This story starts in early September when the European refugee crisis was front and center for most media outlets. I felt horrified. Having grown up in Germany, I couldn’t imagine how my beloved country and region was physically handling the influx of thousands of people who had lost everything, but I was damn proud of Angela Merkel for answering the call of humanity and inviting refugees to make Germany their adopted home. I was touched, but knew that not everywhere in Europe would be so gracious. With so many lives at stake, I knew I had to do something. My colleague Kim & I decided that we needed to raise money, a targeted type of material donation, find a van, a third person, and take off to wherever seemed a good place to help. Over a month, we raised nearly £4,000 on a GoFundMe site I created, crowd-sourced a large van packed to the brim with high-quality warm children’s clothing, coats, blankets and baby carriers…and we found our volunteer driver (and new friend), Joe.

Joe, Gillian & Kim leaving the UK (from left)

We left the UK early on Sunday, 26 October and drove all day and most of the night, with a delicious dinner pit-stop at the house of a colleague whom we had never before met, in Munich. (Thank goodness for social media, and for our company Pearson, that gives us 3 paid volunteer days each year!)

At around 11AM the next day we we arrived at our target camp in Spielfeld, Austria — a large camp on the Slovenian border that, a few days before our planned departure, was getting tons of air time for being underserved and understaffed. While we didn’t expect to be immediately welcomed into a camp or be permitted any direct contact with refugees, we certainly didn’t expect that we would be grilled about paperwork. (“We can’t let you in unless you’ve filled out the correct forms in advance.”) What? We just wanted to drop off our high-quality, pre-sorted and packaged donations, and ask how we might be of assistance in making multiple food runs with our van and our funds…from all accounts, the refugees there weren’t being fed or clothed by the people who had assumed responsibility for them, and the pictures I had seen looked pretty dire. We were offering ourselves in any way that was required, and willing to jump through whatever hurdles the camp’s powers-that-be saw fit. Instead, we seemed to be treated as a threat to the “systems” that had been put in place. It was a bizarre, and frankly very frustrating moment that made me completely reevaluate our trip, and left me feeling very stupid for having thought our efforts would be welcome. But we quickly decided to move on, and used our Facebook network of individual volunteers who were on-site across Croatia and Slovenia to find a place that needed help right at that moment. It was a gamble. I certainly hadn’t intended for us to drive that far, but based on the physical state of the refugees we saw in Austria, we were convinced things would be worse the further south we traveled, and had some faith that somehow we’d be able to help if we kept on trucking.

We drove the winding backroads through postcard-perfect Slovenian farm towns, all three of us in awe at how beautiful the country was. Ignorant though it may sound, I think I had envisioned that at some point in our travels, I would have seen struggling pockets of refugees traveling along the sides of the road. Instead I saw a blonde, Slovenian woman on horseback riding through a field, and people going about their lives. The reality, I believe, is that European governments are doing their damnedest to keep these refugees out-of-sight, and contained to the designated routes and camps, regardless of how difficult and treacherous those routes may be. Racism and fear are in full swing at the governmental level. We also quickly learned that many, if not most, of the refugees in said camps, have NO idea where they are being sent, or in some cases, what country they are in. They have lost access to information, identity and the freedom of choice or movement.

We arrived at a hostel in the small town of Brezice that was the designated coordination point of a group of volunteers who had come in from all over to do their part to help. We were, once again, told that our clothing was likely not going to make it through to the camp, due to police barricades. At that point, I felt like crying. I thought about the cynics and the naysayers who had told me that I should have just donated to the Red Cross, and began to think that maybe they were right, although in my heart I knew that our intentions had been good. What would we tell the people who had donated funds, clothing and time? As we were considering our departure, the volunteer’s loosely-appointed coordinator made a call to Rigonce, a camp just a few minutes down the road on the Croatian border and learned that they would take our donations if we got there quickly.

The police waved us through the plastic tape without hesitation and we entered the open, tentless and muddy field that is Rigonce refugee camp. (Perhaps our confident looks and emergency roadside high-vis vests helped.) I immediately asked a lady who was preparing food at a plastic table if they could use our donations. She seemed relieved and told me that many people needed warm clothes…we were just in time. Joe unloaded the van and I began to sort clothes into piles on a tarp. Within no time, refugees began to approach me. This camp seemed to be a temporary holding ground for disabled, ill, elderly, and mothers with small children…in other words, the people who needed our clothing the most. I did my best to understand their requests and handed out many hats, scarves, baby’s blankets and warm sweaters, trying to match people’s sizes to what we had on-hand. I had read stories about individuals running black market clothing operations from refugee camps, but like so much of the news that’s out there, believe this to be absolute nonsense.

Clothing distribution point in Rigonce, Slovenia camp

Once we emptied the van, we headed back to town to load it up with many hundreds of Euro worth of food. We cleaned house and bought all of Aldi and Lidl’s bananas, cereal bars, juice boxes, apples, and just about anything that was individually packaged and easy to distribute. As I was loading food from into the van, a Slovenian woman approached me and very bluntly asked if I was going to a refugee camp. Based on the concerned look on her face, I fully expected a lecture on how they were “ruining her country” or some other lecture. Instead, she frantically explained that she needed to get her donations to them immediately but hadn’t been allowed access to the camp. Could we help? Yes!! I took her bags and hugged her. I was so proud of the spirit of the Slovenian people in this town, including our friendly and supportive Aldi and Lidl grocery checkers, who may have allowed a few items to slip through, unscanned.

Some of the food we bought

We brought the food back to the hostel and once again synched up with the volunteer coordinator who let us know that we could go into Brezice camp and drop off our food once a window of time opened up for feeding. He warned us that our access to the camp depended on the mood of the Slovenian police.

Kim and Joe left with another volunteer to pick up freshly-baked bread from a local bakery, and I was asked to go with another volunteer to the camp. We needed to get there as soon as possible. I thought I would just be waiting there for Kim and Joe, but she started to talk about how the feeding would work. She warned me that Brezice camp was hell, and that I would probably be shocked. Wait, I thought, am I actually going to be feeding people? This is not what I had pictured. A little bit of fear crept in. I learned that the few thousand refugees living there hadn’t eaten in two days and would be hungry and angry. As we drove across the police line (they waved us on without hesitation, knowing we were helping to make their jobs easier), what I saw paralyzed me with fear. A thick, blue haze of smoke rising up from a hellish-red glow of campfires, and thousands of refugees swelling against the metal boundaries of the camp, with seemingly hundreds of fully armed Slovenian riot patrol policemen. Suddenly I thought of what could go wrong. They were all staring at us, knowing that we had food or information. What if we were mobbed? Smelling the burning plastic, and under advice from a Red Cross medic on the scene, I put on a mask and gloves (food prep 101!) Once Kim, Joe and all of the bread arrived, about 5 of us frantically began to assemble small packets of food. 2 slices of bread, one tin of sardine paste, and one slice of cheese for adults, and a banana, cereal bar and juice box each for children and babies.

Brezice refugee camp, Slovenia

Shoving my fear aside, I stood on the line, ready for the first 50 refugees to come by and take their food before getting on buses. The very first person I handed food to thanked me warmly, with loving eye contact and true gratitude in his voice. Then the second did the same. And the third. And the fourth. I mistakenly handed two bags to a man, and he handed the extra bag back saying “you give me too much!” I dropped a bag, and a refugee picked it up and gave it to me. As I began to sense the relief and the kindness of these people, I started to warm up and feel confident. When I handed women their food bags, I also put my hand on their shoulders and gave them a squeeze and a smile. They smiled back warmly, understanding my meaning in that way that women do. Anything I could do to make them more comfortable and to offer a small dose of human kindness, I did. It could be the case that they hadn’t had any compassion in days or weeks.

A mother & child in Brezice refugee camp after nightfall, with temperatures close to freezing

After what seemed like 1,000 people took their food and got on the buses, suddenly things came to a halt. No more buses were coming, and the people at the front of the line grew impatient. A Syrian refugee (I wish I had gotten his name but the frenetic pace of activity prevented much small talk) who was generously offering to help translate for volunteers and police and had been hanging around the food station approached me. “Please, these people have seen that the others have food and they are hungry. Will they get food, too?” We all realized that we had to do something and the volunteers and police formed a plan for 4 of us to go into the masses of people and begin handing out food in random fashion. My Syrian friend helped me pack up and carry a few boxes of food and walked with me into the camp. The others went to different distribution points. “Please, please, give us food!” I began to hear. “I have child! Please give me food!” “Baby” “I have three children! We need water!” Suddenly their hands were everywhere, outstretched and begging for their turn to eat. I did what I could, but the task of deciding who eats and who doesn’t is heart-wrenching. My Syrian friend helped to translate and helped me determine who had and who hadn’t eaten. We passed out hundreds of bananas, cereal bars and apples.

In the camp, I saw women holding infants lying in piles of rubbish, mud and excrement, exhausted and resigned to their fate. I saw people huddled around burning plastic to stay warm. I saw women faint and heard coughing everywhere. I saw children who had been separated from their parents, and desperate parents looking for their children. I saw outstretched papers, quickly realizing that people saw me as a lifeline. I smelled the odor of human toil, unwashed bodies and fear. I saw Slovenian police treat refugees with genuine warmth and understanding, in spite of their masks and riot gear. I wanted to do so much more than I did. I felt so, so sad when the food began to run out, and they saw it happen, too, but they understood and they cheered for us as we packed up, and snapped a quick photo of our volunteer group.

The volunteers at Brezice refugee camp (I’m on the right)

This small group of volunteers Kim, Joe and I joined was the only dominant presence in this camp. If we didn’t distribute food, no one else would. Where was the Red Cross and all the other “established” NGOs that I had believed to be in full control when emergencies happen? While the Red Cross had a few absolutely wonderful medical personnel on-site, they certainly weren’t conducting any kind of widespread relief effort. My biggest realization from this trip is that individuals, not organizations, can be the most powerful players in situations of human crisis. Unburdened by the layers of hierarchy and bureaucracy, we can go quickly and easily to where help is needed, and if barriers aren’t in place, can do real good and offer 1:1 human kindness, compassion and relief. Isn’t that what matters? Or can those things only come from labeled groups of people?

Will I go back to the Balkans (or anywhere in Europe) and do this again? Absolutely. I can’t stay away. These refugees are my brothers, my sisters and my friends. I have posted photos of them on Facebook, and Facebook prompts me to “tag” them with names. I wish I could. For my part, I will keep doing what I can to help these men, women and children until I can learn their names and see them living a comfortable and safe life. No person is more entitled to humanity than any other, and I look forward to a world without borders. I am a proud idealist, and I am proud to have volunteered with some of the most beautiful citizens of this world we all share. Let’s all do what we can, when we can, putting our fears and perceptions aside, ignoring negative propoganda and just choosing to make a difference!

#EuropeActNow #RefugeeLivesMatter bit.ly/wwrrr