In this blog, I’d like to share my experiences on Lesbos. This period has been the most remarkable time of my life. I’ll do my best to put it into words, though I know that words will fall short. I would truly recommend everyone—young and old (there was even an elderly couple in their sixties)—to go here. It broadens your perspective and helps you get to know yourself better.
It’s Friday evening. “What shall we do tonight?” Yvonne, Janne, and I ask each other. We could go for a drink—just a hundred meters away is the harbor—but we also want to visit the cemetery. So we get in the car and drive along narrow paths, surrounded by trees and heathland. Birds are singing; crickets fill the silence with their sound. A serene peace rests over the cemetery. The sun slowly sets behind the hills.
But this peace is only on the surface. As we walk around, we see the sorrow and suffering. About two hundred people are buried here—people who fled from hunger, war, or violence. People with dreams. People who wanted to build a future in Europe or somewhere else. For them, it turned out differently. They drowned at sea, washed ashore here, and were given a grave. On at least half of the stones it says “unknown.” Have you ever seen a grave in the Netherlands marked “unknown”? We also find the grave of three children from one family, aged seven, five, and zero. There’s no grave for their parents. Were these children sent alone on the boat?
In the camp, there is deep grief for those who have been lost. We received seven trainings on how to deal with people suffering from trauma—trauma caused by war, persecution, or the dangerous journey. Yet, in this place of sorrow, I witnessed something extraordinary: genuine hope and happiness. Hope for the future. Hope through learning. Hope through helping one another. Hope in the church, the Oasis, where God is worshipped in many languages, by people from different nations and backgrounds. A glimpse of heaven on earth (Revelation 7:9).
I saw happiness in teaching. Every day when I arrived at the “tarp”—the large canvas under which I taught—the children ran toward me shouting, “Teacher, teacher Carine!” They hugged me as if they hadn’t seen me in weeks, even though it had only been a day. They beamed with pride when they received a sticker for helping clean up. They were so proud of the hats they made for my birthday, and overjoyed during our water fight on the last day.
Precisely because these children have so little, they are even happier with the small things. Your presence and attention mean so much to them. It gives a deep sense of purpose. From them, I learned what gratitude truly means. Let’s try to live as they do—thankful for the little things, and grateful for what we do have.
- Carine Verdouw, fourth-year pabo student
This enriching experience was made possible through the support of Erasmus+, which enables international collaboration and professional development. Through this program, we were able to engage in meaningful exchanges, broaden our perspectives, and strengthen our commitment to high-quality, values-driven education. We are grateful for this opportunity and look forward to building on these international connections in the future!
