Mehmed Glavas

Soura

It was at the beginning of the Mohammed crisis, the radio was blasting and my colleagues were highly strung. They discussed whether or not to kill all Muslims. I was devastated, and started to imagine concentration camps and all sorts of things.

I was on the evening shift, and left the factory in Østbirk at 11.15 pm and sort of “woke up” three quarters of an hour later at a roundabout in Kolding. Instead of going back home to Horsens I had driven out to the motorway. In Kolding I saw a sign with a red cross and thought: I’m safe here.
At that time, I had been a Danish citizen since 2001. But I was also a Bosnian citizen in 1993, when I was 15 years old, put on a bus and driven away.

What matters a lot to me are relations. When they are broken, I immediately return to what happened then. It was not me who said: I don’t want us to be friends any longer. Others said it for me. When I was laid off from my former job in April last year it threw me into an identity crisis. It was my “baby” where I had worked 60-80 hours a week. Again, I had a relationship broken. It made me go to Bosnia for a couple of months over the summer. Mostly as self-therapy: how does it look today? Am I foreign? Or have I become Danish? I discovered I was more foreign down there than in Denmark. In everyday life I don’t feel foreign. But you don’t need statements saying all foreigners must be put on the train and deported from the country. I can only relate it to ’93.

41 / male / in a relationship / fitness instructor / Horsens / from Bosnia / came to Denmark in 1994 / residency permit 1995