A boy, just 15 years old. He said goodbye to his mother, brother, and sister, packed his belongings into a single backpack, and set off on the run. His uncle wanted to send him to war, but he, like any child, would not hear of it! The only way out was to escape Iraq! Nine years later, this young man lives and works in Serbia, far from the horrors of war and death!
Two years after his father's death, Karuh Pištivan, then a 15-year-old boy and now a 23-year-old man, faced a difficult life decision. In their culture, he says, it’s customary for the uncle to take on a fatherly role after the father’s death. His uncle was determined to send him to war, but Karuh refused to listen. He left with a heavy heart. His mother supported him, preferring to see him alive, albeit far away, rather than dying in a war.
Gunfire, maltreatment, and starvation
“She thought I would die out there. She supported me and gave me money. I paid smugglers to take me from Iraq to Turkey; we travelled on foot, over hills and mountains... After three days, we reached Istanbul. The police were shooting at people; some in the group were injured. I tried five times to cross the border into Bulgaria. They treated us terribly there. Once, they stripped me down to my underwear. I remember it was cold... It was raining. They sent me back to Turkey. Not only me—there were 12 men and six women in the group; all the men were stripped, and their belongings burned,” Karuh recalls in his conversation with Kurir.
When he finally succeeded on his fifth attempt to cross into Bulgaria, he spent 15 days in prison without reason.
“They gave me no guardian or protection; they simply put me with men twice my age and locked me up. Afterwards, I was in one of their camps. It was horrific, inhumane conditions. They’d bring a pot, place it in the middle of the hall, and whoever could grab some food, ate, and those who couldn’t went hungry. I went hungry many times,” he testifies
His mother sent him money, and he paid smugglers to transfer him from Bulgaria to Romania. Twenty-one people squeezed into a small van...
“I spent seven months in Romania, seeking asylum, but they rejected me. We then went to Hungary. We stayed in the woods, travelling at night and sleeping by day to avoid the police. In Hungary, we bought a train ticket and tried to reach Vienna from Budapest. But ten minutes before Vienna, Austrian police boarded the train. They took us to a station,” says Karuh.
The police told them they’d be taken to a camp and reassured them, only to return them to Hungary, where he spent 48 hours in prison before being deported to Serbia.
Hoping to see his mother after nine years
Karuh is grateful that he has the opportunity here to work as a translator and help people facing situations like his own.
“I know how hard it is when you have no one to help or anyone who speaks your language. I faced that in Bulgaria and Romania,” he says. He misses his family, though they keep in regular contact, and he hopes to see his mother soon:
“We talk often; my mother is well, thank God. I now have a travel document and hope we can meet in Iran after nine years.”
Education and asylum
He had never heard of this country before arriving, initially staying in a camp in Subotica and later in Krnjača. He was utterly lost, not knowing the language, though he now speaks it quite well. Back then, there were between 1,000 and 1,200 people from Afghanistan in the camp, but he was the only one from Iraq, a minor, and alone.
“I threw away all my belongings in Hungary so the police wouldn’t know we were refugees. Over time, I learned Serbian and Persian. In the camp, I finished primary school and then secondary school in hospitality. After the camp, I stayed in a home for children without parental care, then started working for organisations assisting refugees as a translator,” he says gratefully.
He received asylum in Serbia and, six months ago, a travel document. This year, he even visited Montenegro by the sea. People here have warmly accepted him, and a young man from Šabac became his best friend.
“I started renting a flat, and a young man lived nearby. We didn’t know each other. He left a note on my door, apologising in advance for any noise because he was celebrating his birthday. I bought a bottle of wine, knocked on his door, wished him happy birthday, and that’s how we met. We became best friends. We lived together for three years, and his family welcomed me as one of their own,” says Karuh happily.
Karuh Pištivan fled Iraq to Serbia
After finishing university in Belgrade, his friend returned to Šabac, and Karuh now lives in their apartment, yet another testament to how warmly he’s been accepted here.
“If I hadn’t made that difficult decision as a boy, who knows how things might have ended for me, maybe even tragically. Thank God I came here!” he concludes.
Kurir.rs / Mina Branković