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The Crisis of a Commodity or the Commodity of Crisis Pt. 2: Moria

Second, was Moria Refugee Camp in Lesvos, Greece.

Many refugees end up on Lesvos by sea in part of the exodus due to its close proximity to the Turkish border.

In this camp people were distributed in different neighborhoods based on their governmental classifications.

Christians in one part of the camp, single women and unaccompanied minors, Syrian Muslims, Africans, the list goes on with each corrupted political vulnerability vs another.

Why versus? Moria is a starting point for many refugees.

Some make it past the questioning process and some don’t in every thought possible.

Due to governmental bias, certain groups receive predominant treatment over others.

Each group has their neighborhood in what is often referred to as a modern day concentration camp.

Cutthroat, bleak, with a sliver of light peaking behind almost closed eyes.

The eyes that follow you in Moria are not only piercing, but something about them still continues to haunt me to this day.

The majority of these are people who have narrowly escaped the horrors of war only to risk their lives by sea in the middle of the night with hopes to be rescued by Greece’s Coast Guard.

Even upon trying to talk to children or interact with anyone in the camp we were greeted with cold, lifeless stares.

Albeit walking in after a riot because a Haitian man was denied asylum on appeal, these people had no comfort for themselves let alone any to give to other people.

Immersed among a sea of lifelessness was 10-year-old Ahmed buckled over a backpack which contained his life’s survival contents.

He was awaiting his father’s questioning buckled over in misery and anxiety when a group of older men saw him and gave him a chocolate Kinder candy.

He politely refused, but the men insisted wanting to cheer him up. He opened the chocolate and gave a piece to the four men sitting around him before taking one for himself.

The men walked away and Ahmed was greeted by a few of my classmates wanting to talk to him about his journey. They ushered me over to try to translate for them.

Ahmed told us he was traveling to meet his mother at Moria with his father and sister.

His mother was arrived two weeks prior and they were escaping life after fleeing Syria.

My classmate Jessa commented on how she wanted to learn Arabic and in Arabic Ahmed told her all she needed to do was practice.

He was sharp and witty and kind, and found his first experience with Snapchat to be hilarious.

He left us with wisdom far beyond his age saying “if we do good and keep a pure heart that God will ensure good will come back into our lives.”

In his young age, he had already evolved past many grown men I’ve known.

I hope ten-year-old Ahmed from Syria will grow to live many lives in one lifetime educating the people of this world.

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