Greece's Immigrant Odyssey

Immigrants are seen inside a camp in the southwestern town of Patras

JOHN KOLESIDIS / REUTERS

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TIME's request to enter the Mytilene center was denied. From its gates, late one sunny morning, the detainees could be seen inside, a few with their arms hanging through the bars of the shut door. Several immigrants released that day said the center's bathrooms and showers were filthy, and that they were allowed into the courtyard for short spells only twice a week.

Greece grants political asylum to only a tiny proportion of illegal immigrants — another source of concern for refugee advocates and human-rights groups. Last year fewer than 1% of those who applied received asylee status, far below the rate in Germany (18%), Italy (11%) or even Spain (4%). Giorgos Karagiannis, country director for aid group Doctors Without Borders, says Greek authorities should be doing more. "Ours is not a political argument. It's practical and medical," he says. "Let's at least meet the minimum standards. We do it for natural disasters. It's not easy, but it's possible."

It doesn't help that the undocumented immigrants are arriving from Turkey, Greece's old foe. Under a 2002 bilateral accord, Turkey is required to accept the return of all would-be immigrants from Greece. But of the more than 26,000 people Greece says it can prove crossed over from Turkey, only 1,600 have been accepted back. "They are not cooperating at all," claims Alexandros Zavos, president of the Greek government-funded Hellenic Migration Policy Institute, who says Ankara sees "immigration as a bargaining chip" toward membership in the European Union. Interior Minister Pavlopoulos argues that "Turkey has to respect E.U. law if it wants to be a member. As long as it acts like this it will be impossible to move forward with accession." Turkish officials, who point out that they too are struggling to cope with huge flows of immigrants, deny a lack of cooperation and say Greece is trying to unburden itself of immigrants who may have never touched Turkish soil in the first place.

In any case, Turkey's role as a conduit for refugees adds to the anti-immigrant resentment building in Greece. "Of every 10 people walking down this street, one is Greek," says a 61-year-old owner of a sporting-goods store in an increasingly multi-ethnic neighborhood around Athens' Omonoia Square. "Immigrants are both good and bad: 5% good and 95% bad."

Gateway to Europe
Greek officials say the problem belongs to Europe, not just to Greece. Athens wants European border-control agency Frontex to play a bigger role in Greek waters, and recently proposed a new E.U. coast guard. "The E.U. has to protect its borders," says Pavlopoulos. "And every member has to take part in that protection." Panagiotis Tzilas, coast-guard commander in Mytilene, says that saving lives should be the priority, but Greece alone can't cope with the task. "It's not a question of what we should do," says Tzilas. "It's what Europe wants to do. This is Europe's border."

It's a border that plenty will always want to cross. As Europe slides into recession, it will still offer better opportunities than the places from which illegal immigrants flee. Said, a lanky 18-year-old, left his native Afghanistan two months ago and traveled by bus, foot and taxi through Iran and Turkey before puttering toward Mytilene with 10 others in a tiny motorboat. So far, he says, the trip has cost him $3,000, a discount price he got from a distant cousin, who helps operate a trafficking ring.

After a month in the detention center, Said is sitting on a ferry heading to Athens as the sun sets over the Aegean. His brother, 29, made his way to Europe via Russia a decade ago, settling in the Netherlands, where he works as a tailor. As he gets ready to sleep on the floor of the ferry, Said shows off his red-and-black Korean-made ski jacket, which he bought in Iran for $60 before hiking over the mountain border to Turkey. There's a rip along one of the sleeves. "But it is warm," Said says with a smile. "Very important to be warm."

Pulling out his 30-day expulsion order, written in Greek, he mulls over his options. He wants to leave Greece for the Netherlands as quickly as possible, but he doesn't know how: plane, train, boat. "I don't know, but it will have to be illegal," he says, his eyes dropping grimly as he folds the order and wedges it back in the front pocket of the bleached gray jeans he has worn all the way from Kandahar.

With reporting by Emmanouil Karatarakis/Athens