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You can barely see a cloud in the Lesbos sky on this warm, sunny October afternoon. There is only a shadow over Safiya Mohammadi’s dark brown eyes. The 24-year-old asylum seeker from Afghanistan sits on the shores of a small bay near the island’s capital, Mytilene, and gazes out into the deep blue waters of the Aegean Sea.
Think of her sick husband in the new refugee camp. Her five-year-old son who suffered a burn on his left leg. Her two-year-old son who hates camp food and refuses to eat it. Think winter ahead, when warm afternoons like this are soon replaced by cold and maybe snow. Above all, he is concerned that there is no clear path to follow. You have no idea when you will be asked about your asylum application, although it has been a year since you arrived in Lesbos in a rubber boat from Turkey.
“We had a better time in Moria,” says Mohammadi with a sigh. A statement that may leave you stunned, but one hears it from many asylum seekers on Lesbos. Moria, the largest and most famous field in Europe, had become synonymous with a hellish, lawless and depraved place where basic human rights had been trampled on for years.
A seven square meter tent for four people
Moria no longer exists. It was razed last month when a two-day fire left 13,000 asylum seekers homeless. In response, the Greek authorities hastily set up a makeshift camp at a ruined army shooting range, some 3 km to the southeast, by the sea, at a place called Kara Tepe.
After refusing to enter for weeks, around 7,500 people now live in the new camp, which is spread over a huge area of 35,000 square meters. Mohammadi’s new house is seven square meters: a UNHCR tent in which she lives with her husband and two children.
The new camp is surrounded by barbed wire and is generally not accessible to journalists and outsiders. Recently released government aerial photos showing Angela Merkel and EU dignitaries show a tent city. From a bird’s eye view, it seems organized, orderly, even idyllic.
No running water, no boiling
So how can this be worse than Moria? How could there be anything worse than Moria?
Mohammadi lists the reasons in quick succession: “Our tents have no floors. There is no running water. Food is only given once a day, and it is very bad. When it rains, the camp floods. hard to bear. We freeze at night. We are not allowed to cook. There is very little to do, especially for children. So yeah, this place is worse than Moria. “
I walked through the SPIEGEL camp. Many of the stores look thin and wobbly. The rows of tents are separated by narrow mud paths. Men can be seen digging trenches around their tents, children running aimlessly around the place. Closer to the sea there are some groups fishing or jumping into the water. They seem to be having fun. “We don’t do this for fun. Just to wash and wash our clothes,” some of them explain.
A child in the new Kara Tepe refugee camp
Photo: Giorgos Christides
Gyde Jensen (FDP), chair of the German Bundestag’s Human Rights and Humanitarian Aid Committee, visited the camp on Wednesday. Jensen understood the challenges the Greek authorities faced after the destruction of Moria, but was not impressed by what she saw: “The new camp can only be a temporary solution. There are no showers yet, basic facilities are required immediately,” she told him. to SPIEGEL after the visit.
Like many members of the Afghan minority in Iran, Mohammadi and his family left Tehran in 2019 to escape second-class citizenship. A month in Istanbul and several unsuccessful attempts to reach Greece resulted in his arrest by the Turkish authorities. In December 2019 he finally succeeded.
Like most asylum seekers, he lived in Moria, in the so-called jungle, outside the massively overcrowded official camp. And like most former Moria residents, he lost almost everything in the September 8 fire. What little survived the flames was lost when heavy rains flooded the new camp last week, destroying around 80 of the 1,100 tents.
Her belongings now only consist of a few clothes, a pack of eight bottles of water, a pot in which she cooks rice, which she buys at the nearby Lidl supermarket, and a small box of children’s toys.
For Mohammadi, life in the fields is worse than unworthy, it makes no sense. She wakes up at 7 a.m. every day to make tea and rushes to one of the 400 chemical baths when it’s still early and they’re still clean. Then make lunch. He spends the rest of the day with his children and plays with them near his store.
Health and safety checks at the entrance to the Kara Tepe camp
Photo: Giorgos Christides
The Greek government is trying to respond to criticism of the new camp and the lack of protection against weather conditions. Heavy machinery was seen digging canals and making repairs Wednesday. Politicians promise the camp will be winterized in due course. Rain covers have been placed over the tents and projects for flood protection, electricity, water supply and fire protection are also underway; Gravel is distributed.
Athens also insists that the countryside is a temporary solution. It will be replaced by a new building to be used as a transit point. A government official told SPIEGEL that almost all current asylum seekers will have been relocated from the five so-called hotspot islands by 2021. That is, as long as the number of people arriving is low.
Since January, the number of migrants on the Greek islands has dropped by 49 percent to 21,500 people. Fewer than 1,160 migrants arrived on the islands in the first half of this year – a combination of the corona pandemic and Greece’s controversial new dogma to aggressively monitor the maritime border.
What is certainly better in the new warehouse than in Moria: the security situation. Contrary to rumors, the place is not a prison. Residents can leave the camp in the morning, but must return by 7 pm Upon leaving, they show their papers and receive a numbered card to hand over upon return. Officers then check their temperature and bags, and remove any potential weapons, such as scissors. Those who arrive late pay a fine of 25 euros.
Lots of police, few medical staff
Also unlike Moria, the police are omnipresent and help combat the violence that was a problem in the old camp. Six murders had been committed there since January.
Medical personnel, however, are not omnipresent. When night falls, Mohammadi is in pain. His tooth hurts excruciatingly. The camp does not have a dentist. The hospital would take care of her, but she would need a referral from a doctor to do so. But after the curfew at 7 pm, there is no longer a doctor in the camp.
So Mohammadi has to wait until morning. But she can handle it. “A bad tooth is the least of my problems.”
