Berlin’s refugee trains


Every morning, at around 9 o’clock, a train carrying hundreds of refugees arrives at Berlin’s Schönefeld airport.

The train comes from Freilassing, a Bavarian town on the border with Austria.

As soon as it pulls in, the passengers are taken to an abandoned station room, where they are met by three groups of people: German soldiers; representatives of Lageso (the body in charge of registering new arrivals) and volunteers.

I made my way there yesterday morning. Bleary-eyed and not knowing what to expect, I was grateful to have a friend who could show me around.

“Those are the bathrooms,” he said, pointing to a row of portaloos outside the building. Next, he showed me the storage area. Piled into cardboard boxes were legions of teddy bears, nappies, sanitary towels and some sad-looking chocolate Santa Clauses. A huge area had been dedicated to clothing but as I was to find out later, there’s little use having a choice of a dozen women’s sweaters when what you desperately need is a pair of medium trousers for a man.

We set up a play area for the children – arranging a welcoming party of soft toys, colouring pencils and racing cars. Beside us, women were laying out blankets and baby changing facilities. On the other side of the room, soldiers and volunteers were spreading cream cheese on wraps and unloading crates of fruit.

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Soldiers and volunteers setting up crates of fruit and sandwiches early in the morning.

This was to be the refugees’ first impression of Berlin.

A short while later, the news came (by whatsapp) that the train was late. A few more minutes of calm.

And then they came.

Men, women, children, babies – all haggard looking. One of my first impressions was of a little girl with a horrifying, ominous cough.

I was on sandwich duty. It was non-stop. Nearly everyone wanted one. Many parents – with a child in one arm, and a plastic bag containing their few belongings in another, had trouble picking up the food.

Some people looked me in the eye. One or two children even smiled. But many others simply looked away. I imagine they’ve seen enough already.

When everyone who wanted one had got a sandwich, I made my way back to the kids’ corner. The toys had disappeared. There were people rummaging in boxes.

Some of the children hadn’t been quick enough. One little boy came to me and, gesturing as if he already had one, said, hopefully, “yoyo?” He’d probably seen someone else with one. I said I’d do my best. I think he understood what I meant.

I raced back to the storage room and scanned the boxes as fast as I could. Luck was on my side. I found an in-tact yoyo. The little boy took it and smiled. A small triumph.

Some of the kids were blowing bubbles. One father kept demanding I give his daughter the large re-fill container of soapy water. He was relentless in this pursuit – constantly approaching me while I was busy caring for others. His daughter too was adamant in her refusal of the standard sized bubble set the other kids had got. It was bizarre rather than anything else.  Who knows what kind of experiences trigger these minor absurdities?

With most people, communicating involved gesturing. I did meet one man though, who – while desperately trying to access the airport wifi – told me in fluent English that he was from Damascus and was relieved to find that so many people in Germany could speak English. He asked me who I was and what I did. He said he was grateful. I told him he was welcome, in both senses.

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Children’s play area

The final, mammoth task involved distributing clothing to those who needed it. I’d been advised to look at children’s feet in particular to see whether they needed shoes.

As soon as word spread that there was clothing to be had, the crowds began to come. Parents pointed at various parts of their children – tugging at their sweaters or trousers to indicate what they needed. I could supply many people but not all. I was glad to find underwear for a little boy and boots for an older girl. Some of the women wanted pullovers. A very polite teenage boy showed me his broken belt. Luckily, I found him a replacement.

But I could not find a pair of trousers to fit an average-sized man. We had some enormous pairs (probably donated by a triumphant German man who’d managed to shed some excess pounds or shops which couldn’t sell them). In the end the pair I apologetically produced for the man in question even managed to get a laugh.

After about an hour, the whole thing was over. The people were ushered onto buses which would take them to refugee shelters in Berlin and beyond.

Once there, like a million others already have, they will face the hurdles of German bureaucracy. The lucky ones will then have the opportunity – if you can call it that – of building a new life out of nothing.

In the meantime, the trains  will keep coming to Schönefeld.

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6 thoughts on “Berlin’s refugee trains

  1. An excellent report which gives a true flavour of the reality of the refugee situation from a volunteer’s point of view. Deeply moving.

  2. Very much enjoyed this new perspective of the refugee’s plight, so much different from the usual bland news stories. That father’s ranting over soap bubbles for his child speaks volumes about the indignities they all must have endured. But how Germany can keep absorbing such numbers of people is beyond me.

    • Hi Robert, thanks for stopping by. I’m so glad I went to Schoenefeld. I “report” on the refugee crisis every other day at work but it really wasn’t until I had this experience (and others since) that I felt I had any real understanding of the situation. I very much hope that good will prevails among the German people.

  3. Thank you for posting about this. It’s difficult in the US to get news that can be relied upon. It seems like we are being told so many different things so quickly. I know a lot of people here are scared of taking refugees. No one can agree on it, the congress can’t decide (like always), and all we seem to be getting is the news of what happened in Cologne over and over and over again. I don’t know how the German people have managed to take as many people as they have already. More come every day. Responsibility isn’t shared as it should be. I think my country should be doing more, but everyone here is terrified of continued terrorist attacks. And it’s an election year on top of it, which means nothing will be done from a political or governmental standpoint.

    • Hi Katie, thanks so much for sharing your experience of how this issue is being treated in the US. It makes me very sad that the movement of people fleeing war-torn countries has given some politicians leave to promote fear and sow hatred..Germany took in over a million refugees last year. That number could fill a small country or state. Statistically, there are bound to be a few criminals among that number. But there’s no reason to think refugees as a group will cause any more problems than the “local”population itself. I’m really glad that there are people like you who care about these issues.

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