The following journal
entries are written from the perspective of fictitious characters but their
stories are based on situations that occurred in Serbia and Albania in the
later half of 1998 and early 1999.
August 7, 1998
Entry by: Aleksandra,
a 30-year-old Serbian girl living in Polje Kosovo
I have just returned home from the doctor. My suspicions have been confirmed. I am going to have a baby. I am excited and very much worried at the same time. I have not heard from Bojan now in three weeks. Last time we spoke he said his police unit was being sent to try and control the forces of the Kosovo Liberation Army. He told me not to worry and that they would be back as soon as they took care of “those dirty terrorists.” I am frightened. It is not like Bojan to not contact me for so long. I want to tell him the news. We have been hoping for a baby for some time now. Maybe now he will be given some kind of leave of absence. Everything in me hopes that will be the case!
Aleksandra
October 4, 1998
Entry by: Adem,
25-year-old Albanian man living in Drenica region in Kosovo.
I have joined the Kosovo Liberation Army. This is something I promised father I would never do, but that was back then. If he were here today, if he could see the pain they have inflicted on us and if he could see mother and how weak and frail she is, I am sure he would support my decision. I am tired of waiting for change to happen. I am tired of being optimistic and telling my people that everything is going to be okay when nothing is okay. Rugova says we should be patient and not fight and that by fighting we make things worse, but I can only believe that for so long. I think I may have believed it for too long. Last week Serbian forces came to Drenica and destroyed everything. When they came, I was on my way home from Plocica where I had visited an old friend of father’s who has grown extremely sick. I heard gunfire erupting in the streets around me and I began to run as fast as I could. When I reached my home I found my wife, Adelina and our one-month-old daughter, Bora hidden in the washroom. I frantically begin calling for my mother and she came running in through the back door. We all huddled in the washroom because it was the only room in the house with no windows. We waited and waited until we no longer heard gunfire, and we waited still longer after that. When I was confident they had gone I looked out a window to see the front of our house. I couldn’t believe it. Across the street I saw our neighbor, Naser lying in front of his house in a pool of blood. He was just an old man, almost eighty years old, who had been working in his garden this afternoon. It was at that moment that the rage and anger built up inside of me. I wanted to find the man who had did this and I wanted to kill him. I wanted it more than I ever wanted anything. I have never experienced hate like I did in that moment. The feeling was so strong it scared me.
We escaped into the woods that
night, and stayed there until the sun came up the next day. The surrounding villages have been burned and
I figure it is only a matter of time before what remains of our village is
destroyed. They will come back. We took very little with us, a few photographs
and some of father’s valuables. I packed my bag with food and water and some
formula for the baby. Mother was too weak to carry anything so we had to take
only what was necessary. We are now in
Now I am at a training camp for the KLA. I enrolled today and begin my training early tomorrow morning. Many men arrived with me today. One soldier I spoke with said the size of this camp has nearly doubled in one week. I recognize many men from Drenica. I am not surprised. This is our only option. We cannot just watch them kill our people, we must do something.
For now, Adem
September 27, 1998
Entry By Bojan.
33-year-old Serbian man, husband of Aleksandra
Today we raided a small, Albanian village in Drenica. It had to be done, we had no choice. Many leaders of the KLA are living in this area and we have to eliminate these leaders before the KLA becomes an even greater threat to our nation. We made great progress today. These Albanians are gaining too much confidence; they really believe they can claim our nation. We must stop them from killing any more of our people. As I rode through one of the villages today, an old man was out gardening in front of his house. I yelled at him to move back into his house seeing that he posed no real threat. The man got to his feet and hollered back at me that he would not take orders from a dog like me. I instinctively put three bullets through the old man’s chest. This is the attitude that must be completely eliminated. We cannot afford to tolerate such people; they will bring our nation to ruin.
I am worried about Aleksandra. I have not been home for nearly a month nor will I be able to return to her any time soon. My unit has been ordered to patrol this area. We must burn the abandoned homes and make sure no members of the guerilla movement are still lingering. It is a process that could take some time. I tell her that I am doing what is best for our child. I want him to be born into a Serbian nation that is safe and free of corruption. It is extremely hard to be away from her now. She will have the baby sometime in early January and I told her I will try with all my heart to be there.
Now I will try to sleep. I have been awake for nearly two days and my body and mind ache.
Bojan
October 29, 1998
Entry by: Adem
I have been patrolling the roads into and out of Drenica for about a week now. We have been ordered to ambush any Serbian police unit that tries to use these roads. Today was the first time we have encountered a police unit. I was anxious because our group is only equipped with small arms. Luckily there were only eight or so men in their unit and we had little trouble handling them. Killing a man almost felt natural today, it’s as if I don’t even have to think about it anymore. I just tell myself, these men burned your villages, killed your father and will kill the rest of your family. It makes pulling the trigger easier.
We will patrol these roads for a few weeks more, and then I hope I can return to the camp in Tirana. The thought of my family living in those conditions makes me sick to me stomach and keeps we awake long into the night. I want to hold my baby daughter in my arms and save her from this world.
Adem
November 23, 1998
Entry by: Aleksandra
My worst fear came true today. I was at the home of Bojan’s parents where I have been staying the past months while Bojan has been away. A dressed officer came to the door and Nenad, Bohan’s father spoke with him. He returned after a few moments to the kitchen, expressionless. There was a deep and worn sadness in the lines of his face. I knew what the man had told him before he spoke. Bojan was killed in an ambush outside Drenica. My knees gave out and I sunk to the cold ground. I sat there weeping. I was scared for many things in that moment. I felt the baby kick inside my stomach. I don’t know how I am going to do this. I don’t want to bring a child into this horrible, horrible world.
Aleksandra
December 27, 1998
Entry by: Aleksandra
The fighting has
reached Kosovo Polje. The Serbian
Deputy Mayor was killed by members of the KLA terrorist group, the same men who
killed Bojan. I no longer go out into the streets because the number of attacks
has increased each day. I asked Nenad if we were going to have to leave. He
assured me we would be able to stay in Kosovo Polie. Nenad is well informed of
what is happening. He spends time at the Serbian Police headquarters. I trust
him when he says we will not have to leave. Besides, I do not think I could
travel now. The baby will come any day and I can hardly move across the room.
It is very cold here because we have lost power for the past few days. I can
hear gunfire in the distance somewhere and it chills me even deeper. How long before
the terrorists come here? I try not to think these thoughts but each day it
gets harder to avoid them.
Aleksandra
January 26, 2007
Entry by: Adem
Our assignment today was a simple
one. We were given a section of Kosovo Polje inhabited by Serbs and we were told to destroy these homes and kill
the people we found who had not yet fled. Most of the people had already gone.
I came to one neighborhood and went inside a house that appeared to be empty.
Several windows were broken and it looked grim and destitute. I kicked down the
door and was surprised to hear a child crying in one of the back rooms.
Surprised by this I followed the noise to the back of the house. There in a
small room I found a young woman huddled into a corner holding a small child in
her arms. The baby was small, too small
for even a newborn. The woman was weeping, begging, I am sure for the life of
her child. She turned her back to me, as if to shield the child from my line of
vision, or my line of fire. She spoke Serbian, yet I felt the full power of
what she was saying without really understanding any of her words. .
I lowered my gun and I thought for a moment. This was the first time I had really thought in awhile, a long, long
while. For a brief moment I thought about my daughter, Bora. I imagined her
lying helplessly in the arms of this woman. I thought about my daughter and the
things I was willing to do to keep her alive. I thought about the woman, and
how she had ended up in this house, alone, with a baby that was no more than a
month old. It was almost as if I was watching my wife and child before me.
I lowered my pack and pulled out what little I had brought with me, a few
small slices of bread, some cheese, a package of powdered milk and two bottles
of water. I set the small meal on the middle of the floor and turned to leave.
As I walked out the door the woman spoke a few words. I turned to her but she
made no expression. I think she told me “thank you,” and for the sake of hope,
that is what I am going to assume.
I responded with a “you’re welcome,” and it was in that moment that I knew
my father had been right. This fighting, this mass killing, this was not the
way to do it. I made a promise to myself right then to start looking for a
different way.
Tomorrow I will make my way back to Tirana. I want to see my family.
Adem