"It looks like a prison. For me and my husband - okay. But the children? How can we take them there?"
I was talking with Marua Surchi, a lanky veterinarian from Dohuk in Iraqi Kurdistan, outside of an abandoned supermarket on the Serbian-Croatian border. The derelict building with no electricity serves as a final stop for migrants in Serbia before crossing over into Hungary to seek asylum. A windowless room furnished with nothing more than blankets on a cement floor had been the Surchi family's home for a month.
A few feet away, a tall border fence topped with coils of razor wire jutted out of the dirt. On the other side we could see a warren of shipping containers packed together side by side, each one covered in more razor wire. The complex is one of two new detention centers for asylum seekers in the Hungarian transit zone.
"What did we do?" Marua's husband, Bashar, asked in a quiet voice, gesturing toward the camp. "We left Kurdistan because there is war. Am I a terrorist? No, I am just a human."