Tim Hughes reports from Serbia on how money raised here in the UK is helping refugees from Syria, Iraq and Afghanistan, now trapped in eastern Europe

ASIF leans against a crumbling wall and pulls on a cigarette. Behind him a piece of graffiti screams "We are human... we need food, water, doctor."

Another slogan shouts "No more borders... we need safety".

Asif is smartly dressed and has immaculately combed hair – but around him is a scene of unimaginable squalor. Asif and hundreds of other others, including a child of just eight – are sleeping rough in a row of abandoned freight sheds behind the main railway station in the Serbian capital Belgrade.

Asif hails from a particularly dangerous corner of Afghanistan, where, he admits, he lived in fear of the Taliban and 'Daesh' – the extremists of Islamic State. Like everyone here, he has paid many thousands of dollars to get to Europe, but got as far as Serbia – and stopped.

"I don't want to be here," he tells me. "I want to go to work in Germany or Sweden. But they won't let me go."

A 15 year-old boy called Ehsan, from Jalalabad, tells me it took him two months to get here, and he has already spent seven months in Serbia, unable to go forwards – or back. "I feel so bad," he says with sadness.

Out on the edge of Europe, at the gates of the European Union, Serbia has found itself thrust into the international limelight once again as the frontline in Europe's refugee crisis.

It could have done without it. The country still bears the ragged scars of the implosion of Yugoslavia. a few blocks from here, Belgrade's Ministry of Defence building and Serbian Radio and Television centre are still in ruins after US bombing 18 years ago.

Now it sits directly on the migration route from Afghanistan, Iraq and Syria – and following a decision by EU member states Hungary and Croatia to effectively close their borders, the trail stops here for thousands of refugees. There are estimates of up to 3,000 illegal migrants.

Asif is calm and extremely polite – far more than he has a right to be.

Despite its proximity to Belgrade's grand station, with its shops and cafes, and the hipster hangouts of its trendy waterfront district, this is hell. The scrubland around is strewn with litter, rats are everywhere and the smell is eye-watering. Before chemical toilets and sinks were installed in February, sanitation was non-existent. To keep warm, people have been burning whatever is at hand – including polystyrene food containers and old railway sleepers covered in tar. The sheds were thick with toxic fumes. Respiratory problems are common.

Thank heavens spring is here.

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When we speak later that da, Asif offers me an orange.

"Things are bad here," he sighs. "But we didn't really have a choice."

There is an alternative though.

While some refugees are afraid to register with the authorities for fear of being detained or sent back, the Serbians have opened a string of reception centres around the country where they can live in safety, get a decent meal three times a day, see a doctor, take language classes and receive legal advice on what to do next.

While neighbouring countries have slammed the door shut, and corrupt officials and criminals along the torturous route have made their lives a misery, the Serbians are welcoming refugees, and even inviting them to apply for citizenship.

At the forefront of the aid effort here is Christian Aid – which has been on the side of refugees since 1945, when it was set up to support those made homeless by the Second World War.

Since 2015 the charity has worked with its partner organisation, Philanthropy – the charitable arm of the Serbian Orthodox Church – as part of the Refugee Crisis Appeal. Its work is vital.

Most of the refugees pouring into Serbia have come via Turkey, paying smugglers to sail them across the Aegean Sea to Greece. Packed into overcrowded, unseaworthy boats and inflatables, the hazards of the journey are well known. Everyone has seen the heartbreaking image of the Syrian child, washed up on a Turkish beach after the boat in which he was travelling capsized. Most deaths, however, go unreported.

Once in Greece, migrants make their way to Athens and on to Bulgaria. This, for many, is even worse. Almost everyone has horror stories of their treatment at the hands of evil men who make a living by preying on the helpless. Families hunted by men on horseback or quad bikes, refugees robbed of everything – cash, phones, even their clothes – or attacked by dogs.

They then pass through Macedonia, entering Serbia at its southern border

Close to the Macedonian border in a converted battery factory at Bujanovac, families are being given shelter in a refugee centre partly funded by Christian Aid cash, through its Serbian partners. More than 200 people, many of them children – some unaccompanied – live in simple, but very clean and tidy, conditions.

And though the stories of hardship and homesickness are the same as those in the slums behind Belgrade station, the mood could not be more different. Children laugh and chase each other around the canteen, where families are served healthy meals of fish, chicken and piles of fresh fruit and vegetables.

In the yard outside, boys are given football coaching by a fellow migrant. Other residents carry out jobs, earning a little extra cash for necessities, picked up on short trips to the local market. The camp is no prison.

Teenagers act as interpretors. The mood is light. After the journey they have all taken, it is a welcome temporary respite.

Nashad Ismail, 30 is a Syrian Kurd from Kobani, near Aleppo. He left with his pregnant wife, Naeroz, 24, and three year-old daughter Heidi, when the war left his home town in ruins. "The war and 'Daesh' came, so we left," he tells me. "It was not safe."

Nashad tells me he had a fast food restaurant, but the family left everything. "That was four years ago," he said. "There were bombs everywhere. You could not imagine it – not even in an action movie. You had to be there to experience it. I didn't want my child to see that."

They fled across the Iraqi border to Erbil and then Turkey and then decided to join relatives in Germany. They spent all of their savings – 7,000 euros to get to Serbia – including 2,000 euros to cross the Aegean in a leaky dingy. Then they walked.

"My wife was pregnant and about to give birth, but we had no choice," he says.

Now, nursing a three month-old son Haval, his wife looks haunted, but is grateful for the help they have received from Christian Aid and its partners.

Mohamed Omeri, 43, from Kabul, tells a similar story. "I had a supermarket in Afghanistan and lots of work," he tells me. "Life in Afghanistan had been good but we were scared of bombs and the Taliban. People were always robbing me and told me they'd kill me. My daughter saw a bomb blast and has been scared since.

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"I thought, if I died in a bomb, what would happen to my family? So we left for a better future. I just wanted a better life for my children."

They travelled by car and on foot, and crammed in with 50 people in a small boat which sank. "I was so scared," he says. " I thought we would die in that water."

They were rescued, but lost their possessions.

"We saw a lot of terrible things," he says. "I never thought I would have to face these problems. If I die it's better I die here. In Afghanistan no one cares. At least here they will care for my wife and children.

"The help we get here is good. Thank you!"

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Christian Aid Week

As Christian Aid marks 60 years of Christian Aid Week (May 14-20) www.caweek.org), the organisation is inviting people to join them in standing in solidarity with refugees around the world.

The charity has been working with refugees since the Second World War, and is not turning its back now.

Coordinated from the charity's office at Oxford's Wesley Memorial Methodist Church, hundreds of supporters across Oxfordshire will be collecting for the charity and holding fundraising activities.

  • You could help to change the lives of refugees fleeing conflict and crisis this Christian Aid Week by donating online at www.caweek.org calling 08080 006 006, or texting ‘GIVE’ to 70040 to give £5.Oxford Mail: