On the 25th of January Migszol went to northern Serbia to visit a place we have been hearing about for a very long time. Most refugees in Hungary traveled through Serbia and stayed here at one point or another. The Jungle, as we came to know it, is the area around an abandoned brick factory on the outskirts of a small town called Subotica. Migszol went there to learn about the history and reputation of the place, and to find out about people’s experiences on the other side of the border.
As we left the train station, it occurred to us that it might be useful to have the number for a local taxi. We approached one of the taxi drivers outside the station, got his number, and told him that we were looking for refugees. He looked surprised, but then told us that he sometimes saw refugees around town, although most of them were around the brick factory. When we told him that we might give him a call later, he explained that he is not allowed to take refugees: the police counts this as human trafficking, confiscates the taxi and puts the driver in jail, even if the taxi ride did not go near the border.
We wanted to buy some food for the people we might meet, so we started asking passers-by about shops or bakeries that are open on Sunday. After a few unsuccessful attempts, an elderly man offered to show us the way to the market. On the way there, we casually mentioned that we are from a migrant solidarity group in Budapest, and asked whether he knew anything about migrants in Subotica. He seemed reluctant to talk about them, explaining that the economic situation is so bad that everybody with an education leaves town. When we changed the topic he cheered up and told us about the history of Subotica until we reached the market.
After we bought food, we started walking: left from the train station, right on the first big road, then the first left, and straight ahead passing some train tracks and a working factory. We knew we had arrived when we passed that factory on the left, and saw a big dormant chimney on the right. All in all, the walk takes about half an hour, so we had plenty of time to devise a plan and discuss our expectations. We agreed to talk to people over breakfast, and to take inventory of their most urgent needs so that we could go back to the city to buy them.
As we left the train station, it occurred to us that it might be useful to have the number for a local taxi. We approached one of the taxi drivers outside the station, got his number, and told him that we were looking for refugees. He looked surprised, but then told us that he sometimes saw refugees around town, although most of them were around the brick factory. When we told him that we might give him a call later, he explained that he is not allowed to take refugees: the police counts this as human trafficking, confiscates the taxi and puts the driver in jail, even if the taxi ride did not go near the border.
We wanted to buy some food for the people we might meet, so we started asking passers-by about shops or bakeries that are open on Sunday. After a few unsuccessful attempts, an elderly man offered to show us the way to the market. On the way there, we casually mentioned that we are from a migrant solidarity group in Budapest, and asked whether he knew anything about migrants in Subotica. He seemed reluctant to talk about them, explaining that the economic situation is so bad that everybody with an education leaves town. When we changed the topic he cheered up and told us about the history of Subotica until we reached the market.
After we bought food, we started walking: left from the train station, right on the first big road, then the first left, and straight ahead passing some train tracks and a working factory. We knew we had arrived when we passed that factory on the left, and saw a big dormant chimney on the right. All in all, the walk takes about half an hour, so we had plenty of time to devise a plan and discuss our expectations. We agreed to talk to people over breakfast, and to take inventory of their most urgent needs so that we could go back to the city to buy them.
The Jungle. We all had different associations with it and we all felt uneasy when we arrived. The lever to block unwanted traffic from entering the property was still down, but the place looked deserted. We didn’t see anyone until we made it to the back of the main building. As we came around the corner on the right, three boys came around the corner on the left. Delawar*, Faisal*, Abdul* and the one rucksack they had between them, arrived shortly before we did. It looked like they had just finished checking the area around the factory when we saw each other. After a brief introduction they invited us to come inside. We expected that there would be more people there, and we didn’t want to barge in, so we tried to communicate to Delawar that he should somehow announce us. When that failed, one of us followed him up the ladder only to find that the building was completely empty. It was clear that a lot of people had passed through recently. There were washing lines, sleeping bags, toothbrushes, socks, toy animals, and empty cans and bottles everywhere, and it looked like some of the people who had used them had left in a hurry.
Once inside, the boys started gathering plastic and wood to make a fire, and Delawar cleaned up the area around a few sleeping bags for us to sit on. We communicated in basic Turkish and basic English, and traced their journey from Afghanistan to Serbia on the map we brought. They explained that they had been traveling with more people. A lot of the details got lost in translation. As far as we could make out, one of their friends died in Turkey, and until only recently they were with a family from Syria. The three of them were waiting for their Syrian companions to catch up. While we ate and had some tea, they took turns drying their feet in the fire while also insisting that we come closer to warm up. The topic of conversation was dictated by our common vocabulary, so we went through the way you learn to introduce yourself in any basic language course. We learned that Faisal is fifteen and Abdul seventeen. Sadly, we couldn’t count far enough in any of our common languages to find out how old Delawar is, but he seemed older than the other boys by a year or two. Faisal did not have the chance to go to school at all, Abdul went to school for eleven years, and Delawar for five.
Whether he is older or not, Delawar was clearly watching out for the other two boys. He was the one to ask whether we were from the government when we first met, and he went to check what was going on when we heard strange noises outside - motioning the other two to keep their heads down. We couldn’t talk to them enough to find out what they needed so, after the other two joked that Faisal was the only one with “his head on straight” because he didn’t smoke, we settled on buying them some coke and some cigarettes. When we left the building to see if we could find more people, the boys walked us out, we shook hands, and Delawar blew us a kiss.
Once outside we met a man from Pakistan and another refugee who were talking to a man from Bosnia. Soon after that they disappeared into one of the smaller buildings around the factory, put on very loud turbo folk music and closed the doors and windows, so we left it at that.
When we were just about to leave, we saw a young couple emerging from the fields. Hussein* and Amira* left Iraq a month ago and are on their way to relatives in Germany. Like us they were going in the direction of the station, so we decided to go together. Hussein worked for a foreign company, so he speaks very good English. He told us about their journey, and asked what was the longest period of time any of us had ever walked in one stretch. Nobody could match, or even come close to, the forty hours that they pulled off last week. When we asked how they knew where to go, Hussein showed us his phone and explained that they relied on GPS. He charges his phone wherever he can, for example at people’s houses or in public places. Hussein showed us pictures of the constructions people made in the field behind the factory to find some shelter during the night. We heard that the police regularly raid the main building of the factory, looking for money and burning people’s belongings. Stories like that travel fast, so most refugees are afraid to stay inside the factory, and instead hide in the area around it. Hussein and Amira explained that they didn’t sleep for two days because they hadn’t been able to find proper shelter, and that they did not want to eat. After they told us that they were about to start the last leg of their journey, which involved crossing the Hungarian border, we inferred that in such a stressful situation food was the last thing on their minds.
Before we said goodbye, we took a selfie with Hussein’s phone, and he asked us whether we were walking back to Budapest. For someone who has had to rely on his own two feet for such a long time, it wasn’t a strange question, but it made him laugh when he realized that the fact that we all had valid documents meant that we did not have to think in these terms.
*Not their real names
When we were just about to leave, we saw a young couple emerging from the fields. Hussein* and Amira* left Iraq a month ago and are on their way to relatives in Germany. Like us they were going in the direction of the station, so we decided to go together. Hussein worked for a foreign company, so he speaks very good English. He told us about their journey, and asked what was the longest period of time any of us had ever walked in one stretch. Nobody could match, or even come close to, the forty hours that they pulled off last week. When we asked how they knew where to go, Hussein showed us his phone and explained that they relied on GPS. He charges his phone wherever he can, for example at people’s houses or in public places. Hussein showed us pictures of the constructions people made in the field behind the factory to find some shelter during the night. We heard that the police regularly raid the main building of the factory, looking for money and burning people’s belongings. Stories like that travel fast, so most refugees are afraid to stay inside the factory, and instead hide in the area around it. Hussein and Amira explained that they didn’t sleep for two days because they hadn’t been able to find proper shelter, and that they did not want to eat. After they told us that they were about to start the last leg of their journey, which involved crossing the Hungarian border, we inferred that in such a stressful situation food was the last thing on their minds.
Before we said goodbye, we took a selfie with Hussein’s phone, and he asked us whether we were walking back to Budapest. For someone who has had to rely on his own two feet for such a long time, it wasn’t a strange question, but it made him laugh when he realized that the fact that we all had valid documents meant that we did not have to think in these terms.
*Not their real names
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