So this right here is the tiny village of Elle, close to Lista. It's right at the southernmost tip of Norway. And on January 2 this year, an elderly guy who lives in the village, he went out to see what was cast ashore during a recent storm. And on a patch of grass right next to the water's edge, he found a wetsuit. It was grey and black, and he thought it looked cheap. Out of each leg of the wetsuit there were sticking two white bones. It was clearly the remains of a human being.
Dakle, ovo ovde je seoce Jele, u blizini Lista. To je tačno na najjužnijoj tački Norveške. A 2. januara ove godine, stariji čovek, koji živi u selu, je izašao da pogleda šta je izbačeno na obalu tokom nedavne oluje. A na parčetu trave, odmah uz morsku ivicu, pronašao je ronilačko odelo. Bilo je sivo-plavo i on je pomislio kako izgleda jeftino. Iz svake nogavice ronilačkog odela virile su dve bele kosti. To su očito bili ostaci ljudskog bića.
And usually, in Norway, dead people are identified quickly. So the police started searching through missing reports from the local area, national missing reports, and looked for accidents with a possible connection. They found nothing. So they ran a DNA profile, and they started searching internationally through Interpol. Nothing. This was a person that nobody seemed to be missing. It was an invisible life heading for a nameless grave. But then, after a month, the police in Norway got a message from the police in the Netherlands. A couple of months earlier, they had found a body, in an identical wetsuit, and they had no idea who this person was. But the police in the Netherlands managed to trace the wetsuit by an RFID chip that was sewn in the suit. So they were then able to tell that both wetsuits were bought by the same customer at the same time, October 7, 2014, in the French city of Calais by the English Channel. But this was all they were able to figure out. The customer paid cash. There was no surveillance footage from the shop. So it became a cold case.
U Norveškoj obično brzo identifikuju mrtve. Pa je policija počela da pregleda prijave nestalih iz lokalnih krajeva, nacionalne prijave nestalih i proveravali su nesreće koje možda imaju veze s tim. Nisu pronašli ništa. Pa su uradili DNK profil, i započelu su internacionalnu potragu preko Interpola, Ništa. Ovo je bila osoba koja, kako se činilo, nikom nije nedostajala. Bio je to nevidljivi život na putu ka bezimenoj grobnici. Ali onda, mesec dana kasnije, policija u Norveškoj je dobila poruku od policije iz Holandije. Nekoliko meseci ranije su pronašli telo u identičnom ronilačkom odelu i pojma nisu imali ko je ta osoba. Ali policija iz Holandije je uspela da uđe u trag odelu preko RFID čipa koji je ušiven u njega. Pa su tako bili u stanju da otkriju da je oba ronilačka odela kupila ista mušterija u isto vreme, 7. oktobra 2014, u francuskom gradu Kaleu, u blizini Engleskog kanala. Ali to je bilo sve što su mogli da otkriju. Mušterija je platila gotovinom. Nije bilo snimka sigurnosnih kamera iz prodavnice. Pa je slučaj zastareo.
We heard this story, and it triggered me and my colleague, photographer Tomm Christiansen, and we of course had the obvious question: who were these people? At the time, I'd barely heard about Calais, but it took about two or three seconds to figure out Calais is basically known for two things. It's the spot in continental Europe closest to Britain, and a lot of migrants and refugees are staying in this camp and are trying desperately to cross over to Britain. And right there was a plausible theory about the identity of the two people, and the police made this theory as well. Because if you or I or anybody else with a firm connection to Europe goes missing off the coast of France, people would just know. Your friends or family would report you missing, the police would come search for you, the media would know, and there would be pictures of you on lampposts. It's difficult to disappear without a trace. But if you just fled the war in Syria, and your family, if you have any family left, don't necessarily know where you are, and you're staying here illegally amongst thousands of others who come and go every day. Well, if you disappear one day, nobody will notice. The police won't come search for you because nobody knows you're gone.
Čuli smo ovu priču i ona je pokrenula mene i mog kolegu, fotografa Toma Kristjansena i nas je, naravno, interesovalo očigledno: ko su bili ovi ljudi? Tada jedva da sam znao za Kale, ali trebalo mi je dve do tri sekunde da otkrijem da je Kale u suštini poznat po dve stvari. To je najbliža tačka kontinentalne Evrope Britaniji i da mnogo migranata i izbeglica odseda u ovom kampu i da očajnički pokušavaju da pređu u Britaniju. I upravo tu je počivala moguća teorija o identitetu dvoje ljudi i to je bila i teorija policije. Jer, ukoliko biste vi ili ja, ili bilo ko sa čvrstom vezom u Evropi nestali s obala Francuske, ljudi bi prosto znali. Vaši prijatelji ili porodica bi prijavili nestanak, policija bi tragala za vama, mediji bi znali, a vaše slike bi bile na banderama. Teško je netragom nestati. No, ako ste upravo pobegli od rata u Siriji, vaša porodica, ukoliko imate još porodicu, ne mora nužno da zna gde ste, a vi ste ovde ilegalno, među na hiljade drugih koji dolaze i odlaze svakodnevno. Pa, ako jednog dana nestanete, niko neće primetiti. Policija neće tragati za vama jer niko ne zna da ste nestali.
And this is what happened to Shadi Omar Kataf and Mouaz Al Balkhi from Syria.
A ovo se desilo Šadiju Omaru Katafu i Muazu Al Balkiju iz Sirije.
Me and Tomm went to Calais for the first time in April this year, and after three months of investigation, we were able to tell the story about how these two young men fled the war in Syria, ended up stuck in Calais, bought wetsuits and drowned in what seems to have been an attempt to swim across the English Channel in order to reach England. It is a story about the fact that everybody has a name, everybody has a story, everybody is someone. But it is also a story about what it's like to be a refugee in Europe today.
Tom i ja smo otišli u Kale prvi put aprila ove godine i nakon tri meseca istrage mogli smo da ispričamo priču o tome kako su ova dva mladića pobegla od rata u Siriji, završila u škripcu u Kaleu, kupila ronilačka odela i utopila se, kako se čini, u pokušaju preplivavanja Engleskog kanala kako bi stigli do Engleske. To je priča o činjenici da svako ima ime, svako ima priču, svako je neko. Ali je to takođe priča o tome kako je danas biti izbeglica u Evropi.
So this is where we started our search. This is in Calais. Right now, between 3,500 and 5,000 people are living here under horrible conditions. It has been dubbed the worst refugee camp in Europe. Limited access to food, limited access to water, limited access to health care. Disease and infections are widespread. And they're all stuck here because they're trying to get to England in order to claim asylum. And they do that by hiding in the back of trucks headed for the ferry, or the Eurotunnel, or they sneak inside the tunnel terminal at night to try to hide on the trains.
Dakle, odavde smo počeli potragu. Ovo je u Kaleu. Trenutno između 3,500 i 5,000 ljudi živi ovde u užasnim uslovima. Ovo je označeno kao najgori kamp za izbeglice u Evropi. Ograničen je pristup hrani, ograničen je pristup vodi, ograničen pristup zdravstvu. Zarazne bolesti i infekcije su rasprostranjene. A svi su zaglavili ovde jer su pokušavali da stignu do Engleske kako bi tražili azil. A to rade tako što se skrivaju na prikolicma kamiona koji idu trajektom iili Eurotunelom, ili se noću ušunjaju u terminale u tunelu kako bi se sakrili u vozovima.
Most want to go to Britain because they know the language, and so they figure it would be easier to restart their lives from there. They want to work, they want to study, they want to be able to continue their lives. A lot of these people are highly educated and skilled workers. If you go to Calais and talk to refugees, you'll meet lawyers, politicians, engineers, graphic designers, farmers, soldiers. You've got the whole spectrum. But who all of these people are usually gets lost in the way we talk about refugees and migrants, because we usually do that in statistics.
Većina želi da ide u Britaniju jer znaju jezik, pa računaju da bi im bilo lakše da započnu novi život tamo. Žele da rade, da studiraju, žele da budu u stanju da nastave svoje živote. A većina ovih ljudi su visoko obrazovani i kvalifikovani radnici. Ako odete u Kale i pričate s izbeglicama, upoznaćete advokate, političare, inženjere, grafičke dizajnere, farmere, vojnike. Imate čitav spektar. Ali ličnost ovih ljudi se obično izgubi u načinu na koji govorimo o izbeglicama i migrantima jer obično to radimo preko statistike.
So you have 60 million refugees globally. About half a million have made the crossing over the Mediterranean into Europe so far this year, and roughly 4,000 are staying in Calais. But these are numbers, and the numbers don't say anything about who these people are, where they came from, or why they're here.
Dakle, imate 60 miliona izbeglica na svetu. Oko pola miliona njih je prešlo preko Mediterana u Evropu tokom ove godine i oko 4000 se zadržalo u Kaleu. Ali ovo su brojevi, a brojevi ne govore ništa o tome ko su ovi ljudi, odakle stižu ili zašto su ovde.
And first, I want to tell you about one of them. This is 22-year-old Mouaz Al Balkhi from Syria. We first heard about him after being in Calais the first time looking for answers to the theory of the two dead bodies. And after a while, we heard this story about a Syrian man who was living in Bradford in England, and had been desperately searching for his nephew Mouaz for months. And it turned out the last time anybody had heard anything from Mouaz was October 7, 2014. That was the same date the wetsuits were bought. So we flew over there and we met the uncle and we did DNA samples of him, and later on got additional DNA samples from Mouaz's closest relative who now lives in Jordan. The analysis concluded the body who was found in a wetsuit on a beach in the Netherlands was actually Mouaz Al Balkhi. And while we were doing all this investigation, we got to know Mouaz's story. He was born in the Syrian capital of Damascus in 1991. He was raised in a middle class family, and his father in the middle there is a chemical engineer who spent 11 years in prison for belonging to the political opposition in Syria. While his father was in prison, Mouaz took responsibility and he cared for his three sisters. They said he was that kind of guy. Mouaz studied to become an electrical engineer at the University of Damascus.
A prvo želim da vam pričam o jednom od njih. Ovo je 22-ogodišnji Muaz Al Balki iz Sirije. Prvi put smo čuli za njega nakon prve posete Kaleu, u potrazi za odgovorima na teoriju o dva mrtva tela. I ubrzo smo saznali za priču o Sirijcu koji živi u Bradfordu u Engleskoj i mesecima očajnički traga za svojim nećakom Muazom. Ispostavilo se da je poslednji put kada je iko išta čuo o Muazu bio 7. oktobar 2014. To je bio isti datum kada su ronilačka odela kupljena. Pa smo odleteli tamo i sreli se s ujakom i uzeli smo uzorke DNK od njega i kasnije sme uzeli dodatne DNK uzorke od Muazovog najbližeg rođaka koji sad živi u Jordanu. Analiza je zaključila da je telo pronađeno u ronilačkom odelu na plaži u Holandiji zaista pripadalo Muazu Al Balkiju. I dok smo se bavili istragom, saznali smo Muazovu priču. Rođen je u glavnom gradu Sirije, Damasku, 1991. Odgajan je u porodici srednje klase a njegov otac, ovde u sredini, je hemijski inženjer koji je proveo 11 godina u zatvoru zbog pripadnosti opoziciji u Siriji. Dok mu je otac bio u zatvoru, Muaz je preuzeo odgovornost i brigu za svoje tri sestre. Kažu da je bio takav tip momka. Muaz je studirao da postane inženjer elektrotehnike na Univerzitetu u Damasku.
So a couple of years into the Syrian war, the family fled Damascus and went to the neighboring country, Jordan. Their father had problems finding work in Jordan, and Mouaz could not continue his studies, so he figured, "OK, the best thing I can do to help my family would be to go somewhere where I can finish my studies and find work." So he goes to Turkey.
Nekoliko godina nakon početka rata u Siriji, porodica je pobegla iz Damaska u susednu državu, Jordan. Otac je imao problema da pronađe posao u Jordanu i Muaz nije mogao da nastavi studije, pa je razmišljao: "U redu, porodici ću najbolje pomoći ako odem negde gde mogu da završim studije i pronađem posao." Pa odlazi u Tursku.
In Turkey, he's not accepted at a university, and once he had left Jordan as a refugee, he was not allowed to reenter. So then he decides to head for the UK, where his uncle lives. He makes it into Algeria, walks into Libya, pays a people smuggler to help him with the crossing into Italy by boat, and from there on he heads to Dunkirk, the city right next to Calais by the English Channel. We know he made at least 12 failed attempts to cross the English Channel by hiding in a truck. But at some point, he must have given up all hope. The last night we know he was alive, he spent at a cheap hotel close to the train station in Dunkirk. We found his name in the records, and he seems to have stayed there alone. The day after, he went into Calais, entered a sports shop a couple of minutes before 8 o'clock in the evening, along with Shadi Kataf. They both bought wetsuits, and the woman in the shop was the last person we know of to have seen them alive. We have tried to figure out where Shadi met Mouaz, but we weren't able to do that. But they do have a similar story. We first heard about Shadi after a cousin of his, living in Germany, had read an Arabic translation of the story made of Mouaz on Facebook. So we got in touch with him. Shadi, a couple of years older than Mouaz, was also raised in Damascus. He was a working kind of guy. He ran a tire repair shop and later worked in a printing company. He lived with his extended family, but their house got bombed early in the war. So the family fled to an area of Damascus known as Camp Yarmouk.
U Turskoj nije primljen na fakultet i čim je napustio Jordan kao izbeglica, više mu nije dozvoljen ponovni ulazak. Tada je odlučio da krene ka Britaniji, gde živi njegov ujak. Stiže do Alžira, peške ulazi u Libiju, plaća krijumčarima ljudi da mu pomognu da brodom pređe do Italije i odatle kreće ka Dankirku, gradu u blizini Kalea, pored Engleskog kanala. Znamo da je bar 12 puta bezuspešno pokušavao da pređe Engleski kanal, skrivajući se u kamionu. Ali mora da je u jednom momentu izgubio svu nadu. Poslednju noć, za koju znamo da je bio živ, proveo je u jeftinom hotelu u blizini železničke stanice u Dankirku. Pronašli smo njegovo ime u registru i čini se da je odseo sam. Sledeći dan je otišao u Kale, ušao u prodavnicu sportske opreme, nekoliko minuta pre osam uveče, zajedno sa Šadijem Katafom. Obojica su kupila ronilačka odela, a prodavačica iz radnje je poslednja osoba za koju znamo da ih je videla žive. Pokušali smo da saznamo gde je Šadi upoznao Muaza, ali nismo uspeli. Ali imaju sličnu priču. Prvi put smo čuli za Šadija nakon što je njegov rođak, koji živi u Nemačkoj, pročitao na Fejsbuku priču o Muazu prevedenu na arapski. Pa smo kontaktirali s njim. Šadi, nekoliko godina stariji od Muaza, je takođe odrastao u Damasku. Bio je vredan tip momka. Vodio je vulkanizersku radnju, a kasnije je radio u štamparskoj firmi. Živeo je sa širom porodicom, ali je njihova kuća bombardovana početkom rata. Pa je porodica pobegla u deo Damaska poznat kao Kamp Jarmuk.
Yarmouk is being described as the worst place to live on planet Earth. They've been bombed by the military, they've been besieged, they've been stormed by ISIS and they've been cut off from supplies for years. There was a UN official who visited last year, and he said, "They ate all the grass so there was no grass left." Out of a population of 150,000, only 18,000 are believed to still be left in Yarmouk. Shadi and his sisters got out. The parents are still stuck inside.
Jarmuk opisuju kao najgore mesto za život na planeti Zemlji. Vojska ih je bombardovala, bili su pod opsadom, ISIS ih je pustošio i godinama su bili odsečeni od zaliha. Jedan zvaničnik UN-a ih je posetio prošle godine i rekao: "Pojeli su svu travu, pa nije uopšte trave preostalo." Od 150,000 stanovnika veruje se da samo 18,000 i dalje živi u Jarmuku. Šadi i njegove sestre su pobegli. Roditelji su i dalje zaglavljeni unutra.
So Shadi and one of his sisters, they fled to Libya. This was after the fall of Gaddafi, but before Libya turned into full-blown civil war. And in this last remaining sort of stability in Libya, Shadi took up scuba diving, and he seemed to spend most of his time underwater. He fell completely in love with the ocean, so when he finally decided that he could no longer be in Libya, late August 2014, he hoped to find work as a diver when he reached Italy. Reality was not that easy. We don't know much about his travels because he had a hard time communicating with his family, but we do know that he struggled. And by the end of September, he was living on the streets somewhere in France. On October 7, he calls his cousin in Belgium, and explains his situation. He said, "I'm in Calais. I need you to come get my backpack and my laptop. I can't afford to pay the people smugglers to help me with the crossing to Britain, but I will go buy a wetsuit and I will swim." His cousin, of course, tried to warn him not to, but Shadi's battery on the phone went flat, and his phone was never switched on again. What was left of Shadi was found nearly three months later, 800 kilometers away in a wetsuit on a beach in Norway. He's still waiting for his funeral in Norway, and none of his family will be able to attend.
Pa su Šadi i jedna njegova sestra pobegli u Libiju. Ovo je bilo nakon Gadafijevog pada, ali pre nego što je buknuo građanski rat u Libiji. I tokom poslednjeg perioda stabilnosti u Libiji, Šadi je naučio da roni i čini se da je najviše vremena provodio pod vodom. Potpuno se zaljubio u okean, pa kad je konačno odlučio da više ne može da ostane u Libiji, krajem avgusta 2014, nadao se da će da naći posao ronioca kada stigne u Italiju. Stvarnost nije bila tako jednostavna. Ne znamo mnogo o njegovim putovanjima jer je teško komunicirao s porodicom, ali znamo da se mučio. I do kraja septembra, živeo je na ulicama negde u Francuskoj. Dana 7. oktobra, zove rođaka u Belgiji i opisuje mu svoju situaciju. Rekao je: "U Kaleu sam, dođi da uzmeš moj ranac i laptop. Nemam novca da platim krijumčarima da mi pomognu da pređem u Britaniju, ali otići ću da kupim ronilačko odelo i plivaću." Rođak ga je naravno pokušao odvratiti, ali Šadijeva baterija na telefonu se potrošila i njegov telefon nikada više nije uključen. Šadijevi ostaci su pronađeni gotovo tri meseca kasnije, 800 kilometara dalje u ronilačkom odelu, na plaži u Norveškoj. Još uvek čeka da bude sahranjen u Norveškoj, a niko od njegove porodice neće moći da prisustvuje.
Many may think that the story about Shadi and Mouaz is a story about death, but I don't agree. To me, this is a story about two questions that I think we all share: what is a better life, and what am I willing to do to achieve it? And to me, and probably a lot of you, a better life would mean being able to do more of what we think of as meaningful, whether that be spending more time with your family and friends, travel to an exotic place, or just getting money to buy that cool new device or a pair of new sneakers. And this is all within our reach pretty easily.
Mnogi će možda pomisliti da je priča o Šadiju i Muazu priča o smrti, ali ja se ne slažem s tim. Za mene, ovo je priča o dva pitanja zajednička za sve nas: šta je bolji život i na šta sam ja spreman da bih ga ostvario? I za mene, a verovatno i mnoge od vas, bolji život bi značio mogućnost da uradimo više smislenih stvari, bilo da je to provođenje više vremena s porodicom i prijateljima, putovanje na egzotično mesto ili prosto da zaradimo novac za novi kul uređaj ili par novih patika. A sve nam je ovo prilično lako na dohvat ruke.
But if you are fleeing a war zone, the answers to those two questions are dramatically different. A better life is a life in safety. It's a life in dignity. A better life means not having your house bombed, not fearing being kidnapped. It means being able to send your children to school, go to university, or just find work to be able to provide for yourself and the ones you love. A better life would be a future of some possibilities compared to nearly none, and that's a strong motivation. And I have no trouble imagining that after spending weeks or even months as a second-grade citizen, living on the streets or in a horrible makeshift camp with a stupid, racist name like "The Jungle," most of us would be willing to do just about anything. If I could ask Shadi and Mouaz the second they stepped into the freezing waters of the English Channel, they would probably say, "This is worth the risk," because they could no longer see any other option. And that's desperation, but that's the reality of living as a refugee in Western Europe in 2015.
Ali ako bežite iz ratne zone, odgovori na ova dva pitanja su drastično drugačiji. Bolji život je život na sigurnom. Dostojanstven život. Bolji život je kad vam kuću ne bombarduju, kad ne strahujete od otmice. Kad ste u mogućnosti da pošaljete decu u školu, da pohađate fakultet ili da prosto nađete posao i zarađujete za sebe i one koje volite. Bolji život bi bila budućnost sa nekim izgledima, nasuprot skoro nikakvim izgledima, a to je snažna motivacija. I nije mi teško da zamislim da nakon što provedete nedelje ili pak mesece kao drugorazredni građanin, živeći na ulicama ili u užasnim improvizovanim kampovima sa glupim, rasitičkim imenima, poput "Džungle", većina nas bi bila spremna na sve. Kada bih mogao da pitam Šadija i Muaza te sekunde kada su zakoračili u ledene vode Engleskog kanala, verovatno bi rekli: "Ovo je vredno rizika", jer više nisu bili u stanju da vide drugi izlaz. A to je očaj, ali to je realnost izbegličkog života u Zapadnoj Evropi 2015.
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
Bruno Giussani: Thank you, Anders. This is Tomm Christiansen, who took most of the pictures you have seen and they've done reporting together. Tomm, you two have been back to Calais recently. This was the third trip. It was after the publication of the article. What has changed? What have you seen there?
Bruno Đusani: Hvala, Anderse. Ovo je Tom Kristjansen, koji je napravio većinu slika koje ste videli i zajedno su radili na reportaži. Tome, vas dvojica ste nedavno ponovo bili u Kaleu. To je bilo treće putovanje. To je bilo nakon objavljivanja članka. Šta se promenilo? Šta si video tamo?
Tomm Christiansen: The first time we were in Calais, it was about 1,500 refugees there. They had a difficult time, but they were positive, they had hope. The last time, the camp has grown, maybe four or five thousand people. It seemed more permanent, NGOs have arrived, a small school has opened. But the thing is that the refugees have stayed for a longer time, and the French government has managed to seal off the borders better, so now The Jungle is growing, along with the despair and hopelessness among the refugees.
Tom Kristjansen: Prvi put kad smo bili u Kaleu, tamo je bilo oko 1,500 izbeglica. Bilo im je teško, ali bili su raspoloženi, imali su nadu. Sada je kamp narastao, ima možda četiri ili pet hiljada ljudi. Čini se trajnijim, stigle su NVO, malena škola je otvorena. Ali stvar je u tome da su izbeglice ostale duže i francuska vlada je uspela da bolje zatvori granice, pa sada Džungla raste, zajedno sa očajem i beznađem kod izbeglica.
BG: Are you planning to go back? And continue the reporting?
BĐ: Planiraš li da se vratiš? I da nastaviš s reportažom?
TC: Yes.
TK: Da.
BG: Anders, I'm a former journalist, and to me, it's amazing that in the current climate of slashing budgets and publishers in crisis, Dagbladet has consented so many resources for this story, which tells a lot about newspapers taking the responsibility, but how did you sell it to your editors?
BĐ: Anderse, ja sam bivši novinar i meni je neverovatno da u trenutnoj klimi podrezivanja budžeta i krize u izdavaštvu, "Dagbladet" pristane da ovoliko resursa uloži u ovu priču, što mnogo govori o novini koja je preuzela odgovornost, ali kako ste je prodali urednicima?
Anders Fjellberg: It wasn't easy at first, because we weren't able to know what we actually could figure out. As soon as it became clear that we actually could be able to identify who the first one was, we basically got the message that we could do whatever we wanted, just travel wherever you need to go, do whatever you need to do, just get this done.
Anders Fjelberg: Nije bilo lako u početku, jer nismo mogli da znamo koliko zaista možemo da otkrijemo. Čim je postalo jasno da bismo zapravo mogli da identifikujemo prvo telo, u suštini smo dobili poruku da možemo da radimo šta god želimo, samo putujte gde god treba da idete, uradite šta god je potrebno, samo završite ovu priču.
BG: That's an editor taking responsibility. The story, by the way, has been translated and published across several European countries, and certainly will continue to do. And we want to read the updates from you. Thank you Anders. Thank you Tomm.
BĐ: To je urednik koji preuzima odgovornost. Priča je, usput, prevedena i objavljena u nekoliko evropskih država i svakako će nastaviti da se objavljuje. A mi želimo da čitamo vaša ažuriranja. Hvala ti Anderse. Hvala ti Tome.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)