It is cold. Freezing cold. Large mounds of snow line a road glazed with a thick layer of ice. A man in a T-shirt carefully slides his flip-flops across the slippery road surface. Over his head and shoulders he wears a thin blanket against the cutting wind. His bare arms are wrapped tightly around him. Beside him, children are playing. They screech as they throw snow and large clumps of ice. The man doesn't seem to hear and shuffles on. His gaze is hopeless. As is his future.
He is one of 550 men, women and children trapped in a refugee camp on the outskirts of Sarajevo. The city, which not long ago was itself a war zone, has turned into a trap for refugees. People who have escaped war, in Syria and Afghanistan, among other places, are stuck in Bosnia by the closed borders of Hungary and Croatia. The poorest country in the region. The beautiful life in Western Europe that the refugees dream of seems unattainable. But with the arrival of a truck full of special, warm suits from Twente, hope once again shines on the horizon.
That chance for hope for one of the 550 refugees began two weeks ago in Borne. At home with Marianne van der Berg. The 65-year-old's cozy home is completely dedicated to Christmas. Pine branches with lights adorn the walls, a homemade nativity scene adorns the windowsill and the heating is nice and high. "I've always been warm. I've always had food and a roof over my head."
That this is not the most normal thing in the world, the Born native realized when she read the appeal of the Sheltersuit Foundation in this newspaper. An urgent appeal to hand in old sleeping bags, which are then made into warm coats for refugees living in camps where the cold is life-threatening.
"Why should I keep something that might save a life?" On Marianne's lap is a sleeping bag with a variegated 1970s print. She strokes the thick fabric. "I'll improvise if guests come, we have enough junk to keep us warm." Born is visibly touched. "We spend billions on presents in December and in a refugee camp some people don't even have anything on their feet. It's so unfair." A small gesture, Marianne calls her donation. "But I hope that for the refugee who receives my sleeping bag it is a big step forward."
About a thousand other people from Twente also scoured their attics for old sleeping bags and made the same gesture. In the factory of the Sheltersuit Foundation in Enschede in December, a lot of hard work went into transforming all those sleeping bags into warm, water- and windproof jackets with a zip-on sleeping bag. The first shipment of so-called sheltersuits, containing Marianne's sleeping bag, left December 13 for Sarajevo.
A week later, it is 18-year-old Khalid from Afghanistan who receives Marianne's Sheltersuit. "I'm so happy," the boy says as he lifts up the jacket. He smiles when he sees the variegated print. "Not really pretty, but the jacket is very important. It's so cold here."
Four months ago, Khalid fled his homeland. As an interpreter for the U.S. Army in Kabul, he had a comfortable life. That changed when the army no longer needed his services.
Together with his three brothers, he fled the country. On foot, the boys traveled to Turkey. From there, they made the crossing by boat to Greece. "It was so hard, and so cold," he said. Their goal was to seek asylum in Germany, but because of the heavily protected borders of Croatia and Hungary, the brothers got no further than Bosnia. (text continues below photo)
Khalid has now been ‘stuck’ in the migrant camp in Sarajevo for three months. A camp where he is relatively well off. Thanks to donations from the United Nations, there are sanitary facilities, food, and a few containers where some of the refugees can stay. The rest stay in small tents that have been set up in an old warehouse. The roof over their heads doesn’t keep out the cold. Temperatures regularly drop to minus 20 degrees. Several refugees became hypothermic in the past month. “We were not prepared for this. We could bring very few belongings; otherwise it would have been too heavy to carry,” Khalid says, referring to the harsh winter. “It is really terribly cold.”
The 18-year-old is ‘lucky’. He was recently ‘promoted’ to a container with a small radiator. He shares the space with five other men. Still, Khalid desperately needs Marianne’s coat. It is more than just a way to stay warm. It is a beacon of hope. The Croatian border, for Khalid the gateway to a better life, beckons. Despite the risks, refugees take their chances every day. They call it ‘the game’, the cat-and-mouse chase with the border police. The police and the freezing cold are, along with wild animals and leftover landmines from the Bosnian civil war, the biggest dangers during ‘the game’.
Migrants who are caught in Croatia are forcibly and summarily expelled to Bosnia. There, the game begins again. “People come back to the camp with broken arms and injuries,” Khalid says. He too was severely beaten during his first attempt to cross the border. “I was kicked in the head, beaten with a stun gun, and forced to jump into ice-cold water.”
But he must and will leave Bosnia. No matter the cost. “There is nothing here for me. Even the local population doesn’t have work. I want a better future.” With his new sheltersuit, Khalid can at least cross the risk of hypothermia off the list. It’s one less fear. “I want to go to Germany to become a doctor, so I can help people. Just like the people who have helped me along the way.”
Marianne is one of those people. Khalid is immensely grateful to her. Her old sleeping bag provides more than just physical warmth: it offers hope. Hope for a better life. And with that, Marianne’s Christmas wish also comes true: with a small gesture, she makes a big difference. Along with her, about a thousand other people from Twente do as well. Whether Khalid will actually manage to cross the border and make his dreams come true, only time will tell.
