We Do A Lot

I get asked this question a lot. People know that I travel a lot and that LHI helps refugees, but what are the specifics?

Here it goes: The ever-changing refugee situation in Europe keeps us on our toes, and has kept our nonprofit business model evolving and changing, too. When we began in January, our goal was to fill a shipping container with humanitarian goods. We thought it would take about a year to fill. 

Some social media posts went viral in April, and we ended up filling the shipping container in 2 months! Those goods went to a large camp in Lebanon. The momentum didn't stop there.  

We also started getting enough funds to provide emergency purchases of humanitarian goods for refugee camps abroad. We bought six weeks worth of food for the Hellenic Red Cross's camp in Lavrion, for example. We purchased 350 pairs of shoes for refugees arriving via rubber boat on the island of Chios. We bought 200 backpacks for children going to a makeshift school inside a camp. We bought food and hygiene supplies for refugees living under a bridge at the port refugee camp in Athens. 

We also started running some operations here in Phoenix, Arizona. I'm not sure if people realizehow many refugee families are getting resettled here in the Phoenix Valley. The four resettlement agencies here are incredibly overwhelmed. We help by furnishing apartments for new families so that they don't have to spend a big chunk of their resettlement stipend on furniture. We also do it so they feel more at home during an incredibly difficult transition where they experience the wild highs and lows of culture shock. We have a warehouse and everything. A generous donor has paid warehouse rent for an entire year. (By the way, want to volunteer? Have housewares to donate?? Email volunteer@lhi.org). See images below of our latest apartment set-up. ALL furniture you see was donated, even a hospital bed for one member of the family who is paralyzed from the neck down due to a war injury. 

And FINALLY, the latest news: LHI has a team of AMAZING long-term volunteers working at a refugee camp in northern Greece. This is no easy feat now that the Greek military has cracked down on independent volunteers and nonprofits. It is very, very hard to get a position in a camp, so we are very lucky. The camp started unexpectedly about a month ago when the urgent need for it arose. There were 400 residents in the camp until yesterday, when another camp flooded from the rain, sending an additional 100 more refugees our way. What do we do at the camp? We translate. We run a women's safe space: no men allowed! Inside, we teach yoga, languages, and provide social hours every day. We also distribute humanitarian goods. We have a warehouse ready to be filled with goods, once they start arriving by sea. Until we get those shipments, we have to buy everything. It's pricey buying hygiene and vegetables for 500 people, let me tell you. We also provide children's activities outside of school activities, such as screening educational films using a donated projector and speaker, games, and kids yoga. Why yoga? Mindfulness promotes recovery from trauma, and Yazidis carry a lot of trauma.

So, in other words, we do a lot! We help run a camp. We furnish apartments in Phoenix. We provide aid for refugees in other camps. I (Hayley) do this full-time now. I divide my time between our refugee camp in Greece and our local operations here in Phoenix. It is an absolute honor to do this work. And it's all thanks to you. It's stressful, I'll admit. I lose sleep over donor fatigue. It's a real thing, despite a sharp increase in refugee need. But I have faith that people will heed the call! I mean, the only way to keep LHI going is donations. The VAST majority of donations are spent on refugees directly, in the form of food and hygiene. Wanna help our camp? Buy an item off our AMAZON list. It goes to a location in the USA where we are collecting goods in a shipping container that will come straight to our camp. 

You can also do a recurring monthly donation of $5 or $10, or more HERE. That way you can put in your info once and be done with it! Thank you in advance!

Mayor Morad

Nabil Morad was born in Syria, studied medicine in Bulgaria, where he met and married his Greek wife. He practiced medicine in Greece for several years before he became mayor for several terms in a row. He speaks 5 languages and is clearly brilliant. The town and the refugees who live nearby adore him, and after meeting him, it is obvious why.

One of the reasons why he is so adored strangely has to do with a beachside resort in his town going bankrupt, mostly as a result both of the Greek economic crisis and also its isolated location. Mayor Morad saw an opportunity to house some of the 55,000+ refugees in Greece -- who are indefinitely stranded in Greece due to the recent EU/Turkey agreement -- at the abandoned property. The resort is consists of several semi-detached villas has recently become home to 300 people, the vast majority of them families, thanks to this man. Although living here is still less than ideal, that is 300 less people living in squalor in overcrowded camps.  

The visit was surreal. Upon arrival, the place looked like it could be a set for the Walking Dead. There was no soul in sight. The sun was overwhelmingly bright and hot, steam was rising from the pavement, and the cicadas were out in full force. The basketball and tennis courts are webs of tangled nets. Empty swimming pools collect muddy rainwater that turns into smelly sludge. And its location, 4 hours away from Athens by car, places it in the middle of nowhere. I was expecting to see endless movement that you see at other camps, but here, there was just silence and stillness. A small child walked across the pockmarked basketball court dragging a toy. Pulling in past the main office, we finally saw signs of life -- some refugees sitting together under a tree sipping coffee while a young man filled a small fountain with water from a hose. One teenage girl was braiding a British volunteer's hair. An older man counted his prayer beads.

The mayor visited that day, so we got to meet him. We also got to meet a number of families who live there. One family of 12 (including relatives) share in a villa that accommodates 3 people, maybe 4. "Yes, it is beautiful, but we cannot truly enjoy it," said Faris, the father, a cheerful man who cracks dad jokes whenever he has the opportunity. I can see why they can't enjoy: It is hot and humid, and there is no A/C. They can't cook, because the town is 90 minute walk away and they don't have money. The food is provided by the Greek military's catering company and is admittedly quite terrible and repetitive. They get 10 days worth of prepared meals that get put in a big fridge. By the second day, the food is stale and tasteless. Kids don't have anywhere to go to burn their energy. There is a school, *IF* they have volunteers there to run it, which is not always the case. There is very little to do but sit outside in the sun and attend the daily established beach/swim time, which provides some major relief from the heat and boredom. 

After spending about 6 hours at the resort, I was completely exhausted, sunburned and hungry. I even had to take a nap on the office couch just to make it through the day. If I lived there, I think I would actually go insane. Yes, the residents try to get creative about problem-solving (gardening, building clay ovens, petitioning the government for changes), but no one knows how long they'll be there. It's just a waiting game. They can't leave Greece. They can't live in the camps. They can't rent apartments in the city. So they just wait.

The danger in posting these particular pictures and video is that they don't portray the difficulties in living here. Yes, the resort is obviously better than the refugee camps. (and trust me, almost anything is better than the refugee camps. Some refugees live on the streets of the larger cities because that is better than the camps), and no, they're not being bombed. But the residents still yearn for their former lives, or at least the opportunity to build a new one, where they had control over even the most trivial things like choosing what to eat, going into town, visiting family, owning a couch, and getting medical help when needed. Mayor Morad does what he can to make a difference, but most of the decisions ultimately are not up to him. In the meantime, they try to make the most of it. 

Meet Jude from Syria

4 hours outside of Athens, in the middle of remote agricultural land dotted with small villages lies an abandoned beach resort that is now known as Myrsini refugee camp. 

One family we met there shares a tiny little villa that sleeps at most 3 people with another large family. They invited us in, and we squished into the bedroom (there is no gathering space) to talk. They brought us some water to drink and apologized that they didn't have any food to serve us.

And then in comes Jude, a feisty and smiley 5 year-old girl. She was really upset at first (she's really shy) and tried to run away screaming, but she calmed down the second her aunt came into the room and scooped her up. This is her story:

Jude's parents and all of her 3 siblings were killed by a bombing in Syria about three years ago. The explosion rendered her deaf except for very high frequencies that don't naturally occur outside of a hearing test. She doesn't remember her parents or siblings. She knows her aunt and uncle as her parents. They communicate using homemade sign language since they don't have access to deaf education. It is clear that her family loves her very much.

Her family make up some of the 50,000 refugees indefinitely stranded in Greece since the borders closed in May of this year. It will take about 1-2 years for the refugees in Greece to get resettled in other countries. This family hopes to go to Germany, where they can try for cochlear implants to restore Jude's hearing. It will be some time before this happens. 

When I was down at the beach a few hours later filming some footage of swim time, Jude ran up to me, her little body in a swimsuit, a mess of wet hair dripping water down her face, her eyes laughing as she showed me a handful of sand she'd just picked up. She threw a handful towards the water and looked back at me and laughed. I leaned down and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. I told her "Ana bahibik" (I love you in Arabic). I know she couldn't hear it, but I said it anyway. :) She turned around and ran into the water, pumping her little legs as much as she could. Keep on going, Jude! What a special girl.

Meet Mahmoud from Iraq

Piraeus Port in Athens, Greece is one of the biggest cargo and transportation hubs in Europe and has been since ancient times. Every day, hundreds of cargo ships and ferries come and go, either dropping off or picking up shipping containers and transporting tourists to and from Santorini.

No one would ever know that tucked away behind a few older abandoned buildings at the port, lies large refugee camp with more than 1,000 people, mostly from Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan. They live in camping tents right on the tarmac underneath a highway bridge, the only protection from the overwhelming combination of summer heat and humidity. Rats are a constant nuisance. The dozen outhouses are dirty, and unless you have your own toilet paper, good luck. 

It isn't totally unlivable -- There are portable showers, though access is extremely limited. There is running water from portable outdoor faucets. Nonprofits bring food every day. There are enough volunteers wandering around to keep the mood light and friendly, despite the growing sense of hopelessness of refugees who have been living here for months and have no idea where to go.

Mahmoud ask that I don't show his face, since his family is still in Iraq.

It was at this place that I met Mahmoud, a handsome, intelligent 22 year old from Anbar province in Iraq. We at LHI had pulled up with a carful of items requested by the volunteers who run the camp, such as shampoo, soap, and toilet paper. Mahmoud was nearby and saw that we needed some help. He immediately came and helped us unload, even though it was hot and he was fasting for Ramadan. He even stayed to help us distribute the items, catching sneaky children trying to get two rolls of toilet paper instead of one, and making sure the lines were calm and organized. Afterwards, he refused any sort of payment for his vital assistance, adamantly repeating that it was simply his duty to help. I was able to catch up with him afterwards and get a bit of his story:

Mahmoud fled Iraq after his 26 year-old cousin was executed for refusing to join ISIS. His family only had enough money to send him. Mahmoud did not want to leave, but his family insisted. Like so many others, he fled to Turkey, where life was so difficult that he decided to take the dangerous journey to Lesvos, Greece, on an overcrowded inflatable boat. He hasn't seen his family for 2 years. He rarely hears from them, as both parties have limited access to the Internet.

Mahmoud at the port. He says he was trying to do something silly so he could forget his despair.

Why is he living in a camp and not working, some might ask. The very simply answer is that refugees aren't allowed to work in Greece unless they are granted asylum there, which is a lengthy and undesirable choice for most. And because the border is indefinitely closed, he has no choice but to sit and wait in the camp. He doesn't have any money, and tries to find ways to entertain himself, like jumping into the sea at the port to cool off, despite the visible water pollution.

Like the 56,000 other refugees currently stranded in Greece, he is awaiting resettlement. His dream is to go to Norway and become a lawyer and eventually return to Iraq. He speaks decent English. He told me he is aware that there is a fear of his demographic -- young, single men -- becoming radicalized. For him, though, he says he only thinks of a happy, peaceful future for him and his family, and that he thinks it's crazy that anyone would ever want to join ISIS. (In fact, I've never met one refugee who doesn't absolutely hate ISIS. People almost avoid saying the name because they detest them so much).

When Mahmoud does have Internet access, he sends me friendly updates on Facebook,  updates on what is going on in Iraq, his status in Greece, his family, and his dreams. He constantly talks about his family back home. I hope that he will be reunited with them soon. 

est of luck to you, my friend!

Resettlement process

Only 1% of refugees worldwide get resettled. Half of them end up in the United States. 

Refugees who get settled in the USA have been through the ringer. It takes an average of 2 years of interviews with the UNHCR to find out if they will be resettled. Once assigned to the USA, they must go through another 2 or so years of interviews with a handful of government agencies, such as the Dept. of Homeland Security, the FBI, and the NSA. 

Once assigned to a city in the USA, 1 of 9 national resettlement agencies will help get them set up with the basics -- an apartment with minimal furnishings (any furnishings come out of their stipend), food stamps, insurance, orientation classes, and a one-time stipend per family member.

In Phoenix, refugees tend to get placed in Glendale, since landlords there generally don't require a credit check and also look the other way when it comes to the state law requiring no more than two tenants per bedroom. That's why we have large families with 7 kids in one room, for example.

Families are required to wait 6 months before they can even apply for government subsidized housing. Once they do apply, there is an extremely long waiting list. Rent in Glendale runs around $750-$900/month, so most of their one-time stipend goes towards rent. Hopefully by the time they run out of their stipend money, they will have procured jobs and are self-sufficient. 

This is where we come in: Resettlement agencies give Lifting Hands International referrals for families who especially need help obtaining furniture, getting settled, etc. so that they can save their stipend for other costs. We then collect donated furniture and have volunteers 1. set up apartments for incoming smaller families (smaller families = less money), or 2. fill in the gaps for all families who could just really use some help. Furnishing apartments not only saves them money, but also helps so much with the difficult transition to America. While America is the land of the free and the home of the brave, culture shock is alive and well. Everything is different. We try to make it a little easier for them by providing safe, warm, and beautiful space for them. 

Live in the PHX area and interested in helping out? Sign up at volunteer@lhi.org.