THREE DAYS OF HOPE

Wednesday morning. We pick up people from various refugee camps. One family cancels at the last minute—we expect that. Instead, a single mother with two sons joins us on the spur of the moment.

Then we’re off: out into nature, to a place accessible only by boat. Wooden bungalows stand among olive trees, along with a common room and plenty of space to play. With luggage and provisions for three days, a motorboat takes us to this retreat run by the Hellenic Ministry. We arrive. We take a deep breath. We get to know each other.

At the lunch table, we—about a dozen volunteers from various organizations—sit with twenty guests from Afghanistan and Iran, including several children. After washing the dishes by hand, the children run around the grounds. A fishing line is cast into the sea, and the first conversations begin.

This time, all the participants are Muslim, but they know that we are Christians and want to share about Christianity. The microcamp is not only a time of rest for body and soul, but it is also meant to refresh the spirit.

Now Siya is in his element. He understands the culture and knows how to find a way into their hearts. With love and plenty of humor, he brings the group together as a family.

This is important so that an open dialogue can develop and we can discuss questions of faith together. They should feel free to ask their questions about God. We want to share the Bible and our faith—respectfully, transparently, without pressure.

An Iranian couple leads the first session. They teach and facilitate small-group discussions on the differences between the Bible and the Quran, the significance of the Bible as a holy book, Old Testament prophecies about Jesus, and the fundamentals of the Christian faith.

Meanwhile, the children play with Play-Doh, listen to the story of Noah, and build an ark big enough to hold all their stuffed animals. Together, we memorize a Bible verse.

Before dinner, a soccer game breaks out spontaneously. A teenage girl stands on the sidelines, watching the “men’s sport” longingly. On the spur of the moment, Katrin hands the children over and goes onto the field with the girl. They give it their all, playing enthusiastically. What fun! The girl should know: women are equal. Her place is not on the sidelines.

Maintaining a balance between cultural respect and lived equality remains a challenge.

In the evening, there’s lentil soup, games, and spontaneous dancing. The first day comes to an end.

In the morning, Siya goes fishing with a man. During the morning team prayer, an elderly Afghan woman joins them and says, “I’ve never been to such a beautiful place.”

The second session focuses on Jesus: who he is, what he did, and why we need his salvation. This raises many questions. A young man is visibly moved by the thought that the promised King was born in a stable. The participants are amazed at how Jesus lived—and that his disciples were ordinary people just like us. Many knew Jesus as a prophet. But for the first time, they receive a coherent overview of the Christian faith.

Meanwhile, the children create artwork from collected natural materials.

The afternoon is free time. It offers plenty of opportunity for good conversations. Together we bake: traditional flatbread—and Swiss braided bread. In the dough, as in life, we discover differences and similarities.

A woman shares her story: Her husband was shot in the head by the Taliban. He survived—but he hasn’t been the same since. He takes strong medication and is mentally absent. Every morning she gets up early and bakes fresh bread for her three children. Her strength is admirable. She says, “In the microcamp, I feel at home in Afghanistan—the nature, the animals, the sounds, the trees.” Here she can recharge.

Later, another woman shares her story. She has a physical disability. Since her sister-in-law’s death six years ago, she has been helping her brother raise four children. Despite everything, she laughs a lot. Her sense of humor is contagious.

In the evening, they play games late into the night. In just two days, a close-knit community has formed. Some don’t even want to sleep—because soon, everyday life in the refugee camp awaits them again.

Friday. Farewell day. After breakfast, we discuss open questions of faith and offer prayers. The women pray together for good health, residency permits, their families back home, and more. Before we pack, everyone wants to take photos—of themselves in this beautiful natural setting and with their new friends. We’ve become like a family. We help each other clean up and load our luggage.

In the afternoon, we sit together on a large raft and float across the water. The boat ride brings back memories for many of the crossing from Turkey to Greece. Traumatic stories are shared—and yet there is surprisingly a lot of laughter. Even dolphin fins appear. With the children, we repeat the Bible verse and recall the most beautiful moments of this microcamp.

Then it’s time to say goodbye. Fortunately, only for a little while. Because the relationships remain.