The Aid Worker's Story
The day to day life of a refugee camp worker
The story of brave volunteers in a Macedonian refugee camp.
"A couple of days ago I was watching TV with my mates. Now I'm running a refugee camp!" splutters Mark, an engineer in his normal life. The volunteers of CARE are quickly initiated by the camp supervisor ."Anything I tell you may change tomorrow; ...all I ask is that everyone learn to be flexible."
Still shell-shocked from landing in the midst of a teeming throng of desperate, traumatised refugees, the aid-workers-to-be get their first orders at the Skopje camp. "We unload the buses one at a time, get the driver to open up the door, but don't let them off because there'll be chaos." Minutes later a bus arrives. The crowd gathers, all longing for the touch of a missing relative. The workers hand out food and water and slowly shepherd everybody off the bus. Nothing goes wrong, reunions are made and people move into the ever-more crowded tents. Mark is amazed, "I feel really pleased that we managed to do it." But it's only the beginning. "I'd say that enthusiasm level usually lasts for about two to three days..., then the tiredness starts to hit," says the camp supervisor. On every spare patch of ground the tents go up. Between the refugees, teams of NATO soldiers, truck in and out food, sleeping bags and more and more tents. The green T-shirts of the CARE workers stand out as they hurry to and from the supply trucks distributing the goods. 70 miles away German Nato soldiers make way for a new camp outside Stenkovec. Neighbouring Serbian and ethnic Macedonian farmers are uncomfortable at the mushrooming camps, but NATO carry on regardless. 26 year-old camp supervisor Jo is now charged with two camps and 15,000 refugees. "We've got this new camp, we expect refugees very shortly..., but there's no way we can put them under shelter." Yet somehow, they do. In the still of her camp quarters at night Jo speaks to her diary. "Tonight I had the feeling of having a panic attack. It was horrible. I've calmed down now but I felt as though the weight of the world was on my shoulders and it was more responsibility that I could bear." She is just a girl from Melbourne she says, trying something new. If she had stuck to her plans she'd be touring Prague by now. A decision every minute, a new bus every hour. Sun-burnt, harassed aid workers reassure each other as news comes of thousands more arrivals due any hour. "You''ll cope, you''ll cope." "A thousand each.... She''ll be right." People talk about figures, of ten thousand people waiting, five thousand people waiting to get into the camp but it's still hard to visualise what ten thousand people looks like queued at the border. Or how to fit ten thousand people into buses. The sense of enormity is overwhelming when finally confronted with the reality of the people. The talk seems impersonal, of people to being processed. Emotion is revealed and quickly shut down. "I can't shed a tear all day so I''ve got to get that out of the way, so I can get on and help." Yet relief does come. French UN soldiers decide to set up a football match for a bit of distraction. The soldiers line up against a team of refugees, as girls on the sideline admire the soldiers' legs. Away from the fear, children lose themselves in the excitement of the camp, weaving through the crowds and screaming on the Kosovan team. A massive cheer goes up as the refugees win 4-3. Despite all the misery there is still hope here. "This is the closest you get to a real deep sense of humanity," says humbled philosophy student Andrew. "It's the whole spread from the very worst to the very best."
FULL SYNOPSIS
Still shell-shocked from landing in the midst of a teeming throng of desperate, traumatised refugees, the aid-workers-to-be get their first orders at the Skopje camp. "We unload the buses one at a time, get the driver to open up the door, but don't let them off because there'll be chaos." Minutes later a bus arrives. The crowd gathers, all longing for the touch of a missing relative. The workers hand out food and water and slowly shepherd everybody off the bus. Nothing goes wrong, reunions are made and people move into the ever-more crowded tents. Mark is amazed, "I feel really pleased that we managed to do it." But it's only the beginning. "I'd say that enthusiasm level usually lasts for about two to three days..., then the tiredness starts to hit," says the camp supervisor. On every spare patch of ground the tents go up. Between the refugees, teams of NATO soldiers, truck in and out food, sleeping bags and more and more tents. The green T-shirts of the CARE workers stand out as they hurry to and from the supply trucks distributing the goods. 70 miles away German Nato soldiers make way for a new camp outside Stenkovec. Neighbouring Serbian and ethnic Macedonian farmers are uncomfortable at the mushrooming camps, but NATO carry on regardless. 26 year-old camp supervisor Jo is now charged with two camps and 15,000 refugees. "We've got this new camp, we expect refugees very shortly..., but there's no way we can put them under shelter." Yet somehow, they do. In the still of her camp quarters at night Jo speaks to her diary. "Tonight I had the feeling of having a panic attack. It was horrible. I've calmed down now but I felt as though the weight of the world was on my shoulders and it was more responsibility that I could bear." She is just a girl from Melbourne she says, trying something new. If she had stuck to her plans she'd be touring Prague by now. A decision every minute, a new bus every hour. Sun-burnt, harassed aid workers reassure each other as news comes of thousands more arrivals due any hour. "You''ll cope, you''ll cope." "A thousand each.... She''ll be right." People talk about figures, of ten thousand people waiting, five thousand people waiting to get into the camp but it's still hard to visualise what ten thousand people looks like queued at the border. Or how to fit ten thousand people into buses. The sense of enormity is overwhelming when finally confronted with the reality of the people. The talk seems impersonal, of people to being processed. Emotion is revealed and quickly shut down. "I can't shed a tear all day so I''ve got to get that out of the way, so I can get on and help." Yet relief does come. French UN soldiers decide to set up a football match for a bit of distraction. The soldiers line up against a team of refugees, as girls on the sideline admire the soldiers' legs. Away from the fear, children lose themselves in the excitement of the camp, weaving through the crowds and screaming on the Kosovan team. A massive cheer goes up as the refugees win 4-3. Despite all the misery there is still hope here. "This is the closest you get to a real deep sense of humanity," says humbled philosophy student Andrew. "It's the whole spread from the very worst to the very best."
Produced by ABC Australia