My Two Afghans

                   

Almost five years ago, I was blessed to fulfill one of many dreams by visiting Greece.  Not simply to be a tourist as I wished to go deeper. After exploring the must sees of Athens, Santorini, Mykonos, Rhodes, and other wonderful places for two weeks, I landed on the island of Lesvos.  I volunteered on a Refugee Camp, Kara Tepe, with a Dutch NGO, Movement on the Ground.  Movement on the Ground was born of the Refugee Crisis in 2015 in part due to the tragic death of a young Syrian child, Alan Kurdi.

 

It is an experience that changed me forever.  Sounds trite, I know.  But, it is true.  Nothing has put my perspective in clearer form than those three weeks.  

 

For these almost five years, I have been writing about this very special time(s).  I will eventually share more of those writings.  For now, I wish to share some insights and stories, of some of the amazing people I have been blessed to meet, work with, and I believe call friends.  

 

In light of what happened in August of last year, I will begin with  “My Two Afghans.”

 

On my first day on Kara Tepe that Summer of 2017, a young guy walked by me and a new friend, another International Volunteer, a Photographer from New York City, actually, while we were serving at the Giving Café.  He greeted us with a soft hello and beautiful smile.   My new friend said, “Wait til you see Him Friday night.’

 

Well, my first Community Dance was a treat and oh, so special.  In walked the handsome lad dressed to the nines. Faireh started dancing with another.  The palpable joy on their faces as they swayed and moved to the music was beauty to behold.   (This is where I truly learned that in certain cultures, men freely showed affection, and danced happily with other guys, simply for the pleasure of sharing moments with music. Coming from Irish Catholic Boston, this was interesting and wonderful to see.).  

 

At that first community dance I was also “introduced “to Bahul .  He was in a group of men doing a fascinating type of folk dance with sticks which I believe is called the Chopbazi.  Those two different forms of dance, and the Guys doing them, I think describes their differing personalities very well!  Faireh and Bahul were both alone on Kara Tepe and lived in one of the Isoboxes where 5 or 6 single guys lived.  They were roommates, friends; each trying to move on from the very tough situations in their home country of Afghanistan. And couldn’t have been more different, in their own special ways.

When I came back for my second visit to Kara Tepe I got to know them as we worked together in the Community Kitchens.  Bahul, in fact, was the Community Leader of the kitchens.  I was delighted for him.  Because, I had noticed that he had a bit of the “bad boy” in him, but thankfully his leadership skills had shown through.

 

By the time I arrived for my third visit, we were friendly and respected co-workers.   This is when each opened up and shared some of his story with me.  Faireh had left Afghanistan with his Mom and younger brother. However, he got left behind when his family was given permission to travel onward to Germany, because he was over 18.  Faireh was 21 when I met him, and kept getting rejection stamps for onward movement.  (Many young Folks stay 17 for as long as they can when travelling with their families because once they are 18, they are “adults” and most often left behind when the rest of the family moved forward.  It was excruciating to watch…)

 

After having worked together through the special evenings of Ramadan, I arrived to Moon Kitchen one afternoon to share a shift with Faireh.  He greeted me with the story of the wonderful celebratory meals of Eid his family used to share.  His description (and pictures from his cellphone) of the delicacies and sweets filled his face with the same joy that showed on his face the first time I saw him dance the year before.

 

Each month, after his appointment at Moria for the discussion of his asylum status, and getting another rejection, Farieh would go into a slump or depression; then work his way out of it.   It was during one of these down times that Farieh showed up at the Clothing Shop late one afternoon just as we were closing really upset and dejected.  He had dropped his phone in the kitchen; it had shattered; and he was totally fed up.   “Mom” in me jumped into play and I offered to take him into Mytillini the next day to get it fixed with the help of Bahul’s translation skills.  (I’ll come back to this later…)

 

On that third visit, my very first weekend was spent working overtime as community volunteers were flaking on their shifts in the kitchen.  Our Gentle Giant was running the whole show (on Kara Tepe and Moria) as our Kara Tepe Coordinator had taken a much needed break.  Gentle Giant said that perhaps Folks weren’t liking him so much?!   Anyway, as I was in the kitchen on Sunday afternoon, covering for Bahul he walked in looking a tad sheepish?!  “Hello, Mom! Welcome back!” says he.  Me: “Where the hell have you been, Sir?” And, then we hugged.

 

Bahul then simply kind of quit, everything   With time, I learned that Bahul had left Afghanistan with his sister.  She had made her way to Germany.  Their Mom was still at home in Afghanistan.  Bahul was in his mid-20s. Oh, my heart broke so often, especially for these young Men stuck on this Greek island.  What kind of lives would they be able to achieve?   

           

One hot day, I went to the Cantina to grab some lunch and Bahul was there.  I sat next to him while my food was being prepared. (You could never be in a rush there.)  I looked up and he was looking at me with his big brown eyes (so many had these gorgeous, soulful big brown eyes…).   “Mom, I am so bored…”  

 

“Oh, Bahul, I get it.  I wish I had a magic wand for everyone here.   I will share with you that when I have gone through tough personal times, staying busy has helped me.  You have a true gift for languages.  I have seen you speak many.  We could use your help in the Clothing Shop translating.”   After that, he helped us almost every day for a shift or two in the Shop.  Often showing up exactly when we needed help the most.

 

On the evening of a lovely Community Concert Bahul came to me and started swinging me around in dance.  It was wonderful.  I then noticed he had been drinking.  “You, Goof, be careful, and behave, as you know Mudir will not be happy if you get too crazy….”  “Ok, Mama.I will be good..”  He then asked me to stay the night on Kara Tepe as he didn’t want to say “Good Night”.  Oh, Boy, the reaction our Gentle Giant would have to that news simply made me laugh out loud as I drove home later. (Gentle Giant knows, knew, everything…and I always got caught…)  This wonderful young man would swing me more times in dance.  One of my favorite memories is dancing with him around the food prep table during Ramadan….

              

You know when no matter the circumstances, no matter how dire the place and time…you have many special, amazing memories?  Now, back to those moments in the Clothing Shop: Bahul and I had just finished a long, hot shift with another International Volunteer, a great Chilean Lady.  We had gotten the sillies after we closed up shop and Chilean Lady and I simply started playing dress-up with the ridiculous clothes hanging on the walls as decoration. (They were ridiculous as they were evening clothes; donated to a Refugee Camp?!  But colorful, so they brightened up the Shop.)  Oh, so fun to share in the laughter, simple joy, and the look of astonishment on Bahull’s face when Chilean Lady let her hair down, literally….

 

Poor Faireh walked in.  It sobered us up quickly.  And, the next morning I picked up the Guys to bring them into Mytillini.  The phone ended up being a relatively simple fix, thankfully. I was hungry, so we went and ate. For that, poor Gentle Giant had to reprimand me, yet again.  More on those transgressions of mine, and the talks that Gentle Giant and I had to have another time.  But, finally, his request of  “Please, Kathy, we need you to lead with your head, and not your heart”, stuck…

Shoes were a nightmare on Kara Tepe that Summer of 2018. (I think it is always an issue, actually.)   After a large supply was donated, there was a break-in of the shoe warehouse onsite in the middle of a night.  Mudir issued an edict to deal with it.  Bahul came to the Clothing Shop quite upset the following day.  He had been questioned. I simply said:  “Look me in the eyes.  Tell me if you were involved.”  “No, Mom, I promise, I was not involved.”  “Ok, I will speak to Gentle Giant.”  I did, and was eventually told that Bahul was in the clear, this time.  

 

(Mudir was the Greek Director of Kara Tepe.  One of the finest, toughest, kindest Men I have had the pleasure to know, work with, and again, I think, I hope, befriend.)

 

 

That summer of 2018, I got to see both of these Special Guys leave Lesvos.   True to their natures, their journeys have been different, not always pretty, or safe.  The ups and downs, good and bad, with social media, one can stay in touch, in a way.  And, sometimes you learn things that you don’t necessarily want to know.  I was able to “watch” My Two Afghans eventually make their way to Germany. 

 

(Whenever I share stories of my friends names will have been changed, or my own personal nicknames used. Btw, Gentle Giant was MOTG’s “Director of Operations” as I called it.  There were no real titles used.  But, he was “the Boss”..)

 

From her book “The Blood of Others”…in regards to her observations on the plight of Refugees

(Quotes in the pretty boxes were discovered on: https://www.inspiringquotes.com.)