Andy Probert ‘s second  part of the Didim Syrian Box appeal’s visit on Friday to the camp at Torbali 

I’m not easily intimidated but I felt unease slip through the eyes and souls of some of our team in those early moments as they emerged from their vehicles and looked at the crowds – those milling round us, those from tents looking at a distance and those standing on the decrepit balconies up close.

It has to be said. We had left our comfy little lives and walked, almost blind, into a human zoo. Where we were the ones being watched. From curious eyes. Dead eyes. Staring eyes. We were their afternoon’s entertainment.

A satisfying click broke me out of the reverie from the enormity and challenge of the situation we were going to face in those seconds, minutes and hours over that hot Friday afternoon.

Debra had locked the car and walked over, but it was her shaking hands that I noticed as she handed over my car keys. “You ok?” I asked. “Yeah, yeah, it was just that moment when the boot was flung open, I just didn’t know what to do.” That raid on the car by the youngsters was put down, but set the mood for a few opening minutes.

She then looked across at the low-rise apartments, the filthy conditions, the kids running around, the mothers with babes in arms waiting patiently and the ever increasing number of men that hung back.

She turned back and looked at me, an unspoken moment flying out of her eyes that seemed to suggest: “God, what the hell have we have walked into.”

As others emerged from their cars, the buzz of the need to get down and into the job of dispersing the bags of food and supplies soon took over and put any fears aside.

A plan in line with the Kusadasi group, the land owner’s wife and the overseer of the camp, a fiesty bespectled elderly lady with henna on her hands was devised.

A ticketing system would be used to ensure that every family on the camp would each get two bags of food and goods that had been previously been bagged in Didim. As they came down the line, they would be handed eggs and bread bought that day.

Perfect. So the disorganised chaos that seemed to fly around us was brought to order as elderly women came forward and hobbled away with their two bags, almost achingly too heavy to carry for their thin frames. But determination saw them through as they walked on. Somehow they did it. Then came the young women, the young men……….

The eggs and bread line, manned alternately by Debra, Tanya and her daughter Olivia, Louise, moved smoothly, while Chaz, Mustafa, me and the other Kusadasi members hovered to ensure there was no problems and if any arose, they would quickly move in.

Other members manned the cars, so that when they were open, there were no raids from the flanks from the ever eager children, who had the gotten better of us once, and were impishly probing any moments of weakness to exploit again.

As the system persisted, the mood on both sides visibly lightened and a dawning realisation by the refugees that lining up – so very British – would produce results in their favour – was adopted.

The young men even linked arms to stop people podging in and there was a generally great atmosphere for those moments as the bags kept flowing and our mission gained traction, and ultimately momentum.
Looking back on the pictures of that maybe 30-minute period, everyone on our team was happy, relaxed and doing what they had wanted to come to achieve. Give out the appeal aid.

Given the relaxed moments, both sides made head way, the children calmed down and went back to their games and the women with their young sat or stood, patiently waiting for their turns.

With the bags exhausted, the need to keep the momentum flowing was now key. As Tanya went to sought the men in the van and bring the baby food and women’s supplies forward, the mood remained relaxed and calm, punctured by mini episodes:

1) A raid on one of our cars, led to a scrum from a swarm of kids and you had the odd sight of a young lad running off with a child’s top miles too small for him. Happy to pose for the camera with it, before smiling and dashing off. Children checking out the odd sandle or shoe to see if they matched and others just continuing to play among themselves.

2) Meanwhile, a young lad had caught his reflection in one of the cars. Nothing unusual, but it was as if he had seen himself in the mirror for the first time. It was too good an opportunity for him to miss and he decided to do a full facial health check – tongue, teeth, eyes, neck…..so intent that he created his own audience.

3) In the quiet shade of a tree, a group of men watched the proceedings unfold. One sadly was a music teacher who was yearning for home, simply because he had no musical instrument to keep in touch with his soul. Three young women, in brightly coloured clothes, easily laughed and conversed oblivious to the building situation ahead.

As I ambled back to the van, our team was ready to disperse the baby products, and this again produced a surge and swelling of people. In the van was Tanya, Olivia and a member of the Kusadasi group.

They bagged the baby products as quickly as they could and dropped the bags to grasping hands.

On the ground, the men of the team linked arms and just eased the crowds back as the surge grew. It was hot, it was stifling, it was also hard work to contain your emotions, particularly at both sides of the van, a growing number of young boys sought to exploit gaps in our defence.

It was at this point that Olivia came into her own, effectively bossing the situation and bringing the crowd to heel with an assertive approach beyond her years. Calmly, she was able to get the bags out while ticking off some of the crowd in Turkish to calm down and wait.

Working under pressure and keeping cool headed, it was like seeing someone quickly calming of age and reaching into herself and finding a hero that just got on with it.

It may have been missed by her mum trying to keep the system moving in the back of the van and as for Chaz, battling gainly to keep his own cool and keep the crowds at bay, it would have easily been missed. But she was a shining beacon. A touch stone on an afternoon riding on emotion. And handling a potentially and increasingly fragile situation – at the age of 18.

As the mood of the crowd slowly tipped again, instant decisions were made to close the van down and make a retreat to a calmer area for all of us to regroup. It had now reached around 2.15pm in the afternoon.

Despite having built small but shifting sands of friendship with the children who were happy to pose for the camera, they were still wired to picking out the weaker points. And it was at that point I came across one.

Earlier, one had opened one of the doors of a car and I caught him. He quickly offered his stolen stuff – a toothbrush and a couple of other minor things. I just tutted, took the stuff, and handed it back. He ran off without a moment’s look back.

For me, the point was that he handed back the stuff as he was caught red-handed. An instant remorse, and instant to let him have the stuff. Distribution turned on its head but if he was going to put the toothbrush to good use, let him get on with it. I saw the bigger picture evolving: the right supplies going to the right people.

So as I opened the driver’s door, a bag of stuff on the passenger seat was quickly ripped open by a determined young blighter. At this point our eyes met and there was a moment of understanding – desperation defined in a split second.

He slammed the door, and using that moment I slammed on the horn, The shock of the noise caused several children to back off and using that moment of space, drove off round the children and away.

Other cars followed and the retreat was on. The cars and van continued until we were out of sight of the camp. And then stopped. It was a breather. A mad afternoon that had started with a swarm of energy, and a mission to deliver. Relief was an understatement.

We had survived. We had delivered. We had come here and done what we intended. But as we looked at the van, with half of its contents still to be distributed, we had a choice: Do we gamble and return to camp and be at the mercy of what could an increasingly hostile reaction, or just call it a day?

Hard decisions and even harder talk were needed. We needed to think fast on out feet and reach a solution. And now.