I wake up around 6 and wash my face. My family has lived in the Konik camp for 11 years now. It is just outside the Montenegrin capital, Podgorica.

My mother, father, three brothers and I have a two-room flat in a building that was built in the camp by a German charity. We have our own bathroom. Before, we had to wash in the communal area with 2,000 other people. It was impossible to get really clean.

I don’t have breakfast — we eat later in the day — so I drink coffees and watch soaps on TV until around 10am, if we have electricity. I love all the soaps, watching the couples get divorced and then waiting for them to get back together again.

I like what they talk about.

I went to the local primary school for five years. Save the Children work with pupils there, trying to get kids to stay and finish their studies. I liked it but I had to stop. Mum got sick and there was no one else to take care of my younger brothers. Now I read the subtitles on the Mexican soaps. After a few hours of TV I clean the flat from top to bottom. When we first arrived here, we lived in a tent. When it rained, the canopy would buckle and bulge until it gave in and everything would be soaked — ruined. I seemed to have flu the whole time.

We’ve lived in the German building for the past five years. They looked to see who had the best hygiene in the camp, and chose the 24 cleanest families. But there was trouble when we moved in. The people still living in wooden huts and tents went mad. It was difficult because many of them were our relatives. My cousin has four kids and she didn’t get a flat. Her hut burnt down recently, so they’re living in a tent. Fires happen all the time. There was one last year that killed two young kids and a baby.

I saw it happen. Their grandfather was looking after them. He had beaten one of them up and locked them all in a chicken coop. The kids were frightened and lit candles.

I was the first to see the flames. I could hear the kids crying and I was screaming and screaming for help. We were throwing stones on the flames, but it didn’t help. I think about those children all the time.

Once the flat is clean, my friends come over and we drink more coffee and watch more soaps. I have two best friends: Elvis and Haire. I tell every secret I have to those two. We spend most of the day walking around the camp. Little kids bug us and lift up my dress and Haire’s, so I beat them. My favourite thing to do is go into Podgorica and look at dresses in the shop windows. But last week some local girl called out “Gypsy whore!” as I walked past. I wanted to beat her up, but my friends pulled me back. So I told her: “I’ll beat you up next time.” If I see her, I will too. Every time you get called a name like that it hurts.

All the people in the homes around Konik treat us Roma as if we are nothing. So we don’t leave the camp much. There’s not much to do. Kids play with balls and the girls play with their babies. We listen to music nonstop, mostly Albanian songs we buy from this guy who brings tapes back from Kosovo. They’re always about some girl who is getting married to her boy. I’m taking more notice of the lyrics now, because I’m getting married in three months.

In my culture, you buy brides. That’s why my parents are in such a hurry to get me a husband — they’ll get around €2,000 for me. He’s good and he’s handsome. He works too. He’s a builder in Kosovo. He has some cousins in the camp — that’s how we met. We got engaged about 10 months ago. He came over with a ring, shoes, presents and some make-up for me. I don’t know if I’m looking forward to being married or not. I am definitely looking forward to getting out of this camp. I think marriage is the only chance I have.

We usually have one meal every day, in the afternoon. My dad makes a bit of money playing music. He plays this traditional instrument, a type of wooden flute, and goes back to Kosovo to play at weddings there. If Dad gets a wedding job and we have some money, we go to market to buy vegetables and maybe some eggs. We might spend around €5. If he doesn’t, we don’t. A lot of people here eat from the rubbish bins in town. I’ve done it when Dad hasn’t made money, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. Mostly we just find bread — it doesn’t taste that bad.

When it starts to get dark, we light fires. There’s a place we all go every evening to talk. It’s just a big rock, but we sit around it, all the girls, talking about boys and listening to music. A girl will have a new boyfriend and she’ll tell us everything about him, where they go, what they get up to. It’s fun.

Around midnight I get washed. I sleep with my three brothers. I lie awake thinking, about my parents and how much time I have before I’m going to get married. I am frightened for my mother. Who will look after her when I leave? Sometimes I don’t sleep all night.

www.savethechildren.org.uk

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