"Everyone is talking about Croatia now," said Majid Dababo, a Syrian pondering travel options at a makeshift migrants' camp at Kanjiza in northern Serbia.
Dababo, a bookish ex-employee of luxury hotels in the Gulf States, had trekked with three compatriots towards western Europe along a route followed by more than 200,000 people this year. But now the path ahead was blocked.
Barely 15km north of Kanjiza, Hungarian riot police, supported by the military and helicopter surveillance, stood guard at a 4m-high fence that now runs the full length of the country’s border with Serbia.
“What do you suggest? How should we proceed?” Dababo asked in perfect English. “We are thinking about going [to Croatia]. But we heard there are mines on the border. We are legal travellers, we have our passports, but we want to be safe.”
The information that Dababo and his companions read on their smartphones was correct: landmines do still litter some 550km of Croatian territory, including remote parts of its border with Serbia – a legacy of their 1990-95 war.
The Zagreb government sent experts to the frontier to ensure that high-risk areas are clearly marked, as Croatia declared an official policy of acceptance towards migrants. This contrasted starkly with Hungary’s security-led crackdown.
Europe's worst refugee crisis since the second World War has deeply divided the continent. German calls for all EU states to take a quota of refugees was rejected by Hungary and several other central European nations, whose leaders have called the mostly Muslim refugees a threat to the continent's security and identity.
"We are ready to accept and direct those people – their religion and colour of skin is completely irrelevant – to where they apparently wish to go, Germany and Scandinavia," said Croatia's prime minister, Zoran Milanovic.
Horrible message
“I don’t approve of the policy of Budapest,” Milanovic added. “I consider it harmful and dangerous. Not that the walls that are being erected will stop anyone, but they are also sending a horrible message. A fence in Europe in the 21st century is not an answer but a threat.”
Croatian officials were already openly doubting its capacity to handle the migrants on Thursday night, as thousands re-routed their journeys away from Hungary, causing chaos at the Serbia-Croatia border. But the Zagreb government does not want to mimic Hungary’s crackdown and invite similar international opprobrium.
Migration experts say Hungary’s fence will only boost demand and profits for people smugglers who, in cahoots with corrupt police and border guards, spirit asylum seekers across frontiers in return for hundreds and even thousands of euro.
Hungary's prime minister, Viktor Orban, remains defiant, and responded to growing international criticism by pledging to extend the fence along the borders with Croatia and Romania if necessary, despite protests from both nations.
After Hungary provided buses and trains earlier this month for migrants to cross to Austria, asylum seekers who are still arriving at the Serbia-Hungary border are unsure what to do next. To the aid workers, reporters and locals, they ask: "Where should we go?" What should we do?" "What is going to happen?"
At Kanjiza, a group of migrants stopped a bus leaving for the Hungarian border when half of those on board decided to go to Croatia instead.
The journey was much longer and more expensive, costing €21 each and taking about three hours, instead of a €5, 20-minute trip.
Still, for many it now seems like the best way to continue towards what they hope will be a life of safety and eventual prosperity in western Europe.
“Hungary is blocked, but Croatia is open. We must think and act fast, before Croatia closes too,” Mohammed Zirk, a soft- spoken but determined Syrian, said to a group of 20 travelling companions who recognise him as their leader.
“We will be stuck here on the border,” he said. “Why waste time here? We need to move. We need another plan, a ‘plan B’. This is it – Croatia.”
Bus to the border
The bus driver told Zirk that if he gathered 60 people, a bus could depart in 15 minutes. It would be a profitable day for the driver’s boss: €1,200 for running one bus to the Croatian border, with the promise of plenty more to come.
Dababo and others were unsure, torn between the uncertain promise of the new route and a slim hope that Hungary would make another U-turn and reopen the border, even if just briefly, to ease the pressure.
"All the way from Turkey we are tricked and robbed," said Radwan, a Syrian farmer from near Damascus. "I have not washed for six days, and my feet are swollen because my bag, with my blood pressure pills, was stolen. We are being humiliated, and this is driving people towards violence.
“Tell me who to believe?” he asked. “The smugglers? Should we go to them for help? Just give us another way, Europe, we will do whatever you say.”
By the time violence did erupt on Wednesday at the border post near Kanjiza, Zirk and companions were moving safely along the migrants’ new route.
“It’s decided,” he said at Kanjiza, clapping his hands together. “We’re going to Croatia.”
