Hello there!
I've recently migrated my content to a new blog, one I hope will work better to fit content from the many different projects I've worked on throughout my time abroad. Still working on some formatting things, but the content is there! Check it out here:
NEW BLOG LINK: https://leahkristinemangold.wordpress.com/
P.S. The mobile version may be a bit funky. Hopefully will be fixed soon!
Monday, January 21, 2019
Sunday, August 13, 2017
Project Elea Provides Long-Term Sustainability for Refugees Despite New Hurdles
The refugee crisis in Greece has changed—the approach to provide the right aid must change too.
Nine-year-old Omar* would only draw in black and white. He sat at a different picnic table than the other refugee children as they watched Leonie De Bruine, a volunteer from Holland, demonstrate how to draw a flower. He wasn’t disruptive or rude, but his quiet anger came through in the way he gripped his gray crayon. He drew a skull, silently defiant.
For a boy whose life has revolved around escaping death and fleeing war, this kind of drawing is to be expected. It reflects the frustration felt by many refugees—whose accommodations in Greece are becoming more permanent than they want to believe.
And for some outsiders, it solidifies the belief that volunteer art teachers’ efforts are a joke—they only undermine the refugees’ experiences. How dare they act like flowers and rainbows will “fix” the fact that 65,000 people are stranded?
To some extent, this criticism is based on reality. Two years ago, colored pencils would have done little to save refugees coming in on rafts from drowning. Today, however, the madness has subsided.
“We don’t need people here throwing clothes on people’s back keeping them warm and running around in emergencies,” says Emily Wilson, the educational coordinator of Project Elea, an organization that provides, among many other things, the art class Omar attends.
The healing power of art for expression
In a secondary aid scenario, such as the situation in Camp Eleonas, where Project Elea is based, people have their vital needs—food, water, and shelter—taken care of already. Survival mode switched off, the refugees face a new problem: post-traumatic stress paired with boredom, a potentially ugly mix.
This is when art can make a difference, even for adults. Referencing several murals depicted on the fence, Leonie describes the adult painting class in her Dutch accent:
“It’s very relaxed, we’re just like, ‘come out, smoke a cigarette, drink some water, have some tea. And in the meanwhile, we paint some wall.”
Painting gives the residents a reason to get out of their IsoBoxes—dumpster-sized air-conditioned shelters provided by the government—and engage with the other refugees.
“With the wall—there were seven people I never saw outside the house [who showed up]” says Leonie, “I never seen them before. Then they came out because one of the residents told them wall that painting is pretty fun. And they talked with each other.”
The resulting murals provided a conversation outlet for other residents as well. Several days after one wall was finished, Leonie witnessed a middle-aged man standing in front of the wall, tears streaming down his face.
“I asked him if he was okay. He said, ‘It just, it just looks like what I’ve been through.’ He was looking at black silhouettes of travelers, painted in crisp contrast to colorful clouds above.
Without the mural? “He never would have opened up to me.”
The challenge: lack of permanent volunteers
Not all volunteers are able to get through to refugees like Leonie is—and this is due, in part, to rapid volunteer turnover. In one year alone, there have been 600 different volunteers working under Wilson.
Wilson says she herself has difficulty remembering the names of the staff, and thus the residents likely have an even larger difficulty—imagine learning to trust someone after a week of opening up, only to watch him or her leave for Mykonos the next week, a brand-new Westerner in his or her place.
“It ends up doing more for [the volunteer] than the people we are trying to help,” she says, “[The refugees] have already lost pretty much everything and a lot of people. They don’t need to lose another person just for [the volunteer’s] own “voluntourism” ego-trip.”
Similar volunteer-based organizations have battled this very problem. Khora, an organization assisting families in squats, has a strict requirement: volunteers must sign a contract for a four-week minimum commitment.
Ramiar Farapour, the twenty-two year old who inducts Khora’s new volunteers, says the organization also aims to reduce the number of international volunteers:
“Our biggest challenge is getting in contact with the Greek community,” he says, pointing to the fact that involving locals provides a permanency that is desperately needed. Especially now that refugee children are being integrated into Greek schools, it is “of utmost importance” to have volunteers who can speak the language.
“We are also trying to get in touch with Greek students to come in the summer to work with us for two/three months,” he adds.
But Wilson points out one problem with this strategy—Greeks themselves are struggling to keep their finances afloat.
“Most people probably want a job before they start volunteering.” At least for Project Elea, international volunteers will continue to make up the majority of the team.
Further challenges include lack of space and resources. Project Elea is based solely on donations. “We don’t get any [governmental] funds from anyone,” she states.
A recent go-fund-me page, she hopes, will raise €8,000 to allow the program to build a new building on the camp—a recreation center of sorts.
“It’s necessary,” she says, “for the residents to feel normal again and to do things that people should be doing within any society.”
After all, this is a long-stay family camp. Whether they want to admit it, the refugees could remain in Greece for years.
Encouraging Refugees to Help Themselves
Though many of the refugees have been in Camp Eleonas for more than a year, few actually use the word “home”. Instead, many refer to the Isoboxes as their “containers.”
Says Wilson, “They don’t want to accept that they are living here. They see it as a limbo and any form of acceptance is a sign of permanency which they don’t want.”
One avenue to express this frustration is to resist taking care of the camp. When Project Elea volunteers spent a day cleaning up garbage and washing down the IsoBoxes, they quickly found them just as dirty the next week.
“They saw it as a temporary home, so they didn’t have respect or pride for it,” says Spanish volunteer Marta Rubio.
Then the twenty-six-year-old noticed Khalil Alfia, a little boy who had planted vegetable seeds in plastic cups. Inspired by the windowsill, she decided to change the program’s approach.
Project Elea launched the “Pimp My Street” initiative last week. Rather than cleaning for the refugees, the group decided to involve them.
Rubio and other volunteers created window-sill flower boxes using spare wood from pallets. The residents helped. Then, they let each family plant their own vegetables.
“If they help make decisions,” Rubio says, “then they will be more likely to help maintain it.”
What started as a planting project then turned into an entire street refurbishment. Using tarps to create shade, the neighborhood worked together to create a common area with picnic tables and a couch. Soon it became the most famous “street” in the camp.
Rubio hopes to continue the project in each of the other sections of camp, all while listening to the residents for their input.
As she adds detail to the makeshift mural—a painted bed sheet adhered to the barbed wire fence—she chuckles.
“I really didn’t want to add flowers. I think it looks weird. But the residents want it and this is about them.”
And the residents know it. Khalil Alfia’s father beams with pride as his son shows off the plant that started it all.
Noticing the camera, he says, “Take a picture. Take a picture of him.”
Families like his will continue to need volunteer aid—until, perhaps, they leave Camp Eleonas. But the campaign is a step towards freedom—in this one area of their life, the refugees can maintain complete control.
Omar breaks through.
Those who only volunteer for two weeks may conclude that art does nothing—Omar, for example, showed no signs of relieving his anger for several weeks.
But Leonie was invested for five months. Every day, she visited Omar in his family’s Isobox--to sit with him as he drew. Sometimes they talked, other times they sat in silence. But her consistent persistence created a routine that the family could safely anticipate—a refreshing change considering their journey to Greece was anything but routine. Leonie shared the moment she knew he had regained hope:
Omar’s normally-meek mother met her at the door with a hug and kisses. Startled, Leonie wondered what had happened. The uncharacteristic exuberance was quickly explained when the mother exclaimed,
“He finally draws with color!”
Sure enough, Omar had incorporated the other crayons in the box. A colorful city skyline stretched across the white canvas. And there were people in it—people who, Leonie adds, “looked alive and happy”. The drawing was a nod to Omar’s newfound hope—to leave this temporary home and settle down in Germany.
Project Elea Photography
I think this photo truly captures how excited the little boy was about his plant. The plant is in focus, and he is looking down at it with awe instead of looking at the camera. I also like that his family's "container," or IsoBox, is shown behind him, which gives the viewer a taste of what his living situation is like. The other photo next to it shows the progression--that his plant led to other plants throughout the "neighborhood." |
This mural "What if fall? Oh but my darling, what if you fly?" is a visual complement to one of the anecdotes in my article: one refugee broke down in tears when he first saw it.
The photos below also help provide visual imagery for aspects of my article that describe the setting of the camp:
Check out my article here.
Wednesday, June 21, 2017
Ramadan Afternoon: A Photo Essay
Ahmad, 11, watches Shrek the Third on his family's shared laptop; he is the youngest son. Chalkida. June 14, 2017. |
Khlail, 20, searches on his desktop for his saved Statistics and Dynamics textbook: "I want to study Mechanical Engineering. This is 1051 pages!" Chalkida. June 14, 2017. |
Hiva, 42, prepares potatoes to be cooked later in the afternoon. In observing Ramadan, she has not eaten since 4:00 am. Chalkida, June 14, 2017. |
Hiva rests in the common room while Ahmad watches television. Chalkida. June 14, 2017. |
Hiva prepares a cake for Ramadan celebration; her slow movements reflect the exhaustion from a day of fasting. Chalkida. June 14, 2017. |
Hiva displays her method for cutting onions, adding, "If you have to cry, cry." Chalkida. June 14, 2017. |
The Euripus Bridge connects Chalkida to the mainland of Greece; the family crosses twice a day (via a volunteer chauffeur) to spend the morning and afternoon in Ritsona refugee camp. June 14, 2017. |
Adnen, 17, navigates through his neighborhood. Asked if he speaks any Greek, he scoffs and shakes his head; "I'm moving to Germany." June 14, 2017. |
The island of Evia from afar. June 14, 2017. ___________________________________________________________________________________________ |
Additional Photos:
Monday, June 12, 2017
The Changing Dreams of a Barista
Nikos Domuros is the ideal barista. Charming smile, firm
handshake, flawless presentation—he blends a perfect coffee without even breaking
eye contact with his customers. And the regulars—who call themselves his
friends—say they could not imagine going anywhere else for a coffee break.
But Domuros has not always been a barista. In fact, five
years ago, if you told him he would be in Athens serving drinks for a living,
he would have called you crazy. Originally from Thessaloniki, the
self-proclaimed “unconventional Greek” started up his own graphic design and video
editing firm—something he had wanted to do since majoring in graphic design in 1997.
Life was far from perfect—as with many fine arts
professions, freelance graphic design is not always lucrative. But with a night-club
security job on the side, he was making ends meet.
And then the financial crisis hit.
What used to be a fifteen-hundred-euro monthly income
quickly became half that. His earnings continued to decrease until he was left with
a failed business. His only option was to move.
“I had to go South,” he says, “the more South it is, the
better things are. In Crete, you know, they’re okay. But bigger cities mean
bigger opportunities, so I came to Athens.”
For the first time since he was nineteen, Domuros found himself
living with a roommate; he was suddenly relying on friends—even friends of
friends---in ways he never expected he would have to do.
“And that’s how I ended up here, even,” he says, a cigarette
lingering too long between his fingers, “I used to come here for my coffee and
beer or whatever… when I quit my previous job I mentioned it [to the owner] and
he was like, ‘Okay do you wanna make coffee here on the weekends?’ I told him I
don’t know how to make coffee. And he said, ‘Well, you’re gonna learn.”
Domuros laughs and then turns nostalgic. “See there’s another example. You find support from your
friends and they become your family.”
It has been three years since moving to Athens, but he is
finally feeling a bit more stable. By September, he plans to be in his own
apartment—thanks to his savings from work.
But there is more to life than money, and the move to Athens
gave Domorus an avenue to pursue new talents. He teaches martial arts and deejays during the
weekends—a nod to his love for the arts.
“Yeah, I’d love to
run a media company again. But I’ve learned to live and let live.”
Domvros quickly hides the melancholy. He looks up and smiles.
“I’m still an artist. Martial arts is an art. Even coffee is
an art! Blending this stuff? It’s a f------ art form.”
Glancing around at the place he has come to love, it is as
if his next thought takes him by surprise.
“I guess my dream is to have both.”
“
Saturday, June 10, 2017
Much Ado About Athens: An Update
It's been two weeks since I arrived in Athens, and I think I am finally adjusted to the laundry-on-the-clothes-line, feta-cheese-with-everything, laid back way of life.
I absolutely love my little apartment that I share with four other girls. I have my own room, with a door that opens to a balcony and lets in lots of natural light. The best part? A bakery with amazing breakfast pastries right across the street. And every Friday, the street next to mine is turned into a market; for less than eight euros, I can buy enough fruits and vegetables for a week!
The Greek people I've met so far have been incredibly friendly, and for the most part they speak English. They love when we try to speak Greek in conversation--even if it is just 'thank you'.
As for Athens itself, I am in awe every day. The view from the top of the hills is breathtaking--no picture can do it justice. And its an archaeological heaven. With our American student IDs, we were able to buy a discounted package deal: the seven top ancient sites for only 15 euro!
Aside from museums and ancient ruins, the weeks have been full of other random activities. Arcadia staff provided two Greek cooking lessons--we made Greek salad, a cheese pie, and a spicy sausage entree. We visited some of the art exhibits from the Athens and Epidaurus Festival, including one theater performance. And we even visited an outdoor movie cinema...
The movie theater itself was really neat--set in the National Gardens at night. It's well-known theater that locals visit a lot; it showcases one movie for an entire week. Of course, the weekend we decided to visit, the movie of choice was The Queen of Spain. It was entirely in Spanish, with Greek subtitles. And it was a sequel. (Needless to say we didn't totally understand what was going on!) Even so, it was neat to do something that local Greeks do for fun too.
And that's it for now! I'm looking forward to exploring more of Athens soon (and hopefully other parts of Greece too!).
Hanging my laundry on the line like a true Greek :) |
7.50 euros worth of groceries! What a steal! |
The Greek people I've met so far have been incredibly friendly, and for the most part they speak English. They love when we try to speak Greek in conversation--even if it is just 'thank you'.
As for Athens itself, I am in awe every day. The view from the top of the hills is breathtaking--no picture can do it justice. And its an archaeological heaven. With our American student IDs, we were able to buy a discounted package deal: the seven top ancient sites for only 15 euro!
If you look closely, you can see Acropolis in the background (kind of above Tashi's head) |
Aside from museums and ancient ruins, the weeks have been full of other random activities. Arcadia staff provided two Greek cooking lessons--we made Greek salad, a cheese pie, and a spicy sausage entree. We visited some of the art exhibits from the Athens and Epidaurus Festival, including one theater performance. And we even visited an outdoor movie cinema...
The movie theater itself was really neat--set in the National Gardens at night. It's well-known theater that locals visit a lot; it showcases one movie for an entire week. Of course, the weekend we decided to visit, the movie of choice was The Queen of Spain. It was entirely in Spanish, with Greek subtitles. And it was a sequel. (Needless to say we didn't totally understand what was going on!) Even so, it was neat to do something that local Greeks do for fun too.
Practicing my Greek lettering :) |
Tuesday, June 6, 2017
...And that, my Friends, is Greek Coffee at it's Finest
It takes Giannis Bratsolias 126
seconds to make my iced coffee. He brings it to me with a smile; one hand
holding the blended drink, the other holding a glass of cold water.
I am the first and only one here in this early
morning—at Bar The Way in Pangrati,
Athens—and I watch as Bratsolia’s sister appears from downstairs to mop the
colorful floor in preparation for the day. She is wearing long jeans and a
white t-shirt, as if the hot and sticky temperature is barely warm enough.
I am here on a quest—to see if
coffee is as much a part of the Greek morning routine as it is the American. An
East Coaster myself, I am well-versed in the delicious potentials of the iced
coffee.
This particular coffee fulfills my
wildest dreams. It is a perfect gradient of browns: dark chocolate brown at the
bottom, caramel next, a light tan towards the top, and foamy white
deliciousness at the rim. I try to drink it slowly to soak it in, but it is so
light I consume it all within a minute.
The airiness of Bratsolia’s coffee
isn’t unique; it’s the epitome of the Greek caffeinated drink. When I tell him
I’ve only had American coffee, he replies, “You try this and tell me what you
think.”
A second customer arrives 13
minutes later, and Bratsolias gets to work making a drink for him before he
even says a word; it is remarkably quiet and the regular pulls out a cigarette
to smoke as he waits. He doesn’t pay—at least not from what I can tell; the two
speak a few words in Greek and I assume he is either family or on some sort
of tab system. After this second customer come two more, and soon a steady flow
of people begins to filter in.
Each customer here is quiet,
patient, and friendly. They have the same sleepy just-woke-up look as the
Americans back home, but there is a relaxed atmosphere that is a stark contrast
to the average east coast Dunkin-Donuts.
When I go up to pay, I tell
Bratsolia his coffee is delicious. Then I ask if he thinks Greeks can survive
without caffeine. He replies, “Our coffee is good.” I smile. That’s answer
enough.
And then I can’t help myself. I
spend another 3 euro on a second coffee.
Labels:
Food,
Greece,
Journalism,
Local Culture
Location:
Pangrati, Athens 116 35, Greece
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