19th October 2024

Centred

Hi all.

Before I get going, please note that once again names have been changed where appropriate.

Philip, my young roommate is now back in London and Nadia has returned to Tel Aviv. Liz and I have completed what is likely to be the last of our shifts at the food bank, and the plan is for us to now spend our remaining weeks at the Refugee Centre. However, this felt like anything but a foregone conclusion; we had to jump through endless hoops to satisfy the stringent requirements of the Centre’s NGO, Medical Intervention. Throughout this bewildering process Katerina, the volunteer coordinator reassured us that we were ideal candidates so we duly arranged the various certificates which included among many other things, a letter from our GP to say that we are of sufficient mental health for our work with refugee minors not be damaging to us, or to them. We had to supply additional criminal checks. We had already supplied a police check but they said that for this placement, they needed one that covered the period as close as possible to our commencement at the Centre. We had to have a further video interview with the NGO and then one final assessment at their offices after which we signed three or four lengthy forms covering safeguarding, data protection and various other local and international policies.

The upshot was that we were finally taken to the Refugee Centre to meet the staff and the boys themselves. We travelled to this part of the city by bus and on our way we passed an abandoned building, tattooed in bold graffiti which is now a protected site due to its history of dating back to the very first Refugees who arrived here in the 1920’s. Officially, the building is empty but like countless others in the city it is a squat where large numbers of homeless live.

The Refugee Centre building was much smaller than I’d imagined. It is perhaps thirty feet wide and fifty feet deep but extends over five floors plus a roof terrace. It houses up to thirty males between the ages of twelve to seventeen years old. Currently there are twenty-six living in the dormitories on the various floors. There is a small reception/ office on the ground floor with a glazed window next to a desk through which the common room can be observed. In most of the rooms there are several of the boys' paintings hung on the walls. The hallway is cramped and cluttered with doors leading to the front office and the common room, then there is a tightly winding staircase that leads to the other floors. There is a lift, but we were asked to always use the stairs, I didn’t think to ask why.

The stairwell is painted in thick green glossy paint and each floor that it leads to is of a similar layout to the ground floor. We were introduced to several of the boys on the stairs and the doorways of the dormitories. Several of them made eye contact and some smiled but all of them kept their distance in a polite manner, turning away as soon as they felt they were allowed.

On our first day, we sat with a tall Egyptian boy called Atemu and went through the English alphabet. He learned quickly but he'd already been in school all day and soon became tired and distracted. Liz had gone downstairs to see what was going on as there had been some shouting. I wrapped things up with Atemu and went to find her. A fight had broken out and the boys involved were now confined to their rooms. An on site social worker was talking to one of the other boys in the main office, and Liz and I joined a small group of others who had gathered in the sunshine around the front door. We got talking about music and one of them, Maachathi played me something from his phone that he said he liked. We all listened and I copied the link. I looked at it later. It was a song by Essam Sasa called, "Etneen b Makam Malayeen". The lyrics give some idea of the culture that many of these boys might be drawn to:

Night, night, night, night, night, night, night, night
ليلي يا ليلة، ليلة، ليلة، ليلة، ليلة، ليلة يا ليل

Night, night, night, night, night, night, night, night
ليلي يا ليلة، ليلة، ليلة، ليلة، ليلة، ليلة يا ليل

Night, night, night, night, night, night, night, night
ليلي يا ليلة، ليلة، ليلة، ليلة، ليلة، ليلة يا ليل

As long as this world is destroyed, we will remain shoulder to shoulder
طول ما الدنيا دي بنا بتلف إحنا هنفضل كتف في كتف

This crookedness is normal in our existence, and any heavy thing before us is lightened
ده المعووج معدول في وجودنا وأي ثقيل قدامنا يخف

Lightness in the heart, heavy on the ground, sisters, support and pride, we are together
خفاف ع القلب ثقال ع الأرض إخوات ظهر وعزوة احنا لبعض

When we go down, we control everything that enters us
مطرح ما بننزل بنسيطر من دخلتنا الكل اتخض

We are two, two, oh, but two in the denominator of millions
إحنا اثنين، اثنين آه بس اثنين بمقام ملايين

Sweeping and eating the atmosphere, there are no more solid ones
مكتسحين واكلين الجو مفيش جامدين ثانيين

Oh, two bodies, but we live in one heart, my colleague
آه جسمين بس احنا بقلب واحد يا زميلي عايشين

We are not afraid and block the eyes of the sun, and our heart is tyranny
مش بنخاف ونسد عين الشمس وقلبنا جبروت

But it's clean, and you who are with us are walking and doing the right thing
بس نظاف ويا اللي معانا سالكين وعلى المظبوط

If you ever come to us, raise your voice
ناكلك حاف لو مرة تيجي علينا تعلي الصوت

Days can hardly count for anyone who travels alone
الأيام بصعوبة بيعدوا ع اللي يقضي الرحلة لوحده

Lucky for him, he finds a brave brother standing behind him
يا بخته اللي في ظهره يلاقي أخ جدع واقف بيسانده

As long as you have a brother behind you who can fill your life, you will never give up on anyone
طول ما في ظهرك أخ يسد عمرك ما هتعطل على حد

What is this world like, except for a brother who stays behind you in serious times
هي الدنيا دي إيه غير آخ يبقى في ظهرك وقت الجد

No matter what I talk about my brother or whatever I say, I will not be enough for him
مهما حكيت عن أخويا ومهما هقول أنا مش هكفيه

If I could walk through this whole world, I would be honored
لو لفيت الدنيا دي كلها بمشي أتشرف بيه

If I ever feel weak, I look in my back and find it
لو حسيت بالضعف في مرة ببص في ظهري ألاقيه

It's all in a group, but you, my brother, are in another group alone
كله في كوم بس إنت أخويا في كوم ثاني لوحديك

If I'm worried, I don't know how to open up and tell my worries to anyone but you
لو مهموم مش بعرف أفضفض وأحكي همومي غير ليك

To this day, nothing is complete, my brother, except for you
حتى اليوم ما بيكملش ولا يعدي يا اخويا غير بيك

My brother and I are going through the days and we don't know how to give up
أنا وأخويا على الأيام ومانعرفش الإستسلام

No matter how much the world fails us, we will always stay ahead
مهما الدنيا تعجز فينا برضو احنا هنفضل قدام

A million holes and a million traps, and this road needs a brother
مليون حفرة ومليون فخ والسكة دي محتاجة لأخ

Everyone needs the other, and muscles need a brain
كل واحد محتاج الثاني والعضلات محتاجة لمخ

No matter what we see in this world, we will never feel fear
مهما نشوف في الدنيا دي عمرنا يوم ما نحس بخوف

Even if we die, we always support each other no matter the circumstances
لو ع الموت ساندين بعضنا دايما على أي ظروف

We have seen a lot in the world, and we still have a lot to see
شوفنا كثير في الدنيا ولسه كثير قدام هنشوف

It's all easy as long as you're at my back, my brother, it doesn't bother us
كله يهون طول ما إنت في ظهري يا أخويا ما يشغلناش

No matter how much we are shoulder to shoulder and apart from each other, we do not dispense with it
مهما يكون كتف في كتف وعن بعض ما نستغناش

And whoever betrays our livelihood and our salt on the Dogri does not oblige us
واللي يخون عيشنا وملحنا ع الدوغري ما يلزمناش

We reached the monster level and did what you don't do
إحنا وصلنا ليفل الوحش وعملنا اللي ما تعملش

Our name alone is scary, but we, my friend, are not afraid
إسمنا بس لوحده يخوف أما احنا يا صاحبي ما بنخافش

She didn't come with us as a deserving person, but only because she asked us to be worthy
هي ما جاتش معانا بالساهل بس عشان سالكين نستاهل

Your Lord does not forget any creature, and we have arrived to try
ربك ما بينساش مخلوق واحنا وصلنا عشان بنحاول

Our second day started slowly. The weather had taken a turn (Simon at Trevaylor Campsite will be pleased to hear) but it was still in the low twenties. Some of the boys at the Centre were sleeping when we arrived and others were having Greek lessons with the Educators and most of the others were in their dorms. I found Arshad in the common room on the computer. He didn’t take his eyes off the screen but held his hand out and gave me a thumb-grip type of handshake.

He gestured to the computer screen. He was scrolling through YouTube clips of music. They were mostly Arabic rap artists, one unintentionally comically singer was dressed all in white with ridiculously sharp, oversized, black shades. He was walking along a shingle beach miming to the song (unconvincingly) then picked up a flat stone and attempted to skim it. The stone made one clumsy bounce on the surface before flopping into the water and he nodded with serious and meaningful satisfaction.

Then Kareem entered the room holding out a multi-coloured spongy ball about the same size as a tennis ball, grinning wildly. He is from Afghanistan and loves cricket. We had spoken yesterday about his interests and he mentioned cricket. He is a batsman but we didn’t have a bat, so he beckoned me out into the steeply sloping street where we bowled the ball trying to hit each other's legs as if they were stumps. It was great. Liz came out too and all three of us were playing. Then Azian appeared with a football. Azian actually looks like a footballer. He seems to has the right proportions somehow. He reminded me of Neymar in stature but as soon as we got started you could see that he’d watched a lot more football than he’d ever had opportunity to play. It was great fun. Me and Azian were seeing how many times we could head the ball back and forth and he cheered loudly when we got to six (a record we failed to surpass). We called it a day eventually, and Liz and I made our way back through the city on the B5 bus.

When we returned to the hostel we found an elderly man hunched over the dining table, wiping the remnants of food from a bowl with some bread. He said his name is Gillis and it would transpire that he was to be my new roommate. He introduced himself as being Greek but now living in America. He said he wasn’t here as a volunteer but was using the hostel for a few nights while he was in Athens. He was a peculiar man and not all together straight forward. He asked if we were aware of the forthcoming US Elections. We said, very much so; that the result would impact the entire world in one way or another and that this is a critical moment in our history. He grunted something and began to rant about the threat of migrants into the US …the weakness of Biden and Harris, and the Presidential qualities of Trump.

It was odd. At one point while he was enlightening me on the ways of the world, I completely glazed over and found myself counting his shirt collars. From what I could see, he was wearing four shirts (simultaneously), plus a sleeveless down jacket and a blue cardigan. I couldn’t see his bottom half as he was sat at the table. Then I came to as I realised that he had asked where Liz and I came from. We told him where we lived and why we were in Athens and he explained all that was wrong with the UK, and that the problems that Greece faced had been brought upon by itself by being too soft on refugees.

He said that he used to lecture chemistry at Harvard but when I finally went into my dorm and glanced across to his bunk I saw that although he had just one small suitcase on wheels, he also had about a ten carrier bags crammed under his bunk.

I think he said that he’s here for just a few days. I hadn’t realised that anyone can book themselves into this hostel, not just volunteers. Gillis seems an odd, contradictory creature. Some of the things he says appear to be steeped in hate but he himself is a pitiful sight. I suspect that he might be homeless or at least on the homeless spectrum, as Humanity Greece would say. Certainly, his appearance and manner appear at odds with his story, but who’s to say. I’m trying not to say anything that might prompt him to further invent or conceal anything about himself. I feel very sorry for him. It’s a strange situation.

Finally, I got a haircut this week! There's a barbershop a couple of doors away so I went to see Leros, the patron. I asked him for a trim but he was extremely thorough; as well as a particularly neat haircut, he razor bladed around my ears, then trimmed my eyebrows, then got out a tiny clippers and did my nasal hair and inside my ears. Then he spayed something that smelled like paraffin on my hair and vigorously rubbed it in, rhythmically rubbing my scalp and clapping his hands above my head. Then finally, he put one hand on my jaw and one on the back of my head and first twisted my head and then jerked it forcibly to one side and then the other eliciting two seismic cracks. All for just five euros!

Hope all is well back home,

Rob.

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