Day 24, but who's counting? Sorry for the absence in posting! I've intended to blog (even started two drafts), reply to emails, even Facebook messages many times, but finally with some strong blowing winds and uncomfortable waking thoughts of toilets and hygiene promotion at 5am, I've found some uninterrupted time to write.
Where to start? It's been a challenging week.
A boat with more than 250 people sank two days ago off the coast of the town of Molyvos, where I'm based on Lesvos Island. The town was buzzing from the afternoon on, there was no mistaking that something was wrong, something bigger than usual. 242 people were rescued, 11 died, 34 still missing. Maybe. Depends which news source you choose. In all honesty, I don't think the actual numbers can be known. Or maybe they can. I'm sure the Turkish smugglers know exactly how many desperate people they mercilessly herded onto what proved to be a less than seaworthy boat that could probably pass for some scrap wood in other parts of the world.
I don't know what makes the news back in Canada, but a number of Europeans here have said this one was big enough to make it onto the evening news back home. Sad.
Just google Molyvos, Sikamineas, Lesvos, or hashtag it on Twitter, there's no shortage of news articles about it, or a similar, and probably now more recent shipwreck. We saw one yesterday morning, although it was just a small one.
But these are numbers. We try not to discuss numbers, unnecessarily anyway. It takes away from the humanity of the situation. People get lost in numbers. Deaths become insignificant. We don't process suffering, or I don't know that I do anyway, much different between 5, or 50, 500.
Yep, it's been a tough week on the coast of Lesvos.
But among that, there are glimmers of hope and happiness, stories of successes, and the many gestures of heartfelt gratitude from those that we seek to help, that serve as reminders that there is more than the news, and the numbers show.
Another stranded raft being towed to shore.
I loved hearing the story from a reporter about a group of Syrians they encountered along a coastal Turkish town, awaiting their turn to be called by smugglers for a chance of a new lift. Of the thousands of the migrants arriving in Greece each day, they happened to spot them on a beach while reporting on the Greek side several days later. Success.
Another person told me of a family with a son with Polio they'd met here on Lesvos, and after becoming Facebook friends, saw that they family had posted that they'd been expedited through the registration process due to the son's medical disease and had made it to Germany in just a few days. Success.
We received an email of encouragement from our head office that someone in Austria was able to minister to a young woman and child at a train station which started because the woman was carrying one of the backpacks with hygiene supplies that our teams have been distributing along the European entry points. Success.
On a smaller scale, we've had some amazing groups of volunteers who have been able to play with the children, facepaint. colour, blow balloons. Normal kid activities in normal environments, but not at all normal in this situation.
Another small group actually dressed up as clowns and performed in our camp for the several hundred refugees waiting for buses. I thought the ruckus was a fight, and one girl embarrassingly called for help thinking the same, but not this time. How refreshing to see and hear so many people smiling and laughing at the same time, especially in these transit camps.
We've had a team of two Germans carpenters come and work tirelessly for 12 hours a day (more than the amount of daylight we have) the past two days building wooden floors in our tents to help prepare for the oncoming rains.
Yesterday, I had a pleasant surprise of one UK nurse that we'd worked closely with in my first week show up on site again. She'd worked 14 days straight at home and flew back right away to work in the camp on her 6 days off.
Or the Orthodox Church down the street that, among others, regularly just opens it's doors for whoever needs to spend the night. http://www.pappaspost.com/greek-orthodox-churches-become-makeshift-shelters-for-refugees-on-lesvos/
Then there's the elderly Syrian man who kissed me on the cheek, and the family that held up the line to individually hug me, as they were leaving to board a bus to the next stop.
There's no shortage of moments, encounters, stories, and people that encourage, support and continue to build each of us up. Despite the circumstances around us, the vastness of the situation, the seeming inability to affect change in the big picture, there's so much we can still do. To change one, five, or fifty lives.
Shoot, I guess those are numbers.
Though the waves toss, yet they cannot prevail.
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