Grecia/Abril de 2017/Autor:/Fuente: BBC News
RESUMEN: El primer día de escuela. Se suponía que sería un momento emocionante y feliz para tantos de los 2.500 niños refugiados que ahora viven en campamentos en Grecia. Pero en cambio, algunos se encontraron con eslóganes lanzadores de piedras y nacionalistas, después de que manifestantes de extrema derecha se opusieron a la política del gobierno de integrarlos. Afortunadamente para Moustafa, de 10 años, su escuela designada en Tesalónica no vio ninguna protesta. Y a pesar de vivir en un contenedor de metal conocido como isobox, los últimos meses han traído una forma de estructura a su vida. Pasó un año huyendo de la guerra y temiendo por su vida, pero ahora tiene un horario. Todas las tardes aborda un entrenador organizado por la Organización Internacional para las Migraciones (OIM) que lo lleva al centro de la ciudad para la escuela. Es uno de los 60.000 refugiados y migrantes atrapados en Grecia desde que la reubicación a países europeos se estancó y se cerraron las fronteras.
The first day of school. It was supposed to be an exciting, happy time for so many of the 2,500 refugee children now living in camps in Greece.
But instead some were met with stone-throwing and nationalist slogans, after far-right demonstrators took issue with the government's policy to integrate them.
Fortunately for 10-year-old Moustafa, his appointed school in Thessaloniki saw no protests. And despite living in a metal container known as an isobox, the past few months have brought a form of structure to his life.
He spent a year fleeing war and fearing for his life, but now he has a schedule.
Every afternoon he boards a coach organised by the International Organization for Migration (IOM) that takes him to the city centre for school. He is one of 60,000 refugees and migrants trapped in Greece since relocation to European countries stagnated and the borders were closed.
Moustafa explains how his village near Damascus was trapped between rival warring groups and, before it was too late, his family headed for Europe.
He recounts the moment they were rescued from a sinking dinghy – so accurately, it is as if he is playing back recorded footage.
He shows off the school kit he has been given, including notebooks, pens, pencils and a rucksack.
“The most important thing now is for me to study and learn Greek,” Moustafa says. “I want to be a doctor.”
The new school initiative backed by the EU follows a law passed by the Greek parliament last August. It kickstarted new classes to prepare refugee children for eventual integration into the Greek education system.
Ninety-seven schools are currently involved. In three, the initiative was met with contempt. Crowds of far-right nationalists gathered to wave Greek flags, boo the children and shout slogans such as “My homeland won't fall!”
In the town of Profitis, riot police were called in to escort pupils after stones were thrown.
In Oraiokastro, protesters chained themselves to the school gates. The self-styled “Patriotic Union of Greek Citizens of Oraiokastro” said they didn't believe the pupils had been adequately vaccinated – something the health ministry has denied. In Perama, there were reports of physical violence.
In contrast, the arrival of pupils at Moustafa's school in Thessaloniki went smoothly. The headteacher, Ioannis Nomikoudis, says it is down to the communication between the government, school and parents’ committee.
“The parents of the children here are not racist, but they do still have concerns and we cannot ignore that. The thing is, we didn't make the children's arrival debatable – like in some places.”
For Education Ministry General Secretary Giannis Pantis, the fact that there were protests at only three of the 97 schools was a success. “In many other schools the children were welcomed with songs and balloons,” he said.
He oversaw the programme from the start, when a scientific committee of leading Greek intercultural education experts and sociologists was brought together to provide advice. They assessed the work of NGOs in the camps and designed the curriculum of maths, Greek, English, art, IT and physical education.
Lost in translation
The implementation of the programme has not come without its problems, though.
The lack of certified Greek-Arabic translators is a huge issue. The government says it is not a question of not being able to afford them, but that they just do not exist.
Maths teacher Irene Voutskoglou said she did not realise how big the challenge would be.
“We can't really communicate well at all,” she says. “I have to appoint a student as an ‘assistant teacher’ to help me. I didn't even realise that numbers were different in Arabic. Our zero is a dot in Arabic for example. And our five looks like a seven in Arabic.”
Most translators are provided through charities, who receive funding from the European Union. But camp coordinators say the translators’ language skills are often not good enough and that they are also needed to teach the children their native language.
Scarred by war
“This is supposed to be a transitional year,” says Giannis Pantis, the man from the ministry.
“The children attend school in the afternoon, when the school day for current pupils has finished. We believe they cannot yet be fully integrated.
“Last week a child saw a helicopter and ran out of the school. Another started to cry and hid beneath the table. Some of these children, due to the war, are almost 10 years old but have never been to school. They can't read or write. Many of them have post-traumatic stress disorder. We have a lot to do this year.”
With a flagging economy and an education system already crippled by six years of austerity, the refugee crisis has further stretched Greece's capacity.
The government is reliant on just €7m (£6m; $7.5m) of European funding for the next two years (NGOs have received €83m directly) and the Greek national budget to implement the programme.
Despite the struggles, Mr Pantis says they are determined to honour the government's commitment to the fundamental and universal right to education.