Refugee Camp: Day 3

Jordan served at the refugee camp for 2 days while I hung out with Judah.  On the third day, I had the opportunity to work an 8h shift at Camp while the boys stayed home together.

One of the first questions asked when jobs were being assigned at Camp for the day was, "Do we have any French speakers?"  It's estimated that 40% of the refugees currently at the camp are from French-speaking Africa.  They asked me - and my friend Melanie (who also speaks French) - to stay in the office and work "information" for the day, so that we may be available to translate.  In this make-shift office made of a few connected shipping containers and tarps, tasks vary from hour to hour.  Our first task:  clean the toilets and showers in the First Reception/New Arrival area.

We gathered buckets, squeegees, gloves, mops and cleaning products and headed down the steep hill. The night before there were 2 boats with a total of 109 people that had arrived.  After landing on shore, all of the refugees are brought to Camp and placed in a giant tent with bunk beds lining the walls until they have each been given a thorough background check and medical examination.  They are not permitted to leave this gated area until all of the checks have been completed.

For the 109 people ranging in age from 1 month to an elderly woman in a wheelchair, there were 3 showers, 4 toilets and 4 sinks.  You can imagine that it was in need of cleaning.  The worst part, however, was the leaky plumbing.  No sooner had we swept all of the water out the door of the trailer than was there another puddle; nearly every toilet and sink was leaking!  In addition, many of the refugees come from countries that use squatty potties and are unfamiliar with how to use a western toilet.  It made for a nice, wet mess.

But I am thankful for the opportunity I had to be there, to clean the toilets and serve the refugees.  It gave me a different perspective than Jordan had at Camp, and it allowed me to see the wide variety of people who are on this refugee journey.  A baby who could not have been more than 1 month old.  Several toddlers playing in the dirt.  Mothers washing clothes in buckets, searching for any empty space along the barbed wire fence to hang them dry.  Young men with sprained and swollen ankles.  Algerians.  Afghans.  Eritreans.  Ugandans.  Many of them searched for outlets to charge their cell phones; there were 3.

We did our best to clean the toilets, sinks and showers - and called the local [volunteer] plumbers to make reparations.  Then we returned to the office to await our next task.  Sitting at the entry way I had several opportunities to translate for French speakers.  Of course, I had no answers, but my job at the gate was to simply pass along the questions and responses.  A group of African women with 2 men came to get clothing.  "Please," a woman asked.  "I need a bikini.  I need to go to the beach."  I laughed.  "You like the beach?" I asked.  "Me, too.  I understand!  "Get me a bikini and we can go to the beach together," she smiled.  A man with her thanked me.  "Without you, we have nothing.  We come here with no clothes, you give us clothes; we come here hungry, you give us food.  We need your support.  Thank you!"  As someone there for a single day, I felt unworthy of such gratefulness, but I simply smiled and told him, "God loves us, so we want to love others.  Jesus tells us to serve, so we are here to serve you."

After a few hours in the office, I went to the area of camp where the single and vulnerable women are housed.  Melanie and I helped hand out lunches and translate for a few of the women who were just arriving and being placed in the various "rooms."  It was here that I spent more time interacting with volunteers and a few of the local Greeks employed by the government to work at Camp.  They have such insight to the lives and experiences of these women - heartbreaking, heavy, dark stories.  These employees and volunteers in this particular area are so compassionate, conscientious, sensitive.  They've planted flowers.  They've painted pallet benches in bright colors (a stark contrast from the rest of the camp which resembles a prison).  They intentionally leave the gate opened to allow the women to feel freedom.  The volunteers sacrificially serve these women, ready to respond to any need at any moment, to assure them of their value, which has so often been stripped.

Our time in Camp was short.  It was heavy.  But it was rich; to put faces to the stories we'd heard; to put names to faces and personal stories to others was an incredible gift.  As I stated in an earlier post, we knew going into this short trip that our time in Camp would have more of an impact on us than on the refugees.  We are so thankful!