Tag Archives: Moria

short movie: ΤΟ ΕΛΑΙΟΔΕΝΤΡΟ

by Marily Stroux

Υποχρεωμένη να ζήσει σε μια σκηνή μέσα στους ελαιώνες που περιβάλλουν το hotspot της Μόριας, η 16χρονη πρόσφυγας Παρβανά Amiri εντυπωσιάστηκε από τα ελαιόδεντρα, έγραψε μια ιστορία και δημοσίευσε το πρώτο της βιβλίο, ΤΟ ΕΛΑΙΟΔΕΝΤΡΟ ΚΑΙ Η ΓΡΙΟΥΛΑ, με τη συνεργασία της Μαρίλης Στρουξ και την υποστήριξη του δικτύου αλληλεγγύης w2eu (“Καλώς ήλθατε στην Ευρώπη”) στη Λέσβο.
Αυτό το βιβλίο είναι η βάση της ταινίας ΤΟ ΕΛΑΙΟΔΕΝΤΡΟ.

Η ζωή στο hotspot της Μόριας μέσα από τα μάτια της νεαρής κοπέλας, οι διάφοροι τρόποι με τους οποίους οι πρόσφυγες χρησιμοποιούν τα ελαιόδεντρα, η δύναμη της Παρβανά να γίνει παρατηρητής των δικών της συνθηκών διαβίωσης και να τις μοιραστεί δυνατά με τον κόσμο, υφαίνονται σ’ αυτή την ταινία μαζί με τις καθημερινές ιστορίες και τις πολιτιστικές παραδόσεις των ντόπιων που ζουν στενά με τις ελιές, καθώς και με τις αδιάκοπες προσπάθειες όλων όσοι είμαστε σε ομάδες αλληλεγγύης και θέλουμε να δούμε τη θάλασσα μεταξύ Τουρκίας και Ελλάδας να γίνει γέφυρα που ενώνει και όχι σύνορο θανάτου.
Οι ταινίες μπορούν μερικές φορές να γίνουν πραγματικότητα.
.
Διάρκεια: 18 λεπτά
Μια ταινία φτιαγμένη με σχέδια, φωτογραφίες και “οικιακά” βίντεο.
Δημιουργήθηκε στο διαδικτυακό εργαστήριο του σκηνοθέτη Βασίλη Λουλέ “Κινηματογραφώντας προφορικές ιστορίες”.
.
Σενάριο, Ζωγραφική, Σκηνοθεσία και Παραγωγή: Μαρίλη Στρουξ.
©2021

Book: Letters from Moria

!Download: Book “My pen won’t break, but borders will”!!!

In September 2019 the Watch The Med Alarm Phone received a GPS-location close to the northern coast of Lesvos. It was sent from a boat. We informed the Greek coastguard and the rescue teams on the shore. Some hours later we got in touch with the people again and they confirmed they were safe and had been brought to a camp.

copyright Parwana Amiri

It was only a few days later, when some of us went to Lesvos to remember and celebrate 10 years of struggles on this island with the network of Welcome to Europe, we contacted the people who had been on that boat and they agreed to meet us. They told us about the hard trip that was behind them, they told us that they had to try four times before finally reaching Greece. Twice they had been intercepted by the Turkish coastguard and another time blocked by the Greek coastguard near Alexandroupolis.
Continue reading Book: Letters from Moria

Letter to the World from Moria (No. 13)

Author: A migratory girl

Note: This photo is not showing the persons described below in the letter.

I am the mother of two sick babies

Every mother raises up her baby being proud of it from the first day. When she kisses her baby, her baby kisses her back, and this is the absolute happiness for her. When the child grows, she is watching how it plays with others. She watches it grow and develop. These are the joys of a mother. 

I have raised my two children under the hardest conditions of life. I spent everyday praying for them. But while the body of my four year old girl grew, her brain did not follow along. And the same happened to my boy.

I love my children. But society humiliated us for them being different. I will never forget that everybody expected my husband to get married again, because I gave birth to mentally disabled babies.

I didn’t even know that I was getting married. I was so small, getting married was for me was like playing with my dolls, and it was the same for all other girls of my very young age.

Continue reading Letter to the World from Moria (No. 13)

Letter to the World from Moria- (No.6)

Author: A migratory girl

copyright: Salinia Stroux

I am a volunteer translator

I am the father of two children. I am the husband of a woman full of emotion. And above all, I am a human being. It is only one aspect of my current situation, that I am also a refugee, one among thousands of others.

Every day, I work for hours to help people access services and solve their problems. Every day, exhausted, I run 900m distance to eat lunch in hurry, and quickly come back to continue help more people.           

On these days where I am helping, my wife carries all the housekeeping responsibilities alone: She looks after the children, waits in endless lines to get some food for us all, washes clothes, puts some order in our abode. She does all these things with pleasure, so that I can help translate the troubles of the people standing in the sun for hours, in need for someone to communicate on their behalf.

What happens to our children when she needs to go away from our tent and leaves them in our neighbour’s tent? Are they safe? They will not be bothered by someone? They don’t miss us? Such questions torture me during all the day.

Today, I am sorry that my name is father. I am sorry, that I cannot be the good father – as I want, that I cannot be the good husband – as I want. I try to be a good father, and I try to help all the others who suffer the same conditions like us.

This is only an Abstract of the letter.Read the whole letter on infomobile.w2eu.net

Parwana

p.s. Thanks to the father, husband, human being, volunteer translator, who shared his story and happens to be a refugee today!

Letter to the World from Moria- (No.5)

Author: A migratory girl

These eyes bother me!

I am young girl full of energy, power and self-confidence. Everyday there are a lot of voices inside me inviting me to let this energy out. BUT I am in Moria, between thousands of unclean eyes, that are looking to my body and not to my soul. These eyes bother me. I can not play volleyball. I can not even just walk straight down one path. My head should be down. When I am crossing the roads it is difficult like passing the borders for me.

200 metres to the toilets. 400 metres to the food queue. Again 400 metres back. Along this distance there are hundreds of eyes looking to me.

Girl-molesting is common, is daily. Even when they disturb us we are not supposed to answer them. We are not supposed to turn around. We can not say: ‘Don’t follow me! Stop bothering me!’

Continue reading on infomobile.w2eu.net.

Parwana

I am sorry for Moria‘s girls, specially for my sisters.