It's the prevailing north wind that raises our guard as it puts the
Turkish beaches in the lee and gives refugees the wrong impression of
sea conditions further out on their perilous journey. It's a colder wind
that brought snow and countless cases of hypothermia in the past.
Beware the northerlies.
At the end of March, Greenpeace is wrapping up its refugee rescue
operation on the Greek island of Lesbos and handing over to Médecins
Sans Frontières/Doctors Without Borders (MSF) who are ready to take full
charge of the operation for the longer term. The last few weeks have
been quiet with only the odd refugee boat managing to break through the
new dictate from Brussels.
We have seen off the winter and should be proud of it. Nearly 100
Greenpeace staff and volunteers have donated their time, skill and
energy over the past five months in a spirit that can only be described
as "old school". MSF and Greenpeace have acted as one throughout, and
much of the handover is in name only as many of the hardened crew
continue their work under a different badge.
Summing up the last few months is a tricky task – no two days have
been the same. It's easiest explained in numbers, but numbers fail
dismally in this crisis of humanity, especially with politicians and
media banding them around like a currency on the stock exchange. Numbers
fail to describe the pictures etched into our minds: an outstretched
hand, a semiconscious gaze or even the reassuring nod from a colleague
as life and death decisions unfold amidst hysterical screams.
The numbers
MSF and Greenpeace assisted 18,117 people at sea between November 28,
2015 and March 23, 2016 and conducted 361 operations on the north coast
of Lesbos.
Operational Data
|
Guidance to shore
|
171
|
Guidance to shore with towing
|
24
|
Mass man overboard / capsizing / transfer of people on our boats
|
25
|
Other kind of assistance (such as guidance to solve engine problems)
|
141
|
There are two main categories of refugee boats. Neither is fit for
purpose. Inflatables carry up to 70 people and come in variable quality,
occasionally with the glue still sticky. ‘Wooden boats' describe any
type of boat that isn't a rubber duck, and these are the most dangerous:
they tend to capsize and sink quickly when they take on too much water,
or break up as they hit the shore. Both types of boat are filled with
petrified souls, but when the term ‘wooden boat' rings out over the VHF
radio it quickens the pulse and hand to the throttle.
Our team up on the hill (call signs Romeo & Juliette) perform a
dizzying array of tasks, from spotting and guiding refugee boats to
relaying information between officials and non-governmental agencies
responding on water and land. Here's a glimpse of what goes on behind
the statistics.
Guidance to shore – 171 boats
On a calm day this can be a happy affair. When the people in boats
realise we are friend not foe, the singing can start. After all the
hardship endured (one can only imagine) they are about to make it!
Smiles emerge as we exchange the thumbs up sign and cultural mediators
and medics begin to assess the condition of the new arrivals from a safe
distance.
Along the stretch of coastline we cover, there are about a dozen safe
landing beaches. We know them well now and I no longer need to refer to
GPS coordinates as I radio an estimated time of arrival to
Romeo/Juliette: "send the medics to Yogi or Chapel" or "ground support
required at Aphrodite or Sheep Farm".
Mostly it's just a case of tweaking their course, as they are not
accustomed to sailing. Before today, many had never seen the sea, so
they are not to know that a lighthouse signifies danger – and lives have
been lost on the rocks.
Other kinds of assistance (such as solving an engine problem) – 141 boats
"Check the fuel, check the fuel and check the fuel again" is the
phrase I remember from the ‘Beginners Guide to Outboard Maintenance and
Troubleshooting'. How true in this case. Outboards don't run for long if
the air valve on the tank is closed, the choke is out and 10 people are
sitting on the fuel line. The lucky ones break down after they have
crossed the Greek/Turkish border where help awaits.
We are not authorised to cross the red dotted line on the GPS that
signifies the border, so unless there's a "mayday" case, boats here are
left to the mercy of the Turkish coastguard (we have seen some shocking
footage). And I very much doubt if the refugees get a refund from the
smugglers. Anything up to 3,000 euros is paid per person, making it the
most expensive six-nautical mile journey on the planet. Anywhere else
and you could charter your own helicopter.
A dead boat in the water is also highly exposed to the weather. Waves
lap over the sides and people stacked in the middle get soaked (usually
the most vulnerable – children, women and elderly). Getting the engine
going again quickly is the best solution. Our cultural mediators (many
of whom were once refugees themselves) are now well versed in Outboard
Troubleshooting.
Guidance to shore with towing – 24 boats
When troubleshooting fails but the boat is still in reasonable
condition, towing is the best solution. But first we must secure
permission of the Hellenic Coast Guard – we do not want to risk being
accused of ‘people smuggling'. It's a complex political game out on the
water! There are many players to navigate: the EU border agency Frontex
has Norwegian, Portuguese, Bulgarian and Swedish boats out there. Add to
that NATO warships, Spanish lifeguards and German, Greek and Dutch
volunteer boats ... the Greek Coast Guard has the final say.
Then there are the practicalities of towing a rubber boat. Most have
no reliable anchor points and there's a danger that you can pull them
apart at the seams. The solution we've found is to put a thick towrope
down the middle of the boat and ask the stronger people on board to hold
tight with their bare hands. You won't find this technique in any RYA
Manual of Seamanship but then you won't find this situation either. It
works pretty well and is quick to deploy with the help of our
interpreters.
Mass MOB (man overboard) / MOB / capsizing / swamped / evacuation / transfer – 25 boats
This is the statistic that haunts our dreams at night. On 25
occasions many lives would have been lost had we not been on the scene.
As it was, a total of four people died during our operations. Each
occasion was different and the statistic covers a wide range of
interventions.
On the lighter occasions it may be a swamped inflatable with a broken
engine, but that could mean the kids in the middle were up to their
necks, babies being held precariously aloft and hypothermia and panic in
equal measure. The transfer of people from their boat to ours was
rarely a calm affair. We'd do a co-ordinated sandwich manoeuvre with our
two boats and try to offload the kids and babies first. We soon
realised that it was important to take some mothers too as there is not
much you can do with a baby in each arm! Sometimes outright panic would
engulf the boat and a mad scramble would ensue. Often a stern word was
required to maintain control.
Other occasions brought medical emergencies. There is a limit to how
much medical treatment can be done during a rescue although we did carry
oxygen and medical supplies. On one occasion the MSF medic successfully
resuscitated a baby that had been in the water and had stopped
breathing. On another we lost a four-year-old boy to the elements. Many
arrived in the first, second and third stages of hypothermia so we would
pull space blankets from our pockets like magicians. We were usually
only a few miles to the nearest port and a waiting MSF ambulance, so in
most cases the best option was to scoop up shivering children and run.
The worst incident was on December 16. Shortly after being threatened
with arrest from Frontex (we are not allowed to patrol) a wooden boat
capsized and sank. A total of 85 men, women, children and babies were in
the water. We were the first responders to arrive, within 20 minutes.
It was a scene from the Titanic. Death hung in the air. The Greenpeace
boats were magnificent. Our crew grabbed, hauled and wrestled folks
on-board, but still we lost two people that day. The Frontex boat
couldn't do much as their freeboard was too high – they put out ropes
instead! They don't threaten us with arrest any more and these days
often request our assistance. I pray we never get another day like that,
for everyone on the water it was traumatic, a day we will never forget.
As with all these rescues it's the faces that we remember. Our
contact with the refugees is intense, but it is over quickly. We check
their pulses and breathing but there is no time for names or life
stories. What happens to them after we deliver them ashore is not in our
hands … I wish I knew more. Even if they make it to Germany or Sweden
or wherever they want to go, I'm quite sure that many will grow up with a
phobia of the sea, or perhaps it just blends into the multitude of
horrific experiences they have had and continue to endure. Most are
Syrians running from hell.
Finally as we start the process of packing for the journey home I
find myself staring at my passport. How fortunate I am to have a bit of
paper that allows me to fly over these man-made frontiers. An accident
of birthplace. I feel privileged to have been the first face of Europe
to many and hopefully a friendly one.
Dave Logie worked as Greenpeace boat coordinator on Lesbos.