Hello Europe, I am more than a number. 

I realise that I have not written or spoken much about visiting Chios in November last year.  The island and the people there had a profound affect on me, one which will stay with me for ever, however, it has on occasion been difficult to express feelings generated during my time there.

This post is about a family I met very briefly, by chance on a morning in Vial camp.   I met them only for minutes but I will never forget them.  I regularly wonder where they are now, along with a gnawing, nagging feeling that I didn’t do anywhere near enough to help them.

I was on camp with ‘The Pirates’ (Chios brothers who have dedicated their lives to helping refugees on Chios).  We were picking up a woman and her 5 children, to take them to the warehouse to get some provisions.  She and her children were alone on camp and had virtually no winter clothes or sufficient blankets for the coming winter.

A man of around 35 years of age came to me and pleaded with me to come with him.  He said his wife was sick and could I help.  I told him that I was only a volunteer, not a doctor or official, but I would come to meet his wife.   How can you refuse in such a situation, I could tell the man was agitated and desperate.

This is where the family were living with their 2 children.

It was clear that the woman was heavily pregnant, between 7 and 8 months.  Her husband showed me documents from the hospital where they had been the previous day.  Looking at the medical history, she tended to give birth early, and tragically a few years ago they lost twins at 5 days old.  He pointed out his wife’s swollen ankles, and gestured to where she was sleeping, on the floor in the corner of a makeshift tent.

He told me there were insects and snakes and showed me pictures.  I asked him if they needed any blankets, sleeping bags, clothes or things for the children.  He looked at me and said, there was nothing they needed apart from to get off camp and into an apartment.  They had been there a few weeks and he was terrified they would lose their baby.

All refugees are registered as soon they get on the island, they are given a unique number to be identified by.  I told the man that I would take his ‘case number’ and see what I could do, but I absolutely couldn’t promise anything.  I asked him once again if there was anything they needed, hoping there was something within my control I could do to help.  He shook his head, they needed to get out of the camp as soon as possible he said.

I approached an amazing lady from Chios, and asked what the options were for this vulnerable family.  She told me categorically that this situation was common in Vial, vulnerable people were often left there in terrible conditions, when they should be moved.  This was one family of many.  She did not hold out much hope, but contacted UNHCR with the case number, asking if they could be moved.  UNHCR said they would look into it, but not to expect anything anytime soon (or words to that affect).

I tried to find a charity which could help find accommodation.  I investigated whether if I fundraised enough we could pay for an apartment until UNHCR got their act together.  But from England, with limited resources, I was unable to provide any help.

A couple of weeks later, a volunteer friend of mine arrived on the island.  I asked her to look for the family, and gave her the details of where to find them on camp.  She found them, still in the same situation and asked as I had done if they needed anything.  The man shook his head, no he just needed to get off the camp with his pregnant wife and 2 young children.

They escaped war, travelled through dangerous countries, crossed an unpredictable sea in inflatable dinghy to seek refuge in Europe.  They aren’t numbers, they aren’t case numbers they are brother, sisters, mother, fathers and beloved children.

#think