LESBOS, Greece -- One gets a glimpse of what's going on in Lesbos even before landing on the Greek island. A sea of orange dots line the coast. The dots are life jackets protecting refugees and migrants from drowning. They're coming from Turkey, and the sight of them is a reminder of the thousands of people who have survived one of the hardest parts of a treacherous journey from war-torn countries in the Middle East to Europe.
Between Jan. 1 and Nov. 27, 728,910 migrants and refugees -- 26 percent of whom are children -- have arrived in Greece, according to UNHCR, the UN’s refugee agency. Sixty percent of those arriving were Syrians and 23 percent Afghans. The island of Lesbos alone has seen 429,517 arrivals, that's over half the total number. In November alone, 86,711 refugees arrived in Lesbos -- 65 percent of the total number of arrivals for that month, averaging 3,212 people a day.
The numbers don't lie. The refugee flow peaked in October 2015, when 210,824 people arrived in Greece. By comparison, a year earlier, in October 2014, there were only 7,432. But this is not just about numbers, it's about people -- those who arrive and those who receive them.
Two boats filled with migrants and refugees arrived during our ride to Skala Sykamias, a small village on the northern part of Lesbos with just 100 residents. Hundreds of thousands of people have arrived in the village over the last six months. Men, women and little children, dripping wet.
Several organizations have set up operations in the town and aid workers were quick to welcome those arriving with isothermal blankets, and light their way in the dark with torches. They lead the refugees to a spot at the village's central square, where they can catch their breath and their babies can warm up. Then they take them to a makeshift reception center, which is about 50 meters away. The entire process is run by NGOs and volunteers. There are no government-run facilities.
The reception center is a collection of tents, set up by humanitarian organizations or independent volunteers. Adventist Help -- part of the Seventh-Day Adventist Church -- runs a medical center out of an old van. The facility is equipped with drinking water, perhaps some warm food or beverages, and dry clothes. Apostolis Paraskevopoulos, a resident of the island who works in Skala Sykamias village and tries to inform people of what's going on through Facebook, says the volunteers focus particularly on the babies.
“The first time the people of the village saw a boat [of refugees] arrive here was 1997,” Paraskevopoulos remembers. “There would be no more than 200 people coming here every year but since May, the situation is uncontrollable. Now it's 2,000 people daily, only in Skala Sykamias. In the summer there were 9,500 people in one day. We counted 150 boats. They have left a whole country to pass through a village of 100 residents,” he says.
Everyone agrees that the government is nowhere to be found. Most of the work is being done by NGOs and volunteers.
“The prime minister came to Lesbos but did not pass here. Right before he came to the island, there were 30,000 people here. They sent away about 10,000, locked the rest up in camps so that they wouldn't walk around. They managed to hide the problem,” Paraskevopoulos says. “Imagine, the volunteers printed a poster saying, “Thank you for the day off Mr. Tsipras!” he recalled. “We were having coffee all day, and right after he left, 40 boats came to the shore.”
Skala Sykamias is just a boat ride from Turkey, the departure point for the refugee boats. It’s so close that mobile phones get signal from Turkey. While the trip across only takes one to two hours, it’s a hazardous journey. It is not only the weather that makes it dangerous, but also the poor condition of the boats and the fact that many people aboard them don't know how to swim.
“People drown 20 meters from the shore, can you imagine?” Paraskevopoulos says. “They get so close and they won't come out even if the boat is sinking because they are afraid.”
Paraskevopoulos first witnessed a drowning incident in May. "We were sitting outside when I heard screaming. It was 3 a.m. at night. The second time I heard it, I ran behind the port and I saw a boat crashed in the rocks and people had fallen into the sea," he says. "Four people were trying to help forty refugees. We all opened our closets, the whole village came down to help. Through Facebook we managed to get clothes and at least help people change, most of all the children.
"This is how it started. Then one boat became four, then ten and then fifteen. Later on, 100 people, wet and exhausted, would come and pass by the village," he continues. "At first, people didn’t realize what was happening. The first volunteers came mid-July. In the beginning, the locals reacted [badly] to everything. I was being threatened, called names. But now everyone in the village helps out, nothing else can be done."
There are almost 100 organizations, big and small, local and international, on the island.
“There are organizations that come only to justify their money but there are also those that do important work,” says Varvara Gkigkilini, publisher of Politika, which is one of the oldest newspaper in Lesbos. "If the NGOs weren't here, we would be in trouble."
Molyvos resident Stratis Kambanas owns a boat and normally organizes small cruises around the island. But he decided to neglect his job and look for people at sea instead. Volunteering has set him back financially, but he doesn't mind. “This summer, when I had clients on my ship and I would see the boats, I couldn't just leave them there.”
Along with others, he helped set up a camp in Molyvos. Several NGOs approached him, offering him a job, but he turned them down, saying he didn’t want to make money, he just wanted to help. “How could I make money off somebody else's drama?” he says.
“What really bothers me is that at some point the humanitarian element started to fade and business took over ... All summer we were talking about this, I insisted we should look at it from a humanitarian point of view. The majority of the village was against me.”
Kambanas says he also ran into trouble with the Port Authority. “They wanted to sue me for facilitating illegal entrance to the country,” he says. “Now I read every day about the fishermen of Lesbos who save people, when back in May they wanted to put them in jail.”
Later that evening, news comes that no less than 16 boats are arriving at Skala Sykamias. Refugees and volunteers move between the beach and the reception center. Boats keep coming in as the sun sets. Interpreters from the NGO METAction are translating for the new arrivals.
A little further away, at a makeshift camp, Konstantinos Polychronopoulos from the Social Soup Kitchen “The Other Man” sets up his kettle. He prepares food in case people from the sea are wet, exhausted and hungry. Polychronopoulos moved to Lesbos after realizing there was a great need. Rayyan Haries, from Malaysia, is helping Polychronopoulos. Haries left everything behind and went to volunteer on Lesbos and cook for the refugees.
People are trying to comfort a young man. His name is Ala'Addin. Traffickers separated him from his family. His wife, mother and three children, aged six, five and a ten-month old baby, are left across the water in Turkey. The traffickers stole their money and now they can't pay for the trip.
Light House, another organization, arranged for him to stay in their camp, a little further away. But Ala’Addin doesn't want to leave the beach in case his family shows up. Eventually, activists would raise 4,000 euros, about $4,240, to pay for his family to cross over.
“Lots of families get separated,” Elena Angelopoulou from the Social Soup Kitchen says. “The other day a woman reached this port and her husband and two children were left behind. She was screaming and she wouldn't leave here, she was sitting in the cold and was looking at the sea. Thankfully they came on the next boat.”
“We have seen so much of this,” Paraskevopoulos, the Skala Sykamias volunteer, echoes. “One time, a boat was sinking and the fisherman was trying to save the children first. He came back for the adults. There was havoc when some kids were transferred to a different taverna than their parents. A father found his wife with one child and he started shouting 'I have two children!' and all of us started looking for the other child. Fortunately the boy was at the next taverna."
“There have been people that came out here having lost their families at sea. People with no legs, in wheelchairs. People stabbed, beaten, raped women.”
"There have been people that came out here having lost their families at sea. People with no legs, in wheelchairs," Paraskevopoulos continues. "People stabbed, beaten, raped women. We have seen a child of six years who had recently had heart surgery. The other day we had put a couple in a warehouse to heat them and they behaved as if they were lost. The woman had been raped.”
“A lifeguard who was rescuing people from a shipwreck told me he didn't know who to save first,” Gkigkilini, the publisher, recalls. Some people think they are in Athens, others that this is Italy. Some even believe they have reached America. It's a tragedy,” she says. “You should see a rescue operation carried out on a day with very strong winds while looking for babies at sea. We are in a serious state of shock here. The island is in a state of emergency and nobody does anything about it.”
Suddenly, there is movement. A boat has arrived just a few meters from where we stand. Some volunteers run to help the people get off. When everyone is out of the boat, a man asks Alex, one of the volunteers, if he can make a phone call. He says he can pay. “You insult me my friend,” Alex says. “Greek very nice,” the man replies, and the conversation ends there.
Once the boat is empty, two men hurry to dismantle the boat right there and then. “Vultures,” Giorgos Vafiadis, another volunteer, says. They are either locals or traffickers from Turkey. They rip the boats apart, take the engines, and even the gasoline.
Vafiadis has become known for uploading images and videos about the crisis in Skala Sykamias to his Facebook profile, and says he received threatening phone calls when he first reacted angrily to the looters. There’s little that can be done about the crisis, he says.
A few minutes later, a Coast Guard ship sails in, accompanying something that looks like a boat. As it gets closer, it becomes clear this ship is bigger than the others and it is made of wood. Volunteers halt what they were doing and run to the coast to help. Adults as well as children stream out of the ship. Babies are crying in the arms of volunteers, and there’s confusion over who the babies belong to.
A women living nearby tries to get clothes for the soaked children. “Get clothes and shoes for ages three to four!” one of the volunteers shouts, holding a little boy. The boy’s father comes out of the boat. Another little boy gives a big hug to the volunteer who wraps him with an isothermal blanket. Some of the children look scared and they are crying. Their parents try to calm them down.
This story originally appeared on HuffPost Greece and was translated into English and adapted for a global audience. It was also edited for clarity.
Read more on the refugee crisis in Greece
- Many Child Refugees Travel Alone. Here Are Their Stories
- Thousands Of Refugees Gather For An Emotional Concert In Greece
- Chilling Photos From Greece's Shores Capture The Dark Side Of The Refugee Crisis
- Greece Searches For Masked Men Attacking Refugees Off Its Coast
Also on HuffPost:
