'Life is unbearable' in Camp Moria 2.0
Warning: description of self-harm “In my first week working with Kitrinos, we were working in the camp providing wound care, and a patient came in to me with multiple deep, fresh lacerations to both forearms, which he told me he had done to himself with a broken bottle. While I was tending to his wounds, I listened to the patient talk about what he had been through on that day, and he told me through a translator that his life in the new camp, Moria 2.0, had become unbearable, and he didn't know how else to relieve the stress that he was feeling. Everything he’d owned had been lost in the Camp Moria September fire: all of his asylum paperwork, pictures he carried with him from home, and most stressful to him of all was the loss of community that he had felt in the previous camp. He was now living in a tent with people he didn't know, he felt completely hopeless because he didn't have any information about how his asylum claim would proceed now that his paperwork was all burnt, and he said the biting cold and the wind was driving him to the edge of what he could bear. The noise of the wind on the tent was relentless and stopping him from sleeping. Every day he woke up and didn't know whether that would be the day the authorities moved him out of the camp, and if they did where they would move him to. He didn't once look up from the floor while he was speaking to me, and every sentence was punctuated with apologies - he was so sorry that I was spending my time with him when he felt there were other people more worthy than him. I listened and reassured him as much as I was able, but there is so little hope that we can give with any honesty. Together we completed his mental health referral, and he assured me that he now felt safe enough to wait to see the specialists. Then he returned to his tent - I haven't seen him since but think of him often, and hope he managed to get the help he needs within an overwhelmed system.” - KH Volunteer, 2020.