Along the Aegean Sea, in the Greek Isles, is a piece of beauty by the name of Samos. Its crystal blue waters lie still, hiding secrets of death and desperation. It has been a few weeks since my husband and I have gotten back from Greece; it is our second trip but there was a force that just pulled us back. A voice echoes through my head again and again: “It’s not enough, it’s never enough.”

Our first trip had been to the popular refugee hub of Lesbos, where we had gone a few months earlier to help out with the current crisis that now plagues Greece and the rest of Europe. After our return, it is a Facebook plea for volunteers that leads us to Samos — a quiet little place, which is as picturesque as it is cold; almost immediately the icy European air seeps through the bones.

Our mission is to quickly put ourselves to good use, and rightfully distribute the funds that have so kindly been given to us. Samos is a small island, and neatly tucked away at the port is a space where the Syrians and Iraqi refugees are being kept.

The refugee crisis is marked with tragedy but the generosity of the Greek people and the volunteers reminds one that humanity is still alive

Across the border in Turkey, they pay a heavy price of about $1,500 to be taken by smugglers on rubber dinghies and boats, where they make their way across the treacherous waters to Greece. Burn wounds from petrol are common, and it is so cold that there is a threat of frostbite and hypothermia, as the boats start to take in a lot of water during the journey. Fifty people are cramped in a boat that has a capacity of 10, as they huddle their way across the Aegean in fake life jackets. Running away from a life that is no longer their own, for them it’s right from the frying pan into the fire, as their future remains uncertain.

Against all odds

Time only allows us a week, and there is much to be done. As we go about meeting people and assessing where monetary help is needed, in all that sadness I discover something incredible; humanity is still very much alive. To donate money is the easy part, but to physically take time out of your schedule, so you can help people who are not even your own, takes a special kind of commitment, and we are fortunate enough to meet a few of these individuals.

It is another bright and sunny day on the island of Samos. We make our way down to the port, but are met with sad news. A group of 26 people have drowned, with just a handful of Kurdish survivors. “A man has just tried to kill himself; he has nothing to live for.” The entire island is grieving, as a wave of sorrow sweeps through it. They set out with the hope of a better future, but there seems to be only darkness ahead.

We are then introduced to the ‘clothing people’, coordinated by Vale Sikula, along with a group of volunteers from all over the US, Europe and Canada, who spend tireless days sorting clothes at the warehouse, and then going down to the port to hand them to the refugees. The people arrive soaking wet from head to toe, and fresh clothes are promptly given.

Sometimes there is utter chaos. One bus load after another comes, with people soaking wet from their journey. “Pat them down, see if they are wet,” we are instructed. Some of the unlucky few would be soaked to the bone, while the water had managed to spare the others.

Clothing is available, but priority is given to those who need it the most. Wet socks and shoes are commonplace, but the volunteers do a marvellous job of coordinating clothes, shoes and personal items to those who require it. Sometimes the sizes are wrong, or the shoes don’t fit, but with great patience the volunteers give each and every one of them what every human deserves: a dry pair of shoes (amongst other items).

Next we go to meet the breakfast ladies, who go by the name ‘The Friendly Humans of Samos’. Bettina Esperson, along with other amazing women, comes together every morning at the port and hands out breakfast, pouring one milk cup after the next. Then the afternoon shift is taken over by the lunch ladies, run by Iokasti Nikolaidi. Women gather at Iokasti’s house in the morning and cook hundreds of meals so that the Syrians and Iraqis don’t go hungry.

Humanity at its best

There is great coordination in Samos. It is like a grand symphony, with Elena Housni, who works at the municipality, as the conductor. From the burials of the dead to issues regarding funding, she is well informed, and is also working long hours to help manage the crises — by keeping the locals happy, as well as giving the refugees what they need. The government works with the locals who work with different charities.

We also meet Dr Manos Logothetis, who meets every patient with a smile. Everyone on the island seems to know this wonderful man. “We need everything here, from medicines to body bags.” After working long hours, he still manages to treat everyone with kindness. “Don’t forget to get us little toys for the kids,” he says.

However, the most incredible of them all is Katina Arvaniti, a 70-year-old woman who lives on the other side of the island. Samos is rocky, and if a refugee boat arrives in a remote part of the island the people can be stuck for hours with no help, which is not uncommon. This lady sleeps with her window open, and regardless of the hour of the day, even if it is in the middle of the night, she goes down from her house which lies on top of the cliff, and brings the refugees into her home. She feeds them and gives them clean clothes, providing them with hot tea while help arrives.

Even though her neighbours’ shut their doors, she leaves her’s wide open. “November was the worst month for me. My sister was staying over, and we were woken up with piercing screams.” Eleven more refugees had drowned that day, including children. And with her knowledge of first aid, she managed to save two lives.

A glimmer of hope

Samos is an island riddled with contradiction. With the tremendous amount of beauty the island has to offer comes a depth of sadness with what the sea has had to witness. A huge amount of joy at finally reaching the shores of Europe is coupled with an equal amount of sorrow for those who haven’t made it. There is hope for a better future, but there is also despair at the uncertainty that lies ahead.

There is a crisis at large, and this crisis is very real. We may flip through the news channels and come across a story or two, feel sad for a moment and move on. But people are still suffering. We overlook articles on our newsfeed on Facebook as we do not want to depress ourselves with even more sad news. But the reality is that more Alan Kurdis are still washing up on the shores of Greece, and a lot of us sit and do nothing.

One thing this trip has taught me is that there are incredible people out there, spending their time, effort and money to come half way across the world and make a difference. They do not ignore the helpless in their backyard, but they get together and do something. This means that there still is hope in humanity.

As is said in the Jewish religious text, the Talmud, “Don’t be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly now. Love mercy now. Walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.”

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, July 3rd, 2016