The Ballad of GoFundMe Jeff

In the middle of Moria, the long line of people on my left inched forward. The small groups who were chatting while they waited began to funnel into a single file, shuffling forward like docile beasts of a recently domesticated species. An NGO was handing out large gift boxes with dried cereal and Barbie Dolls.

I recognized Rasheed’s laugh before I saw him or his Palestine Red Crescent Society vest. His face broke into a child-on-Christmas smile when he noticed the kids and me, greeted me like a long-desired present. I explained about the safari guides accompanying me, about waiting for the boat that morning, about Sumaiya and her family. He suggested I leave Skala Sikamineas and check in where his group was, at the Mytilene Village Hotel, which was closer to the camp. I could still go to the beaches for the boats if I wished—they’d be closer in any case—but I would be of better use at the camp. More effective, he said, less sexy, fewer opportunities for selfies.

As if on cue, panicked selfie-girl from the beach made her grand entrance onto our stage. She explained to a new group of volunteers that someone had stolen her phone, that she had traced it to the camp using the Find My iPhone app before the battery died. It was here somewhere, and she was going to find it even if it meant going through everyone’s belongings. No, she had not erased all her personal data yet because she hadn’t backed up the photos and didn’t want to lose them. She seemed about to have a conniption right there and then.

Rasheed explained to my kids what was going on. The little Pakistani boy approached selfie-girl, tugged on her arm, and in broken English said, “Phone in bathroom,” pointing to the public bathroom at the bottom of the hill.

She hesitated, gasped as she grasped what he meant.

“My cell phone is in the bathroom?” she said for emphasis before racing down the hill.

The Pakistani boy looked back at his friends, raised his arms in triumph. His friends laughed. The little leader yelled, “You speak English? Arabic?” The Pakistani boy grinned, shook his head, then fled in the opposite direction from the bathrooms. The kids followed him, scampered up the hill through the chain-link fence into the barracks. They didn’t say goodbye, but the Iraqi girl turned around behind the fence and lifted a two-finger victory sign before disappearing.

Rasheed chided me for making fun of selfie-girl. These youngsters were a wonderful lot who were trying to do good in the world. If I needed to belittle someone, I should channel my disdain toward GoFundMe Jeff, someone who deserved everyone’s contempt.

GoFundMe Jeff was a student at some university in the American Midwest. Rasheed couldn’t remember which. At some point in the beginning of the boat crisis, in September or October of 2015, Jeff put up a GoFundMe page stating that he couldn’t keep watching the refugee drownings without responding. He was going to take the semester off, travel to Lesbos, and help in whatever way he could. For a round-trip ticket, food, and lodging, he asked for five thousand dollars, an amount that was reached and exceeded in less than three days. It seemed everybody wanted to help GoFundMe Jeff help refugees.

GoFundMe Jeff never made it to Lesbos. For all anyone knew, he was having a good time on a paid-for European vacation. Rasheed wasn’t sure which two sins finally tripped him, greed or vanity, probably both. GoFundMe Jeff thought he had the fundraising talent of a television preacher. He went back to his page to ask for more money. In order to do that, he needed photos of Lesbos and of suffering refugees. Easy peasy. He found what he needed on Facebook, posted the photos on his site, and asked for more money. Cha-ching. One of the photos he posted was a selfie of a lovely young volunteer. She looked charming and delightful with a Syrian baby in her arms, and the boy couldn’t help hinting that she was his new girlfriend.

Rasheed didn’t know how the girl’s parents found the picture. Someone might have alerted them. They were furious, since their daughter was on Lesbos with her fiancé. How could she? She didn’t of course. She and her fiancé began looking for GoFundMe Jeff. They asked everyone they knew and those they didn’t. No one had heard of or seen any GoFundMe Jeff on the island.

What could they do? Not much. Someone contacted the parent company of GoFundMe. Jeff’s site was taken down before he reached his second goal, so he wasn’t paid again. At least three different Americans threatened to sue, but nothing came out of that. Jeff’s Facebook page disappeared. The story died.

Rasheed said one of the photos Jeff had posted of Lesbos was of a beautiful sunset from behind an olive grove looking toward the sea taken by a well-known Greek photographer. GoFundMe Jeff claimed it as his.