The Forgotten Millions: Search for peace drives brothers

NZ Herald

10 Sep, 2015 05:00 PM5 mins to read

Two Iraqi brothers who have reached Serbia talk to Rachel Smalley about what drives them.

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It is late in the evening in Belgrade and I have just checked into my hotel. Outside, in the park below, I can see tents and portaloos.

Men are gathering under streetlights to talk, their shoulders hunched in the cool Serbian air. A woman is soothing a baby, willing her child to go to sleep.

They are Syrians and Iraqis, part of the great Middle East exodus that is travelling through Serbia and hoping to find peace in Europe.

I take my notebook, head downstairs and sit on a bench in the park. It takes a few minutes before a young man walks up to me, smiling.

"Hello, where are you from?" he asks.

I tell him, and he introduces himself as Abdula. I compliment him on his English.

"I am a scientist, I have a degree in physics," he says. He is a 24-year-old graduate of Al Mustansiriya University in Baghdad.

Abdula's older brother Roshdi approaches me, and tells me he also has a degree from Baghdad, but his is in economics.

"You are not Syrian, then?" I ask.

"No, we are Iraqi-Palestinian refugees."

I ask Abdula why he left Baghdad.

"It is hell. The militia is everywhere. Everyone has a gun. A car bomb exploded 30 metres from my house. There is no authority. There can be no peace. Baghdad is hell on earth."

The brothers began their journey on August 14 when they flew to Erbil in Iraqi Kurdistan. Isis (Islamic State) controls almost every inch of road north of Baghdad, making it almost impossible to travel overland. Once in Erbil, they said they took a bus to the Turkish border. They wanted to reach Bodrum, the beautiful tourist Mecca that two weeks later would claim the life of 3-year-old Aylan Kurdi. It took the image of his tiny body lying face down at the water's edge to prompt a change in the way Europe and the world viewed the refugee crisis.

Thousands have perished in the Mediterranean's waters this year and I ask Roshdi if he ever questioned whether it was worth the risk.

"What price do you put on the chance to live in peace?" he says.

In Bodrum, the brothers found a man who said he would take them to Greece and he instructed them to wait for a minivan to collect them at midnight.

"There were 150 of us crammed into three minivans. It was so hot, a baby was vomiting, a man fainted. Some of the women were crying. We all thought we were going to suffocate," says Abdula.

The vans drove in convoy for three hours before the drivers stopped at the top of a cliff on the coast and told everyone to scramble down to the water's edge. It was 3am.

The brothers then each paid a man 2200 ($3916) to sail them to Kos. The boat was overloaded, waves were crashing over the sides and at one stage Roshdi said he feared they were going to sail on to rocks.

I make the mistake of asking the brothers if they were young men in the midst of a brave but life-threatening adventure.

"No, this is not an adventure. It is a journey to find peace. We don't care where we go, we just want to find peace."

Once in Greece, they took a bus through Macedonia and then crossed the border into Serbia. When I meet them, they are sleeping rough in the park outside my hotel. They say they will head to the Hungarian border the next morning.

Abdula admits he is worried about the next leg of their journey.

"I am afraid of what will happen in Hungary. I am worried they will beat us. The Hungarians don't want us in Europe."

Roshdi and Abdula are travelling with their diabetic friend Mustafa. They show me the container of iced water they have carried with them to store his insulin. Mustafa is sleeping. Abdula says he is unwell.

The diabetic Mustafa shows Smalley the container of iced water in which he keeps his insulin. Photo / Jo Currie

"He is always tired and he sleeps a lot, but people have been kind. They give us the ice for free. They tell us it's the least they can do, but that may change in Hungary."

I tell Abdula and Roshdi that Europe will soon deport people they do not consider genuine refugees.

"But we are refugees. The Syrians are living in fear of death and so are we."

I ask Abdula what he needs. "Peace. Somewhere peaceful to live." Roshdi says all he wants is a future. "I don't want a car. I don't want lots of money or a big house. I will take any job. I just want to be safe."