A month being "portless": the final evacuation of the makeshift refugee camp at the port of Piraeus and its traces in history and society.

Port of Piraeus, Gate E3, playground time, 13 March 2016.

Wednesday, 27^th July 2016, 09:00 am. As we were driving inside the port, we saw at the horizon three coaches parking close to the last remaining refugees’ tents, under the bridge, close to the formerly evacuated Gate of E1. We had all been informed that the port would soon be completely evacuated, but we had been given no exact date. As we walked to the food distribution point to prepare the breakfast, one of the coaches’ drivers asked whether they should come closer for the people to start embarking. We had no answer. But something whispered in my ear, this would be our last ever meal.

Port of Piraeus, Gate E1, lunch distribution, 3 May 2016.
Photo courtesy of Pierre Haddad. 

                            

Port of Piraeus, close to the bridge, breakfast distribution for the remaining refugees of the camp, 22 July 2016 (one of our last ever distributions).

Two days ago, on Monday, as the last week of the month had launched, supposedly also our last one at the port, we had found everybody in tension, unsure about their future whereabouts. On that Monday and the following Tuesday, Afghan people had been moved to Oinofyta, a camp almost 60 km. from the centre of Athens[1]. On Wednesday, it was evident that the remaining refugees of the port, between 400 to 500 people, would have to be eventually moved. By the end of breakfast, some time past 10 a.m., the coaches that had arrived were 9 and more kept coming. People from NGOs who have worked at the port for the last months were running around unsure about what else they could do but say goodbye. By noon the port was empty. We had no incidents like the Warehouse’s evacuation this time, but the people, instead of being moved to Skaramangas camp as they have been reassured and even given entry cards for, were taken to a camp in Trikala, 330 km. away from Athens[2].

Port of Piraeus, under the bridge, final evacuation, 27 July 2016.

It has been already a month since that day. For many of us who stayed at the port until the very end it seems so much longer. Personally I never returned to the evacuated places of the port. It would be the utter formalisation that this vibrant part of life is gone. Embarking a ship from the port though a couple of weeks ago, being on deck I saw from afar the Gates of E1, E2, the Stone Warehouse, the bridge… At the peak of the Greek summer, every place was flooded by tourists and agents, without any trace left that some time ago something different had taken place there.

 The port of Piraeus as seen by being on deck of a ship arriving; from left to right: E1, the bridge and the Warehouse, 15 August 2016.

E2 on the day of its final evacuation, 19 April 2016.

E2; tourists embarking a ship, 15 August 2016 (photo taken on deck of another ship). 

Indeed, turning the port into a – far from suitable – shelter for the people was a very special cause that along the process attracted a lot of support from the residents of Piraeus and other places around Athens. Yet, it was not an unprecedented one. Almost a century ago, following the Minor Asia Catastrophe (as it is known in Greek History) and the loss of the Minor Asia from the Greek state to the Turkish one, 1.5 million Greek refugees fled to the main cities of Greece; more than 100.000 of them would settle across Piraeus[3]. Waiting for days at the port, protected only by blankets and tents, they could be providing a picture from the past for us today as well as a picture from the future if someone back then was to know that this would be astonishingly likewise repeated in 2016.     

Refugees at the church of St. Nicolas, close to the port of Piraeus, 1922.
Source: http://archive.ert.gr/5440/

Port of Piraeus, the interior of Gate E1, March 2016.
Photo courtesy of an anonymous refugee.

Why making this parallel is important? Back in 1922, the refugees from Minor Asia, despite welcomed as already members of the Greek state, had to overcome multiple barriers to resettle and rebuild their lifes; the loss of their fortunes, bureaucracy, unpreparedness of the state, suspicion and arrogance from the rest of the Greeks, to mention few. Still, they successfully integrated in a society familiar, but not necessarily identical to theirs in Minor Asia. Gradually both, the refugees and the society, changed through their contact. Many smaller cities around Piraeus today – Nikaia, Keratsini, Kallithea, Kallipoli – were entirely built by refugees, who at the beginning had settled there either in tents or in little cabins[4]. What we are recognising as “modern Greek civilisation” nowadays has carried forward the years based, among others, on cultural traits introduced by the refugees from the Minor Asia; for example the singing culture of rembetiko[5].   

Tents for temporary accommodation of refugees, Pagrati (region of Athens), 1922.
Source: http://archive.ert.gr/5446/

Port of Piraeus, tents under the bridge opposite to the Stone Warehouse, 15 July 2016. 

The arrival of refugees in Greece since last year, their passing-by and especially their temporary settlement in the port of Piraeus from March to July 2016, revived memories that for many remained passive in the subconscious. The increased amount of goods donated and the help voluntarily provided in the case of Piraeus, brought about an issue perhaps even more pressing for the Greek society than the refugees’ future; it is about this society’s response to humanitarian disasters and its dealing with the lately ravaging phenomena of fascism and racism. Suddenly, the disaster in the Middle East turned into a local issue for Piraeus – but I am confident also for other towns hosting refugees around Greece – and reversed the negative xenophobic atmosphere which was dominating the latest years. Recalling their roots or roots of friends and neighbours, people seem to have remembered they once were also refugees arriving at the same spot. In a simultaneous process of getting in touch with the current refugees and getting in touch with their memories, of learning about the life in the Middle East and learning about their personal family history, people breached ignorance and hate. Public space and private businesses around the port, and at the extension of the whole city, soon became more culturally colourful as at the seat next to yours you could see a woman fixing her headscarf.

Port of Piraeus, Gate E1, volunteers arranging the first donations, 2 March 2016. 

At 9 p.m., when I would usually leave the port, I would walk past children playing football or just carelessly running around, adolescents practising martial arts to a hewn terrain, people of any age talking on their phones with family members and loved ones. I would say goodnight to couples strolling hand in hand to the sea with their kids running behind them. Sometimes I would find families in their tents having dinner and they would ask me to stay for tea or to try their home cooking. I would have to promise to little lovely faces that the next day would also find me there. During those moments, for as long as they lasted each night, I would breath out the stress and the tiredness of the day that had just left and then I would smile gazing at all of them. A small community, that’s what we were for those five months at the port. And during those moments, my neighbourhood somewhere in Piraeus was no different at all to what I was having around me at the port.   

Port of Piraeus, temporary playground close to the bridge, 14 July 2016, evening. 

 Port of Piraeus, Gate E1, a young man is playing the harmonica after he has climbed on top of the storage containers, 23 May 2016, evening.

I resolve to reminiscence for now, but undoubtedly much reflection has to follow the upcoming months about what did and did not, had and had not to happen all those months at the port. But for now, as the wind is blowing wilder with the fast arrival of autumn, I am gazing at a place which for a short period of time was home to thousands of people and for a longer, I wish, period of time will be shaping our hearts. And for the very brave ones who will decide to settle down in Greece and not to continue their journey, I am really looking for the moment I will greet them as the neighbours next door.       

Port of Piraeus, Gate E3, a woman is taking a picture of her son playing during playground time, 13 March 2016. 

[ALL PHOTOGRAPHS, UNLESS MENTIONED OTHERWISE, ARE COPYRIGHT ON THE AUTHOR. WHERE FACIAL CHARACTERISTICS ARE TOO DISTINCTIVE, PERMISSION OF THE PERSON DEPICTED WAS SECURED FOR THE PHOTO TO BE TAKEN.] 

---

[1] From multiple volunteers’ testimonies, the camp in Oinofyta is thought to be relatively well-organised and actually developing. People are being hosted in large UNHCR tents for now, but the conditions inside are good. An old factory next to it is being renovated by the refugees themselves and it will soon provide extra hosting space, kitchen and social area for the refugees. Teams of doctors and teachers are remaining active through the day at the camp. There is also a Wi-Fi network. The train station, connecting the area with Piraeus, Athens and the city of Chalkida up north, lies at a walkable distance of 1 km. from the camp.  

[2] The camp in Trikala is also heard to be providing good living conditions to the people, hosting them in containers. There is no update yet about how the people moved there will be able to complete their relocation/resettlement procedures; will a bus take them to Athens when they have their interviews or will there be an office opened in Trikala for them? The prices of the train or the coach to Athens are too steep for some of the refugees to afford. In the meantime, arguments have been raised by the residents of Trikala against the accommodation of the refugees there (see: http://www.ert.gr/trikala-dimotes-enantion-dimou-gia-kentro-filoxenias-prosfygon-sto-atlantik/), which rises concerns about the negative atmosphere the refugees might have to deal with. 
[3] See: Hatzimanolakis, J. E. (2005) The chronicle of a town: Piraeus 1835-2005. Published by the Municipality of Piraeus, pp. 91-94 [in Greek].   
[4] For an excellent Ethnography about this, see: Hirschon, R. (1998) Heirs of the Greek Catastrophe: The Social Life of Asia Minor Refugees in Piraeus. New York & Oxford: Berghahn Books.
[5] For a detailed analysis on rembetiko, see: Holst, G. (2006) Road to Rembetika: Music of a Greek Sub-Culture – Songs of Love, Sorrow and Hashish. Evia: Denise Harvey.