A little girl, surrounded by toys, is sleeping on a yoga mat in an improvised camp in Tovarnik, a city on the border of Croatia. She, just like many other refugees, came here by crossing a cornfield two kilometres wide that divides Serbia from Croatia.
It is September 19th, a hot summer day, and they will probably spend a few hours here, get some rest, eat, find fresh clothes and then continue their path towards the Hungarian border. Around 12 million Syrians were forced to leave their homes and half of them are children – the little girl is one of them.
They have lost their homes, their possessions, parents, siblings and relatives, everything they once knew and loved. The three-year-old Aylan Kurdi, his brother Galip have already lost their lives since the war in Syria started and who knows how many children with them.
I don’t know the story of this child; she may still have her parents and her home may not be devastated yet. But one thing I know for sure: she will never live her childhood. I have never been a refugee. I don’t know what it is like to be forced to leave everything you have. But I did grow up in a war. And I know how it feels to miss everything. And how it feels to stop being a child before you turn seven and to miss your childhood.
The thing that frightens me the most is that they will remember this. And they will remember, even though they are still very young. I know, because I remember.
You forget about the seasons of the year. Later, in your memory everything is one big season. But you remember being cold.
You forget the actual event, because in your mind they are all blended into one. But you remember how they made you feel.
She will probably forget the hot summer day she has spent sleeping in Tovarnik. But I can guarantee you that she will remember this toy. Because it is one of the last reminders of a normal life, of a life she once knew. The life that was taken from her with the same means that are used to destroy her country, kill its citizens and forced her and many others to run.
Even if you are a seven-year-old child running from the war in your country, or a child that hides from the bombs in the basement of your home, you will be forced to grow up. You are never going to be a child again. War will take that away from you, among many other things.
Experience of this border
Location of border
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Tovarníky, Slovakia