The horrors of Lesbos: on the front-lines of Fortress Europe
by
Far from providing safe refuge
to those who survive the crossing, Europe is subjecting refugees to
dehumanizing, degrading and life threatening conditions.
to those who survive the crossing, Europe is subjecting refugees to
dehumanizing, degrading and life threatening conditions.
By Harriet Paintin and Hannah Kirmes-Daly.
Nothing could have prepared us for the night when approximately 300 people were shipwrecked off the coast of Lesbos.
Boatloads
of people were brought in by the coastguard. Everyone was drenched to
the bone, hypothermic, screaming the names of family members who had
perished. Medics and volunteers desperately attempted to revive the
unconscious.
of people were brought in by the coastguard. Everyone was drenched to
the bone, hypothermic, screaming the names of family members who had
perished. Medics and volunteers desperately attempted to revive the
unconscious.
One moment I was
consoling a young man, shuddering and shaking in my arms, as he cried
out, “my brother, my brother, I have lost my brother, our boat was
broken, two hours at sea,” the next I was wrapping my arms around a
woman screaming and banging her head against the wall, her eyes wide in
shock, desperation and grief.
consoling a young man, shuddering and shaking in my arms, as he cried
out, “my brother, my brother, I have lost my brother, our boat was
broken, two hours at sea,” the next I was wrapping my arms around a
woman screaming and banging her head against the wall, her eyes wide in
shock, desperation and grief.
Another
woman slipped in and out of consciousness, coughing up salty sea water,
her lips blue, shaking under the pile of blankets on top of her.
Another refused to let us change her out of her soaking wet clothes,
refused water, food and warm tea, until she found her two-month-old
baby. Nearly everybody that night lost a family member to the sea.
woman slipped in and out of consciousness, coughing up salty sea water,
her lips blue, shaking under the pile of blankets on top of her.
Another refused to let us change her out of her soaking wet clothes,
refused water, food and warm tea, until she found her two-month-old
baby. Nearly everybody that night lost a family member to the sea.
Nevertheless,
the striking image of refugees piling out of rubber dinghies on the
shores of Greek islands is by now a familiar one. We are familiar with
the dangers posed by the treacherous sea crossing, with so many refugees
perishing. We know of the extortionate rates charged by smugglers
($1,000-$2,000 per person, compared to 20 euros for the ferry), we know
about the war zones, torture and persecution that these people are
fleeing. But what awaits refugees who have survived all of this, on the
Greek island of Lesbos, is unknown except by the few who have
experienced and witnessed these horrors themselves.
the striking image of refugees piling out of rubber dinghies on the
shores of Greek islands is by now a familiar one. We are familiar with
the dangers posed by the treacherous sea crossing, with so many refugees
perishing. We know of the extortionate rates charged by smugglers
($1,000-$2,000 per person, compared to 20 euros for the ferry), we know
about the war zones, torture and persecution that these people are
fleeing. But what awaits refugees who have survived all of this, on the
Greek island of Lesbos, is unknown except by the few who have
experienced and witnessed these horrors themselves.
From
the port and the beaches, they are sent to one of the makeshift camps
situated at the northern end of the island, next to a busy dusty road,
where they are forced to wait in the long lines for buses to the
registration camps. Many have to wait patiently overnight, given that
their only alternative is to walk the 70 kilometers. There is a general
sense of confusion and frustration at the lack of autonomy that the
refugees experience: before registration, even those with the money are
not allowed to take a taxi or rent a hotel room; they must sleep on the
cold, dusty ground and await their turn in line.
the port and the beaches, they are sent to one of the makeshift camps
situated at the northern end of the island, next to a busy dusty road,
where they are forced to wait in the long lines for buses to the
registration camps. Many have to wait patiently overnight, given that
their only alternative is to walk the 70 kilometers. There is a general
sense of confusion and frustration at the lack of autonomy that the
refugees experience: before registration, even those with the money are
not allowed to take a taxi or rent a hotel room; they must sleep on the
cold, dusty ground and await their turn in line.
