Dispatch #9: Idomeni, "Warehouse of Souls"

IDOMENI, Greece—Four hours to wash your hair, 13 to have your papers corrected, two or three for a sandwich.

“We’re living a life of lines,” says one man wryly.

Officially, Idomeni camp does not exist. It is not one of the camps sanctioned by the Greek government. Nevertheless, over 13,000 people are encamped at the border crossing with Macedonia that straddles a railroad track running between the two countries. The Greek government reports that there are nearly 36,000 stranded in the country overall. More arrive every day.

Greek Prime Minister Alexis Tsipras warns that his country may soon become a “warehouse of souls.”

Last week there were only a few multicolored tents in fields on either side of the track and a few on the train platform. Now, the track is clogged with them and people secure their tents to the steel railroad ties. Each time a train passes it’s hard to imagine it won’t flatten a tent with a family inside. The Greek border police use plastic riot shields to block people from wandering across the track long enough for the train to pass. Train drivers look nervous as they inch past. As the last car rolls away, the track swarms with people once more; it is the main point where people can move from one side of the camp to the other.

Last week the refugees staged a sit-in, calling on the Macedonians to open the border which blocked the movement of trains that day. One group even broke through the razor wire that separates the two countries and was driven back by tear gas. But in the end the trains were let through again. It is remarkable how much easier it is for goods to move across borders than people.

Yesterday, at Idomeni and other nearby centers, the chatter centered on the outcome of a meeting between Turkey and the European Union to address the refugee crisis. Many are terrified that the EU will decide to send them back to Turkey.

“Ninety-five percent of people here will refuse that one hundred percent. People sold all they had in Syria to come here: their houses, their land,” says Mazin, 21, a law student from Aleppo, at an informal settlement at the last gas station before the border, where conditions are a bit better than at Idomeni.

Seemingly indifferent to the humanitarian disaster it would cause, EU officials say that those sent back from Europe to Turkey would then be “at the back of the line” for legal asylum and resettlement in Europe. No one seems to be considering what exactly Turkey is to do with these destitute people, who now have neither money nor possessions, and the security issues desperate people create. Turkey and the EU countries will meet again on March 17 and 18 to negotiate further.

Last night Slovenia closed its borders to everyone without a Schengen visa. Serbia and Croatia followed suit and there are rumors that Macedonia may do the same, which may mean that the so-called “Balkan route” gets blocked--which would be a bleak fate for those at Idomeni. Many in the camp are considering joining a resettlement scheme that would supposedly take several months and in which they would be resettled in a participating European country not of their choosing. Others speak of taking more dangerous, less-traveled routes through Albania or Bulgaria.

As yet there are relatively few NGOs here, at least compared to their mushrooming presence in the Greek islands. But the Jehovah’s witnesses are out in force, passing out leaflets in Arabic to anyone who will take one. Several people stop to talk with them and take their pamphlets, perhaps out of boredom, or because it’s the only thing they’ve seen in ages written in their language.

Vans come by periodically giving out toys or boots. An elderly Kurdish Syrian woman describes being elbowed out of the way as she reached her hand up to take a pair. One boy holds up a large German flag he said was given to him by “a foreigner.”

“His father is in Germany,” explains a man in a neighboring tent.

On the walls of some of the more permanent looking tents are “Save Baluch” or “Somalia camp” scrawled in English—some of the first people to be sent back because it was determined that their nationality wasn’t miserable enough. Because apparently Somalia and the Pakistani province of Baluchistan, where an insurgency has raged for more than six decades, are places of adequate political and economic security. On February 23, the Macedonian government ruled that Afghans were economic migrants, thereby ineligible for political asylum, and on that basis, not eligible to cross over. Following a meeting between European Union countries and Turkey, there is talk that even Syrians may be sent back.

For three days the borders have been closed entirely. Until three days ago a trickle of people would cross each day.

“There was no schedule for border openings and closures, there was never coordination with us, the humanitarians,” said UNHCR spokesman Babar Baloch.

Many had their paths blocked by bureaucratic mistakes not of their making; on one of the islands, hundreds of people had their birthdays written incorrectly on their Greek-issued identity papers: they were all entered as being born on January 1st. At the border, if the birthday on your ID paper doesn’t match the one on your passport, you’ll be sent back. This development is new, however, as is the stipulation that all refugees must have national IDs as well as passports to cross. “I talked to relatives of mine in Europe and they said they came through only on their Greek identity papers and everyone had their birthday written as January 1st. They are playing games with us,” says Ibrahim, 24, from Aleppo. But that was several months ago. Another man was turned back because the signature on his identity paper—signed by a Greek immigration officer in Lesbos—was in black instead of blue ink.

Some have been stuck at the border for three weeks, and the delay is more than a simple inconvenience.

“Yesterday my friend saw a young man in Idomeni sitting on the ground crying. He had spent his last Euro. He can’t afford to go on or to go back,” says Mazin, the student from Aleppo who is living in a settlement nearby.

“I sold my nine-month old daughter’s earrings,” says a young Syrian woman.

As a result, many refugees report a fair amount of theft in the camp. “My iPhone was stolen my first day here,” says Ibrahim. “I was keeping it to sell in case of emergency.”

“People didn’t budget to be stuck for ten days at the border. They can't afford it. They don’t have any money left. They budgeted for one day and ended up staying for 15,” says Amer al-Haj, 25, from Deir Ezzor who shares Mazin’s tent.

There was a rumor circulating in the camp yesterday that people from Damascus, Raqqa and Deir Ezzor would be sent back: Damascenes because the capital is, apparently, considered a secure area and Raqqa and Deir Ezzor because of the presence of the Islamic State in those areas which somehow cast all of their residents under suspicion. With a few plugs for more than 10,000 people and very limited cell phone reception, refugees often rely on third or fourth hand information to make decisions about their onward journey into Europe.

Baloch, the UNHCR spokesman has heard similar rumors: He says he has heard that the Macedonian border police have turned back people from certain areas in Syria. “There’s no official explanation but we heard these places are considered to be safe,” he says, “the border police is in no position to say who is in need or not, there is a process, they cannot arbitrarily decide who can come in and who can’t.”

The village of Idomeni itself is inexplicably empty. Not a single person can be seen in the gardens. All the stores are boarded up. The only shop in town is doing a quick trade in basic food items. There is a line out the door all day long.

Finally, on the weekend, there is a sign of life. In one of the houses closest to the camp that looks out on the multicolored tents, a sweet scene unfolds:

A Greek family has invited a Syrian family in so the women and children can bathe.

“My grandmother lives here. She’s a little scared because she lives alone. She says she would help if she could but she can’t even walk,” says a young man named Dimitrios.

It’s not just the uncertainty and the boredom and the money. Two days ago, the camp was a scene of tragedy:

“He was walking along the top of the train, then he wobbled. When he tried to regain his balance, he touched the wire by mistake. I heard the sound. He went rigid and fell off the train onto the ground, hitting his head on the metal track. You can still see the blood on the ground over there.” Amina, 24, from Aleppo happened to be looking out of the abandoned train car she has called home for the more than two weeks when she saw a boy of about 12 get electrocuted and fall from the top of a train he’d been playing on. “I screamed and screamed. When the boy’s brother saw what had happened, he fainted.”

“God grant his family patience,” says Amina’s mother. He should have been safe here.