I am in Záhony, Hungary. All is calm and serene. Peaceful. Everything seems normal. There is even an air of optimism on this beautiful, sunny day. And, yet, I am but a few miles away from war.
Záhony is on the Hungarian-Ukrainian border. It is an otherwise sleepy border town, with the main traffic consisting of cigarette smugglers (we are stopped on the way back in a road block set up by the Hungarian Adó és Vámhivatal, the tax and Customs police) who try to make a quick buck from selling the cheaper Ukrainian fare.
Most of the town is still deep in its daily slumber, with barely a sign that the houses lining the street are inhabited. Closer to the railway station, however, there is heightened activity.
The town is at the edge of the European Union and at the edge of sanity. It is surreal to even try to imagine that a war is waging on a few hundreds of kilometres away, probably the same distance it took us to drive here.
You wouldn’t be able to tell, in fact. The only military convoy we spotted along the way was heading away from the border. All is quiet on the Eastern front.
Yet, behind the calm facade, the tension is clear on the face of the people in front of us. They are not Hungarians. All of them are carrying backpacks and suitcases; in some cases, it might be all that they have left.
Outside the station, a tent is set up. Hot food is served to the many refugees that arrive from Ukraine. A ‘solidarity ticket’ enables them to board the train to Budapest, where they can seek asylum and get assistance from the Hungarian government. Many hope to move to other countries in Western Europe.
Inside the station, people wait patiently for their train while members of the press wait just as patiently for their scoop.
The town is at the edge of the EU, at the edge of sanity- Kenneth Charles Curmi
Some of the trains going through Záhony start from Kyiv, stopping at Lviv and Mukachevo before reaching the Hungarian town. Others start from Chop, just over the border, across the river Tisza. Not all Ukrainians come by train, however. A number of cars with Ukrainian number plates populate the Hungarian roads. Some are minivans and can be seen driving from and toward the border, like busy ants working hard for the colony.
As I look at the assembly of unfortunate souls, an unfortunately indiscriminate congregation of people from all ages, as indiscriminate as the bombing of the cities they fled, and as I see the resignation in their eyes, I feel ashamed of my privilege. The privilege of living a dignified life, free from organised violence. A privilege and freedom that we take for granted, as much as the peace we enjoy so close to conflict: an abstract and metaphorically distant peace coming under threat from real and geographically close hostilities.
Later, we buy some groceries for the families living in one of the Hungarian villages in the region.
I wonder if I do so for my own sake rather than theirs: the guilt one feels when witnessing the look of despair on the face of those facing such an uncertain future is indescribable.
Helping them seems to benefit us just as much, by assuaging the guilty feelings of responsibility that, as humans, we are bound to be subject to, if not through any direct involvement then through the general sense of empathy that marks our humanity.
Yet, the further we drive away from the border, the further we seem to get from that sense of responsibility. The burning sight of a fiery sunset, beautifully sublime and tranquil, makes us forget the thoughts of burning buildings and thundering noises. Constant reminders are close at hand, however. An Audi R8 with Ukrainian number plates speeds by. Clearly, it is going above the speed limit. Clearly, the owner is not staying behind to fight.
A good number of common folk are. Even back at the station, those returning to Ukraine outnumbered those heading to Budapest. Perhaps it was merely an odd coincidence. Or perhaps the Ukrainians are tired of fleeing.
Kenneth Charles Curmi is the former National Representative of the Parliament of Malta to the European Parliament and the EU institutions, a philosopher and a writer.