Blog #12 A Tipping Point
Blog Post #12
A Tipping Point
April 26, 2018
Gentle Reader,
It is said here at Kara Tepe that, among volunteers, there is a tipping point, of sorts. It comes somewhere in the second week of working here. First impressions of Kara Tepe are profound for each of us. I think many of us imagined this to be a place of deep despair. We had all heard stories of the turbulent crossings of the Aegean Sea, the risking of one's life for hope, the loss of family members and friends along the way, the smugglers who often didn't keep promises, the uprooting of family from the life they have always known, etc...
Keeping all of those dangerous and life-threatening circumstances in mind, the atmosphere at Kara Tepe is clearly one of a peaceful, working village. So many residents volunteer their time on many projects around the village. Everyone works together to create an atmosphere that is conducive to families waiting to be placed in a more permanent home. This is not a place of despair, it is a place of hope. The wait is too long too much of the time, but families are trying to carve out a space that is safe and loving while they wait. The staff and volunteers try to make that atmosphere a reality, too.
After about a week or so at Kara Tepe, volunteers begin to notice some of the tensions beneath the surface. Fear. Waiting too long. Feeling like time is being wasted. Feeling like your future is so uncertain. Not knowing what country you will end of living in. Worrying about family members back home. Trying to raise children in this space. Being pregnant in this place. Simply trying to be mobile with shoes that are falling apart around your feet. The daily routine, which, for some, can feel deadening and numbing.
We had an incident in The Shop yesterday, which caused the Head Director to be called. A man had come into the shop to chat with us. He didn't want clothing, but he did want to voice a concern that some families come in and get new clothes, while other families are given used clothing or a combination of new and used. He simply wanted us to know that he didn't feel this was a fair situation. I understood his feelings, acknowledged them, and told him that we do our very best to provide new clothes for the residents, but we often have only used clothing in stock.
I was working with one of the resident translators, who was translating into Arabic, and from Arabic to English so that I could communicate. The man then suddenly became very angry, accusing the translator of not translating properly. This turned into a pushing and shoving between the translator and the man, and the father of the translator interjected, too. Voices became loud and volatile, and the Director had to be called in.
I cannot begin to tell you how impressed I was with the Director's handling of the situation. He reminded the men that they were all brothers, each of them being Arabic. He talked about whatever happens outside of this village happens, but while in this village, "we have Salam/peace." He told the three gentleman that they could leave, but if they wanted to remain they would have to act in peace. He ended by having them shake hands and eventually embrace. I was completely amazed with the way the Director issued in peace, calling on the three men to be peaceful with one another, being brothers. It worked. It worked.
********************************************************************
So, yesterday ended up being a day of eye-opening and realization for me on many levels. The other level occurred as I was heading back to the apartment in a taxi. I have thought about whether to include this incident in the blog for over 24 hours now, and I have decided that I should include it if I am to be authentic and genuine in my observations and sharing.
When I went to pay the cab driver yesterday, I discovered that all of my money -- both euros and coins -- had been stolen from my purse. About 50 euros in total. The cab driver was kind enough to take me to an ATM to get money to pay him and to secure some additional money for myself.
My phone and credit card were not taken.
To be honest, I believe I am often quite naive. Those of you who know me well, know me to be a very trusting person, sometimes to my own detriment. My daughters, though they admire this trusting quality in me, advise me to be careful, especially in new surroundings. I left my purse in the back room of the shop, and in the Digital Learning Lab for a time. I thought both were secure places, but apparently not.
I also realize that the residents at Kara Tepe have been through and continue to endure extraordinarily difficult circumstances. I believe that the residents would not even consider stealing under normal circumstances. So, I am not angry for the stealing (there are several Ali Babas around camp, so the saying goes), but I am disappointed and saddened that a resident would feel compelled to steal. Personally, being a volunteer here at Kara Tepe, I felt betrayed, and I am trying to understand the circumstances and soften my heart.
By accident, I ran into Kelly and Joelle, two volunteers, immediately after I left the cab. Kelley told me that she, too, had money stolen when she first arrived. She reminded me that it is nothing personal, that the residents are in a very pressured situation, and to simply find a way to secure my belongings better, as she did, starting tomorrow.
My daughters were very helpful yesterday in being supportive of me in my I-can't-stop-crying state. Scott, too, offered comfort and support when we talked at the end of the day. A night's rest, as always, helped my vision.
All that being said, a poem came out of the feelings of last night. I will share it, untitled as of yet.
******************************************
Tonight I want to be the hands
of the man with the purple prayer beads
pacing by the water
at Port Myteline.
I want to fret away
everything
with beads bruising my fingers
late into the night.
In the night glow
of St. Symeon Church
I feel the blasphemy
like incense
cover my face
My tears
holy water
I offer you
to bless yourself with.
-Namaste,
Marianne
A Tipping Point
April 26, 2018
Gentle Reader,
It is said here at Kara Tepe that, among volunteers, there is a tipping point, of sorts. It comes somewhere in the second week of working here. First impressions of Kara Tepe are profound for each of us. I think many of us imagined this to be a place of deep despair. We had all heard stories of the turbulent crossings of the Aegean Sea, the risking of one's life for hope, the loss of family members and friends along the way, the smugglers who often didn't keep promises, the uprooting of family from the life they have always known, etc...
Keeping all of those dangerous and life-threatening circumstances in mind, the atmosphere at Kara Tepe is clearly one of a peaceful, working village. So many residents volunteer their time on many projects around the village. Everyone works together to create an atmosphere that is conducive to families waiting to be placed in a more permanent home. This is not a place of despair, it is a place of hope. The wait is too long too much of the time, but families are trying to carve out a space that is safe and loving while they wait. The staff and volunteers try to make that atmosphere a reality, too.
After about a week or so at Kara Tepe, volunteers begin to notice some of the tensions beneath the surface. Fear. Waiting too long. Feeling like time is being wasted. Feeling like your future is so uncertain. Not knowing what country you will end of living in. Worrying about family members back home. Trying to raise children in this space. Being pregnant in this place. Simply trying to be mobile with shoes that are falling apart around your feet. The daily routine, which, for some, can feel deadening and numbing.
We had an incident in The Shop yesterday, which caused the Head Director to be called. A man had come into the shop to chat with us. He didn't want clothing, but he did want to voice a concern that some families come in and get new clothes, while other families are given used clothing or a combination of new and used. He simply wanted us to know that he didn't feel this was a fair situation. I understood his feelings, acknowledged them, and told him that we do our very best to provide new clothes for the residents, but we often have only used clothing in stock.
I was working with one of the resident translators, who was translating into Arabic, and from Arabic to English so that I could communicate. The man then suddenly became very angry, accusing the translator of not translating properly. This turned into a pushing and shoving between the translator and the man, and the father of the translator interjected, too. Voices became loud and volatile, and the Director had to be called in.
I cannot begin to tell you how impressed I was with the Director's handling of the situation. He reminded the men that they were all brothers, each of them being Arabic. He talked about whatever happens outside of this village happens, but while in this village, "we have Salam/peace." He told the three gentleman that they could leave, but if they wanted to remain they would have to act in peace. He ended by having them shake hands and eventually embrace. I was completely amazed with the way the Director issued in peace, calling on the three men to be peaceful with one another, being brothers. It worked. It worked.
********************************************************************
So, yesterday ended up being a day of eye-opening and realization for me on many levels. The other level occurred as I was heading back to the apartment in a taxi. I have thought about whether to include this incident in the blog for over 24 hours now, and I have decided that I should include it if I am to be authentic and genuine in my observations and sharing.
When I went to pay the cab driver yesterday, I discovered that all of my money -- both euros and coins -- had been stolen from my purse. About 50 euros in total. The cab driver was kind enough to take me to an ATM to get money to pay him and to secure some additional money for myself.
My phone and credit card were not taken.
To be honest, I believe I am often quite naive. Those of you who know me well, know me to be a very trusting person, sometimes to my own detriment. My daughters, though they admire this trusting quality in me, advise me to be careful, especially in new surroundings. I left my purse in the back room of the shop, and in the Digital Learning Lab for a time. I thought both were secure places, but apparently not.
I also realize that the residents at Kara Tepe have been through and continue to endure extraordinarily difficult circumstances. I believe that the residents would not even consider stealing under normal circumstances. So, I am not angry for the stealing (there are several Ali Babas around camp, so the saying goes), but I am disappointed and saddened that a resident would feel compelled to steal. Personally, being a volunteer here at Kara Tepe, I felt betrayed, and I am trying to understand the circumstances and soften my heart.
By accident, I ran into Kelly and Joelle, two volunteers, immediately after I left the cab. Kelley told me that she, too, had money stolen when she first arrived. She reminded me that it is nothing personal, that the residents are in a very pressured situation, and to simply find a way to secure my belongings better, as she did, starting tomorrow.
My daughters were very helpful yesterday in being supportive of me in my I-can't-stop-crying state. Scott, too, offered comfort and support when we talked at the end of the day. A night's rest, as always, helped my vision.
All that being said, a poem came out of the feelings of last night. I will share it, untitled as of yet.
******************************************
Tonight I want to be the hands
of the man with the purple prayer beads
pacing by the water
at Port Myteline.
I want to fret away
everything
with beads bruising my fingers
late into the night.
In the night glow
of St. Symeon Church
I feel the blasphemy
like incense
cover my face
My tears
holy water
I offer you
to bless yourself with.
-Namaste,
Marianne
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