“I remember well who we met on that beach,” says Katerina. “I remember faces and names. Many of them we not only pulled out of the water, but we assisted them for years of their lives in the camp.”

We drive along the east coast of the island of Lesbos. Every now and then we turn off the road to see if there is anyone on the beach. Whether anybody needs help like two days ago and the previous few days in a row. Two women and a man died here on Tuesday morning. 38 made it to land. The number of victims in the Mediterranean is measured in thousands every year.

There are no refugees on the beach today, but it is clear that they have been here. Life jackets, shoes and inner tubes serving as lifebuoys had been abandoned in a hurry. The scenery adds to the tragedy of the whole mess. The stormy sea, gusty winds and penetrating cold. To decide to make such a deadly crossing, you have to have a scorched life behind you. One must be genuinely more afraid of returning home than fighting for survival in the middle of a raging sea.

Many refugees vow never to get into any boat again. Others do not have to resolve anything at all. They are so traumatised that at the mere mention of it, they react with tears and spasms.

We are here for all these terrified people. You can help too. A meal for a resident of the refugee camp is only a meal yet as much as a meal too. It is a warm, nourishing lunch, but also an encouraging sign that they do not only have enemies in this world. They also have friends.

Returning from the beach today, we found a substitute for a life jacket. The only life insurance someone could afford at that moment was six empty plastic bottles tied with a string around their waist.