Connecting Two Worlds - Refugees and Volunteers
During silly season, newspapers are usually filled with gossip, the latest break-ups and newly discovered scandals. However, this is not the case this year. Entire newspapers are dominated by numerous reports and pictures, which document the tragic journey of thousands of refugees to Europe.
A late summer day at the LaGeSo in Berlin.
“Where do I need to go once I’m at the LaGeSo? Can I just rock up or do I need to register somewhere in advance? And can I take my bag and put it somewhere, or shall I go without?” I am typing this message while having breakfast on a Tuesday morning in September. I want to know where and how I can best help at the ‘Landesamt für Gesundheit und Soziales’ (LaGeSo), the regional office for health and social affairs, the place responsible for refugees in Berlin. “Rather go without any bags, just go there, no registration, House R1. I’m glad you managed to find some time before leaving.” My friend’s reply comes within minutes of my questions; last week he had recommended to go and help at the LaGeSo since most new refugees arrive here to register, and to seek support and help. Often they have been on the move for months or even years.
Despite all the recent reports of unstable circumstances and turbulent scenes that were witnessed here in the last couple of weeks, they all come and wait patiently. More and more refugees have been arriving for several days now in this part of town, Berlin-Moabit, often via the so-called Balkan-route, where the refugees have conquered the newly erected fence in Hungary, and could secure a spot on one of the trains to Munich. From there, most of them were lucky enough to get onto a special train to the capital and then on to Moabit. This is where the odyssey ends for the time being. However, there is no trace of paradise here. Many wait for days, and even weeks. Queueing for the registry, queueing for accommodation vouchers. Reports of scammers are increasing; apparently they are offering faked vouchers for horrendous prices, or even offer to find accommodation, often asking for hundreds of euros. In their despair, many refugees pay the sum, just to have a roof over their heads.
I returned home to Berlin two weeks ago, had several appointments, but have now finally the time to help. The last couple of months, I had to rely on online news to follow the developments and events in Berlin, while sitting afar in the library in Scotland, finishing off my dissertation. I saw pictures of desperate people that were sitting in scorching heat in front of the registry camps. I read comments on Facebook, witnessed people from Berlin organising themselves to help and support the arriving groups. I was immensely proud of my city. At the same time, however, xenophobic attacks were increasing, new accommodation homes burst into flames; the ‘brown mob’ regained presence in social media, on the streets, in every-day life. Unbelievable, I thought. And yet, being in the UK, I could also witness alarming tendencies there. While showing and translating the numerous great initiatives, reports and comments in Germany to my friends, we had to watch the prime minister speaking of ‘swarms’, more British politicians fuelling the social atmosphere by dramatising the situation in Calais and subsequent questionable security decisions, which eventually led to an increasing rejection of refugees in the British society. Helplessly we wrote our dissertations in the sheltered Scottish solitude; however, I knew as soon I was touching Berlin ground again, I needed to act.
Following the message’s instructions – phone, keys and money are stowed away in my jacket – I start my journey on that late summer Tuesday, blue sky and sunshine included. Arriving at the LaGeSo-area, I pass through House M and cleave my way through houses, little alleyways and groups of people. It is warm, the sun is shining through the leaves. Last week, it was a totally different picture. The lawn turned into slippery mud due to summer thunder storms and heavy rain. The volunteers started distributing rain ponchos, however, desperate people literally ripped them out of the bags in their hands, leading to the groups with priority – women and children – to be left without any. The desperate volunteers started cutting three holes in plastic bags and slipped them over the children’s heads to enable at least a little bit of protection. However, those plastic bags can only protect to a certain degree. For a night outside in the mud, they are useless. Meanwhile, more and more people offer their homes for some refugees. At least one night in a bed or on a matrass but with a roof over the head and the luxury of a shower is giving back a little of the refugees’ dignity. It does not seem much but it helps. It also helps to motivate the German society, which has often been portrayed as bystanders, nodding and giving consent to everything without questioning the results of political decisions – now Germans engage, help, and offer their support. The willingness to donate and participate is great. Understandably not everyone has the means to open up their homes for a night. But even something like a donated football can help to bring some normality into the children’s every-day life.
Slowly, I am walking towards House R. Around me I see scenes, I so far have only read and heard of. Families are sitting under trees, children are playing tag, a group of young men patiently queues for water. In-between people with a nametag on their shirts, showing their names in Latin and Arabic letters – the various helpers and volunteers, which are by now mainly organised by the NGO Moabit hilft! and the Caritas. I am passing a bench, where a little girl with big brown eyes clambers about. She stops midway and stares at me. I stare back. I can only imagine what she has been through until this moment brought us together. She does not have to say anything. Her eyes mirror the sadness and hardships of the last months. Heart-stricken I continue walking. I was aware that it would not be easy and I simply cannot take everyone’s fate to the heart. However, it does affect me to see all these people, coming from diverse backgrounds, risking their lives to escape poverty, conflict, and persecution, just to meet so much resentment in many parts of the world, but still not giving up.
In the meantime I have reached a fold-up table in front of House R. Volunteers are bustling about, organising. A few metres next to me a van has just arrived, unloading donated baby trolleys. In front of the table I spot a group of men, discussing vividly in Arabic, waving a document. A young man emerges from the group of volunteers and approaches the group, announcing to them he speaks Arabic and can help. The relief in their faces can be seen immediately – finally someone can help them – because most of the information distributed is in German. I step around and ask an elderly man behind the table, whether I can help today. I am amazed to learn that they have all positions filled currently and are in no need for an extra pair of hands. Many volunteers come on a daily basis now and support the LaGeSo employees. I can see several people sitting on benches next to House R, patiently waiting to be assigned a task. I feel a little disappointed on the one hand, since I really want to help, yet it is great to see that there can be ‘too many’ helpers. I continue my conversation with the man behind the desk. He thanks me for coming and is really sad he cannot give me a task and apologises over and over again but tells me to try come back in a couple of hours or the next morning, as many volunteers sleep in and they always can do with some extra help then. Later I unfortunately have an appointment but tomorrow is great. My alarm is set on 7 am and I will start my journey to Moabit once again.
Read here on my experiences in the second part.
Photo Credit: Pixabay
