Footsteps in Kosovo

By Kristina Lucas

Footsteps in Kosovo - a travel book that deals with an unusual subject in a different manner. Initially when learning she was to visit Kosovo the author, searched for information about the land and the inhabitants... "to find out what it was like".

Admitting ignorance of the land other than knowledge of the conflict in 1999 when NATO conducted an air offensive on humanitarian grounds to halt what was termed as the ethnic cleansing of the Albanian population of Kosovo. Much has been written about the war period but despite extensive investigation she came across very little on the domestic front. The book is an attempt to remedy this. The personal dialogue draws a sensitive picture of this small part of the world - not much larger than the county of Yorkshire - now a UN protectorate, and still an 'active posting' for the NATO military forces after 5 years of 'nation building'.

With the aid of her camera and a quirky sense of humour that saw Kosovo becoming 'curiouser and curiouser', aspects of living in Kosovo today are revealed. First seeing Kosovo from the comparative safety of one of the myriad of white 4x4 vehicles she falls irrationally in love with the land, the people and the fascinating history. With her camera ever ready she portrays a land of often violent contrasts. Written looking at Kosovo briefly from history - the day before; the war years - yesterday; the author takes to her heart the Kosovo of today.

Determined to attempt to analysis her attraction 60-year-old Kristina returns... alone. To find her affinity, interest, intensifying.

She has since been back yet again on her own, to stay in the capital Pristina just prior to the recent elections; feeling her way in this unsettled land; 'to test the water' as the frustrations of the population continue to simmer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Nov 16, 2004
• ISBN: 9781412224161

Kristina Lucas

Determined not to grow old gracefully, Kristina is a keen amateur photographer and has had photographs published by a regional newspaper. Married with two grown up children she lives in a remote part of Cornwall.

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Copyright 2004 Kristina Lucas.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

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ISBN 1-4120-2923-6

ISBN 978-1-4122-2416-1 (ebook)

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VII

CHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER Χ

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV

CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

For all who know Lizzie

&

Sade and Peri who live and cope in the Kosovo of today

Author’s notes

I have left ‘Dismay’ in situ as I feel it is appropriate.

For as with the manuscript…this how it was and is for me and Kosovo.

October 2004 sees me again returning to Pristina : ‘ to test the water.’

During my research and extensive reading when I knew very little of Kosovo I found hardly any information about the actual land of Kosovo, its people and how they live… the social and domestic front. Whereas much has been written chronicling history and the recent war period. I have attempted to throw some light on life in Kosovo. This book is my picture of Kosovo today. All the thoughts, comments and opinions within are mine and mine done except where sated.

My son had been in Kosovo working for the OSCE-Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe-for eighteen months when it was suggested that my husband and I go out there to visit him.

2002 was also our twenty fifth wedding anniversary and we had deeded on a special trip somewhere.

Not to a war zone I must admit but somehow the two became involved and so began for me what has become a fascinating and consuming interest.

In its way a ‘love affair’.

Kosovo Chronicle

To see and understand Kosovo today one must see and understand a little of Kosovo ‘yesterday’ and ‘the day before’ and the recent background of Yugoslavia itself.

( Prior to 1992 Yugoslavia consisted of six independent republics…Slovenia, Croada, Bosnia-Herzegovina, Serbia, Montenegro, Macedonia and two autonomous provinces within Serbia of which Kosovo is one. Today Yugoslavia comprises only Macedonia and Serbia. More commonly known now as FRY)

Today as I was able to see and feel it, as the dust of ‘yesterday’ attempts to settle.

Yesterday. .he upheaval of recent years, when this obscure little province in the south of Serbia approximately the size of’ Yorkshire, shot into the spotlight of world attention. And the day before…some background history.

A sketch of Kosovo… the day before…

For generations Kosovo has long been a disputed territory between Albanians and Serbs. Their respectivehistorians quarrel over the true history. Albanians lay claim to being the original inhabitants, being thedescendants of the Illyrians, whom history tells us occupied this area. Serbs meanwhile point to theirmany ancient monasteries and churches to confirm that Kosovo was the heart of the medieval kingdom of

Serbia, when few, if any Albanians lived among them.

Nothing changes you might say!

Looking for a starting point I have chosen June 28 1389

It is on this date that Serbian forces led by Prince Lazar are defeated in battle by invading Turks. It is believed that Albanian and Bosnian warlords fight with him and that other Serbian units fight with the Turks. All quite normal!

This date is commemorated six hundred years later with no small effect by Slobodan Milosevic, in his address to the Serb population of Kosovo, when he openly starts to fan the embers of ethnic hatred in his bid for power and the creation of a Greater Serbia.

Meanwhile by 1459 Serbia, including Kosovo, is under Turkish rule; part of the Ottoman Empire. The population balance begins to change in the centuries that follow as the Serb majority migrate northwards to Hungarian and Austrian lands. No doubt Albanians existing in the harsh environment of the Albanian mountains are attracted to the fertile land of Kosovo; referred to in Albanian history as ‘The Land of Pear Trees’. Who can blame them?

1878 and Serbia has again become an independent state; while Kosovo remains under Turkish domination.

This year also marks the foundation of the birth of modern Albanian nationalism with the formation of the League of Prizren.

By 1912 other independent Balkan states and Serbia have managed to drive the Ottoman Empire out of Europe. Kosovo Serbs see this as liberation but for the Albanians living there the Serbian army is one of occupation.

During the First World War the Serbian authorities are driven out. This period, in 1918, sees yet another appalling revenge situation. Serbian soldiers are massacred in their thousands by the Albanians as they retreat though the mountains of northwest Kosovo towards the Adriatic coast and thence to safety in Italy.

Serbian revenge for this comes in their ascendancy with the formation of Yugoslavia in 1918 and consequently the JLA-the Yugoslav Army-reputed at times to be one of the best fighting forces in the world.

Between the two world wars Serbia tries to reverse the population imbalance in Kosovo by putting settlers in.

Albanian uprisings and unrest continue.

1941 and most of Kosovo becomes part of Italian controlled Greater Albania. Other parts are occupied by German and Bulgarian forces. Thousands of Serbs especially settlers are driven out. To enlist help against foreign occupation To promises the Kosovo Albanians the right to unite with Albania after the war. Here comes another ‘world history promise’ not to be kept. I cannot help but wonder what difference that would have made had it been adhered to? Needless to say the uprisings continue.

1974 and the province is granted autonomy-the right to self-government-within Serbia, whereupon complaints of harassment against the Serb population grow. It is these grievances that are to be so efficiently manipulated by Slobodan Milosevic, the President of Serbia, following his historic address to the Serbian population of Kosovo on the 600th anniversary of the Battle of Kosovo.

Yesterday begins…

1989 and Milosevic strips Kosovo of its autonomy. This action precipitates a crisis, part of the chain that reverberates across the Balkans; ending in the fall of Yugoslavia. No mean accomplishment to trigger of the Mood bath of the 1990’s.

Led by Ibrahim Rugova, the Kosovo Albanians attempt peaceful resistance in the hope of restoring autonomy. His party declares ‘independence’ by running a parallel sate.

Increasingly Albanian radicals feel pacifism to be getting them nowhere and prepare to take up arms. 1994/1995 the first armed resistance groups develop.

December 1997 The emergence of the Kosovo Liberation Amy (KLA) in Drenica (area in western Kosovo) and yesterday starts in earnest; open warfare breaks out. March/May 1998 the first offensive against KLA districts by the Yugoslav military forces. July/September of that year refugee crisis develop as Serb forces compel 300,000 people to leave their homes and find shelter in the forests.

Following international peace efforts during 1998 the Serb army partially withdraws in October. December 1998 sees new Serbian attacks on Kosovo communities, followed by the Racak Massacre in January 1999 that centres the focus of the world’s media.

In this instance international diplomatic tactics are doomed to failure and on March 24th 199 NATO forces, with the media in full attendance, commence air strikes that are to last for 78 days. Initially bombing Kosovo, the borders with Albania and Macedonia and then into Serbia itself. Slobodan Milosevic is finally persuaded to withdraw the Serbian army from the soil of Kosovo.

And as today dawns…

June 12th 1999 international forces enter Kosovo.

Kosovo, though still part of Serbia, becomes a UN protectorate administered by UNMIK. .The United Nations Interim Administration Kosovo or United Nations Mission in Kosovo as it is more usually known. It is interesting to note that UNMIK could be pronounced in the Albanian language to mean une mik… I am a friend or anmik…enemy.

UNMIK consists of four substantive components: Interim civil administration UN-led Humanitarian affairs UNHCR-led Reconstruction EU-led Institution building OSCE-led

The first UN Special Representative for Kosovo handed the responsibility of this awe inspiring task was Sergio Vera de Mello; sadly one of the UN personnel who died in the bombing of the UN HQ in Baghdad in August 2003; at his desk-still trying to create a better world.

To date Kosovo remains under the UN and is still considered to be an ‘active posting’ which is another way of saying the guns carry live ammunition.

28th June 2002 and I arrive…to find ‘.ice’ waiting for me

Most people are familiar with the character of Alice in Lewis Carroll’s classic children’s book Alice in Wonderland that has fascinated adult readers since it was written. The grownups look for hidden meanings and debate the author’s alleged use of opium while writing it. Together ‘Alice’ and I try to fathom the meanings behind my thoughts and experiences in Kosovo. Why it has made such an impression on me; why the attraction for this land that drives me to return.

No opium has influenced my writing. I simply found ‘Alice’ waiting for me; a fitting companion to share my footsteps in Kosovo, my ‘wonderland’, as they become curiouser and curiouser…

Image986.JPG

Kosovo-showing the de facto border within Serbia today.

There are many books written by far more informed people than I profess to be about the day before and although some things can be laid at the door of history, not all.

The Ottoman Empire, for example, may have marched here there and everywhere doing this and that but it is yesterday and today that should have the most impact on tomorrow; the future. Maybe this outlook would be of benefit to the world as a whole. Blame and counter blame can so often lead only in circles. Refusing to accept the more distant past that cannot be changed and allowing it to justify yesterday’s actions is a constant crucifixion of tolerance and the mil to build a better future.

I hope to create a small picture of a land now; as it stands today.

The thoughts and impressions of a middle aged English woman and her inner friend ‘Ace’ who came too. A personal journey with thoughts and photographs along the way.

The day before and yesterday plus of course today will always become the tomorrow that never comes…

But some days stand out more than others…

Kristina

CHAPTER I

In the beginning…

When I am still me and ‘Alice’ has not surfaced…

…One summer morning in a granite house overlooking Lands End and the Atlantic Ocean; far indeed from the maddening crowd…

03.59—and the alarm goes off-sound from hell! However much you want, or need to be up, at that insistent sound there’s one good alternative and that’s roll over! … Once vertical, gritting your teeth is to be recommended.

There is a plane to catch, and the airport is over 50 miles away.

The best plan is not to talk to humans though I do manage civility to the cat. Please be good I won’t be long.

Two cups of coffee and we are rolling, foregoing the normal boiled egg and no sound of the Hoover!

It is a quiet morning weather wise, a gentle dawn, with the A30 practically empty, the only hazard is the brilliance of the sun striking on the ribbon road ahead, neatly blinding the driver.

A somewhat stunned dog is dropped off at the kennels at 05.30. The owner is still in her dressing gown. That woman is a saint amongst kennel owners.

As I leave my dog with her I find myself wondering how she would have reacted to my son’s dog. Visions of the large puppy that would have outstripped any of our breeds in size and probably ferocity! From the photos we had been sent he resembled a bear cub crossed with a wolf.

A Kosovo stray, adopted by my son and christened very aptly ‘Yogi’, the friendship was developing to the extent that I had started to wonder how I would cope; for his responsibilities so often land on my doorstep. But not this one, for horrifyingly the puppy comes to a violent end. The dog is shot outside his house for no reason.

Despite emergency efforts of a vet hauled from his bed by a distraught Englishman, Yogi does not make it. I know that my son hurt. His animal affinity, will, like mine, bend to scoop a worm from the road when it risks car tyres and snails are always scooped out of harms way.

Not yet knowing I am to see a similar dog that day in the mountains and to reverse my thoughts back to the kennels…able then to really visualize, with a grin, one such dog being taken for walkies by my accommodating friend.

Apparently these dogs are known to savage other canines on sight!!

A banana and a plastic cup of orange juice later and the land rover is driving under the trees on the lane to the airport. It always strikes me as the most unlikely approach to a runway. For two miles the road winds in a tunnel of foliage. Every time I feel like a mole as the trees suddenly give way to the terminal building, a mole surprised to find where he has surfaced. I mean do moles know exactly where they are coming up? Car park meter records 06.07 Friday 28th June 2002. Bags are out and the vehicle locked. The moment of committal comes as luggage, duly scanned, goes on the conveyor belt.

Newquay airport in its modernized décor of surf city propaganda and a stainless steel refreshment area is nowhere near as friendly as it used to be. I miss the cheerful lady who was always patient with one’s poking through the 2nd hand books being sold to raise money for something or other; plus one was handed a comfortable mug of coffee. I have a particular loathing for paper cups and stupid spoons the width of a toothpick.

At least the ‘little’ plane is the same, the hostesses get to recognize their regulars and the tarmac is familiar, touched for luck as you board the plane.

But once you pass through any departure door and the last cigarette has been stubbed out the Gods take over.

Window seat for me and aisle for my husband, our chalk and cheese’ relationship working out for once! London Gatwick! And the ‘country mice’ must wake up’… no longer dropped out but rather dropped in … to the big wide world.

As far as I am concerned passports are already needed. What can be more different from my remote home in Cornwall? Where even the ‘emmets’, (Cornish expression for holidaymakers derived from emmet-ant), hell bent on the ‘Lands End experience’ pass it by, unaware of its existence.

Having bought ‘shit loads’ of duty free cigarettes (the offer of ‘Buy 2 get l free!!’ is too much for both of us), eventually managing to convince the shop girl that Kosovo is not in the EU… in fact according to her list the place did not exist at all; we are able to partake of the mandatory coffee-always cappuccino-and yet another last cigarette. For up on the board at last.

PRISHTINA-Boarding Gate 45

As I have just spent at least half an hour of my life peering at the terminal departure screen now is as good as time as any to mention the first of many confusions where place names are concerned in the country I am about to visit.

Kosovo occupies a mere ten thousand odd square kilometres of land on this planet but I am sure contains enough name conundrums to counter its comparatively small area.

For a start I find the capital has three different spellings. British Airways flash Prishtina on their boards, the Albanians use Prishtine and the Serbian version is Pristina.

In writing of my experience I decided to show dual place names-Albanian $ Serbian at the first mention. Thereafter I use only one name according to my personal preference. No nationalistic inference whatsoever is intended in this. So it will be Pristina because it rhymes with my name. My logic.

Gate 45 turns out to be at ground level with a bus job to the waiting Boeing 737.

Not a departure lounge but a large open hall crowded with milling people and the background hum ofmore than one language. BA’s usually organized boarding procedures seem to have gone to ‘ratshit’ and basically there is a cram on the bus and a disorganized push-and-shove-muddle locating the designated seat on board the plane. Twice the pilot almost implores passengers to just get in.

Sit down, and then sort yourselves out later as the aircraft’s take off slot is fast disappearing.

The ‘differences’ are making themselves known already!

I am instinctively drawn to a mother and her three youngsters on the bus. Muslim headgear and long black coat must have made her feel hot and bothered let alone coping with the children. We catch each other’s eye and her answering smile is beautiful. She allows help, for old and young, bags and buggies were being hustled aboard. It turns out that we are sitting near each other and the smiles continue. I learn later that she is visiting family in Pristina, where her mother will be there to meet her. Meanwhile the screams of her fretting child add to the hubbub. No one is bothered by it except maybe the pilot! Suddenly we are off the deck; and ‘normality’ has already begun to fade as the plane climbs. I actually prefer to fly alone, being on my own allows me to concentrate on double checking I am on the right plane and that the return ticket that I know I have just put safely away is still there! But once it is all ‘too late’ it is time to relax; and there will always be a book to ‘disappear’ into. I am no longer paralyzed at the advent of food trays and even enjoy the little battle of coping with tiny pots of food and drink with your elbows clenched to your side and no cigarette afterwards-just! I have even got used to being told we are flying at Xft and Xspeed but still wish they wouldn’t bother. One has only to look out of the bloody window to see you are higher up than you prefer to think about. It doesn’t take too much intelligence either to realize that were it not for incomprehensible land based speeds you’d fall out of the sky, despite this I love the window seat for two reasons, one is comfort! It is far easier to position one’s head and body against the ‘wall’ of the plane rather than attempt to control tired wobbles in the seat terrified of dozing off only to jerk awake realising you have flopped against a complete stranger who has probably been subjected to your tired twitching as well; and of course there is the glory of gazing down at the surreal reality of this world divided only by the borders of nature rather than Man. To see mountain tops spearing the clouds, peaks wrapped in un-trodden snow, the rising place of rivers as well as their routes to the sea is a breath catching experience never mind how many times repeated; while the fabrications of Man can take on the attraction of distance.

My husband, sublimating in his way, tries to con me out of my BA refreshments, to no avail, for nowadays I enjoy a ‘yardarm’ and can cope with my own G&T thank you very much; sipping it delicately on the plane. No doubt to offset the ‘no cigarette’ effort.

The fly time to Pristina on the BA 737 is 3 O hours. Time to think…

Kosovo being very much a part of Yugoslavia the histories are very much entwined. The revival of ‘ancient hatreds’ has become a cliché to explain the wars in Yugoslavia. Whilst it cannot be denied that the Balkans has a penchant for brutality in their politics and wars, and that the region has a repetitive character, there were other ingredients in the ‘melting pot’.

Prior to the collapse of communism and the end of the Cold War the economy of Yugoslavia had been supported by both Moscow and Washington. The Russians used Yugoslav labour to build their factories and America needed the Yugoslav Army as a bulwark against the threat of a Soviet invasion of Europe. The breakdown of communism found the Balkan republics already looking to Europe for future trade and therefore economic survival. Within Yugoslavia itself, Slovenia, always the richer, was in a good position economically for this transition; Croatia was investing in a lucrative tourist market and Bosnia had a strong agricultural related industry. Kosovo was always the poorest, needing subsidization from the better off republics of Yugoslavia. Serbia itself apart from the intellectual centre of Belgrade had nothing to offer bar the power of police and army.

The declaration of independence by Slovenia and Croatia led to border clashes as Slovenia slipped her leash; and in Croatia heavy fighting broke out between Croatian militia and Serbian irregulars(Chetniks) backed by the Yugoslav Federal Army. The main areas of fighting were in the east, central Croatia and around Dubrovnik on the Adriatic coast. In January 1992 Yugoslavia officially ceased to exist.

In February of this year Bosnia-Herzegovina makes a declaration of independence,that is rejected by the Bosnian Serbs and the Serb leadership in Belgrade

War begins in April with the siege of the capital Sarajevo.

The Serbs are accused of ethnic cleansing to secure territorial domination.

The UN imposes a trade embargo, followed by a naval blockade, against Serbia.

Fighting continues; the UN peacekeeping force in Bosnia, UNIPROFOR, is powerless.

There is ‘no peace to keep’.

1995 and the Dayton Peace Agreement is signed. By then the two forces had virtually fought themselves to a standstill. Bosnia is to be a single state comprising the Muslim-Croat federation and a Serb Republic.

Balkan political stability barely has time to get off the deck before Milosevic rescinds the autonomy of Kosovo.

So driven by a poor economic situation and political aspirations of their leaders the Serbs have been incited into extreme nationalism and eventually into vicious ethnic wars that encompass not only the whole of Yugoslavia but also the small land that I will soon be landing in.

Thick cloud below allows me to concentrate on lunch and the stretch of the Adriatic my book but not for long, for as the flight path crosses the coast miraculously the clouds are left behind. Ragged mountain ranges draw my being down to gaze and gaze…in fascination…as lands slip past below me. Then, knowing I am lost already, the mountains are pulling back and the lowlands of Kosovo are taking shape beneath the plane.

Pristina lies