KOSOVO 1999

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M I N U T E S T O WA R : Picnic in Hell Firouz exclaims: ‘Every step we move, every move we make, we are walking greenbacks.’ But like many here, it was either greed or survival which was expressed in his every move. half-daft with an idiotic-grin which stretched across his broad face which occasionally lapsed into a snarl with greedy eyes like raisins. On the first few days he would follow us around like an old fox pursuing a piece of succulent meat. But because he could not speak English this fox had lost all its teeth and could not eat the meat. In spite of the fact his eyes betrayed this greed he was continuously confiding through translators how much he was here for his love of us and that he was our colleague and friend. He would pronounce bombastically: ‘All Albanians are loyal, when they have friends.’ And then how he would support us to the bitter end. When all was lost he would be there for us. Every time we would see him at a coffee shop or at the ‘America Bar’ he would run over to sit beside us; impose himself in order to be our friend. But like many here, it was either greed or survival which was expressed in his every move. (Note: We knew our judgment was correct when we discovered he had gone to the widow’s apartment and asserted that every night that we stayed the widow must pay him a US$20 commission fee for having found us for the apartment… Ardian the new translator who we met later had emphatically said that this was unacceptable and that for her to stand by her guns.) I suppose in a banana republic like Albania everything is possible or everything is impossible. Along the roads in the town there are abandoned and rusted automobiles and files of sad, bored people, waiting and chain smoking around telephone booths attempting to telephone loved ones in distant countries. Our arrival in Kukes has catalysed mixed reactions. I was affronted by the way the journalists are separated from the refugees. They were all sitting huddled insecurely in one group as we strode into the ‘America Bar’ decorated with a two and a half meter plastic Statue of Liberty draped in the American flag with walkie talkies, satellite phones and savvy technology. They would be coming in, drinking coffees and then leaving to document and record a new exodus. This was CNN Disneyland and they were on overfuckingdrive...And all I could think is: ‘What the f…. are these people doing?’
M I N U T E S T O WA R : Picnic in Hell He said to me that he had heard later from friends that his video store had been looted and everything that he had owned in his house had been stolen and the shop windows smashed. Women, children, and older people have been deported from their villages and sent to this border region often after being separated from the men of the village. This was CNN Disneyland and they were on overfuckingdrive…. And all I could think is: ‘What the f…. are these people doing?’ I managed to ring my sister, Siobhan, to reassure her that I was safe as I am sure she is worried. Right now I am contemplating what I have got to do with the billboards, but I should probably talk a little bit more about the situation on our arrival. So this is Kukes. It sounds like the term Kookey and that is exactly what it appears to be—kookey! The town of Kukes, has served over the last three weeks as a stopping-off point for many refugees. The camps began being erected around the time the NATO bombing began, and an estimated two-thirds of the million Kosovar Albanians have arrived at the rate of 10,000 a day. Because it is not considered safe to keep refugees close to a border, Kukes was only considered a transit area. Initially it had been planned to send the refugees to camps farther towards Greece. However, the Kosovars appear to have resisted this now preferring to remain close to the border, in the hope that the conflict would be settled quickly and they would be able to return home. As a result, the camps have become extremely congested as more and more people poured in and most remain here. The weather is cold and rainy, the earth is muddy, and the air glacial. It is tent city here, with plastic sheeting with UNHCR stencilled across it draped from old socialist tractors. Women, children, and older people have been deported from their villages and sent to this border region often after being separated from the men of the village. After speaking to people we understand that they have fled by bus, car and tractor, often limping the last few kilometers. We have been told that once they refugees have reached the border at Merino seven kilometres north on the Serbian side, nearly all of the refugees were body-searched, and their identification was confiscated. One minor note I would like to make is that Firouz is becoming impatient with my need to talk to people. He will respond with: ‘We can’t do this; it is not on the schedule’. But I believe it is important to reach out to these people, to be with them and to touch them. We stayed with one family and this person was so touching the way he said that to see the suffering in their eyes is something which was beyond words. It is everywhere. Every set of eyes I meet, every place I walk, every person I see, and they are everywhere and I can see the people. Many of the people are farmers. Monday, 26th April, <strong>1999</strong>, Kukes, Albania We had a conversations with the office translator—a black-haired gentleman who was looking after the sick in an International Red Cross bureau. He had recently arrived from Kosovo after
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KOSOVO 1999

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