Emergency Response - Theo Jackson
This blog post covers the events of Monday 14th October to Wednesday 16th October 2019. During this time, a knife fight and mass fire in the camp completely destabilised an already tense environment. Around 700 people’s homes and possessions were lost in the blaze, two were seriously injured in the knife fight and many more suffered from smoke and tear gas inhalation.
Over the course of the next three days, the NGOs on the island put together an impressive ad-hoc emergency response operation, providing support and shelter for the most vulnerable individuals and spearheading the reconstruction of the camp.
Not enough can be said about how both the fight and the fire were products of the inhumane conditions in which the people in the camp live. It is surprising that events like this are not a more regular occurrence. However, whilst the situation’s tragedy is magnified by its preventability, I was able to experience first hand the positive limits of human resilience, cooperation and compassion. The events of those three days will stay with me for the rest of my life.
The following text covers the events through a series of snapshots taken from my personal experience of the situation.
20:15 14/10/19
I am sitting in a classroom at the Alpha Center listening to Lavinia present a workshop on positive relationships. I am feeling tired from the day and I find my concentration is wandering. Outside, we hear the raucous noise of angry voices, a lot of them. We do not know what is happening, and the mood inside the classroom becomes noticeably tenser.
20:45 14/10/19
News has spread of a knife fight in the town. Rumours are that one person has died (we later find out this is untrue). I am waiting semi-anxiously with other volunteers in Alpha center, wondering if the streets are safe. We eventually leave and make our way to a local falafel bar, where we sit with some of the coordinators and community volunteers. For them, it is not safe right now to return to the camp. We hear that a fire has broken out in the camp. I think of Moria.
22:15 14/10/19
I am sitting with my housemates on the terrace. We are all feeling tense, frustrated, scared and useless. In the distance we can hear explosions (at this point we do not know what they are caused by), the sky is tinged with red and the smell of burning drifts through the air. Then, the town loses power. As we sit in candlelight, with the sound of chaos in the background, the situation begins to take on a surreal air. I try to describe the situation to some friends over WhatsApp but it seems a pointless endeavour.
22:32 14/10/19
This is it. The call the action. A message is sent to the volunteer group chat directing people where to go along with the message “BRING WATER”. We grab our phones, power packs, torches and volunteer IDs as quickly as possible and head into the night. We stop at a local kiosk to buy as much water as we can carry. The man behind the counter gives me a 5 euro discount and a message of solidarity; “good luck”. The streets are alive with people, some moving with purpose either away from or towards the blaze, some milling aimlessly. The air is filled with smoke and unintelligible shouts. We are joined by other volunteers as we approach the center who help us carry the water without saying a word.
22:50 14/10/19
I have been assigned to work on the door of Alpha center. My main job is to allow only women with small children into the building, so that our space can be allocated to the most vulnerable. Inside, other volunteers are organising the space, moving chairs and tables to clear the floor, readying bottles of water to be distributed. Other volunteers are heading to the base of the camp to direct people to refuge. A frenzied air of activity surrounds us. We do not know what to expect from the next hours.
23:07 14/10/19
The first crowds begin to trickle and then stream down the hill, against a backdrop of billowing red-tinged smoke. Abed emerges from the sulfur, a baby in his arms. His face is calm but his movements are determined, direct. I hold open the door as he takes the baby inside to safety, shortly followed by its mother. Some people have brought bags full of possessions, others have brought nothing. The level of panic is far less than I expected. We begin to hand out water and emergency blankets to the men outside who will sleep rough for the night, all of us aware of our limited supplies.
23:19 14/10/19
A young guy from the camp is sitting on the pavement, coughing uncontrollably. He has inhaled pepper spray and he cannot see or stand. He pours water onto his face in an attempt to stop the burning but it does not seem to help.
23:26 14/10/19
A large crowd has gathered around the door. Families of fathers, mothers and children approach. “Only Mama Baby. Only Mama Baby. '' This is my mantra for the next hour. I will never forget the stoicism with which the fathers accepted separation from their families. No arguments, no pleas. They know that inside it is safe, and for their family, that is all they want. I think about the horrific situations many people in the camp must have been through to respond in this moment with such calm.
00:42 15/10/19
The center is nearly full to capacity but the crowds near the door are as thick as ever. Fire trucks have been roaring up and down the hill since I arrived. Firefighters sit in the station opposite, smoking and drinking coffee, waiting for the next truck to take them to the chaos above.
01:07 15/10/19
The coordinators of SV hold a meeting on the opposite side of the road, planning how to handle the next few hours. I am impressed by their ability to structure a response in this environment, and by the efficiency and resilience of my fellow volunteers. Noone panics, noone stops working, noone is overwhelmed. Adrenaline is our best friend. The volunteer team is split into shifts and, as the crowds outside the center begin to thin, some head off to catch a couple of hours sleep.
03:21 15/10/19
Relative calm has arrived. The majority of the people inside are sleeping, or at least, resting. Families use yoga mats as beds, swaddle their children in what few blankets we have and press together for comfort. Volunteers pace the building, keeping a silent watch.
04:06 15/10/19
A small group of us are huddled around the door of Alpha center, smoking cigarettes and drinking tea with obscene amounts of sugar. The silence is broken sporadically by the sound of a lighter, a cough from one of the many resting bodies scattered in the street, a baby's cry from inside. We are each alone with our thoughts, or simply fighting our drooping eyelids. Ameer, who has not stopped moving since the response operation began, is sweeping dust and litter from the street in front of the center.
05:07 15/10/19
The team for the next shift arrive, bleary eyed after their 2 hour rest. Nods, hugs, handshakes and shoulder pats are exchanged in semi-silent solidarity. I walk away from the center with two of my housemates, my mind struggling to comprehend what has just happened. We walk in reflective silence until we reach home. The thought of bed is somehow the most and least appealing thing right now.
08:40 15/10/19
My alarm rings. Confusion grips my mind. Then I remember “Alpha Center, 9-13”. A silent bowl of cereal and as much coffee as I can force into my body. We arrive at the center as most of the families inside are waking up. Most of them know they have no tent to return to, no clothes with which to change.
12:03 15/10/19
We have reopened the center to everyone. It is three times as full as usual, as people who have spent the night sleeping rough come for the slight relief provided by a sweet tea and 15 minutes of phone charging. We do not have enough volunteers to manage the amount of people, and the tough decision is made to close the shelter. Somehow, we clear the building, offering apologies and wishing there was more we could do.
15:07 15/10/19
The whole volunteer team, around 35 people, is gathered in a function room of the “Paradise Hotel”. I do not think the irony is lost on anybody. The coordinators inform us exactly what happened the night before, and thank everyone for their work. A sense of motivated uncertainty fills the room. We are told to prepare for another night of work if it is needed. House dinners are arranged.
17:38 15/10/19
I know that sleep is the wisest thing right now but my brain refuses to listen to my body. I lie on the couch in my living room, scrolling through internet pages, watching videos on YouTube. I think of the camp, of the fragility of the situation, of the families with no shelter. I open a new website.
18:50 15/10/19
Jasmine, our project leader, messages me. “Hey. How are you doing now? Can I ask a favour?” She needs someone to go to the supermarket with her to buy supplies for the coming night. She has had a stomach infection for the past four days and has barely stopped working since the fire broke out. We buy 720 bottles of water and 5 crates of butter biscuits. We are not officially opening again for the coming night but this a pretty big give away. As we drive back through the town we see thousands of people in the streets.
20:13 15/10/19
We sit down for an 8 person dinner in our accommodation; mushroom pasta and salad. Noone yet knows for sure if we will open again that night and we try to relax as much as possible.
21:05 15/10/19
It is announced; we are opening tonight. The volunteer crew is split into 4 shifts; 9.30-1, 1-5, 5-9 and 9-13. I am in the 5-9 crew. Some members of the house depart for the first shift. We clean, trying to mentally prepare ourselves for the night ahead.
21:27 15/10/19
Natasha calls. She is part of the emergency response team which coordinates the multiple NGOs on the island. She asks if I can come with her. Less people than expected have turned up at the shelters so we are going to drive around and see if they are congregating somewhere. I hold her phone, waiting to send the message that we have found them. An endless stream of messages and calls imprints on me the level of communication required to effectively respond in a situation like this. We do not find anyone.
22:13 15/10/19
I arrive home and finally my body’s exhaustion can overcome the restlessness of my mind.
04:40 16/10/19
My alarm goes off. Now I feel truly tired. We make our way to Alpha center with no perception of how the night has been. We arrive at the center and an air of eerie calm is over the place. Sleeping families are sprawled inside. A woman sits, awake and motionless, staring into space.
We take turns watching the door or inside the center. Noone speaks.
06:35 16/10/19
A Syrian family of about 10 arrives. They are visibly distressed and want to take shelter inside. We initially refuse them, as there are men in the group, the building is at capacity and we do not want them to disturb the sleeping people inside. We bring yoga mats and blankets outside for them, and they settle in the meager shelter offered by the side of the building. One of the women retches bile into the gutter. Eventually we decide to let them inside, moving them in small groups. They settle peacefully, grabbing what comfort they can.
07:50 16/10/19
The families inside begin to wake up. We provide them with tea and biscuits and help them identify their bags. The men of the families arrive at the door to help them and carry the bags. They slowly begin to file up the hill to the camp, presumably to salvage and repair what they can. Once again I am amazed by their resilience. I am exhausted and emotional, I can only begin to imagine how they feel.
09:16 16/10/19
Home once more. We sit for a while, drinking tea and trying to articulate our emotional responses to the situation. Perhaps it is too soon for that, but it feels important to try. After a while, we head to bed.
14:58 16/10/19
Everybody in the house has woken up. We drive to a nearby beach where we attempt to clear our minds. The beauty of the water receding into the skyline feels sharply juxtaposed against the chaos and tragedy I have just seen. We make our way to a viewpoint overlooking the island and spend 20 minutes in silent contemplation, listening to the echoes of barking dogs and watching the lights of the town flicker into life. Heading home, we try to balance our exhaustion with the desire to provide as much assistance as possible to those in need.
19:36 16/10/19
We receive the message “Alpha Center will not open tonight. Get some rest”. For the first time since the fire, it seems we can try to fully relax. My thoughts once again return to the people in the camp and how this, amongst many other things, is a luxury not afforded to them.
