Today was our last, last day at Skaramangas. We actually thought that yesterday would be our last time there as we’d left today free to see some of the sights in Athens. Standing in the entrance of the Acropolis museum this morning though, Eugene asked if I wanted to go back in the afternoon. The thought had been lingering in the back on my mind, and it seemed I wasn’t the only one having trouble letting go.
I kept thinking about the pros and cons of going back as I walked around the museum, reading about the amazing history of war that had troubled the Acropolis for the past few thousand years. When I met up with Franz later in the afternoon I still was still um-ing and ah-ing about going back. Franz pointed out that we’d only really be going because it would us feel good, rather than because our help would really be needed for the last few hours. This had also already crossed my mind, but I wasn’t sure if that spoke more for going o r staying.
We ended up making a semi-deal with ourselves to help us decide. The day before yesterday the mother and baby space was broken into for the second time in two weeks. Franz had the idea of buying an alarm system to help act as a deterrent to it happening again. Being the thorough planner he is, he’d managed to find out the names of a few shops that possibly had alarm systems. We decided that we’d go to one, and if they had an alarm system we’d go back to the camp to install it. It turned out there was a hardware store on our train line and in the direction of the camp. After some very friendly help from the a number of the staff we found and chose an alarm system and so made our way back.
Playing in the park the day before.
I’m really glad we did and feel much more settled about leaving now than I did yesterday. This afternoon I ended up impromptuly taking over the girls’ English lesson after a coincidental conversation with the other volunteers revealed I’m studying English teaching at uni. This was the first time in the five days that I got to use skills specifically related to anything I’ve studied, which was exciting. Unfortunately the lesson conditions weren’t great and the lesson suffered because of it. The space for the lesson is very small, there are no tables, attendance is voluntary and the language level is quite diverse, ranging from virtually no English to being able to hesitantly form sentences. I also don’t have any experience teaching English at such a beginner level and only found out 5 minutes before the lesson started that I’d be teaching it. At 3:30, lesson time, about 8 girls were sitting on the mat in front of me in a squished circle shape, by 3:45 there were around 15 and by 4:00 the numbers started going the other way. First with a mass exit and then a gradual dwindling until there were only three by the end at 5:00. It was great to be able to help the girls who stayed but disheartening not to be able to offer a better quality lesson, or set of lessons, that cater for all of the girls’ levels and learning needs.
After the lesson Franz knocked on the door of the women’s and baby space container. He took me to the harbour edge, also the edge of the camp, to watch the sunset. The glowing yellow ball disappearing behind the mountains on the horizon and the gently lapping water on the concrete wall was really beautiful and peaceful. I didn’t want to stay too long though. With the daylight quickly disappearing I was keen to move to the playground. I really wanted to see the little girl I’d spent so much time with on the previous days. I hadn’t got to say goodbye to her the day before, a key reason in my lingering sense of ‘unfinished business’. Unfortunately she wasn’t there. A number of other, slightly older girls came up to me though, giving me hugs and wanting me to watch them on the monkey bars and swings. After a while I decided to go for a walk to see if I could see her elsewhere and as I was leaving the playground one of the older girls came up to me and said she’d take me to see her. I was taken by her perceptiveness.
On the way to the ‘house’ the girl told me that people from the same country are housed in the same part of the camp, and she was from the same place as the little girl. It was really amazing going into the little girl’s place. She gave me the biggest hug, and continued to do so throughout the evening. Sometimes, as she tightly hugged my neck, pulling her face towards mine she would say something enthusiastically. Sadly I have no idea what the words were. Unfortunately I also couldn’t speak much to her family. Her older brother who could say a few sentences served as the translator. It was enough though, combined with gesturing, for me to understand that they were inviting me to eat with them. And it was enough though to let me know that she had been looking for me earlier that morning and that she had understood me telling her what my name was yesterday. It was really lovely being there even though we couldn’t communicate with each other using words. I think the adults were also a bit amused by the little girl’s enthusiastic hugs, although I’m not certain. When I left the mum gave me a big hug, which was really lovely. Especially as I hadn’t really been able to ask her if it was ok that I spend time with the little girl on the other days. I gave the little girl my scarf when I was leaving.
It was with contentedness that I walked back across the camp, the light almost fully gone, for the last time…at least for now.