IDOMENI, Greece -- It's a view that speak volumes of the broken European policies on refugees: Nearly 10,000 people are living in trash-strewn, smoke-filled open fields near the village of Idomeni, Greece, trapped here for months on the Macedonian border.

The vast majority are refugees and migrants stranded here as they went in search of a better life, and the countries along the Balkan route began closing their borders.

Tents and tarps have been pulled together to shield families from the elements. 

This is what they now call home. 

The abandoned building

An abandoned building has been home to five families for the past month, their blankets filling all corners of the empty one-room structure. The building provides some shelter from the rain and wind that have lashed the camp this spring but offer little comfort beyond that.  

Hiba al Shabi, a young mother from Syria, lives here with her husband and small children.

“It’s very cold and my children are sick," al Shabi says. 

Outside, plastic tarps shield the cooking area where al Shabi stirs rice in a cast iron pot over an open fire. The set-up shields the area from the rain and wind, but the smoke is also trapped in the small space.

One of al Shiba's daughters, Elma, has asthma that is aggravated by the smoke that hangs thick throughout the camp and is nearly impossible to escape.

“When her asthma kicks in, she will just be coughing all day,” al Shabi says. 

The vacant train 

A vacant train with four sleeper cars sits abandoned on the side of the tracks in Idomeni. When the refugees and migrants came here, it offered a drier alternative to the tents. 

Mohanad Ba’ioon, 21, and his brother Maher Ba’ioon, 25, started off in a tent but then grabbed one of the coveted sleeper cars to create a makeshift home.

The brothers have come from from Damascus, Syria, and sleep on the fold down beds in the cramped space, intended for travelers on an overnight journey. The room is barely six feet across.

“I was in a small tent but in the cold conditions or in the summer conditions, it wasn't going to be livable at all,” Mohanad says. “It’s more stable here and more comfortable. And there is privacy.”

Each compartment on the train is full of people -- entire families packed into the small spaces or young men like Mohanad and Maher who are traveling on their own.

The brothers been in the camp for a month, having fled Damascus for fear they would be drafted into the army. Mohanad was studying tourism at university.

“Our parents just wanted us to be safe,” Mohanad says. Their three younger siblings and parents are still in Syria.

“We could have stayed in Syria or Turkey, if this is the end of the road," Mohanad says. "There are camps in Turkey so we would have stayed here.”

The empty stables

"This is a place for animals," Hassan Abu Ashur says. "But we have to sleep inside of it because of the wind and rain."

"This is a place for animals. But we have to sleep inside of it because of the wind and rain."

The 66-year-old Yezidi man lives in a former stable with his wife, children and grandchildren. The floor of the building is strewn with hay, and the building smells of the animals that it used to shelter. 

Inside, several small tents fill the space. Abu Ashur fled Iraq when Islamic State militants threatened the area of northern Iraq that he and his family lived in.

Despite the rough conditions the family faces in the camp, Abu Ashur knows there is nothing for the family to return to.

"I have no way back and everything has closed in our faces here," Abu Ashur says. "But I will not go back, I would rather die here."

The metal railcar

Aftabhar Adaz and Adaz Ahmad have some semblance of privacy in the small metal railcar that was discarded on the side of the train tracks in Idomeni.

They have strung up a sheet to cover the windows that surround the car on all sides. Inside, it is cramped but dry, unlike much of the camp. The brothers keep canned food on the shelves and their clothes and a handful of belongings in neat piles in one corner of the car. The Pakistani brothers have been living like this for 20 days and are eager to move on. 

Adaz is planning to travel to Germany while Aftabhar is hoping to settle in Germany.

The railway platform

A group of about two dozen Palestinians have made their home on the station platform near the center of the camp. Among them is 15-year-old Khalid Howilo who drinks tea near an open fire to stay warm.

The group he is traveling with fled from Gaza into Egypt, then flew to Turkey. They boarded boats into Greece, joining the flow of people entering Europe.

“We have many problems in Gaza and no future,” Howilo says. “I thought here I would find a good life and get work, and have a house and a future.”

But he and his father and two siblings got stuck in Idomeni when the border closed. Now they pass the days waiting for news on what will happen next along with their larger group. In their home on the station platform, they share food and smoke hookah. 

He says the group will wait here as long as it takes to move on.

“But no one wants to stay in Greece because here, there is no work,” Howilo says.

The tent

Renda Jidaan, a mother from Deir Ezzor, Syria, had planned to celebrate her youngest daughter’s first birthday in Germany.

“I would have made a cake and lit candles and had the whole family together,” Jidaan said, cuddling her daughter Iman to her chest. “Dancing, and music and everything.”

But the milestone passed this week without celebrations as Jidaan, her husband, and three children were stranded in a squalid tent in a field in Idomeni.

“It’s very difficult. It’s very bad here and I am having trouble with raising the children here,” Jidaan said. “There is a line for everything...and everything is dirty.”

Her children’s clothes hang outside the family tent, finally able to dry out on this rare sunny day. Their small shoes are lined up outside the tent so the children don't drag mud into their temporary home.

“We have no money to continue on,” Jidaan says, explaining that the family spent all of their savings paying smugglers along the route.

After a month in Idomeni, Jidaan is clearly despairing. There is no end in sight.

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