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A reportage from Lavrio, approx­i­mate­ly 60 km to the south­east of Athens, done in Decem­ber 2017, dur­ing a long halt in a self-gov­erned camp of Kur­dish exiles.

High on the mast, a flag of the PKK1floats above a group of two-storey build­ings rem­i­nis­cent of a dis­af­fect­ed high school. Built some six­ty years ago one hour south of Athens in the har­bor town of Lavrio in order to shel­ter refugees flee­ing the Sovi­et Union, and locat­ed in the heart of the town a few steps away from the har­bour, for the past 35 years the camp has most­ly shel­tered Kur­dish and Turk­ish polit­i­cal exiles, main­ly mem­bers or sym­pa­thiz­ers of the PKK but also of the MLKP and of the MKP2. For the past 3 years they have been joined by Kur­dish fam­i­lies flee­ing the war in Syr­ia.   The first camp was insuf­fi­cient to greet them all, a sec­ond camp was opened on a vacant lot on the out­skirts of town, at the foot of hills cov­ered in Mediter­ranean veg­e­ta­tion; this sec­ond camp is made up of refur­bished con­tain­ers bet­ter suit­ed to shel­ter­ing fam­i­lies than the shared rooms in the main camp.

Lavrio(Lavrio camp, Greece) 3 or 4 years ago, a 2nd camp was built on the out­skirts of Lavrio, to shel­ter fam­i­lies in bet­ter con­di­tions than those offered by the shared rooms in the main camp.

(Lavrio camp, Greece) Morn­ing cig­a­rette. For over 30 ans, the camp in Lavrio has shel­tered Turk­ish and Kur­dish polit­i­cal exiles. For the past 4 years, they have been joined by fam­i­lies flee­ing war in Roja­va. Has­san, a young teacher, had run out of his class­room, lit­er­al­ly, to escape from the police come to arrest him. Because he had par­tic­i­pat­ed in demon­stra­tions and sup­port­ed the devel­op­ment of the Kur­dish lan­guage, he was at risk of sev­er­al years in prison in Turkey.

Up until July 31 2017, the Greek gov­ern­ment pro­vid­ed dai­ly aid to the exiles through the Greek Red Cross. But under pres­sure from Turkey, it abrupt­ly ceased all con­tacts with the camp and its occu­pants, and has left the premis­es and com­plete­ly with­drawn from all aid. A vague jus­ti­fi­ca­tion for clos­ing down the camp was pro­vid­ed for “non-com­pli­ance with Greek and Euro­pean laws”, notably as per­tains to “entrances and exits”. If this kind of pres­sure exert­ed by Turkey is noth­ing new since regime oppo­nents are in the camp, the inhab­i­tants can now only rely on the sol­i­dar­i­ty of the locals and of orga­ni­za­tions such as the Greek church which brings food parcels to the occu­pants every week. This, despite the fact the influx of exiles has not dwindled.

(Lavrio camp, Greece) On July 31 2017, under pres­sure from the Turk­ish State, the Greek gov­ern­ment with­drew com­plete­ly from the camp and ceased all aid. The Greek Red Cross vacat­ed the premis­es it occu­pied in the camp and there is no fur­ther offi­cial aid. The only sup­plies come from activists, the church and indi­vid­u­als express­ing their solidarity…

A self-governed camp

The camp occu­pants’ refusal to aban­don their self-gov­er­nance served as an excuse for the Greek State’s withdrawal.

There’s an orga­ni­za­tion in the camp. A com­mit­tee is elect­ed by the occu­pants, of which I’m the spokesper­son,” Sedat, a man in his for­ties, explains. “We orga­nize dai­ly life with­in the camp, we man­age com­mu­ni­ca­tions with the asso­ci­a­tions who come in, with the Greek gov­ern­ment. We must also man­age hygiene and life in gen­er­al. With­in this com­mitte, there is also a youth com­mit­tee sub­di­vid­ed into sev­er­al sub-com­mit­tees: cul­ture, art…We must man­age the cir­cu­la­tion of peo­ple, the bud­get, it’s dif­fi­cult but with so many refugees, it’s impor­tant work. The occu­pants choose their rep­re­sen­ta­tives and we man­age as best we can until we leave. Then, they hold new elections.”

Lavrio

(Lavrio camp, Greece) The camp occu­pants choose the rep­re­sen­ta­tives who then orga­nize dai­ly liv­ing, notably, clean­ing, chores, breadmaking…

(Lavrio camp, Greece) “I’ve been here for 5 months. In Kur­dis­tan, I was respon­si­ble for the BDP in Bitlis”, Sedat says. “Man­ag­ing dai­ly life in the camp is com­pli­cat­ed. You have to man­age the cir­cu­la­tion of peo­ple, the bud­get, it’s dif­fi­cult but it’s impor­tant work as a refugee. The occu­pants choose their rep­re­sen­ta­tives and we man­age as best we can until we leave. Then, they hold new elec­tions”. Before they can leave the camp, mem­bers of the HDP must wait for an offi­cial reg­u­lar­iza­tion that can take months in coming.

350 peo­ple live here. Women, men, in all kinds of sit­u­a­tions. They can stay between a year to two and a half years. Most stay between 5 to 6 months. There is no gov­ern­men­tal aid nor aid from inter­na­tion­al orga­ni­za­tions. We must orga­nize and cov­er all our expens­es.  We hope the Greek gov­ern­ment won’t use any kind of force against us, but we think the Greek peo­ple will be on our side, the camp has exist­ed for over 35 years. The PKK is well known local­ly, and so are the Kurds. The Turk­ish gov­ern­ment has exert­ed pres­sure on the Greek gov­ern­ment in an attempt to destroy this camp. We make a local con­tri­bu­tion to the Greek econ­o­my by buy­ing from the local bak­ery, and from the local shops. The Greeks are also suf­fer­ing from a finan­cial cri­sis, but we try to link up with the local peo­ple. We try not to be too much of a both­er. We know we are in their coun­try, that we are guests here.”

Lavrio

(Lavrio camp, Greece)

Lavrio

(Lavrio camp, Greece)

We’re not here for the fun of it.”

He con­tin­ues: “We’re not here for the fun of it. If there is war in our coun­try, it is because of inter­na­tion­al pow­ers, but we don’t judge the peo­ples of Europe. We would also love to be liv­ing in our coun­try. The biggest need is for an offi­cial recog­ni­tion of this camp, there are peo­ple from all four parts of Kur­dis­tan here. We would wish to obtain the sta­tus of a refugee camp despite the attacks from the Turk­ish State. We do not wish to live in camps with peo­ple who joined ISIS. Three of our activists were mur­dered by the Turk­ish State in the heart of Paris, we don’t want to see that hap­pen­ing here. They still have a list of peo­ple they want killed, our occu­pants are afraid. And we want to pro­tect them. This is why we want this offi­cial sta­tus. Refugees have rights, we ask inter­na­tion­al orga­ni­za­tions to rec­og­nize us. The peo­ple here are not chil­dren of wealthy ones but we try to live in dig­ni­ty. If they imag­ine they will make us back down by starv­ing us to death, they are mis­tak­en I don’t want to go into the details of our insuf­fi­cien­cy of funds. As is the case for every woman, man, child, baby and young per­son, the peo­ple here have the same needs. Food, hygiene, every­thing you need to live with dig­ni­ty, do we have all that? Of course not, but we try to live with min­i­mal con­di­tions. I have been here for 5 months. In Kur­dis­tan, I was respon­si­ble for the BDP in Bitlis3. They want­ed to jail me, I had to flee. Per­haps we were not brave enough to fight,” he con­cludes with a bit­ter smile.

We find many elect­ed mem­bers of the HDP or of the BDP like Sedat in the camp. The sto­ry of each of the occu­pants in the camp in wor­thy of a nov­el. We meet sev­er­al young peo­ple who had to leave Kur­dis­tan because they were threat­ened with sev­er­al years in jail for hav­ing upheld the use of the Kur­dish lan­guage, for hav­ing par­tic­i­pat­ed in demon­stra­tions, oth­ers for their polit­i­cal, cul­tur­al and social involvement.

(Lavrio camp, Greece) Murat was a teacher. Sen­tenced to sev­er­al prison terms for his polit­i­cal activ­i­ties (par­tic­i­pa­tion in demon­stra­tions), he chose to flee.

(Lavrio camp, Greece) Cihan : “We chose to leave Sex Maq­sud (trans­la­tor’s note: a neigh­bor­hood in Alep­po). We crossed streets filled with corpses. My grand-daugh­ters are orphans. A wall col­lapsed on them but they escaped unharmed. We took to the road around 3 AM with 5 fam­i­lies. We did­n’t take any clothes with us. We arrived in Efrin and we lived for three months in a school with the oth­er fam­i­lies. Local peo­ple brought us food. Then, we went through Turkey. My chil­dren worked there. They have all left for Ger­many. They have been alone over there for 3 years. We stayed those 3 years in Turkey. We had no rights in Izmir. I am alone here. I must have surgery, my son told me “get out of there”. We crossed the riv­er. The police caught us and sent us to jail for 10 days. They sent us to the island of Kos. They want­ed to take me even fur­ther away from my chil­dren, but I refused. They paid 3 000 euros to get out of Greece. My chil­dren are study­ing and work­ing in Ger­many. Every­thing’s been destroyed in Syr­ia, there’s noth­ing left for us there. God only knows if we will ever go back there. This is our fate.”

As a whole, the fam­i­lies from Roja­va are less polit­i­cal­ly aware. They have fled from war, and have often lost mem­bers of their fam­i­ly. The camp is also a refuge for sev­er­al women who had to flee alone with their chil­dren. For all of them the road was hazardous.

Mohammed relates : “We fled from Dam­as­cus. We arrived in Cizire,4then in Qamis­lo5for work. Then we passed over into South Kur­dis­tan in Duhok, then into Turkey. We walked for over 9 hours. Once in Turkey, they asked us for 900 Turkey lira to take us to Istan­bul? We stayed over 15 days over there. We went to Edirne,6my chil­dren had noth­ing left to eat. The police saw us and told us to to away, to go away from there. All they want­ed was to get rid of us. We stayed with some­one for two nights, and crossed the riv­er to the oth­er side around 7PM. We went through the for­est. You have to be quick or else you nev­er get through. We walked for a for long time. We have been here for 3 months. I don’t know when we will leave. When we will get out of here. The Assad gov­ern­ment sen­tenced me to 6 years in jail, if only they told me I would­n’t be sen­tenced, I would go straight back to Qamislo.” 

Self-governance and daily management

Even more than the pre­car­i­ous liv­ing con­di­tions, the hard­est for the refugees is deal­ing with the wait­ing and the bore­dom that set­tles over them along with the feel­ing of no longer hav­ing any grip over the course of events. Despite the days that stretch out, all of them hang on to the hope of rapid­ly find­ing a way to reach the coun­try of their destination.

Lavrio

(Lavrio camp, Greece) In the camp, peo­ple relieve the bore­dom by read­ing, play­ing chess or tavla, discussing…the cell phone is indis­pens­able as it allows for con­tacts with fam­i­lies, smug­glers (for­bid­den with­in the camp) and entertainment.

For them, Greece is noth­ing but a tran­sit sta­tion. Uncer­tain­ty about the future keeps them from invest­ing ful­ly in the present moment. Start­ing an activ­i­ty in the camp, learn­ing Greek, launch­ing a project with an objec­tive in the mid­dle term, would be acknowl­edg­ing that the wait may be long, thus push­ing fur­ther into the future the goal they gave them­selves when they took the hard deci­sion to leave – a choice that was no such thing when the alter­na­tive was either prison or death; an expen­sive choice also, smug­glers demand­ing sev­er­al thou­sand euros at each stage of the jour­ney, elim­i­nat­ing by the same token the ones who can’t afford to leave. Far from fam­i­ly and friends, the exiles’ morale gets erod­ed as the months go by, even if friend­ships are born in the camp between peo­ple shar­ing com­mon his­to­ries and cul­tures. Reunions also, on occa­sion, with old com­pan­ions from the strug­gle or from university.

(Lavrio, Greece) Rehearsal for eware, tra­di­tion­al com­ic skits from Diyarbakır.

A dai­ly dis­ci­pline is need­ed to fight against bore­dom. The main camp has some thir­ty liv­ing spaces. Some are occu­pied by entire fam­i­lies, oth­ers by indi­vid­u­als, some are reserved for women. Each room self-orga­nizes. Mon­ey required for food is shared under the care of the des­ig­nat­ed “clerk”, and every week, the group goes for col­lec­tive shop­ping at the mar­ket, which allows for  cheap­er pur­chas­es. Dai­ly house­clean­ing and cook­ing chores are rotated.

(Lavrio camp, Greece) Room meet­ing to dis­cuss orga­niz­ing the week: who will cook, who will clean…This is also the time to smooth out the unavoid­able ten­sions of col­lec­tive living.

Lavrio

(Lavrio camp, Greece) The “clean­li­ness” com­mit­tee orga­nizes the clean­ing chores with­in the camp. Hav­ing both lost their father, one in the gueril­la, the oth­er mur­dered by ISIS, Ismail and Ahmed met in 2015, when Ismail went to vis­it his broth­ers and sis­ters in the gueril­la. Ahmed had been des­ig­nat­ed to act as his dri­ver. The two men were reunit­ed in the camp in Lavrio, and have been insep­a­ra­ble ever since.

Lavrio

(Lavrio camp, Greece) Every two to three days, a team is respon­si­ble for bak­ing bread for the whole camp. The rest of the time, the exiles get their sup­plies at a local bak­ery where they are warm­ly greeted.

Every week, the occu­pants of each room meet to crit­i­cize and self-crit­i­cize, and to dis­cuss ways to improve the orga­ni­za­tion. This is also the time for resolv­ing any ten­sions that may have cropped up: so-and-so did not wash the dish­es when it was his turn to do so, anoth­er stayed in bed past noon… Or to express one’s unhap­pi­ness, as did G. who talks about the depress­ing time at New Year’s, far from his fam­i­ly, after spend­ing six months wait­ing, and see­ing no end to it. Each room then des­ig­nates a rep­re­sen­ta­tive to the cam­p’s gen­er­al assem­bly which choos­es the elect­ed com­mit­tee for the over­all orga­ni­za­tion. This sys­tem is based on that of demo­c­ra­t­ic con­fed­er­al­ism, the PKK’s polit­i­cal par­a­digm since 2005, which aims at orga­niz­ing soci­ety in assem­blies, from the low­est rung, known as the com­mune, to the largest. With­in the camp, each room thus cor­re­sponds to a commune.

The youth com­mit­tee also attempts to orga­nize activ­i­ties. Dis­cus­sion ses­sions and debates are held four days a week. The pass­ing months see dif­fer­ent cel­e­bra­tions or com­mem­o­ra­tions. In Decem­ber, for instance, a cer­e­mo­ny was orga­nized to hon­or the mar­tyrs of Robos­ki and, a few days lat­er, a large sec­tion of the camp got involved in orga­niz­ing the New Year cel­e­bra­tion, a rare moment of col­lec­tive relaxation.

(Lavrio camp, Greece) Homage to the vic­tims in Robos­ki. Life in the camp is orga­nized around com­mem­o­ra­tions and cel­e­bra­tions relat­ed to Kurdistan.

The rest of the time, the exiles relieve the bore­dom from morn­ing till night by walk­ing around the camp or by sea­side and by drink­ing tea or cof­fee in the vicin­i­ty. Some go fish­ing ear­ly in the morn­ing, oth­ers go to Athens for a few days to set­tle admin­is­tra­tive for­mal­i­ties, to walk around or to vis­it acquain­tances who have cho­sen to live there in one of the many self-admin­is­tered squats in town. The Kur­dish move­ment par­tic­i­pat­ed in the open­ing of City Plaza, notably, one of the most devel­oped recep­tion cen­ters for exiles.

A lot of dis­cus­sions occur in the camp, around every­thing and noth­ing, over news from Kur­dis­tan, but most­ly about ways to leave. Upon arriv­ing in Greece, the exiles spend a few days in cus­tody, after which they are giv­en a paper inform­ing them they must make an appoint­ment to file a request for asy­lum. This offi­cial request often takes over a year to be processed, and the ones mak­ing the request are most­ly polit­i­cal cadres to whom the Par­ty for­bids clan­des­tine pas­sages. The oth­ers seek clan­des­tine means for leav­ing Greece and fil­ing their request in anoth­er coun­try. The Dublin III Rule stip­u­lates that the asy­lum request must be processed in the coun­try where it is first reg­is­tered, a way for France and Ger­many to avoid deal­ing with exiles who arrived through oth­er coun­tries. How­ev­er, none of the exiles wish to stay in Greece.

Lavrio

(Lavrio camp, Greece) Gafur, Siyar and Hasan have a cof­fee at the bak­ery next to the camp. Rela­tions with the locals near the camp are rather cor­dial, the exiles make a point of par­tic­i­pat­ing in the local economy.

Since smug­glers are for­bid­den access to the camp, the exiles con­tact them by phone. The smug­glers send them pho­tos of dozens of IDs from all Euro­pean coun­tries. Every­one then tries to find one with a face resem­bling his own. These are sold sev­er­al thou­sand euros, with uncer­tain out­comes; sev­er­al have tried to get through the con­trols with them, only to get caught. Oth­ers think to leave on foot, with or with­out smug­glers, but fail­ures are even greater that way. End of 2017, the sit­u­a­tion became even hard­er with rein­forced bor­der con­trols. Siyar, who has been in the camp for 3 months, puts at only fif­teen peo­ple or so the num­ber of those who have man­aged to get through.

The exiles head where their fam­i­ly ties are or, fail­ing those, where they have friends. Ger­many, Switzer­land and Swe­den are the des­ti­na­tions of choice. For many, France has main­tained an image of sym­pa­thy towards the Kurds, but it has been large­ly tar­nished by the con­di­tions it has reserved to migrants these last years. More­over, learn­ing the lan­guage is com­pli­cat­ed. For the younger ones hope to mas­ter the lan­guage of their host coun­try as soon as pos­si­ble in order to pick up their stud­ies or their pro­fes­sion­al activity.

If the search for bet­ter liv­ing con­di­tions spurs on most of the exiles, many also see it as a way to con­tin­ue their polit­i­cal strug­gle shel­tered from repression.

Lavrio

(Lavrio camp, Greece) Ismail is 32 years old. Sev­er­al of his broth­ers and sis­ters have joined the PKK. Both he and his rel­a­tives have been impris­oned on a reg­u­lar basis. In 2010 he had already received polit­i­cal asy­lum in Switzer­land in order to escape a total­ly fab­ri­cat­ed tri­al that end­ed in a dis­missal. His father was a jour­nal­ist and also dis­trib­uted the Kur­dish oppo­si­tion news­pa­per Özgür Gün­dem. In 2014, as he was leav­ing for his morn­ing dis­tri­b­u­tion, he was mur­dered by mem­bers of ISIS who sent a video to Ismail to claim the mur­der and telling him he was next on their list. Turk­ish police did not want to do any­thing about it. Then the repres­sion picked up and his pass­port was con­fis­cat­ed. His fam­i­ly begged him to flee so as not to go back to jail. He had to leave behind his wife and his three chil­dren. He has now been wait­ing for months for a way to join his oth­er rel­a­tives in anoth­er Euro­pean country.

Lavrio

(Lavrio camp, Greece) Lit­tle Sera and her moth­er Felek left Roja­va after Felek’s hus­band was killed by Jihadists. They want to join their remain­ing rel­a­tives in a Euro­pean coun­try. Felek stud­ied Eng­lish for four years in uni­ver­si­ty before return­ing to Roja­va, in Sere Kaniye, before the civ­il war broke out in Syria.

Lavrio

(Lavrio camp, Greece) Diana (on the left) is from Roja­va. She crossed the bor­der between Turkey and Greece ille­gal­ly, walk­ing for five days. She has been in the camp with her moth­er and her sis­ters for two years and wants to reach her father in Ger­many. She goes to school in Lavrio dur­ing the school year. Her friend Ruha’s sto­ry is almost the same.

Lavrio

(Lavrio camp, Greece) Prepar­ing a Kurte-sano show, a form of pop­u­lar the­ater from Diyarbakir.  Doğan (on the left) : “My name is Doğan. I am a jour­nal­ist with the DIHA agency (banned by the Turk­ish State in the wave of repres­sion fol­low­ing the attempt­ed coup d’état in July 2016). I’ve also worked for Azadiya Welat. I had to flee fol­low­ing the repres­sion in Turkey. The Turk­ish State has launched 27 tri­als against me and I have been sen­tenced to a total of 40 years in jail. I had no oth­er choice than to flee. There was a mas­sacre in Kur­dis­tan, we could not keep silent. I am also mar­ried. Once I reach France, I want to pick up my stud­ies and start work­ing again.”

(Lavrio camp, Greece) 4 days a week, dis­cus­sions are held on polit­i­cal and cul­tur­al topics…

As is the case in the cul­tur­al sec­tor, for Has­san, a young lit­er­a­ture pro­fes­sor who had to run out of his class­room to avoid arrest for uphold­ing the use of the Kur­dish tongue. The young man hopes to go on work­ing for the recog­ni­tion and devel­op­ment of the zaza dialect. In ped­a­gogy, as for Dilek* who was des­tined for teach­ing until the police tried to force her into becom­ing an informer, threat­en­ing her with heavy jail sen­tences when she refused. Or to make known the PKK’s strug­gle, as for Fırat* : “I’ve been here for 3 months. I want to con­tin­ue my activ­i­ties in Europe. After liv­ing the Kur­dish real­i­ty, it is essen­tial to talk about it, to share our project. This is a moral duty for every Kurd. We must tell our sto­ry to the world. We must explain what is going on, we must tell of the suf­fer­ings, widen the strug­gle. (…) Demo­c­ra­t­ic con­fed­er­al­ism must not only take root only in Roja­va, it must spread to the whole world. It may evolve in Roja­va, but it must go on improv­ing. It must not be lim­it­ed to that area, but must spread to the four cor­ners of Kur­dis­tan. It is thus my duty to explain why I am here, it is my respon­si­bil­i­ty as a Kurd. We must fight for our peo­ple, for demo­c­ra­t­ic confederalism.” 

(*) the names have been changed.

Loez
Decem­ber 2017

(Lavrio camp, Greece)


Translation by Renée Lucie Bourges
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Loez
Pho­to-jour­nal­iste indépendant
Loez s’in­téresse depuis plusieurs années aux con­séquences des États-nations sur le peu­ple kurde, et aux luttes de celui-ci.