Who are the Refugees

ROM Response Team, Croatia, December 2015

Violeta and Conrad Altmann

With a pinch of humor (a lot of it actually), a touch of humanity, forgetting for a moment that they are refugees (purposely or not) these people are coping with their reality keeping a sense of normality, or trying to.


So who are the refugees?

They are the old lady who was in need of winter boots. We found purple ones in her size. But she said: “I’m old, do you have them in black?”

The lady was asking for a warm sweater for her. Then she said for baby. She switched the request a few times and I thought to myself “make up your mind lady”. I went close to check over the barrier to see the kid but what I saw was that she was pregnant. She wanted a maternity sweater. The next time this happened I caught on faster. 

The couple carrying a large blanket. They were asking for a little bit of milk. As it turned out they had two newborn babies (twins) in the blanket. They were two days old. They went to the pediatrician tent and got aid. The babies were born while fleeing… Who knows under what conditions. The journey from Syria, Turkey – Greece – Macedonia – Serbia – Croatia – Slovenia – Germany… by boat, foot and train. 

The little kid who came to our Palestinian team member and said “I’m so cold!”. She grabbed the first gloves in her reach and put them on the kids hands. They were orange. His face lit up. He went and grabbed his sister and asked if she could get gloves too. They were so jolly …just because of some colorful gloves. 

The refugees are the mother with four kids, 7 years old and under. Three of them needed newer shoes but couldn’t say what size. Conrad moved to the side and helped a girl take one of her broken sneakers off. I went to find a good pair for her. And she kept her cold little foot on Conrad’s knee as she waited and he helped her put the shoes on. Conrad was so gentle with them. We found shoes for all and they were so grateful. They all said thank you for every little thing they received. And they would not take more than they needed.

The man who knew what shoe size would fit his sister, at a glance. Because in Syria he owned a shoe-shop. 

The teenage girl with a strong opinion about what she would wear or not. She whispered to her mother “I will never wear those pants!” they were the wrong color. My friend who understood the language gracefully offered a different pair of pants (purple). The teenage girl’s eyes lit up and said “Yes! Those!” 

Thousands of people passed daily though this very well organized camp. Supported by many humanitarian organizations and police. Everyone was kind, to them, to us.

Treating people with dignity and kindness, regardless of what we assume about their circumstance, will make this world a better place. 

We were in Croatia, not far away from the Bosnian border, building transit shelters for nursing mothers. Over the last few months, over a million people have been in a continuous exodus from their unsafe country. Over the course of the week we saw so many kids. So many!

They are people fleeing political or religious persecution—often violent—from Syria, Iran and Afghanistan. They are mothers, children, fathers, brothers and sisters; business owners, entrepreneurs, designers; Christians, Muslims or people who don’t follow any god. They just want to protect themselves and their families. They are humble, proud, confused and in need. They are people just like us, they think the same way, struggle with the same issues, desire the same cars and clothes and like to hang out at the mall.

Many of us have a hard time imagining who the refugees are that are fleeing their homes and spilling into Europe and the US. The conservative media doesn’t help put things into perspective either, often quite the opposite. Just try to imagine if you had your home destroyed (literally in many cases) and were forced to walk for three months into a country and culture that was totally foreign to you. How would you feel? What if you had to flee from your million dollar home in California and sneak onto a crowded boat to go to China, where they didn’t want you, where they irrationally feared you, where your entire life was on your back and your future was so uncertain that you didn’t know what language you needed to start learning to live.

This is the plight of so many people in need right now. Give money or clothes if you can, volunteer if you can’t. The best way to help is to offer your hand to someone in need.

Violeta and Conrad Altmann

Christmas Metaphor

The first thing I noticed as I entered the Refugee Camp in Slavonski Brod, Croatia less than three weeks ago was a big Christmas tree shining in the middle of the camp. It was a sign of hope in a place through which thousands of the world homeless journey, day and night on their way to a hopefully better place and better future. 

The second thing that made me think about the birth of Jesus every day in the refugee camp were the two shelters our ROM team was building. We were told that they would be used as the nursing places for the refugee mothers with babies during the cold and wet winter months. In a way they would be to the refugee mothers and refugee babies what the sheltering manger was to Mary and the baby Jesus on the cold and uninviting night in Bethlehem the night Jesus was born. 

The third thing that made me reflect on Christmas was the picture of constant movement of refugees - families with children, young and old alike, through the camp and onto the trains ready to take the refugees further, to Slovenia, Austria, Germany. They made me think of how Joseph, Mary and Jesus were forced to run away from their country after Herod had decided to kill the child. In alike manner those refugees are continuing to run for their lives away from their homelands in which the blood-thirsty warlords are seeking to destroy their lives.

And the forth thing that reflected the spirit of Christmas were the volunteers, full of enthusiasm, serving and blessing the refugees with the gifts of warm clothes, hats, gloves, jackets, shoes, food and hot tea in the way the shepherds and the wise men of the East blessed the new born Jesus with their presence and gifts. 

Yes, there is much that links the birth of Jesus with the fate of the millions of refugees and immigrants. In fact, singing “Silent Night, Holy Night” passionately at this time and indulging in many Christmas gifts without noticing or caring about the global movement of the millions of the world homeless will make us hypocritical followers of Jesus, who might be good Christians according to the standards of the popular and convenient Christianity, but are profoundly disconnected with the heart of Jesus.

The same Jesus whom we romantically adore as a helpless baby later in His life said quite seriously, “Whatever you did for the list of those you did for me”. He meant a business because He said He would judge us on the basis of what we do about it.

Trail of Hope

ROM (Renewing Our Minds) team, in partnership with IFES (EUS) Serbia spent three intensive days serving Syrian refugees on the Hungarian and Croatian borders in Serbia, September 2015. They witnessed thousands of young people and families with children, many walking with crutches and in wheelchairs, moving forward ever closer to the West Europe. The relief work of ROM and EUS is motivated by the summons of Jesus: “Whatever you did to the list of these, you did for me!” Time: 5:20 min.

Are We in Belgrade Yet?

Author: Ilija Mićović

Soon after we passed the town of Šid we arrived to a dirt road and some cornfileds.  We were less than two kilometers away from the Croatian border.

We quickly started to unload our vehicles and joined several groups that were already there.  Then the first group of refugees came with a bus as we were setting up all the bananas, water bottles and snicker chocolates. One volunteer, from a different organization, upon seeing us carrying the full box of packaged wet wipes, told us that it was awesome that we brought wet wipes, because, as he said, “they really like those”.

As the first bus stopped, men and women, children, young people and elderly were coming closer to our small food and distribution point. They had pale faces, some exhausted from many days of wondering and walking. They were hungry too. One refugee asked me: “Are we in Belgrade yet"? I wondered about how informed some of the refugees were about where they were going? At that place they were only a few minutes away from Croatia, and one hour by car from Belgrade.

We witnessed some surprising and moving moments. We saw a father carrying a daughter in his arms. She had casts on both of her legs. She was not older then 6 or 7. Our team decided that we should use our van and couple of cars we had to transport that whole family to the border, plus a few more mothers, children and people with hurting legs. That became a rule from that moment onward. Mothers with little children would get a free ride to the border. Unfortunately we could help only a few families at a time.

As I was handing out bananas to those who walked by, one middle-aged man, with anxious expression on his face stopped for a moment next to me, as if to clear his mind. I smiled to him as I offered him a banana. He returned the smile as if to honor my effort, and a moment later continued to walk as anxious as he was only a few moments before. Did he worry about the unknown things ahead?

By the night hours we gave away almost all we had. As we started to worry a bit about who would take care of the refugees when we leave, a group of volunteers from the Czech Republic arrived. They brought strollers and things that would make transportation of young kids easier. And then more people come from different organizations to help throughout the night hours.

As we were leaving our post next to the cornfields near the Croatian border I thought about two young Syrian men whom we met two days earlier at the Hungarian border. The border was sealed and they could not enter Hungary. A couple of hours ago we met them again, but this time as they were about to cross the border into Croatia. They were very happy to see us, talk to us and laugh with us, at least for a moment. We event took a picture with them, and then they were on their way again, into the corn fields with the rest of their group, with many more walking behind and ahead of them. In the next fifteen minutes or so they would be in Croatia.

My intention is to continue helping the refugees. I will apply today to join the volunteers at the Depot Center, where immigrants in Belgrade can get free items, from food to warm clothing and hygienic necessities.

Ilija Mićović

Meeting Jesus on the Refugee Trail

Sojourners Sept 29, 2015 published the article of Tihomir Kukolja

The moment our RCRR (ROM Community Refugee Response) international team moved to the Hungarian and Croatian borders in Serbia, we were under attack from Christians who did not approve of our action. They warned us that we were “naïve and misguided.” Some even said that we were “aiding terrorists and human traffickers.”

In their view, the trail of the thousands of refugees from Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan and other people groups, including Kurds and a number of Christians, across Europe is the result of a sinister plot to “conquer Europe with Islam.” They often used Bible verses and questionable hermeneutics to buttress their views.

Our team, a collaboration between the Renewing Our Minds (ROM) initiative and EUS Serbia (IFES – International Fellowship of Evangelical Students Serbia), could not disagree more with the concerns of fellow believers who see the current refugee crisis as a serious threat to “European Christian culture and identity.” Our ROM Community Refugee Response, as we called the action, involved a group of followers of Jesus, mostly young leaders from Serbia, Romania, Croatia, Israel/Palestine, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Albania, the U.K., and the U.S. We embraced the challenge that if there was ever a time in Europe to demonstrate the love of Jesus toward people in distress, this is it as Europe faces its most overwhelming challenge since World War II.

We wanted to make a statement of love, compassion, and empathy. The summon of Jesus was clear to us: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40)…

See more at: https://sojo.net/articles/meeting-jesus-refugee-trail/

ROM Refugee Response Photo Album September

Take a moment to visit our selection of photos featuring the RCRR – ROM Community Refugee Response action in Serbia in September 2015.

How I Lost My Scarf

Photo: Liviu Bocaniala 
in the middle between Mateja and Marko Stupar.

Author: Liviu Bocaniala

I am no hero.

I am just a poet, a bare foot one, most of times.

The words are my very best friends, and in some instances, my worst enemies.  This is one of those instances – how and where do you start to describe, or explain, or make one blind observer of the whole situation understand what is really going on? 

And what is really going on?

So I thought to myself to simply describe how I met my new friends from Syria.

I do not know how to recognize a terrorist (unless it is bloody obvious!).  So I am not really sure if there were any amongst the people we met.  All I could tell you is that when we reached the border between Serbia and Hungary on our first day there, we saw simple people of flesh and blood and sweat and tears; and dreams and hopes.  In the middle of those piles of litter the miracle of a smile made more sense than ever.  The smile of a child running around careless, the smile of a mother exercising her role with holy cadences, the smile of a dusty dark men…  the more one would smile at us, the more tears I could feel filling up my chest. 

They soon started rolling down my cheeks, while I offered a bag with some food and some water to a woman holding a three months old baby in her arms.  What a way to enter the world!  It didn’t make any sense.  “What an incredible mess!”, I turned around and told Tihomir and then I run and hid behind the van ashamed of my tears.

Out of that crowd, two young men approached us; again, smiling; and we started talking to them.  They were both studying English literature back in Syria.  They told us their story of the last two months’ trip until the Hungarian border.  They didn’t want any food, or water.  “There are others who need it more”, they told us, and they actually helped us deliver some packages.

As we were talking, they asked me, “Do you have any coffee?  We didn’t have any coffee for the last twenty days…”.  Knowing my addiction to excellent coffee, I did understand them.  And while we were preparing to leave, hugging and taking pictures with them, I went to a tent where I’ve noticed that a charity from Romania was offering tea and asked them if they had any coffee in their supplies.  After a minute, one of the Romanians came out and handed me the only jar of soluble coffee that somehow was hiding in their luggage.  I asked my friends to hold the van for a minute and run towards the actual border where I saw our new friends walking after we said our goodbyes.  I spotted them in the middle of a large group, sitting quietly on the ground, surrounded by groups of journalists, just in front of the barriers – their way of protesting to the whole messy situation.  I handed them the jar of cheap coffee, apologising for God knows what, as if their lack of coffee was my fault.  And run back to the van.

Syrian refugees stuck at the Hungarian border

Two days after this, and about a thousand and more people later, to whom we offered water and some supplies to help them continue the trip, in the middle of a field of corn just around the corner from the Serbian/Croatian border, two large surprised smiles of our two new friends greeted us from the crowd.  We welcomed them as if they were old friends.  It was a short encounter this time.  They were rushing towards the Croatian border.  We said goodbye, again, setting our hopes higher this time and promising each other to have coffee together in a free world, in a pub in Norway.  We gave them more coffee and I wrapped my scarf around the neck of one of them…

I thank God for this story of newborn friendship in the middle of all that panic and terror and hopelessness.  I do not know if I will ever meet those two Syrians ever again.  I do not know where they are.  I do not know if they were saints or something else? I still know next to nothing about them.

But I do know that, if I will ever find myself walking the streets of any free city in any free country, anywhere in a free world, and I will recognize my friends, it will be my honour to treat them to a cup of excellent coffee.  And take time and listen to their story again.

And don’t worry, I will know them by the scarf…

Author: Liviu Bocaniala