Where Should We Go?

By: Kelly Purcell

Our team visited Softex refugee camp in Thessaloniki, which is sometimes referred to as the worst camp in Greece. Many improvements have occurred recently including the transition from tents to containers and closing a warehouse in the camp that became overrun by criminal activity and gender-based violence. However, signs of sorrow are still distinctly evident in the landscape. Barbed wired fences and military men are the first welcome into the camp, and then the spray painted words, “We are not happy here”.

At the end of the day, after learning about the camp and the daunting challenges that both the Red Cross staff and refugees have had to overcome, we sat in on a “Men’s Group” meeting which is organized as part of a psychological well-being initiative. Sitting around a table in one of the containers, there are 12 young Syrian men from the ages of 21 – 27 and 6 members of our international team. “Do you have any questions for each other?”, asks the Red Cross case worker. One of the men, quickly answers, “Where should we go?”. After a beat of speechlessness from our team, the whole room laughs. That is the question.

After some time, the man with the biggest smile in the room asks if he can share a poem he wrote. We enthusiastically say yes and the room agrees that it will first be presented in English and then Arabic. The interpreter begins to read. The subject we have all been shying away from with niceties about food and weather suddenly pours over us. His words detail the place he loves most, Aleppo, being transformed into dead bodies and ash. For the first time since we have met, his smile is gone and his expression grows solemn as he sees his words on our faces. The interpreter finishes reading in English and it is the author’s turn to read in Arabic. As he reads, I try to remember the exact words in English, “massacre”, “friends”, “home”. He begins to cry. Unsure of what to do, I look around at the other men sitting near him. One of them gently takes the poem and continues from the spot the author could not pass. When the Arabic reading is finished, the stillness is overcome with clapping and encouragement. I remember the last line of the poem, asking that we do not mistake his tears of nostalgia for sadness.

There are an estimated 18,000 young men and women refugees, between 15 – 24, in Greece¹. A recent study by Mercy Corps and Norwegian Refugee Council titled “Don’t Forget Us”, confirmed what we might be able to imagine based on our own experiences, that this demographic is most interested in continuing education and access to income or learning in-demand skills. However, their concerns extend beyond these to include “profound stress and decreased psychological well-being, strong sense of care and concern for others, disillusionment with human rights principles, safety concern and gender-based violence”, topics that perhaps most people in our group are not as personally familiar with. In this same study, frustration was expressed that they are constantly being interviewed by NGOs and nothing changes. This is why our group has focused on the word “empowerment”. Ultimately, it is these young men and women who have the skills and expertise to forge a better future for themselves and their peers, but with such uncertain futures, the question remains – where?