Refugees in Athens, Greece

Story & Photography by Hallie Dilworth

For me, traveling has always been a choice. I choose where I want to go, how long I want to stay, and at the end of it all I still have a home to come back to.

For some, traveling is not a choice, but rather a much more permanent, involuntary displacement. Their choices of where to go are limited, they have no idea how long they will be allowed to stay, and they may never return to their true home. If they do, it will not be the same as it once was.

The refugee crisis affects millions all over the world, from Syria to Venezuela. In Europe, Greece bears the brunt of much of this crisis, as it is often the first European country that migrants from the Middle East enter.

Their journey takes them hundreds of miles across mountains and deserts, all the way to the shores of Turkey where they await a boat that will carry them across the Aegean to the shores of Greek islands. Many of them do not know how to swim, much less have ever seen the ocean. And what’s worse, their voyage must take place in the middle of the night for less likelihood of getting caught by the coast guard. People from all walks of life—engineers, doctors, teachers, entrepreneurs—carry only the clothes on their back on this treacherous journey to a new country whose language and culture they do not know. They sleep in public parks and squares, sometimes squatting in abandoned school buildings. They rely heavily on NGOs for the most basic necessities like taking a shower. Their destination is typically Germany or England, Greece being just a stop along the way. Though some remain there for years, awaiting approval for visas in order to immigrate to those countries best suited for resettlement. It will take many years for most to feel even slightly resettled. I took this photo of the Parthenon in Athens, Greece while volunteering at a refugee center there for women and children. What makes this photo so special is the light. The sun sits just behind the Parthenon. If it weren’t in that exact position, the entire picture would be too bright to make out anything. Refugees experience a lot of light in their lives. They see the light of the sun come up every morning in their hometown. Then, they might see a light from an explosion in their neighborhood. They’ll use flashlights as they trek miles and miles through the wilderness. They’ll set their eyes on the lights of the Greek shore as they embark on the most terrifying journey of their lives. Then, they’ll see the light from the same sun come up every morning in a new place. Yes, the same sun, though it must seem so different to them now. The women and children I met while serving in Greece are the bravest people I have ever known. Waking up to that sun every morning, filled with the pain of losing their home and likely many loved ones, desperately trying to find an ounce of hope to get them through the day, is braver than anything I’ve ever done.

If you would like to support an organization that serves these heroes, please visit the International Rescue Committee website. www.rescue.org