Cover Story: Welcome to Prison by Dr Rhona Eskander

The headlines no longer fazed me. Another crisis. Another country. Another day. The numbers seemed vast; the problems are immense. It never crossed my mind that I could help.

It was watching the documentary Human Flow that led to my volunteering

pursuit. After much research I came across Health Point Foundation—a NGO, nonprofit, volunteer-run relief organisation that was set up for the provision of medical, dental and educational services to displaced individuals regardless of religion, race and nationality.

The Greek island of Lesbos was its next port of call. The hub of the refugee crisis and one of the many locations that Health Point Foundation does work from. Moria, the main camp on the island, was going to be my home for one week in April.

An eight-hour overnight trip with my colleague eventually found us on this small island.

As we drove up to the site, the graffiti juxtaposed on the grey wall caught my eye: ‘Welcome to prison’.

It haunted me: Are we really living in a time where a modern-day concentration camp exists?

Once an army barracks, Moria Camp is surrounded by multiple layers of steel fencing topped with coils of barbed wire. Tents spill outside the official perimeter into surrounding areas. Its official capacity of 1,800 has now been far surpassed, with an estimated population of around 7,000. The smell of sewage fills the air. Surrounded by mounds of rubbish, the drain behind us erupted when a pipe in the camp’s overloaded sewage system burst the previous week.

Amongst the rubble, refugees strive for normality. The place is peppered with small coffee stalls, barber shops and fruit stalls. The people crave identity, normality, sanity. Through the maze we went, getting lost twice but eventually finding Health Point’s location. We were welcomed by one of the volunteers, waving our passports frantically in the air in a bid to get past the desperate crowd in need of medical care.

The Dental Clinic is small—no more than 13 square metres accommodating two surgeries, all instruments and a sterilisation area. Lighting barely exists and CQC standards are laughable in this situation.

We were greeted by the real heroes of this world. Raayan, our coordinator, was a successful Saudi dentist who left his life and practice to dedicate months to Health Point and travel the world. Angela, a volunteer from Lisbon, has spent years helping those in their plight. Wais is a beautiful refugee from Afghanistan. Once university-educated, he found himself desperate to leave his home county in pursuit of a better life. Bored and frustrated in what he calls hell, he approached the dentists and offered his language skills to help the patients. Every day he would arrive promptly, looking impeccable and nursing for the dentists—better than some qualified in the UK.

His dedication and desire to help us still astounds me. We later met Abdullah, another dentist from Libya who has decided to dedicate the next year to Health Point Foundation. The team are strong and different in their own ways.

Raayan would triage every day. Clinics start at 8:30 a.m., and the days are filled with extractions, access cavities and pulp extirpations. Some needed periodontal treatment.

Some people just wanted a sense of routine—a scale, because that’s what they had at home when they were regular attenders.

Most refugees in the past were only in this camp for two months. Now, some have been here for almost two years. Who is to deny them their annual check-up?

Others suffered from excruciating pain. Extractions were rife. There were no radiographs; we assesses and did what we could. However, what broke us even more were the ones who insisted on holding onto teeth. It became apparent that this represented hope. One woman told me, ‘I have to hold onto this tooth. If I don’t have hope, what’s the point?’ So, I dressed the tooth.

Kaly, my colleague, asked a patient to show her which tooth was causing pain. She handed him the mirror and he stared at the mirror for what felt like an eternity. She quickly offered comfort. He expressed sorrow as he hadn’t seen his own reflection for more than seven months.

Imagine how many times we walk past a mirror, check our selfie reflections and are constantly faced with our appearances. This man had not looked for months and couldn’t recognise himself.

We saw 35 patients per day. Each day we became proactive and coped with our materials (or limitations thereof). One day the torch broke, so accessing each tooth was achieved using touch and feel as well as a phone torch. The sharps bins quickly became full, with no signs of collection, so we were filling empty water bottles. We ran out of suction tips, so we had to get patients to spit in the bin.

Amongst the hardship, a beautiful bond was formed. The team played music in the surgery and we laughed with everyone around us. The children are so beautiful and grateful for oral hygiene tools and stickers. It was hard not to become attached. There was opportunity to meet the other volunteers—teachers, opticians, doctors and more. So many beautiful souls just playing their part in this tragedy.

After each day was finished we helped Angela with the disinfection and autoclaving process, setting up for the next day.

Evenings were spent in the square. Protests took place daily. This week’s protest was because a refugee had died because of lack of medical care available in the camp.

The desperation hit me. So many of these people have been stripped of basic needs because they’re forcibly removed from their homes. They are fighting against circumstances beyond their control.

One day Kaly and I drove to the same spot where all of the refugees come off the boat in search of a better life. The garbage-filled field was strewn with thousands of life jackets and personal belongings—baby formula, books, CDs, papers, any sense of identity brought with them in an attempt to have a home. Then they walked for hours to Moria.

There is no answer for this situation or solution that one can think of. I am not here to preach politics; my knowledge is too limited. However, taking a few days out of your year to offer the skills which we take for granted go beyond your imagination. Please consider giving just a few days to provide pain relief, a sense of normality and a real difference to the other humans in this world.

The real danger in this world is when we become immune to human suffering.