What if I was never redeemed…………
What if I already was………..
My life like all lives
Mysterious irrevocable and sacred
So very close
So very present
So very belonging to me
How wild it was
To let it be.

My time volunteering at a camp for Syrian refugees

Abbas, Ahmed, Ali, Ghanim, Faisal, Farah, Ibrahim, Hamzaa, Hamid, Maria, Miriam, Mohammed, Mysa, Nihat, Nihal, Osmaya, Sarwah, Sara, Sidra, Silda, Zahara, to name a few, all a force to reckon with, full of life, energy and enthusiasm. These were some of the 80 odd children in a Syrian refugee camp I volunteered at in September 2017. Despite language being a major barrier, they taught me much, Arabic numbers from 1 -1 0, the word for Ice cream – Buza, new basketball rules, which involved running holding the ball or doubling over it so no one can get it away, creating a clear distinction for all things and people so they fall in the “Good or no Good” category.

My journey started from London, following a forced career break as a retail buying manager. The desire to be of use to others was always present in me, but now I was given the gift of time, means and freedom to do something for my soul. I remember my father once saying there is much selfishness in any act of charity. It’s a veil behind which we stand, secretly tackling our own demons.

The refugee camp I was headed for was set up by the EU to house the more vulnerable sections of the Syrian war victims. A disused military base used as holiday home for Greek servicemen, set amongst the hills about an hour from Thessaloniki was home for about 400 odd residents, mostly families with young children and some disabled people. There was only one access point into the camp, manned 24 hours by the Greek Military. The refugees were allowed in and out of the camp as they wished, which was perhaps the one thing that made it feel less like a low security prison and more like temporary hostel like accommodations. The grounds were relatively generous, with a pretty lake on one end of the camp. A basketball and football court offered much relief to the youths staying at the camp.

My time at camp flew by, working with the other volunteers in the warehouse, sorting through donations, helping prune and upkeep the little garden created for the residents in which they grow tomatoes, beans and Mulukhiyah. We organised community dance classes for the children and women, using the universal language of music to bond with the residents. A big part of my role was clothes distribution for adults and children. Bridge2, the NGO I volunteered with, alternate, between Clothes, shoes and basic food supplies distribution throughout the month.

It’s hard to remain unchanged after meeting innocent victims of a cruel civil war. I can’t remember the last time I worked so hard, physically. Whether it was moving boxes, cleaning the floor, packing 90 kgs of dates into 600gms and 200gms bags, sorting donations, I was just motivated to add value in any way I could. There were many single parent families, wives or husbands lost to the Syrian war crisis. Children who only know the life of a refugee. There is a danger when war ends in Syria, there will be no one there to rebuild the country. An entire generation of an ancient civilisation rudderless on a violent ocean.

In my thoughts and prayers, I wish them the best this world and life has to offer. Abbas, Ahmed, Ali, Ghanim, Faisal, Farah, Ibrahim, Hamza, Hamid, Maria, Miriam, Mohammed, Mysa, Nihat, Nihal, Osmaya, Sarwah, Sara, Sidra, Silda, Zahara.