October 21, 2000

Dear Friends,

Some of you have asked that I keep in touch while in Prishtinë. I will explain what I’m doing in Kosovo, and what it feels like to be here. But first, I’ve provided a brief, brief glitch about the history that brought me here in the first place. If you’re not keen on reading about the past, then skip the first few paragraphs. And if you’re not keen on receiving occasional emails from me, then please let me know.

I have an audience of busy people with little time to read long emails. So I’ve broken my letter up into little sections, which can be read independently or skimmed through:

--A Brief History

--Kosovo’s Political Status in Question

--The Prisoner’s Dilemma

--"I Want to Forget about the War"

--Where I Live, Where I Work

A Brief History of Kosovo since World War II

Post World War II, Communist Yugoslavia was comprised of six republics: Bosnia, Montenegro, Croatia, Macedonia, Serbia, and Slovenia. Serbia was comprised of Serbia proper and the two regions of Kosovo and Vojvodina. The first postwar constitution granted these two areas, Vojvodina and Kosovo, status as autonomous regions within the republic of Serbia. Vojvodina had a large Hungarian minority, and Kosovo, as we know, had a large Albanian population.

Beginning in the late 1960s and continuing through 1974, Kosovo’s political status improved, from an autonomous region solely within Serbia’s jurisdiction, to an autonomous province with direct representation in Yugoslavia’s federal governing body. It became a province that operated almost completely outside Serbia’s jurisdiction.

According to Serb nationalists, the 1960s and 1970s were a time in which Yugoslavia stole Kosovo away from the nation of Serbia. For Albanians, this was a time in which Yugoslavia for the first time in history began to reach out to a non-Slav people. As an autonomous province, Kosovo in many ways became the seventh republic in Yugoslavia. Albanians had the right to study and to be taught in Albanian; an ‘affirmative action’ policy was instated; Albanians received the right to fly the Albanian national flag.

Kosovo in the1970s was a little like this: there was a growing educated Albanian elite, centered in Prishtina University; a dwindling Serb population; a rising Albanian population; an economic crisis throughout all of Yugoslavia; rumors of Albanian revolutionary organizations based in Tirana; there was a growing number of unemployed Albanian college grads; occasional purges among top ranking apparatchiks; a growing confidence among Albanians as Albanians; an increasingly aggressive secret police, operating from Belgrade, known by the acronym udba. (Radio Free Europe/Yugoslavia reports from the 1970s is good place to explore for those who are interested in finding out more about this time.)

Albanian-organized protests occur in 1981, soon after the death of Josip Tito, the man who invented Communist Yugoslavia during World War II. Serbia responds to the protests with an increased police presence in Kosovo. Serbs also respond with a little desire for payback.

Economic crisis in Yugoslavia continues through the early 1980s. Inflation sours. Serbian President Ivan Stambolic takes under his wing a Belgrade banker, a regular ol’ bureaucrat, a man by the name of Slobodan Milosevic. Slobodan later betrays his mentor and arranges to have himself elected as Serbian President in 1987, and, later, as Yugoslav President. The student becomes the master, a Darth Vader.

Kosovo’s autonomy is revoked in 1989. The republic of Slovenia secedes from the Yugoslav union, and the others follow. The Yugoslav wars begin, and they end with the Dayton Accords of 1995, which mention next to nothing about Kosovo.

Serb police and military presence increases in Kosovo. Militant and nonviolent Albanian organizations act against Serb authorities in order to provoke a response from the international community.

NATO begins bombing in the spring, 1999. Many Albanians are chased out of Kosovo by an ethnic cleansing campaign, a few thousand are taken to prisons in Serbia. The war ends in June 1999 with the Kumanovo Agreement. Most Serbs and Roma (gypsies) are chased out of Kosovo.

Kosovo’s Political Status in Question

The future political status of Kosovo remains in question. The province is currently under UN auspices, and is managed by an international interim administration. But what will happen once the interim ends?

UN Mission in Kosovo head Bernard Kouchner has repeatedly reminded the US and EU that every Kosovar Albanian he has met, whether "moderate or extreme", desires and demands nothing short of independence for Kosovo. Any political arrangement in which Kosovo is a part of Yugoslavia is unacceptable to Albanians.

As long as Milosevic was in power, Albanians advocating for Kosovo’s independence retained the sympathies of the US and Europe. After all, Kosovars could not be expected to embrace a country whose head of state was a war criminal, and whose rise to power came about on a platform of war and Serb nationalism. But with newly elected President Vojislav Kostunica now at the head of Yugoslavia, the US and EU can argue that there no longer exists any justification for Kosovo’s independence.

Theoretically, any number of possibilities is available for Kosovo’s re-integration into Yugoslavia. Kostunica has already stated that "Yugoslavia" ceased to exist once Croatia seceded from the union in 1990. So Serbia and Montenegro, the only republics that still remain, are perhaps now bound to develop a new arrangement for their co-existence in a new Yugoslavia. Kosovo could theoretically be thrown in somehow.

Realistically, however, there is no chance that Albanians will stand for Kosovo’s return to Yugoslavia. Today’s killing of a French soldier in the northern district of Mitrovica, where French troops are protecting the largest enclave of Serbs in the province, is a reminder of how far a few Albanian thugs will go to make an anti-Serb, anti-Yugoslav statement.

And there is no possibility that Kosovar Albanians will seek integration with Albania. Indeed, perhaps the only realistic option is independence.

The Prisoner’s Dilemma

In a recent press release (hrw.org), Human Rights Watch reports that approximately 850 Albanians are being detained in Serbia, the majority of whom are political prisoners. Most are held without trial, or for committing acts of "terrorism" or "conspiring to commit" acts of terrorism against the Yugoslav state. Most were rounded up by police, military, or paramilitaries during the NATO bombing campaign.

Their fate is critical for stability in Kosovo. As one headline in a local newspaper reads, "No Peace in Kosova Without the Return of Prisoners."

The US and EU are pressuring Kostunica to issue their release. Belgrade based B92 news recently reported that lawyers in Belgrade are currently drafting amnesty legislation to release all political prisoners. But just one week prior, Kostunica hinted that Albanians will be released only if the fate of 100 missing Serbs in Kosovo is uncovered. Serbian Bishop Artimije made a similar statement. Human Rights Watch and other international human rights organizations responded by arguing that Albanian prisoners should not be held as hostages for future negotiations.

Perhaps Kostunica will release Albanian prisoners only if the US and EU force him to. Kostunica is still the head of a nationalist body, and he must achieve a difficult task: he must open his arms to the West without appearing, in the eyes of his people, to sell Serbia out. The country’s still strong Socialist Party and other nationalist groups will exploit any concessions he makes to the West. Perhaps Kostunica feels that releasing the prisoners is too risky too soon.

The issue can potentially undo what the international community has worked to build here for the past two years. Local newspapers are publishing front-page articles opposing further concessions to Serbia without the release of Albanian prisoners. Public demonstrations are being held every week.

A ceremony was held last week for Xhevdet Podvorica, a 17 year old Albanian being detained in Serbia. The event, organized by Xhevdet’s classmates, was held in the National Theater in Prishtinë. First, a women’s choir in black robes. Then a speech by the principal of Xhevdet’s school, urging the international community to release all Albanian prisoners from Serbia’s hands. Then a poetry reading by one of Xhevdet’s classmates. The last line read: "Freedom means nothing if you are not here." The ceremony concluded with a skit: Upstage are eight young men in ripped white t-shirts dotted with red paint. Their hands are tied behind their backs. One man lunges forward and lies center stage. Three women in white robes float onstage towards him. They dance in a circle around the man. One woman pulls out an Albanian national flag (red background, with a black two headed-eagle). She walks towards the audience. The audience applauds.

"I Want to Forget about the War"

There’s a well-dressed, clean-shaven old man who sits on the second floor stairway of my apartment building. He wears a crisp brown suit, with hat, and sips on Turkish tea. I first saw him when I arrived two weeks ago. I was headed for my flat on the fourth flour, lugging my big orange backpack and laptop case. He stood up as I approached his area.

"Excuse me," he started, in a salesman’s voice. "Do you drink tea?"

"What an odd question," I thought to myself.

"Yes, yes I do."

I stopped, waited for his response. I received none.

"Good day," I told him, and continued up.

But then he continued. "Excuse me?" he said before I left.

"Yes?" I answered.

"How many cups of tea do you drink each day?" he asked.

"Oh, about three or four."

"Do you like drinking tea?"

"Very much."

"And can you sleep at night?"

"Yes, yes I can."

"Good day, young man."

"Good day."

I left as he took another drink from his teacup.

***

This time of year is beautiful in Kosovo. I spent the day last Saturday in the outskirts of Prishtinë, in the quite town of Germija. Germija is a wonderful getaway from the Prishtinë noise and pollution. The road along the way is lined with tall made-for-fall trees, with their orange, red, and purple spot colors that boast their beauty only in October and November. There is a clean grassy area on the right, and a trail for joggers and walkers. A newly built café waits at the top of the hill. The old café was destroyed during the war.

In Germija, the only physical reminders of the war are beyond the new café, a few kilometers up the hill. There, yellow paint on the trees indicates cluster bombs, so stay on the trail or else get clustered, whatever that means. The presence of bombed concrete structures means that Serb police units operated from the area before the war.

"Yes, that’s right," a friend told me. "The police first came to Germija in 1981, after the big Albanian protests. They stayed there until, … well, until they couldn’t work there any longer."

There’s also an abandoned and completely drained manmade lake. It’s an odd sight. A giant empty swimming pool surrounded by a bright sun and colorful trees. It resembles a set for an eerie TV production, like a Nancy Reagan Say-No-To Drugs commercial, where the condemned drug user in a bathing suit dives into an empty pool.

But most of Germija is wonderful. It’s usually crowded, from morning until evening. Couples gather to sit and chat, boys come to play football. The café rakes in tons of business. Rain or shine, they come to Germija.

Posted on one of the trees outside the café is a faded poster, with a photo of an Albanian boy, under a heading: "I want to forget about the war."

***

My friend and I headed downstairs this morning to hail a cab. When we passed the second floor, a familiar voice:

"You’re friend drinks a lot of tea," said the well-dressed man.

"I know he does," answered my friend.

When we entered the cab, I asked my friend why the well-dressed man always talks about tea.

"That man is from Peja [a town in western Kosovo]," he said. "And in Peja they drink coffee. He married a woman from Prishtinë, and in Prishtine they drink mainly tea. The man is sick, and he thinks he’s sick because his wife only serves him tea."

Where I Live, Where I Work

I live in a small apartment in a 10 story concrete building. In the kitchen, where I spend most of my evenings, are the usual amenities: a fridge, stocked with eggs, milk, cheese, marmalade, tomatoes, and juice; a freezer stocked with beef; a stereo player, TV, and radio; an L shaped sofa; a wooden bookshelf stocked with Wilde, Victor Hugo, Marx, Serbian poets, and a few Albanian authors; a cupboard filled with teacups, small Turkish coffee cups, and fresh bread.

I work for a Prishtinë based non-governmental organization, the Association of Political Prisoners, which advocates for the release of all Albanians being detained in Serbia. I also worked for them last winter, when I first began to study Albanian. I "translated" a little, from Albanian to English. Most of what I wrote went something like this: "Xhevdet Krasniqi was taken from his home by Serb police in the district of Gjakove on 3 May 1999. He was arrested along with his three brothers. He is currently being held in a prison in Nish, Serbia. His health is not good. This information was provided by his mother."

Today, I translate other things that go something like this: "The people of Kosova demand that sanctions against Yugoslavia not be removed until Albanian political prisoners are released. 850 Albanians are being detained as hostages. We are waiting for them."

It’s quiet work, far away from other internationals, and it gives me a chance to improve my Albanian. The work can be intense, for the issue is very personal to the courageous people that I work with, all of whom have loved ones in prison.

Sincerely yours,

Daniel Pérez