In Croatia, Refugee Families Fear Separation at the Borders

Boarding a bus or a train without their family at the Hungarian border could mean losing them forever.

Priyali Sur
World
Updated:
Ahmed, his two siblings and his mother left Damascus after his oldest brother was shot dead. (Courtesy: Priyali Sur)
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Ahmed, his two siblings and his mother left Damascus after his oldest brother was shot dead. (Courtesy: Priyali Sur)
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On World Refugee Day, here’s one from The Quint’s archives.

It’s a sea of people behind the police barricade at Tovarnik in Croatia. So far 51,000 migrants and asylum seekers have crossed over to Croatia. The emergency EU summit on refugees in Brussels arrived at a plan to share the resettlement of 1,20,000 refugees across the continent. However, the deal highlighted the deep divide across Europe as four of the 28-nation bloc (Hungary, Slovakia, Czech Republic and Romania) voted against the mandatory quota.

Meanwhile at Tovarnik, as the last few buses of the day leave for the Hungarian border, the refugees begin to get restless. It’s the women and children who get preference. The cops let them out of the barricaded zone first and then send them to the buses. But most women don’t want to get on the bus, leaving their men behind. Getting on a bus and being separated now could mean losing each other forever.

Amidst the shouts of refugees demanding the barricades to be opened is a feeble and young voice – “Brother brother, sister sister”. 10-year-old Ahmed is pleading with a cop to let his sister and brother out. They are stuck on the other side of the barricade. As he waits for his siblings, he takes care of his sick mother like an adult, wrapping her in a blanket and gently massaging her shoulders.

My sister Rama and by brother Mohammed are on the other side. We can’t go without them.
— Ahmed

Ahmed, his two siblings and his mother left Damascus after his oldest brother was shot dead. At the mention of her oldest son, Ahmed’s mother begins to sob.

I couldn’t live with the rest of my children there anymore and wait for them to be killed as well.
— Ahmed’s mother

Ahmed is the youngest. His 19-year old brother is a third year law student and 18-year old sister a second year philosophy student. As of now they are nowhere to be seen.

Behind the barricade are thousands of refugees occupying the railway tracks. Families with children are lying around and waiting for their turn to board the bus. The weather is beginning to change and it’s getting chilly. They haven’t had a proper hot meal for weeks and have survived on crackers, fruits and biscuits distributed by aid workers. A group of young girls keep busy with a sketchbook. They giggle and shy away from the camera, oblivious of their surroundings – police, batons, refugees. Maybe it’s their way of staying sane.

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Priyali Sur with 10-year-old Ahmed in Tovarnik. (Courtesy: Priyali Sur)

With the massive influx of refugees in Croatia after the Hungary-Serbia border was closed, the Croatian police and authorities are struggling to find the space to accommodate them. With limited tents and facilities, most of them are forced to spend nights out in the cold without blankets. Buses packed with refugees are sent to Hungary at regular intervals. From there, they journey by trains or Hungarian government-sponsored buses to Austria.

As the crowds at Tovarnik get more restless, the police send the media away and push refugees into the bus. Ahmed wants to stay but he too is asked to step in. But he doesn’t give up. He’s not boarding that bus without his older siblings. He runs down the road and, avoiding the police, tries to get closer to the barricade. By now he is almost jumping. He has spotted the hijab of his sister. His brother is right behind her. She signals to him to stay calm.

Ahmed’s little face lights up with relief and joy. The police soon swarms in and Ahmed gets lost in the crowd.

As world leaders debate and discuss the statistics of resettling hundreds and thousands of refugees, on ground, the numbers fade away to reveal the human stories. These are stories of people like us – teachers, bank managers, accountants, students and children like Ahmed who have left their lives behind in the pursuit of survival.

(At The Quint, we question everything. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member today.)

Published: 05 Oct 2015,10:49 AM IST

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