Arrival in Hungary brings uncertainty
VIENNA, AUSTRIA— The soon-to-be father of three stared through the window of the westbound train, looking for something in the blurry scenery to prove his family had made it out of Hungary, their five-day nightmare.
As the train rolled on, Syrian refugee Yahya Khalifa’s extended family cracked the compartment door every few minutes, all with one question: “al-Namsa?” “Austria?”
“Before, I had cows, I had a house. Now, boom boom. Nothing. I have nothing. So I leave.” YAHYA KHALIFA SYRIAN REFUGEE
Then, shouts from the corridor. An excited man walked in with a phone showing a map: “Austria!”
“Alhamdulillah,” Khalifa said, kissing his 2-year-old daughter Malikah’s masses of curly hair, then looking skyward. “Praise be to God.”
It had been 40 days since Khalifa and his wife, Sherine Khalifa, left their farm near Quneitra, Syria, a fiercely contested part of the Golan Heights, a salient jammed between the Free Syrian Army, Al Qaeda-aligned fighters, Syrian troops and Israel’s northern border.
Military manoeuvres played out almost five decades ago drew a thin line between life and death, now marked with a fence and minefield, just south of the land where the Khalifa family would build their farm — now another abandoned home in a devastated part of Syria.
“Before, I had cows, I had a house. Now, boom boom. Nothing. I have nothing. So I leave,” Khalifa said.
To escape the regular bombardment, the family travelled to Turkey, where they paid smugglers to ferry them from Izmir to the Greek island of Symi.
The inflatable boat sank before they landed. Yahya and Sherine, who is five months pregnant, kept their children afloat until the Greek coast guard pulled them from the water.
For many of those who survive the boat trip from Turkey to Greece, crossing into Hungary has become the most uncertain part of the now welltravelled Balkans refugee path.
It took just three days for the Khalifa family to travel from Greece to Serbia, and only minutes for Hungarian police to arrest them. They spent five days in a detention centre outside Budapest.
Khalifa said he slept just a few hours, lying awake most nights listening to children crying and loud, constant fans. His kids, hungry, upset and confused after almost 40 days of travel, passed between tears and exhausted sleep.
“Greece, one day; Macedonia, one day; Serbia, one day; Hungary, five days,” Khalifa said.
Finally, the Hungarian police issued the family travel documents and told them, “Go where you want,” he said.
Khalifa said he couldn’t understand why Hungary would hold the refugees when most claim asylum in Western Europe and Scandinavia. “Nobody wants to stay here,” he said.
Like many others, the family was headed for Sweden. It would be downhill from Austria, with just three countries to go, Khalifa guessed.
At Vienna’s Westbanh of Station, with Malikah on his shoulders and a celebratory cigarette in his mouth, he followed his wife and family into a crowd of volunteers offering food, information and medical help.
Dozens of Austrian paramedics were stationed nearby, and refugees who went for medical help came back with plates of bread, cabbage salad and vegetables.
A table of young volunteers handed out free SIM cards and train tickets. Others worked as interpreters, roaming the platform with signs taped to their chests indicating two, three or more languages they could speak.
Sarah Mejdi, 17, from Vienna, helped the Khalifa family into a shelter for refugees set up in a spare building outside the station.
“We all know they come from war, so we need to help them,” Mejdi said, before heading back into the refugee centre.
New volunteers arrived every few minutes. One man walked in from the street with a box overflowing with bananas and apples, handing them out to anyone who would take them.
In Arabic and English, signs posted around the station by the city of Vienna explained the services available to refugees, ending with three short words: “You are safe.”