* Any views expressed in this opinion piece are those of the author and not of Thomson Reuters Foundation.
I grew up on an island. As a child, the sea represented happiness and safety. It represented home. Putting on a life vest meant going on an adventure. Inflating our own dinghies meant that we could explore the shores without adults, at least until they called us to come back closer to the beach.
In Izmir and along the Aegean coast of Turkey – where thousands and thousands of Syrian refugees and other nationals are gathered to leave for Europe – the sea represents something completely different.
For the Syrian children on Turkey's shore, putting on a life vest and getting into a dinghy is a matter of life or death.
I have come to Izmir with some colleagues to assess how the European Commission can increase its efforts with life-saving basic assistance for people in need – whether they have just arrived to the coastal area from Syria or elsewhere and are about to continue their journey, or are stranded with no means to travel, or have been rescued from the sea. Walking along the sea front, I see a Syrian man sitting with a small black backpack. He's staring at the sea. He looks frightened. It's obvious that his mind is occupied by the difficult journey he is about to undertake.
A few blocks away from the ocean, the reality of where we are becomes painfully visible. Exchange shops have handwritten signs in Arabic saying "We buy Syrian gold". Your wedding ring or your daughter's earrings, if still in possession, can pay for meals or part of your continued travel to Europe.
Young men on the streets sell waterproof items. A common article is a little plastic pouch to put your valuables in. The cheaper version of the same item are large birthday balloons you can squeeze your papers or notes into.
Tape is on display as well, which is used for wrapping your mobile phone into layers of plastic – the one and only item that can help you stay in contact with your family and friends as well as to inform you on where to go next and how.
Clothes stalls on the main street display life vests and rubber rings of questionable quality. A tiny pink life vest catches my eyes and I hope that it will never have to be used.
We start talking to a Syrian couple in their late 20s walking with their four-month-old twin babies sleeping peacefully. They tell us that they left Deir Ez Zor in Syria because there is no future, just war. The man's brother was killed by Daesh (ISIS). They hope that their relative in Saudi Arabia will soon transfer money to them so they can continue their journey to Sweden. The man explains that the black market day to day work he does in Turkey hardly pays for his babies' diapers.
I can't imagine what it will be like for the young family to continue the exhausting travel to the north with two infants. Firstly, they will have to pay 1 200-1 500 US dollar per adult – almost 100 times more than what a legal ferry crossing costs – to a smuggler who will squeeze them into a small, overcrowded dinghy with over 40 other persons. A boat which can normally take not more than 20 people.
The short distance to the Greek islands on the other side can take hours, if you make it. The journey might happen at night. The engine might stop. Water might start entering the boat. The dinghy might deflate. The life vests on which you spent the money you so badly needed for other things might not protect you from the waves and you probably don't know how to swim. If the relative of the young couple does not send them the money soon, the sea travel will become even more dangerous. Winter is approaching. The waters will be choppy. Weather will be colder and your safety will be further at risk.
From Greece, you will have to make it by foot, ferry, bus or train up to the north, through the Western Balkans and then onwards. It will take you weeks to do the demeaning travel from the place where you feared persecution to the country which is to be your final destination. If you have little resources, you will sleep on the ground. You will have nowhere to wash. You will have little to eat. You might get separated from your family members in the midst of the travel. You might face violence along the way. You will be constantly exhausted.
The next family we talk to is from a poor neighbourhood of Aleppo, a Syrian city that has been at the heart of the crisis with thousands of civilians killed by government forces as well as armed groups. The family has big black plastic bags filled with life vests next to them. They are just waiting for dawn and for their smugglers to call so they can set off. They don't have much money so they will not be able to go all together. The father will leave for Europe together with the two daughters aged seven and nine. The mother and grandmother will have to stay behind with the two younger sons in Turkey. These are the last minutes they spend together for a long time, maybe forever. The grandmother turns to me and asks: "Where in Europe should they go?".They have no plan, all they know is that they have to get to safety and to a place where they can live a dignified life.
We walk past a Syrian Kurdish family that has been sitting on the ground for six days. The mother holds a one-year-old toddler in her arms. She wipes tears from her eyes with the edge of her headscarf telling us that they sold their house in Al-Raqqa so they could afford the expensive travels for the family to Europe. But upon arrival in Izmir the smuggler took all their money so now they are stuck on a street in a country where they don't have any connections. The mother cries out of desperation, thefather seems to have lost all hope. Their five-year-old daughter looks up at me with big eyes – she is too young to understand, but old enough to fathom the distress. They can't go back and they can't move forward.
We speak to a group of young Syrian men in their early 20s. They are travelling without their families. All of them have fled out of fear of being recruited to fight in the war. They are outraged and speak without stopping: "Why is the world allowing this to continue?", "Why has the world forgotten about us?", "Why do we have to embark on this travel?", "No one is good in this war. Neither the government forces, nor the armed groups. Daesh does not represent Muslims. Islam tells us not to kill.", "We have university degrees and professions. We will not ask European governments to pay for us. We will work and make our own living. All we seek is a worthy life."
A father of a three-year-old boy comes up and intervenes. He tells me, that he is lucky to have only one child so the escape will be cheaper for him and his wife. He says that if it wasn't for his wife and son, he would jump into the water and swim to Greece. This family has travelled all the way from Daraa in southern Syria, it has taken them almost a month. They sold their house and belongings upon hearing a rumour that boats were sent to Turkey to bring Syrians to Germany. When they arrived in Izmir they realised that there were no boats waiting for them and all they have left now is 1 400 US dollar, which is not enough for all of them to cross.
The area in Izmir where the Syrian refugees are gathered with their small backpacks filled with the few things they have left in life is bursting with human tragedies like these. Everyone carries their own stories of sickness, destruction and death. They have left one trauma to be trapped into another one, which will leave them with even more sorrow.
The children are waiting to put on their little colourful life vests, already exhausted from the war they have left behind. Getting on that inflatable dinghy tonight will not be a childhood adventure, like the ones I had at their age. For them, the sea does not represent happiness or safety. For them, the sea means leaving their younger brothers and mother behind. It means never seeing their childhood home again, and maybe never reuniting with their loved ones.
The sea represents hope for a future, a new life or simply just a life. It means taking risks and travelling on top of a graveyard of those that didn't make it.
And whilst I had my parents calling me back when I would drift too far out with my dinghy, the cry from their mother or father in Syria will not be heard.
Following this year's rapid increase of people seeking international protection in Europe from Syria and other countries like Iraq and Afghanistan, the European Commission has stepped up its humanitarian assistance for the most vulnerable people fleeing violence. The additional humanitarian funding package of €500 million for 2015-2016, recently announced, will mostly increase the life-saving humanitarian response inside Syria, but also in the refugee hosting countries of Lebanon, Jordan, Turkey, Egypt and Iraq, and in the transit countries in the Western Balkans.
The author of this blog post is Sofie Henell, Desk Officer for Turkey at the European Commission's Humanitarian Aid and Civil Protection department (ECHO), who recently went on mission to Izmir, Turkey, to assess the situation of Syrian refugees attempting the dangerous journey across the Mediterranean towards Europe.
More about the European Commission's humanitarian aid for the Syrian crisis.
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