Connecting Two Worlds – Refugees and Volunteers Part 2
Two days at the LaGeSo in Berlin.
Day 1
Just like I was told the day before (read here), I arrive early at the LaGeSo (‘Landesamt für Gesundheit und Soziales’, the regional office for health and social affairs, the place responsible for refugees in Berlin) in Berlin. Some volunteers have gathered already but the group seems smaller than yesterday afternoon. After registering, pinning my name tag to my jacket, sterilising my hands and grabbing plastic gloves, I am told I will be helping with the breakfast distribution. Most of the volunteers walk with Kurt, one of the main co-ordinators from Moabit hilft!, from House R to the main part of the LaGeSo. Just like yesterday hundreds of people are here, despite the relatively early morning hour. The queue is back, security personnel are positioned at different junctions, families scattered across the meadow. Some could secure a shadowy spot underneath a tree, others are squeezing on the benches around the central flowerbed.
We set off in teams of three. The two tents between House C and the main site accommodate the meal distribution. In the bigger tent with benches and tables, refugees can take their meals. Behind this accessible tent is a smaller one, which is not reachable for refugees. This is where we get the portions to distribute on the site to the refugees who cannot come to the tent, whether because they are standing in line waiting for their number to be called or because they are too weak or simply because they have to watch their belongings. We get a couple of instructions: ‘First, go to the queue and distribute the sandwiches!’, ‘Send people who are able to walk, in particular the men, to the tent, in Arabic it is pronounced chema!’, ‘Don’t let them grab the packages out of the basket!’…
Many thankfully take a sandwich and when we ask groups of young men to go to the tent since the baskets are only for the queue or families with children, they nod understandably and walk to the tent. I’m surprised when some people turn down the offered food. Some families have their own food, others presumably might not be sure about the unfamiliar white bread and toppings, despite all the meals prepared being halal.
While making our rounds to make sure that everyone receives breakfast, my eye is caught by a woman standing a little aside. I recognise her from earlier, when she asked for a sandwich. I am astonished by the scene in front of me. She is feeding her sandwich to birds while hungry, desperate, traumatised people, who not all have their food yet, are sitting around and have to watch her doing so. I’m yelling over, asking what she is thinking she is doing and if she thinks her actions are really necessary. She is obviously an employee and not a refugee and tries to assure us she knows what she is doing and that she is behaving correctly since birds are animals too. We tell her to refrain from feeding the birds and that humans still have priority over birds.
After we get the impression everyone is provided with food, Doreen, another volunteer, and I are sent to House C to help at the clothing ‘store’ where refugees are equipped with clothes and toiletries. The majority of the gathered crowd only speaks Arabic or Russian, both languages I do not speak enough of to hold a basic conversation. However, the language barriers are overcome quickly as ‘pampers’ and ‘shampoo’ seem to be universal phrases. I can immediately interpret the gesture ‘brushing’ one’s teeth as ‘a toothbrush, please’ or striking a finger along the jawline as ‘one razor for me, please’. However, after an hour the Caritas, who is responsible for the whole activities around House C (clothing, toiletries, medical care), tells us in order to control and coordinate the distribution better, only people equipped with yellow vests will be allowed to hand out the goods. Since we are then refused to be given yellow vests, we decide to return to House R, where we are immediately told to go back to the tent to help with the lunch distribution. Dedicated to supply everyone with food, we carry basket after basket with plastic bowls of soup to the queue and across the LaGeSo-site. Unfortunately, many only eat a couple of spoons and dump the rest. The security personnel prevents us from walking into the queue area to prevent pushing and panicking. However, they offer to help us, take the baskets and carry the portions to areas in the queue we cannot reach from the fencing-off. After all pots have been emptied and distributed, the volunteers are enjoying the leftover lentil soup. After a short assembly at House R, I realise more volunteers have been arriving to ‘cover’ the afternoon shift. I have an appointment later on and return home, where I only then realise how exhausted but glad I am.
Day 2
Learning from my experiences yesterday, I arrive at House R around 9:30 am. I spot Doreen from yesterday, and some other familiar faces. We begin the day by carrying donations inside while others clean the area around House R. We are then sent to the breakfast distribution. Today, we are supposed to help inside the tent instead of distributing ‘outside’. A long queue of refugees is waiting patiently already. We have clear instructions: One sandwich and one water per person. Some ask for more sandwiches, arguing their families are on the main site and are not able to come to the tent. I feel terrible while explaining to them that other volunteers walk across the site, distributing sandwiches. Most of the refugees understand English, some accept the answer, and others try to convince me to give them more. After the first rush, the queue quickly turns into some individuals, dropping by the tent, obviously being sent here by the volunteers outside.
I spot a boy, approximately nine or ten years old. He is standing in front of the counter. We offer him a sandwich and a water but he does not take it. Instead he says something in Arabic which I do not understand. But he keeps standing, staring and mumbling. A group of young refugees comes to the counter and asks for breakfast. One of them says he speaks a little German. I ask him for a favour, if he minded to ask the boy what was wrong. He says that would not be a problem and the group of four, I guess 18 year-olds, take the boy outside and talk to him in Arabic. Out of the corner of my eye I then see that the little boy has started crying. I walk over to see what is going on. It turns out the boy has told the older boys that he is by himself, no parents in sight. I turn around and spot two other volunteers who quickly agree to walk to House C to try to get help. I thank the boys who helped figuring out what was going on and ask them to tell the boy that we try to get help and he can wait here behind the counter. With red eyes and teardrops on his cheeks, he shyly walks over and sits down next to me on the bench. The only things I can say in Arabic are please, thank you, and hello. Therefore I tap my chest and say “Jacky”. The little boy understands immediately. He says “Mohamed”. I start listing the most common countries “Afghanistan, Syria, Lebanon, Iraq…”. He says “Syria.” No wonder, he is crying. I can only imagine what he has been through. I somehow can sense he relaxes a little as his breathing becomes more steady and his little head starts leaning against my arm. In that moment, two Caritas-employees arrive who speak Arabic. They take the boy with them, and another young man steps towards us. He asks in pretty good German, if he can ask for a favour. His aunt has to queue but has issues with her spinal disc. A chair would make it a lot easier. I agree to help. We walk to House C, and the young man tells me his story. He is from Palestine, has all his papers and Asylum granted. He was in Mannheim first and then sent to Berlin, where he now found a room in Charlottenburg and is learning German. He already reached Level B1, which I can definitely hear. I compliment him for his language skills and tell him, I always wanted to learn Arabic but the difficult writing has always put me off. He has to laugh and says German is easier than Arabic, not very motivating. However, we reach House C, I explain the situation to one of the volunteers and we have a chair in our hands within minutes. The young Palestinian offers to leave his passport as a deposit but is told it would be fine but they would appreciate if he was able to return the chair in the evening. He is grateful and says his farewells. At House C, I also see Mohamed and the two Caritas helpers again. They update me: Apparently, he is not totally by himself, his parents are here but queuing or inside the building already, and the boy is left to himself. He is still crying but would not tell them what is wrong. I see he is in good hands and hurry back to House R. Vivi, volunteering daily at the LaGeSo, is running around, looking for people who can help her to distribute water.
While it was fresh and cool in the morning, the sun is out now, and due to the rain from last night the humidity levels are rising. And particularly the queue area is exposed to the sun, with all the people squeezing together turning it into a sticky and hot area. I grab a new pair of gloves, get a quick instruction and start packing a basket with plastic cups of water. Two volunteers fill the cups at the water dispenser. Every cup that remains untouched is put into the baskets. Nour speaks English only and grabs the basket. We walk to the queue first where I distribute the cups, which are thankfully taken out of my hands. People walking around are sent to the little water dispenser, again the argument, ‘our’ cups are for the queue and families with children and older people are respected among all. I realise how unrestful the crowd is today. The security personnel kindly asks us to return later but that the distribution right now could spark some issues. I realise how almost only young men queue. I mention my observation to Nour – a second later I realise why. The crowd starts pushing – a child or weak woman would not have a chance. Nour agrees and tells me he is originally from Syria, had to wait three days in the queue until his number was called and his application was worked on. He vividly tells me the horrible moments when everyone in the queue panics, pushes and you have the feeling you cannot breathe. Now he has almost all of his required papers and decided to help the volunteers until everything is finalised. “To give something back”, is what he tells me.
We realise it is lunch time and make our way to the tents. Claudi grabs me and tells me she needs me inside the tent to make sure, the queue stays in order during lunch distribution. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I feel a little smile on my face. The refugees start queuing in order one behind another, very organised. The lunch distribution runs smoothly, only friendly faces and comments around, everyone being thankful for the help and support they receive. Unfortunately, I discover again that a lot of food remains almost untouched and huge amounts are thrown out, although the quality is far from inedible. Suddenly, someone passes me and turns around. Mohamed! No tears, a big smile on his face. I ask if everything is okay and he is beaming and nodding. He has a soup in his hands and looks a lot happier than the last time I saw him a couple of hours ago. He comes to my side and gives me a hug, I have to pull myself together not to start crying. There are so many individual fates but if someone claims it does not affect him, I do not believe a single word.
It is getting empty inside the tent now, a team from ZDF Zeit is shooting some sequences, and I go outside to distribute some last soups and then have to leave. I say my farewells to some people, and tell them that I would love to come every day and help but my time in Berlin is up, and I’m leaving tomorrow. While I’m walking across the LaGeSo-area, passing the main meadow, I realise the rising noise, yelling, and see people gazing with their mobile phones up to the sky. I follow the direction of the phones and gestures and see two men standing on a balcony. I can hear the police and ambulance sirens already, know I cannot do anything, and return home. Sitting on the couch, I try to process all the impressions from today, wonder if little Mohamed and his parents are doing okay, and browse the internet regarding the incident I had to witness in the end. Soon I find the first news. Apparently two Iraqis didn’t see another way, were so desperate, with nothing to lose, they threatened to jump off the balcony. Fortunately, a special team from the police managed to talk to them and the administrators helped both of them immediately. It was a dramatic move but only underlines how desperate the refugees are. I have met people who have been camping in front of the LaGeSo for three weeks. The longer it takes, the more hope people lose and the more desperate they become.
On the other hand, it is beautiful to see the transformation of Germany’s society. It is beautiful to see how everyone works together across all boundaries – age, profession and beliefs do not matter anymore. A young woman wearing a Burka helps with distributing food over the counter side-by-side with an elderly, conservatively dressed pensioner. People talk to each other, they engage, they actively help and support – however concerns and questions arising should not be ignored to prevent the current mood from changing.
Unfortunately, my time in Berlin is up and I have to leave the city tomorrow. I would rather stay as the two days have demonstrated how much help we can offer, how important even one pair of helping hands can be and, most importantly, how necessary all the volunteers are since the state of the whole situation would be a lot worse without the effort of thousands.
Photo Credit: Pixabay
