Andy Probert’s third and final instalment on the appeal aid drop at Torbali

The words were coming thick and fast, but solutions were light on the ground.

Recriminations, mixed in with blunt language, conversations on the sidelines, solutions probed, solutions smashed. And a conversation behind our backs – simply because it physically was – that was to be a brief turning point.

All the cars and the van had beaten a retreat to a neutral point half way down the dirt track out of sight of the camp. Either side of us was fields and mining aggregate quarries. The odd bin lorry banged its way through and a few cars sidled past.

For those passing by seeing – on a public holiday – a group largely made of white foreigners and a few Turks having a full blooded conversation was no doubt the highlight of their journey down that road to Nowheresville.

And it was here that our dream died in the dust of getting all the aid back to those that needed it.

Looking on, there was a clear split in opinion between the Kusadasi and Didim groups on what to do next and how to distribute the aid safely.

Gone were the smiles of earlier, gone were the hugs of the kids, gone was the easy atmosphere of achievement. Gone, ground into that dust track. Reality again kicked in. Frustrations grew.

“All I wanted was the chance to come here and donate stuff to the kids. They’ve been waiting all day and it hasn’t happened,” was one comment from Didim.

“I know and we really appreciate what you have done today and what you have brought, but I don’t want to be responsible for anyone to get a broken arm,” was argued back

Misel (Kusadasi) tried arguing the case for Kusadasi that we – Didim – were in danger of basically undoing all their good work of nine months’ rapport with the refugees. And the mood of the camp could equally turn in a new and damaging direction.

The scorching response of an exasperated member from Didim made me wince but brought the decision making into clear view. The more we argued, the higher chance of the refugees revolting, and hijacking the aid.

Compromises, common sense and clear-headedness should have been the order of the day at that point.

Our adrenaline had been working on overload for the best part of the day, it was now stretching a bit thin when Didim was faced with the potential of not getting their aid in to those that deserved it.

A clearly exasperated Chaz took it all in, so I offered him a Polo – a happy pill – from a forgotten packet. In fairness, Chaz had been an absolute quiet albeit forgotten, mountain, a rock, up at the camp, marshalling errant kids and watching all the time. An unsung hero.

He had been pushed pulled and prodded and he’d retained a sense of aggressive calm – a bouncer with a Zen like attitude of dealing with the over-eagerness of the kids, asserting the control when needed over the young men, and helpful to the mums with babes in arms.

But as talk continued, it was obvious that the doers were getting frustrated. Pockets of conversations flowed – how many overseers is there on the camp, is there a leader in each of the apartment blocks, and so on. Ultimately we were probing but trying the impossible. It was at this point that we hit deadlock.

An offer to carve up the last of the aid and distribute to another camp was also knocked back. For one, where was the camp and who were they? Didim was resolute – distribute here and now.

As the conversations flowed, I picked upon a couple of vibes: trust had been fragile from the get-go between the two groups; Didim wanted to and Kusadasi didn’t; Didim pushed and Kusadasi pulled.

I looked around: civil society was but two minutes away back on the main road and descending back into madness was but five minutes back up the dirt track. A dirt track that was beginning to see a few members of the camp come down and quietly stand there.

It was the conversation that had been going on behind me and Chaz that drew the attention of all. The landowner’s wife didn’t want us to go back there, so that was ruled out. But the Kurdish conversation between Nazim and a translator gathered ground.

A quick deciphering suggested that the minibus from the camp would bring 20 men here and we would distribute some of the aid back to them.

So Didim was left to make its own decisions as the minibus arrived and one of the overseers of the group disembarked with a stick in hand, it felt for the first time that control was quickly leeching away.

To get the matter back under control, the queuing formed and we hit the ground running with many hands of the Didim group working to bag stuff that came forward from the back of the van.

Boxes were distributed in a haphazard manner, but the manner was swift until those bagging were getting overwhelmed  with the amount of aid coming forward. It was at this point that I hit the roof and called on the distributors in the van to stop bringing stuff forward.

Yes I am known for being quietly spoken and supposedly having enormous patience. But it had to be said. The day, the emotion and everything else was just reaching a point that we couldn’t return from.

Those minutes saw the refugees gladly accepting the aid but we were quickly realising that the aid was simply falling into the same hands. So we closed up the van and called it a day.

One lucky lad was weighed down with several bags and as he went back to his bike. I hoped his Feast for his family would be a good one.

That last experience was not yet the final curtain. Having got into my car, I reversed trying to inject energy back into the group: what I wasn’t expecting was a swarm of people around the back of Chaz and Tanya’s car. Eggs! Yep the eggs that we had partly distributed needed to go as well.

How the group scrambled for those last fresh eggs. As the cars departed, and mine being used as a small shield, the image of Chaz pulling out an over-enthusiastic refugee from the boot over a box eggs and asserting some ABC’s of respect, brought the curtain down on the day.

The van pulled away, the cars rolled and we headed for the main road, leaving a befuddled group of refugees in our wake.

With half of the van still full of aid, we accepted that we had done as much as we could. Our day had come to an end. We needed to bring it on home back to Didim and decide this week on its future end point.

Tuesday, in the calm of an office, decision making will be made to redistribute the remaining aid.