My Time in Greece

To My Supporters (and anyone else who wants to hear about what I did in Greece),

I’m not sure really where to begin, so I’ll just start from the top and do this chronologically. I traveled to Greece with five of my friends: Jocelyn, Branden, Sean, Scott, and Zach. We volunteered with the missionary organization OM, or Operation Mobilization.

The first week in Greece, I was volunteering in the refugee camps. Specifically, Malakasa and Ritsona. Our purpose for being in the camps was to build relationships in the hope of being able to share the Gospel, and in the hope of opening doors for future volunteers to share the Gospel. It is difficult to do much as a single, short-term volunteer. Which is why it is important that we see ourselves more as a piece in a puzzle, rather than the whole picture. The love and kindness shown to refugees and camp workers in the past allowed us easy access to the camps. The love and kindness we showed to the refugees and camp workers during our visit will hopefully open greater doors for future volunteers. So together, we all make up part of the picture that God is painting in Greece.

I was serving with my friends Scott and Zach whenever we visited one of the camps. The first day was difficult. We went to Malakasa and we started out the day by picking up trash around the camp. It was a hot day, and this wasn’t a very pleasant task. During our time picking up trash, a young Afghan boy came out and began to give us a hand. While we couldn’t communicate very well, as we weren’t able to speak the other’s language, we shared a common goal of cleaning up the camp.

Later in the day, we tried to connect with some of the residents of the camp. Most were inside their tents, staying out of the sun. There was one building, however, that many young men were staying in, and we went there to talk to them. Again, it was very difficult to communicate due to the language barrier. So we simply spent time with them for the duration of our visit that day.

The next day, we visited Ritsona. During our first visit, we started to build a relationship with a family that would prove to be impactful for the three of us. We sat with a man named Nidhal. Again, communication was difficult but we were more prepared that day; we had google translate on our phones. So we sat and talked for hours and learned about Nidhal and his journey to Greece. We learned that he left Syria because of police extortion, that he spent 10 months in Turkey trying to work, and that finally conditions deteriorated to the point that he traveled to Greece with his family. We learned that he didn’t care what country he could find refuge in, so long as he could find work and provide for his family. Before we left that day, Nidhal allowed us to pray for him and his family in the name of Christ.

The next two days we spent in Malakasa. We had far more success engaging with people there. We met one young man, about our age, who spoke English and we were able to learn about him and his journey. He left Afghanistan because  of an inter-familial quarrel; it was no longer safe for him to be in Afghanistan. So like many others, he fled to look for a better life elsewhere. Others we were able to speak to, through him, fled Afghanistan because of the Taliban.

After talking with them, we somehow ended up setting up a soccer game between the Afghans and the Americans (the three of us, and another group from Texas) for the next day. The morning of the next day we spent playing frisbee and other games with the young children and we played soccer in the afternoon. I think it’s needless to say that we didn’t stand much of a chance.

The following week, I transitioned into working in the OM office. I was tasked with putting a new volunteer manual together for future short-term volunteers. I rather enjoyed the work since I got to put many of the skills I’d developed in college to work. I had to compile about ten separate documents in a single manual, add some new information, make it all flow, and make it presentable. It took quite a while to get it all together.

One day of the second week, I went again to Ritsona with Scott and Zach. Again, we spent our day with Nidhal and his family. They made us stay for dinner that day, which was touching. I’ve never seen the degree of hospitality that was shown to us by Nidhal and his family anywhere else. We ate and talked with them, and again he allowed us to pray for them.

During our off-time the second week, we were able to explore Athens a bit. The first week we lived in a suburb of Athens, an hour and a half metro ride away, so it was difficult to explore then. The second week we moved into Athens proper and we were able to see some of the sites. We also got to spend time with other volunteers and build relationships with them.

We still lived in Athens the third week of our trip, and my schedule was considerably varied. One day I was in the office continuing work on the manual. The next I was volunteering at a local church that does a lot of work with refugees. They provide English language lessons and lunch every day. I spent most of the day talking with a Syrian man who spoke English very well, but wanted more practice. The next day, I traveled with my whole group, and many other OM volunteers, to Sounio. Sounio is about an hour and a half drive south-east of Athens. There, we underwent training to work in the kitchen for a Protestant youth conference the next week.

The last day that week, I once again went to Ritsona with Scott and Zach. This would be our last day in the refugee camps. We spent the morning with a Yazidi family. They are a very artistic family, one brother was a painter, some members played instruments, and many family members passed the days by making small crafts. They all spoke English, so we were able to communicate easily. They fled northern Iraq because of the constant persecution of their people. As recently as 2014, there was a genocide of the Yazidi people by ISIS. We talked and learned of their story, and Scott played some music with them (he plays the guitar). We spent the afternoon with Nidhal. We played with the children, and we talked with him. At the end of our day there, we said our goodbyes, prayed with him once more, and left back for Athens.

The rest of our time in Greece was spent at Sounio. We served at a Greek Protestant youth conference. The men from OM cleaned all the dishes after meals. The women served food and collected the dirty dishes after meals. We did this for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the duration of the camp. During this time, we were able to spend time with Greeks, and build relationships with them. The purpose OM in Greece is not only to help the refugees, but to serve the Greeks as well. Which is why were served at this conference. It was a very important moment, because never before have foreigners been allowed to be a part of this conference. It shows the walls being broken down between the Greek church and the global church.

During our off-time in Sounio, we were able to go to a nearby beach and swim and snorkel. I was even able to go and visit the ruins of the Temple of Poseidon while I was there.

For me, one of the most important things I learned was that the refugees are not the “bad guys” that our media makes them out to be. Simply put, they are human beings. They have stories, they had lives, and they need help. Most importantly, there are hundreds of thousands of people that have not had the opportunity to hear about Jesus Christ, and God’s love for them, and they are sitting at our doorstep. Similarly, there are millions of Greeks who have not been able to experience the true love of Christ. There is work to do in Greece, and I am happy to have been a part of it.

So what’s next? I’ve been home for just over a month now, trying to figure out what to do now. I’ve moved back home to Temecula, and I’ve settled in here. I’m getting involved with my old church again. For the short term, I am going to work as a substitute teacher in the local districts, so I can occupy my time and get some cash flow going (the pay is decent and the schedule is flexible). Ultimately though, I want to return to Greece and work long-term. There is a lot of work to be done there, and it seems to me the workers are few. I am currently in the application process, and I’m praying that God will send me back.

This post serves as more of an overview of my time in Greece. You could write a book about a month’s worth of experiences. If you’d like to know more, feel free to contact me and we can talk more.

Devin Jones

P.S. If you are one of my supporters, you will have received one of the following pictures as a post card. I’d like to explain them a little bit.

This photo is of the port on the island of Hydra. We stayed an extra two days in Greece to debrief and unwind before coming home. One of those days we took a ferry out to Hydra and spent the day there.

This photo is of graffiti on a building nearby a church in Athens that serves refugees. It is an incredible work of art, and is nearly 10 stories tall. I don’t know what the artist intended to communicate, but to me, being so near the church, it is like God’s hands reaching down to us.

This is a photo of another incredible work of art in the Ritsona camp. It was painted by a member of the Yazidi family that I mention in the post. It is a moving piece of work.

This photo is of a sunrise over Athens, from Mars Hill. Mars Hill, also known as the Aeropagus, is where Paul stood and gave his sermon to the Athenians in Acts 17.

 

The American Mindset and the Reality about Refugees

“They’re all animals.”

“Don’t trust any of those f—ers.”

“Syrians are a bunch of dogs.”

These are all things people told me before I left for Greece. These comments point to a greater American mindset and the fear that has crept into every aspect of life at home. Americans think that the refugee crisis is a cover for ISIS to infiltrate the U.S. and attack us. They think that people from the middle east are barbarians and animals. They think these people are our enemies. Yesterday, I saw a Facebook commenter call for the extermination of every person from the middle east. I don’t know where these views came from, or how they have become so pervasive, but they are ridiculous.

As of writing, I’ve spent three days in refugee camps here in Greece. Two of those days have been in Malakasa, an Afghani camp north of Athens. One of those days I spent in Ritsona, a Syrian camp north of Malakasa. My experience with those in the camps does not line up with the American narrative.

Those who fear these people may say that I haven’t spent enough time with the refugees to really know how they are. They may claim I am naive about the world. Let me tell you, it doesn’t take more than five minutes for someone with a heart to see that the refugees are human beings. They are not animals. They are not barbarians. They are people. People who are fleeing war that has torn their countries apart. People who are fleeing persecution at home.

I want to be clear. I am not writing this to inspire pity from you. I don’t want to make you feel guilty. The refugees are strong people. They have to be in order to survive the journey to Greece. But they are people who need help. They are people seeking freedom.

Let me give you an overview of my experience thus far.

I had no idea what to expect walking into Malakasa. I didn’t know what the condition of the camp would be. I didn’t know what condition the people would be in. All I knew was it was an Afghani camp of about 1000 people. The Afghans were housed in tents. To me, they seemed smaller versions of military tents. Although, many people live in standard camping tents as well. Facilities are very limited at Malakasa. There are port-a-potties, port-a-showers, a small medical building (with no doctor on staff), and one midsized building filled with camping tents that has electricity. It is worth noting that the red cross has been kicked out of Malakasa by the camp manager. Why? Because they had the only office with air conditioning and the camp manager wanted it.

The people at Malakasa have very little recreation. They are able to play futbol occasionally, when volunteers bring balls. They have a handful of playing cards, and one chess set. Many of the young men have cell phones that they use to keep in touch with family at home, in Germany, and in other camps. I had the pleasure of playing chess against a man about my age named Rafi. He beat me easily. Then he beat another volunteer easily. The third volunteer was more difficult to beat, but Rafi beat him as well. In Afghanistan, Rafi was studying music. As a hobby, Rafi was a singer. He had a life in Afghanistan that he had to leave because an inter-familial quarrel made life dangerous for him and his family. So they left, seeking peace in a foreign land.

Dustin, the volunteer Rafi had trouble beating at chess, asked Rafi what he would want us to communicate to the people at home. Here is a paraphrased list from Rafi and other Afghans who were with us at the time:

• It is difficult to have so much uncertainty of the future. As of now, the refugees have no idea when they will be able to leave the camps.
• There was curiosity as to why the U.S. allowed the power vacuum that allowed the Taliban to regain power in Afghanistan.
• People in the camps have a lot of talent. Their talents vary and are in the arts, in sports, or in trades, but they have no way to use those skills in the camp.
• Being stuck in the camps for 6+ months with absolutely nothing to do has led to depression for many people.
• They want to know why the Afghani camp does not have the facilities other refugee camps have.

From what I gathered at Malakasa, these are people escaping oppression and danger at home. They are seeking a better life for their families. They want to provide for their families. They want to get out of the camps and work. They want the ability to express themselves. They are human beings. They want what we are all after: some version of the “American” Dream.

The camp at Ritsona was very different from the camp at Malakasa. The infrastructure was much more established at Ritsona. There were medical facilities with doctors, an area for children to play (with activity times for different age groups), a school for the children, a small mosque, and an area for nursing mothers to go when they need peace and quiet. Something else that drastically changed the geography of Ritsona when compared to Malakasa was the presence of trees. People there were able to use the trees as anchor points for additional structures. The “feel” of Ritsona was much better than Malakasa. However, that doesn’t mean all is well at Ritsona.

One of the largest problems at Ritsona, as far as I gathered, is food distribution. In the past, there have been food riots at Ritsona, due to the lack of food. Now, food is only given out every two to three days.While the food schedule is more regular now than it has been in the past, there is still a high degree of food insecurity. We spoke to one man who was unable to get food for ten days prior to our visit.  It is not uncommon for the food that is given out to be old, or otherwise spoiled. This has led to people getting sick frequently, especially the children.

Other problems exist at both Ritsona and Malakasa. For instance, the tents are not entirely weather-proof. If there is rain or snow, water seeps into the tents. Additionally, depression is very common in both camps. But more worrying than this, is a problem explained to us that we’ve deemed “trickle down aid”. Greece is in a financial crisis. This is not a secret. It makes it difficult for Greece to handle the tens of thousands of refugees on their own. So other countries and people give money to Greece in order to help the refugees. However, the amount of money that actually reaches the refugees as it “trickles down” through the bureaucracy is only a fraction of what is given. The refugee crisis in Greece is not a pretty picture.

I’d like to tell you about Nidhal. Shortly after we arrived at Ritsona, we said hello to Nidhal as we walked by his tent and he beckoned us over. We went over to him, and he asked us to sit, so we sat down on some chairs he had made outside his tent. He immediately offered us tea, and shortly after  his wife brought out a plate of cookies (similar to oreos) for us. I was blown away by their hospitality. We talked to Nidhal for three hours or so through his broken english, our very limited arabic, and a lot of google translate. Here is his story, as I understood it.

Nidhal worked as a carpenter in Damascus, Syria. Once the civil war broke out, things started to get really bad, and the police became more corrupt than ever. The police arrested Nidhal’s brother, and demanded money in return for his release. So Nidhal paid the police. Again, they demanded money for the release of his brother. Again Nidhal paid. Again, the police demanded money. During this time, work was drying up for Nidhal. Between the extortion and lack of work, Nidhal decided his best chance was to leave Syria. So he left and took his family with him. He traveled to Turkey, via Lebanon, to find work. For ten months he stayed in Turkey to work, so he could provide for his family. Again, the work dried up, and the Turks have no love for the refugees. So he left Turkey and went to Greece. To do so, he had to travel between the two countries on a small raft. A small raft overloaded with thirty people. Many people die on this journey, but Nidhal and his family endured. So here they are, in a refugee camp in Ritsona.

Nidhal stands in stark contrast to the narrative I hear at home. Pundits claim that refugees are leaving their countries, and invading ours, to live forever. Nidhal wants to return to Syria when the war is over. It is his home, but it is too dangerous for him and his family right now. I constantly hear that refugees only want the free stuff host nations are offering. Nidhal does not want to go anywhere for any free services. He wants to go to whatever country has work for him. He wants nothing more than to work to provide for his family. These are not the only narratives Nidhal shattered for me. While we sat talking, he stopped many times to help his children with something, and to show them love. He once stopped talking for a few minutes to help his son color in a picture-book a volunteer had given him. Another time, he stopped to help his daughter with her school work. This is not the image of a middle eastern man that I am shown at home.

In case I have’t been clear in my writing, this is what I want to tell you:

What we are told at home about the refugees is not true. They are not animals or barbarians or terrorists. They are people. Human beings in need. As such, they deserve our compassion, our love, and our support. I know its hard to show this topic any attention because of everything going on at home with the election, police/blm, and such.

Please understand, the refugee crisis is not over, and there is much work left to be done.