Each person told us how the police had beaten them, they showed us their bruises and scars
Part of my work here in Bosnia is to collect reports of pushbacks (a pushback is when someone is returned over the border without the chance to claim asylum) for the Border Violence Monitoring Network. This sounds very formal and official, and it is, but collecting all the information for the report usually starts with a conversation whilst sat on the ground chatting to people. Here in Bihac there are a couple of parks where people on the move hang out - the camps are full and they have nowhere else to go. A couple of days ago Stef and I were meeting a friend who we’d chatted to a few days previously and had recently been pushed back. It sounded awful and the report will soon be available. This friend then took us to talk to another guy, while we were talking more people came to tell us their stories. A tired guy - he was 20 but looked much younger - had been badly beaten whilst crossing into Croatia. He was in a group of 50 or 60 people who trekked over the mountains trying to avoid detection by the Croatian police. He told us how the police fired into the air and made everyone lie down. The police searched each person for money and even found where some people had sewn notes into the waistband of their trousers. One by one, each person was brought forward and beaten with a black baton. They were sent back to Bosnia without anything. The police made a fire with all the belongings not worth stealing. All the belongings - they were deported back to Bosnia in just their underwear.
While we stood there talking, a group formed around us. Each person told us how the police had beaten them, they showed us their bruises and scars. Another guy approached us with a large white plaster cast. His wrist had been slashed open by a rock during the violence of the Croatian authorities. He said he had no sensation in his fingers. He timidly showed me the paper from the hospital - written in a language neither of us could understand. I believe he was first treated in Croatia but deported nonetheless.
Another man I spoke to had amazing tattoos, which all represent freedom and peace. He took care to explain them to me, and then he asked me to photograph the bruises on his back. The police had woken him up whilst he slept outside and then beaten him at the police station before taking him and two hundred others to a city 50 kilometres away. He had just finished walking back.
While we stood there talking, a group formed around us. Each person told us how the police had beaten them, they showed us their bruises and scars. Another guy approached us with a large white plaster cast. His wrist had been slashed open by a rock during the violence of the Croatian authorities. He said he had no sensation in his fingers. He timidly showed me the paper from the hospital - written in a language neither of us could understand. I believe he was first treated in Croatia but deported nonetheless.
Another man I spoke to had amazing tattoos, which all represent freedom and peace. He took care to explain them to me, and then he asked me to photograph the bruises on his back. The police had woken him up whilst he slept outside and then beaten him at the police station before taking him and two hundred others to a city 50 kilometres away. He had just finished walking back.
Everyone I have spoken to here has been confused and upset about why they are kept here like this. The way to cross into the European Union is so difficult and dangerous - but the alternative of returning to a war torn country is worse. Not worse, impossible. Voluntary repatriation means that someone can request to be returned to their home country - this can only be authorised if the country they are returning to is safe enough. These people are trapped in Bosnia without a way to go forwards or backwards. “We want to work, we want to contribute.” “My brother is there, how can I get to him?”
I am so fortunate to meet so many kind and funny people. We discuss politics, Bosnian food and the lack of spice, and different flavours of energy drink. We show each other pictures of our homes and our families.
There are so, so many people here and the situation can’t remain like this. Please read this, share it and talk about it. This is not ok. We must do something.
I am so fortunate to meet so many kind and funny people. We discuss politics, Bosnian food and the lack of spice, and different flavours of energy drink. We show each other pictures of our homes and our families.
There are so, so many people here and the situation can’t remain like this. Please read this, share it and talk about it. This is not ok. We must do something.
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