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Good deeds: the mobile library reaching refugee's hearts and minds Good deeds: the mobile library reaching refugees' hearts and minds
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Amid the boredom and squalor of Greece’s refugee camps, the Echo library van’s books provide comfort and escapeAmid the boredom and squalor of Greece’s refugee camps, the Echo library van’s books provide comfort and escape
‘The Anne Frank came back to us recently from a man living in a tent in Malakasa,” Keira Dignan says. We’re on board the Echo mobile library, a donated minivan lined with DIY bookshelves, as it motors between refugee camps in Greece. The 24-year-old librarian is telling me about the most popular books held on its wooden shelves. “He said that reading about her situation had given him strength in his own.”‘The Anne Frank came back to us recently from a man living in a tent in Malakasa,” Keira Dignan says. We’re on board the Echo mobile library, a donated minivan lined with DIY bookshelves, as it motors between refugee camps in Greece. The 24-year-old librarian is telling me about the most popular books held on its wooden shelves. “He said that reading about her situation had given him strength in his own.”
Greece is estimated to host 90,000 refugees and migrants, and is struggling to cope. The Turkish government’s recent decision to open the border is likely to lead to another surge of displaced people. The Echo library was founded in 2016, at the height of the refugee crisis, and relies on a 15-strong volunteer team alongside donations to stock its shelves and pay for the van’s fuel – costs that come to roughly £13,000 a year. Dignan came to volunteer after finishing university in 2018 and never left.Greece is estimated to host 90,000 refugees and migrants, and is struggling to cope. The Turkish government’s recent decision to open the border is likely to lead to another surge of displaced people. The Echo library was founded in 2016, at the height of the refugee crisis, and relies on a 15-strong volunteer team alongside donations to stock its shelves and pay for the van’s fuel – costs that come to roughly £13,000 a year. Dignan came to volunteer after finishing university in 2018 and never left.
We’ve been on the road for about an hour when the library pulls up at a dusty yard. Once a factory, this is now known as Oinofyta, a refugee camp divided between Afghans and Syrian Kurds. UN-stamped tents rattle in the breeze. When I visit, 500 people are believed to live here, many of whom have only recently arrived from the notorious crowded island camp of Moria. “The residents have said they wish they were still in Moria,” Dignan says with a grimace.We’ve been on the road for about an hour when the library pulls up at a dusty yard. Once a factory, this is now known as Oinofyta, a refugee camp divided between Afghans and Syrian Kurds. UN-stamped tents rattle in the breeze. When I visit, 500 people are believed to live here, many of whom have only recently arrived from the notorious crowded island camp of Moria. “The residents have said they wish they were still in Moria,” Dignan says with a grimace.
A crowd of children gather expectantly around the van, and they grab at paper and pens as the library volunteers set up their marquee. Their parents are nowhere to be seen. Inside the old factory, a huge, sweltering hall has been divided and sub-divided into homes. The other part of the building holds a market stall almost indistinguishable from one in Athens, with detergent, fruit and cheap plastic toys. There is even a bar, with cans of drinks in the fridge for those lucky enough to be able to afford one.A crowd of children gather expectantly around the van, and they grab at paper and pens as the library volunteers set up their marquee. Their parents are nowhere to be seen. Inside the old factory, a huge, sweltering hall has been divided and sub-divided into homes. The other part of the building holds a market stall almost indistinguishable from one in Athens, with detergent, fruit and cheap plastic toys. There is even a bar, with cans of drinks in the fridge for those lucky enough to be able to afford one.
Back at the marquee, the children’s excitement has boiled over. They tear up their drawings and throw pens to the ground. Later, in a petrol station cafe, camp volunteers share their worries that the kids are scrapping on Kurdish-Afghan lines.Back at the marquee, the children’s excitement has boiled over. They tear up their drawings and throw pens to the ground. Later, in a petrol station cafe, camp volunteers share their worries that the kids are scrapping on Kurdish-Afghan lines.
Back on the road and on to the next camp. One of the challenges for the library is that people are always on the move. “We have changed our lending system to not ask for an address but to ask where the tent is,” Dignan says. The librarians collect books based on directions such as “up to the tent on the left of the big mosque”. (The mosque is often just another tent.) Sure enough, when we arrive at the next camp, she hurries off on a collection round.Back on the road and on to the next camp. One of the challenges for the library is that people are always on the move. “We have changed our lending system to not ask for an address but to ask where the tent is,” Dignan says. The librarians collect books based on directions such as “up to the tent on the left of the big mosque”. (The mosque is often just another tent.) Sure enough, when we arrive at the next camp, she hurries off on a collection round.
At first glance, Malakasa is more welcoming than Oinofyta. A forest-hooded mountain rises behind cabin-style blocks that could almost pass for real homes. The volunteers set up the library in the shade of murmuring pines. Parents, mostly Iranians, arrive with their children to sit and read to them. If you took a close-up picture, it could be a picnic.At first glance, Malakasa is more welcoming than Oinofyta. A forest-hooded mountain rises behind cabin-style blocks that could almost pass for real homes. The volunteers set up the library in the shade of murmuring pines. Parents, mostly Iranians, arrive with their children to sit and read to them. If you took a close-up picture, it could be a picnic.
Dotted around the portable buildings are pop-up tents. More and more people are coming. Living under a thin line of canvas takes its toll – and not just on the inhabitants. “I imagine we will see them coming back even more battered,” Dignan says resignedly, of her books. An Iranian mum says her family arrived two weeks ago, and the journey was “very difficult”. Her son, sick of translating, rolls his eyes. “Can I go now?” he asks. Everyone wants to leave.Dotted around the portable buildings are pop-up tents. More and more people are coming. Living under a thin line of canvas takes its toll – and not just on the inhabitants. “I imagine we will see them coming back even more battered,” Dignan says resignedly, of her books. An Iranian mum says her family arrived two weeks ago, and the journey was “very difficult”. Her son, sick of translating, rolls his eyes. “Can I go now?” he asks. Everyone wants to leave.
In Europe’s refugee camps, lives are squandered, hour by hour, month by month. According to EU figures, less than half of young asylum seekers in Greece are in school. The library lends books to 10-year-old polyglots and talented rappers. In Malakasa, I meet a 28-year-old Iranian man sitting under the shade of a tree. He has been there for a year. “What am I going to have here?” he asks. “I tried too many times for a job. I am a football player and a marathon runner and here I am smoking.”In Europe’s refugee camps, lives are squandered, hour by hour, month by month. According to EU figures, less than half of young asylum seekers in Greece are in school. The library lends books to 10-year-old polyglots and talented rappers. In Malakasa, I meet a 28-year-old Iranian man sitting under the shade of a tree. He has been there for a year. “What am I going to have here?” he asks. “I tried too many times for a job. I am a football player and a marathon runner and here I am smoking.”
In the camps, people disappear and resurface like books on a library shelf. Greece’s centre-right government is moving 20,000 asylum seekers to detention centres on the mainland, while at the same time expelling them from squats in Athens.In the camps, people disappear and resurface like books on a library shelf. Greece’s centre-right government is moving 20,000 asylum seekers to detention centres on the mainland, while at the same time expelling them from squats in Athens.
Even so, some stories are hard to forget. “There is one family who speak Urdu and the mother had made her way through every single Urdu book we had,” Dignan says. “When I was back in London I looked all over the place for another Urdu book and eventually I found one.”Even so, some stories are hard to forget. “There is one family who speak Urdu and the mother had made her way through every single Urdu book we had,” Dignan says. “When I was back in London I looked all over the place for another Urdu book and eventually I found one.”
Dignan returned to Greece, only to discover that the Urdu-speaking family had been evicted from the squat they were sheltering in. “My heart just dropped to my toes,” she says. “This place we used to go to every week – the calmest library sessions we would have – turned into a military zone.” She was haunted by images of “the little ones crying hysterically”.Dignan returned to Greece, only to discover that the Urdu-speaking family had been evicted from the squat they were sheltering in. “My heart just dropped to my toes,” she says. “This place we used to go to every week – the calmest library sessions we would have – turned into a military zone.” She was haunted by images of “the little ones crying hysterically”.
Eventually, though, on a routine visit to a camp, Keira found them. “They came out and saw the bus and we were hugging and shouting,” she says as she remembers the moment. “It was wonderful to see them again. And we said, ‘Come, come, we have Urdu books.’”Eventually, though, on a routine visit to a camp, Keira found them. “They came out and saw the bus and we were hugging and shouting,” she says as she remembers the moment. “It was wonderful to see them again. And we said, ‘Come, come, we have Urdu books.’”
• You can find out more about the Echo mobile library here. Julia Rampen is the digital night editor of the Liverpool Echo and a regular reporter on refugees.• You can find out more about the Echo mobile library here. Julia Rampen is the digital night editor of the Liverpool Echo and a regular reporter on refugees.