This article was originally published in Acupuncture Today in April, 2017.
A child plays at Ritsona Refugee Camp in Greece.
If I once believed in fairytales, the dreamy blue Greek Islands was certainly one of them.
At the beginning of 2016 I had no idea what was in store for me, but I was looking forward to a personal retreat on the Greek Island of Paros; a graduation gift to myself after 22 years of motherhood, and 4+ years of Chinese medicine school. That first trip to Greece really was a dream come true. I saw with my own eyes that the water and sky are indeed THAT vast and THAT astonishingly blue; and I experienced that the Greek people are indeed uncommonly outgoing, warm, and joyful.
But even in that first breathtaking and dream-fulfilling trip to Paros, Santorini, and Athens, the signs of trouble in Greece were undeniable. Greeks make it their business to ensure that the international crisis occurring within their borders does not detract from the enchanting experience meant for tourists - for those who choose not to wander beyond designated tourist havens. Just outside of these beautiful destination areas, however – the back of the house, you might say – there is an eerie emptiness; abandoned real estate, barren storefronts, and uncomfortably quiet, over-grown and run-down villages.
While studying Traditional Chinese Medicine, I followed and admired the work of Acupuncturists Without Borders (AWB) and felt clear that community style acupuncture and not-for-profit relief work would be in my future. Admittedly a bit of a starry-eyed idealist, I knew from the get-go that our ancient, holistic, energetic and economically practical medicine held extraordinary potential to heal some of the deepest wounds of our troubled modern world. It seemed serendipitous, when I graduated from TCM school and my life circumstances relocated me to Europe, that AWB was mobilizing its throng of activist-healers to address the refugee crisis in Greece.
I reached out and dove in. I was soon to learn that visiting Greece as a relief worker is a vastly different experience than that of a tourist.
The Greeks, grappling with extreme poverty, unemployment, and political unrest, are host to an estimated 62,000 displaced people who have navigated treacherous crossing from the Middle East, by land or on foot, to arrive within the relative safety of Europe’s borders. They are dispersed among 50-some-odd refugee camps, barred from migrating to other European countries due to border closings. It is anticipated that some will be deported back to their countries of origin, and could face detention or death. The lucky ones may receive legal asylum in Greece, even though the economy cannot support them. These gruesome facts notwithstanding, I have been astonished by the generosity and concern of the Greeks I’ve met, who have transcended their own adversity to provide what relief they can.
The first day I arrived in a refugee camp with AWB, our small team of acupuncturists carrying our mobile clinic neatly stashed in our backpacks, what I saw, felt, and sensed made me feel small. What can a few of us do, really, to make even a tiny dent in the profound suffering we are witnessing? A message scratched on a wall in one of the camps spoke volumes: “We are not animals.” In a moment we had gained an education about the world, and realities not like our own.
The conditions we encounter in refugee camps are unpredictable, at best, and challenge us to employ skills we’ve cultivated in our personal meditation and Qi Gong practices. Acutely aware that we are standing in the heart of catastrophic human suffering, we endeavor to remain composed amid chaos, clear in our purpose, and present to our patients’ needs. It is essential that we are able to think on our feet, anticipate and function as a team, and deliver our medicine with steady and skillful hands.
Our team of healers collaborates with camp volunteers to identify space where we can set up our clinic. Circumstances are reliably less than ideal, and inconsistent. It’s often too cold or too hot, dirty, and lighting may be poor. We use whatever supplies, furnishings or materials we can get our hands on to set up our clean field and make the floor comfortable for our patients. We spend time walking around the camp, introducing ourselves, attempting to communicate with residents about our services with signs printed in Arabic and Farsi. We are excited and relieved when we meet residents who speak English and agree to help interpret for us in the clinic.
The simple yet potent standardized auricular acupuncture protocol we use in AWB field clinics is the NADA (National Acupuncture Detoxification Association) five-needle protocol, which was developed to support recovery from addiction. On their website, AWB explains that “the use of acupuncture for drug addiction led to its use for the prevention and treatment of trauma. Research in the past decade has shown that acupuncture is a helpful somatic therapy that rebalances the brain after significant stress, as well as the nervous and hormonal systems. Acupuncture treatment, especially shortly after exposure to traumatic events, can help prevent the development of post-traumatic stress (PTS). With more extended treatment, acupuncture can also restore resiliency for those who suffer from long-term PTS.”
In the eyes of the refugees we encounter, we see immense sadness, grief, pain, frustration, and loneliness. We also see undeniable signs of love, healing and hope. As we continue to return to camps over time, we are enthusiastically welcomed and residents line up for treatment. We are invited to have tea in refugees’ tents. We listen to stories of bombs that fell on workplaces, children lost to war, and of family members imprisoned or stranded in other parts of the Middle East and Europe.
We meet volunteers who have been working in the camps for many months or longer. Some come for short stays and then extend their service period. They become attached to the residents and see that the volunteer organizations are short-handed and that the needs are great. Several we spoke to reported that they work long hours, sleep poorly, eat poorly or not at all during the day, and describe the work environment as highly stressful. We recognize the symptoms of secondary trauma and arrange community clinics for volunteers in the evenings.
During treatments, we are able to observe the positive effects of our medicine. We see our patients becoming calm; some nearly fall asleep sitting up. We are told, through interpreters, that some sleep better, feel more relaxed, and there are reports of less pain. On some level, our work here is helping.
One of the most satisfying things about our medicine, for me, is our ability to connect, in a way that transcends words. Without imposing anything, we show up to create a sanctuary. We hold space for quiet meditation, and skillfully elicit subtle, spontaneous reorganization of organs and systems. We perceive each encounter as a seedling for individual, family, and community rejuvenation and rehabilitation.
Since last May, AWB has sent six volunteer teams to work in four refugee camps. An essential aspect of AWB’s mission is to train Greek acupuncturists to do this work, which expands its capacity to provide relief. So far, AWB has trained twenty Greek acupuncturists who now work in teams to provide treatments twice a week in the Oinofyta and Ritsona camps, near Athens. AWB’s goal is to expand treatments to three more camps in 2017.
Rather than doing nothing, or simply watching from afar, we are doing something. We are showing up, offering our time and our gifts; communicating with words and with our medicine that our deepest desire is for a more harmonious and peaceful world.
Want to help? Visit my Activism Page
