How are you today, Friend?

The kitchen where we prepared meals for refugees in one of the camps = 2000 meals per day in this one camp alone. (The man in the photo is NOT Tiago.)

The following is another of the stories I collected while working in refugee camps in Greece.  These are true stories of real people, people who are now my friends. I share their stories in an effort to shed light on the situation...  

I notice that with each day, Tiago* is looking more and more down-trodden.  Each day I give him a hug and try to have cheery conversation during his infrequent breaks from the work.  But each day it is more and more difficult to see happiness in him.

“How are you today, Friend?”, I ask.

“Fine.  Well, actually not.  Do you really want to know?”, he says, looking at me with eyes that are about to burst with sadness today.

“Yes, really.  I really want to know.  Tell me.  How are you?”

“I am bad.  Very bad.  My health is not good.  This work is very hard.  Psychologically, I’m a mess.” He takes a couple of deep breaths to try to keep himself composed.

“I’ve been here for 3 months.  It’s too long.  Too much.  Everything I see and hear and know – it’s all too much.”  He can no longer look at me to speak.  To look at me would surely start his tears, so he looks away, he looks down, he looks past me.  But he can’t look into my eyes.

When he finally regains his breathing and his voice, he says, “But I can’t stop.  I can’t stop as long as they are here (gesturing to the refugees behind me).  Someone has to care for them.  Someone has to cook.”

And with that, he stands up and goes back to the kitchen.  Back to prepare another 1000 meals for the next round of feeding.

(*Tiago's name has been changed for security reasons)