Patras Greece, the land of the living ghosts

Patras Greece- the port we where docked.

The simple pleasures are not wasted after days such as these.. how grateful I was to discover a bathtub when opening the door the room I would call home for a few nights.. yet it was only tonight that I was able to sink into the hot waters soak my aching body. For a good hour I lay there not moving.. just allowing myself to feel.. rest. Travel takes a toll on your body.. the pulling of luggage down blocks of cobble stone streets, up several flights of stairs, in and out of coaches, taxis, trains.. the endless miles of walking on uneven ground, climbing to higher places so that I may be seen and heard.. the cold wet Europe weather .. the rain that seem to come at you from the side.. the stuffy basement rooms of restaurants.. the long hours sitting in uncomfortable seats on coach rides to airplanes and trains.. my feet would sigh relief upon taking off my shoes and my body rejoices under the warm waters.. yet.. as I lay there tonight, I thought about the images I saw upon leaving Patras Greece.. and my lamenting ceases and seem trival in light of the horrors lived by those who wait in the shadows to cross, the clinging hope of a better life…? This may have been there hope when arriving to Greece.. only to be met by an even crueler reality.

Patras is one of the largest ports in the Mediterranean Sea. It is the gateway to Western Europe from Asia Minor.. the Middle East.. and the Balkans. As we exited the ship, the rain came down hard.. spotting the coach, I ran as I could with the burden of luggage only to be warmly greeted by dear Felija, the guide whom I befriended last season.. aka my Greek mama ;) All of us boarded our coach, our sea legs eager for the land of the Hellenis.. The Greeks. As we began to pull out of the docks, all lined with massive cargo ships, my eyes were drawn to the men standing in the shadows.. under the long ago closed store fronts. Only skeletons left to provide shelter from the storm. Block after block.. men lined in front of these old shops.. wet.. waiting.. watching. Who were they? Where were they from? Why are they all waiting? Why so many..? What's happening here..? They're so wet and without anything other than the clothes on their back.. block after block.. so many of them. Our coach would stop at a light and through the rain spilling over the window, I met their eyes. I needed them to know I acknowledged them.. I won't turn away. I won't pretend I don't see..

Last night I lay awake.. occupying my thoughts were these men, living like ghosts. I spent hours researching their story as to what brought them there.. what was happening in Patras. Most of these men are from Afghanistan.. Iraq.. along with neighboring countries.. some from Senegal, Algeria and Morocco. A new wave of immigrants. Some are refugees; having to leave not out of choice but pushed out and others migrants; those who choose to leave willingly hoping for better life elsewhere. But the line between these are blurred. Those coming from the Afghanistan and Iraq are given asylum here in Europe yet very few in the EU actually allow this to be. Even those who enter legally, after time without proper paperwork, they become illegal and meet the fate of some many others.

In Greece only 0.6% of the 25,000 allowed asylums actually gain this. The rest live in limbo. Coming from countries that have known war for more than 25 years without cease.. have crossed so far giving everything they have to escape for the hope of something better. Yet they are met with so much advisory as the economic situation here worsen more so than in the US. Work is scarce. So they come here.. to the gateway looking for those who may smuggle them in.
These men journey so far, and even the journey to this point is months, even years in the process.. that only ends with another wall. Another night goes by without the hope of crossing.

I came to learn they return to living in the largest shantytown in Europe. Thousands of men squat in horrible conditions.. no electricity.. no plumbing.. no food.. no work for money.. diseases runs rampit and all living in very cramped rooms. Because prisons and detainment camped are at full capacity, there is nowhere to put them. Othen the countries they come from won’t take them back. The police who do catch these men often turn to beating and breaking their legs or arms in order to prevent them from being able to cross or work. They are treated worse than the stray dogs and cats that I see freely roam the country of Greece. They are treated worse than animals. They are denied existence.



photos by Reuters

My heart breaks at the sight of this. I went to sleep that first night after being made known to this in tears praying for these men.. it's just not fair. My thoughts drift to the first year living off Gaston… Ross Ave in Dallas. One morning I turned one street too soon towards the freeway. It was on that road I first saw something similar to this.. Mexicans waiting.. I couldn't understand why all these men would be standing around, outside abounded buildings or night clubs so early in the morning. Someone had to explain to me that they were waiting to be picked up and given work for the day. This was new to me.. yet even these men have a better life than what is met at Patras.

As I write this.. I forget that my body ever ached.. or that I was tired.. or getting sick.. or worn out.

It's not enough to just be grateful for our blessings.. we have to be motivated.. to serve. Because of what has been given to us.. we are compelled to reach out. When we begin to understand the enormity of the grace which God has lavished upon us, it inspires worship within us.. deep gratitude. From that, it begins to eliminate the stubbornness and self pity… and humbles us.. what comes of that we are moved to serve.. to give. Because we’ve been given so much.

One of the pastor’s at my church, Josh Patterson once said: “there is one thing that makes those of us living in our sanctification.. those of us that believe and walk in faith. . there is something that makes us different from the rest of the world. Anyone can feed the homeless, help the sick, build homes and schools, spend time playing with kids, anyone can cross an ocean and dig wells.. but you know what the world can't do..? Give grace. Because of what God has given us, because of the gift of grace.. we can extend grace to others.. we are so changed by this that we are moved to serve.” Read through all of Ephesians, but especially chapters 1 & 2.. also watch the film Amazing Grace.

It is late and I should sleep.. these are my thoughts at 2am.. in my little corner hotel room off the Saronic Gulf here in Athens..

Pray for these men.. who are faceless.. nameless.. without a voice.. God has put this burden on me and allowed me to see.. again not to just be aware.. but to be moved..