This past weekend my team and I visited two refugee camps in Bosnia. The first camp we visited was a new camp that had been set up close to the border. Having been raining the past few days the ground was soggy. There were no shelters other than tarps that had been stapled to plywood. Any blankets and sleeping bags being handed out are given to the women and children, but rarely the men. These people are desperate. They have fled their homeland, the only land many of them have ever known, in hopes of life. Within the first hour of being at the camp a couple of us had joined a game of volleyball between a few of the young men. Their game suddenly turned to spiking the ball at me to see what new sound I would make while dodging it.
In less than an hour a fight broke out between two men. This quickly spread to the whole camp. All the refugee men joined the fighting crowd as we were hurried away from the fight. I saw tents being ripped apart so that the men could use the poles as clubs. A 15 year old boy ran to join the fight, but his mother grabbed him by the waist and held on to him so that he could not. All the while, the children that we were playing with continued running around laughing and playing with each other. This is their life now. The tensions run deep through these camps. Multiple nations and people groups are represented in these makeshift cities.
Their journeys all started differently. A couple from Afghanistan had to run because of their marriage. They were childhood sweethearts, but their families did not approve of their marriage because Sunni and Shiite Muslims are not usually allowed to marry. She was married to him but forced to live in a room with no windows for 6 months so that no one could see she was there. Each border crossing is getting harder to get through. In one of the countries they passed through the police will take all of their possessions and break them leaving them with no phones to contact family and even fewer resources to live by.
Another family stuck in the camp was forced to flee from Iran after their father, a policeman, was kidnapped by the Taliban. They do not know if he is alive or dead. On the other side of the camp, my teammate was helping build the shelters for an English teacher and a father separated from his child. The next day we drove to a different camp. Instead of plastic tents to live in, it was so much worse. An old abandoned dormitory had been opened for refugees to stay at. The windows had all been busted out long ago. There is no electricity, wet floors, and no bathrooms.
The conditions these people are living in is terrible. They cannot move forward to another country and they cannot go back. They are stuck. We met a girl from Africa who plans to meet friends in Norway. She was so sweet and willing to talk, but could not open up to us because of the danger of being Christian. Like I said previously, there are multiple people groups represented in each of these camps. Some of them are open to religions while others are decidedly against Christianity. Many are afraid to share their faith because of the numerous murders that have occurred.
We were lucky enough to get to purchase yogurt and chocolate croissants for 750 people. It went with their once daily meal they received from the Red Cross, which was nothing more than a piece of bread, mashed potatoes, red sauce, and a piece of fruit. It may not seem like much to have given them a little bit of chocolate and yogurt, but to bring a little joyful moment to their otherwise dismal lives was enough for my heart to break. I know where my next meal is coming from. I know where I will be sleeping tonight. I know where my family is and how they are doing. I have that luxury of peace of mind.
My teammate Jenny put it into the perfect words that we were all feeling after witnessing these two camps. She said “I’ve never seen such a dire need where there was no help being given.” To see families living in a cold and wet building with no shelter, no privacy, and no security was more than my heart could handle. My heart is broken, but it will mean nothing if I do not act on it. If I just push those memories back and choose better ones. Those people I met need me to remember them. They need me to move, to act, and to help.
Psalm 5:11 says “But let all who take refuge in you rejoice; let them ever sing for joy, and spread your protection over them, that those who love your name may exult you.”
