Words in sorrow (about the eviction of the Stone Warehouse at the port of Piraeus)

I write being at the moment unsure, numb and bitter. I write being emotionally implicated, but trying to take a step back and consider the situation.

I have heard tremendous things since yesterday, which I am not going to recycle here. But I believe most of them, because they were told by people who have also dedicated a, bigger or smaller, part of their life to being there daily, contributing, helping. They are my people; and I am theirs.

Refugees came today, the 14th of July, for breakfast as always. Less people though. And it was quite, too quite for what we are used to. My little girl ran to me for a hug, insecurity and confusion shadowing her eyes. The kids' inexhaustible energy that we usually find hard to deal with was not there today. We finished the distribution fast at E1, having nothing to say one to the other.

The Stone Warehouse evicted and locked since yesterday, 13th July 2016.

I walked to the Warehouse, where the distribution was not finished yet. Also very quite. The building itself is no locked, and some tents remain only outside, at the back of the Warehouse. People were taking their breakfast and were walking towards their tents; the "lucky ones" whose tents yetserday were not considered standing in an "unsuitable place". Only then I realised that within the coming days I will start noticing absences during the food distribution, I will be expecting to see faces that I will more probably never see again.

I was not at the port myslef yesterday. I found out what happened at the evening from friends, outraged and speechless most of them. The Warehouse was never a good place for people to live in, but for the past six months, in a state of "emergency", it was hosting around 300 refugees. Yesterday they were obliged, without a former notice, without time to pack their belongings, to evacuate it. They had the alternative to be moved to another camp - Oinofyta from what I would hear later, some tents in the fields away from Athens... Were they informed, did somebody explain to them the reasons, did anyone guarantee that there the conditions would be better? Eventually, afraid and disorientated, most of them tried to find shelter elsewhere at the port, between burning sun and dry concrete. Word spreads that many people lost important legal documents during the procedure.

The tents allowed to remain at the "suitable place", at the back of the Stone Warehouse.

There is a limit to what you can witness; and I have started to cross mine. Six months of volunteering and working at the port, finding balances between these two, I have seen and heard a lot; terrible and miraculous things simultaneously. You become stronger and stiff yourself in order to endure the pressure and do what you are supposed to no matter the conditions: help the people. But yesterday and today, for the first time, I feel helpless myself. I have no answers for anyone who might be asking "why", "what's happening", "what's to come next". I have no excuses and no understanding anymore. Whoever is in chanrge is not around to inform and reassure the people. We are seeing ships departing and returning daily, but the refugees are stuck there; an image of irony. Travellers are coming and going all day, but they are just waiting for the relocation or resettlemet process to conclude, for someone to responsibly update them on their current situation and future options. So many people and yet noone is truly there for them. The port should have been evacuated months ago, before summer's arrival. Right now extreme heat and travelling congestion make the living conditions there unhealthy and dangerous. We are stuck and once in a while selectively evicted.

It is subhuman to deprive someone's last goodbye to people who have been helping them for months, to the ones who built a routine with them. I am already thinking of the possible faces which I am not going to see again and a worry is growing inside of me about the others; when is going to be the last time to see them too? My smile has faded, and I have no way to explain this to the kids when they will come running to me in the evening, asking for some play. I feel a little bit subhuman myself today. Witnessing this fate without being able to make a change. Witnessing without believing in my own powers anymore. Witnessing without being able to stand any longer.

Almost a month ago, at the 22nd of June, the gate E1 was also evacuated, though not forcefully. The 600-700 refugees hosted there had to move their tents under the bridge facing the Stone Warehouse, the new "suitable place". Many of them have left the port on their own since then.

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Poetic Movements

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