fter days of sleeping on the streets since fleeing a fire which, for many, claimed all of their worldly belongings, Moria camp residents protested in their thousands on Friday. Babies sat on the shoulders of their fathers and small children carried signs bearing the word “freedom,” written on scraps of cardboard. People clapped, whistled and banged empty water bottles together during a peaceful but noisy protest as frustrations ran high. Camp residents have been stuck on the streets between Moria camp and the main town of Mytilene, blocked in on all sides by police buses. Riot police in helmets and holding shields looked on as the protest passed them. Ali, 19, from Afghanistan, says many people want to leave Lesbos and are concerned about what will happen to them if they stay on the island. “People don’t want to go back to a hell like Moria or a closed camp,” he says. The forecourts of petrol stations and the local Lidl supermarket car park have become temporary homes for some of the thousands of people who fled the camp three nights ago. Many others are still sleeping on the pavement, under any kind of makeshift canopy they can find. Foliage and trees are being cut down to provide some sort of shelter from the sun. There is an increasing sense of desperation in the air as people wait for the aid that is yet to arrive. Some people ask for doctors but there are not enough to deal with the overwhelming demand for medical care. One woman from Afghanistan calls out from the side of the road: “Please can you help?” Her 15-year-old daughter sits silently on the pavement with her head in her hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her but I think she’s sick,” says the woman, as she washes her daughter’s face and hands with water from their few remaining plastic bottles. Another young woman faints in the middle of the street just as an ambulance with a suspected Covid-19 case passes by. The paramedics can’t stop to help her for risk of transmission. Her family dab her face in the heat, as they anxiously wait for another ambulance to arrive. The pandemic, which was at the forefront of everyone’s minds here a week ago, has been overshadowed by the fire that destroyed Europe’s largest refugee camp. Thousands of people who fled the fire, which burned overnight on Tuesday, are still waiting for provisions. The large police preventing them from entering Mytilene to buy supplies mean they are reliant on handouts for almost everything, from nappies for babies to food and water – when NGOs can get through. Eight-month-old Osman from Afghanistan is one of those who escaped the fire with his family. He was born in Moria and now lives near a petrol station on Lesbos. He wriggles happily in the arms of his 14-year-old brother, Mohammed Ali, who is worried about him. “Yesterday it was so hot,” Mohammed says. “He was not very well in the heat.” He looks at his baby brother and ruffles the hair on his head. “This is a baby of Moria camp,” he says. “It’s good he doesn’t understand.” Ali’s cousin, who is nine months pregnant, has also been struggling in the heat. She lies nearby under a shelter of blankets strung together to protect her from the sun. Omar, 18, from the Gambia produces his wallet and cash card. “I have money but I can’t get any cash out or buy anything. This is crazy,” he says. Opposite where Omar is staying, three young children shelter from the heat and play clapping games. Whenever anyone who looks like a volunteer passes by, they call out in English: “Moria no good, Moria no more.” Local news has reported that people will be moved in the coming days to temporary shelter nearby on the island and that tents have already been flown in by helicopter. But there are concerns that locals, who have already erected roadblocks to prevent any movement back to the remains of Moria camp, will resist. There have already been reports of intimidation and aggression towards NGOs from members of the local community.