Butterfly by Yusra Mardini

Author:Yusra Mardini
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

14

The taxi drops us in a square where crowds of people are camping in the shade of a grand, decaying station building. Two large gaps in the pavement open down onto a pedestrianized lower level. Even more people sleep and mill around in the concourse below. It’s a sea of tents, towels, and blankets. In the square above stands a row of seven temporary toilets. Next to the furthest toilet is a solitary water tap. These are the only facilities. The air reeks of human waste and desperation. I gaze around in shock. It’s the worst camp I’ve seen.

The people here have been waiting for days. Some of them more than a week. There are no smugglers available, so everyone is waiting to get on a train. Regular international trains run from here across the border into Austria. But the Hungarian authorities keep shutting down the station to non-visa holders, saying they are upholding European law. At this moment the station is out of bounds for us. A line of police blocks the station doors. They carry batons and pistols on their belts. The sun glints off their riot helmets. It’s a deadlock, a stand-off.

I feel dizzy. It’s mid-afternoon. I try to remember the last time I ate. A Snickers bar just before we met Lam on the Hungarian border. The last meal, breakfast back in the park in Belgrade, thirty hours ago. I look around. Bingo. A Burger King. Right here on the square.

‘Let’s eat,’ I say.

Majed frowns at me. His mind isn’t on burgers.

‘We can go online inside,’ I say. ‘And err … work out what to do.’

We all traipse across the road and a little way along a pedestrianized shopping street. The others settle down outside while Sara, Nabih, Majed, and I go inside to order food. The doors open and we’re hit with a familiar waft of fried food and air-conditioning. MTV blares out from screens on the wall. We go upstairs to eat. Burgers. Coke. Wi-Fi. We’re in heaven.

Majed soon gets bored and wanders outside to the others. He knows to find us here if anything changes. We sit in the red, gummy booths until the sun begins to set on the square outside the window. Sara gets a call around seven thirty. It’s Majed. He says he’s found a smuggler who has agreed to meet us in a McDonalds down the road. We file downstairs and out into the street. The sun has disappeared. The night is sticky and warm, the air stinks of diesel fumes. We find Majed and the others and follow them along the busy road. Police sirens wail past us every few minutes. Locals argue on the street in the heat.

A Moroccan man is waiting for us inside the restaurant. I see his eyes widen as he watches all thirty of us file in. The smuggler shakes Majed’s hand and motions to us to sit down. We spread out across the room. Majed and Zaher sit down at a table with the man.

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