One, flowers amongst the ruins

Well, today marks week 1 here, although it feels like a month has passed.... I'm left marveling at how quickly the human spirit adapts to change, even heart breaking changes, like losing family members, homes, countries....how resilient these people, especially the children are. People are making Syrian bread, falafel stands, barbershops on the road...if there are businesses to be made, they will find the way. There's nothing certain here: the police come daily to round up people to go to " military camps". Some kids the other night made an attempt at crossing the border to Macedonia....I've heard the UN has an assylum process that is long, ridiculous, and gives false hope. One thing that fascinates me is the interweave between the little Greek villages and these massive numbers of people. I'm sure you've heard about the Greek 90 year old granny who is making dinner for some at her house. They let them put their tents ( picture thousands) up around gas stations and hotels, but then charge them to use the bathrooms. We got gas yesterday at one of the gas station camps, and some of the refugees milling around yelled for the guy to come to give us gas, and chatted quite casually about the weather. I imagine the refugees are helping the depressed, Greek economy. Just fathom there's one group of volunteers called the banana brigade who buy and give out 4,000 bananas EVERY day...and much more.......