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[RRE]Kosovo big picture
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[I was sitting here in Los Angeles and I was thinking this: "We need
stories that humanize the situation in Kosovo, lest we drift into
refugee-count territory. We also need concepts to comprehend, and
words to explain, not least to children, what could possibly be going
on in the minds of people who engage in genocide." No sooner had I
completed these thoughts than the following messages arrived in my
mailbox. The first is by a journalist in Melbourne writing about the
Kosovar emigres there; the second is by a sociologist, who wishes to
remain anonymous, writing about his encounter with the dread invasion
of the Ottoman Turks. The web sites whose URL's I've been circulating
also provide plenty of evidence, and further evidence can be had at
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Date: Tue, 30 Mar 1999 01:17:54 +1000
From: "Kevin Murray"
The weekend of unanswered phones
According to a recent American publication, Going Going Gone, the unanswered phone is destined to become a relic of the 20th century. The expanding network of answering machines, tone menus and voice mail ensures that few calls expire of natural causes. For Kosovar Albanians, though, the unanswered phone is more than a curious anachronism. It is a matter of life or death.
There are 400-500 Albanians from Kosovar who are living in Melbourne -- roughly 10% of the total Albanian community. They have been arriving since the early 1980s, when the latest series of crackdowns began. The closure of education and professional opportunities had forced many young men and women to look elsewhere for employment. Scattering as far as Switzerland, USA and Australia, they left parents and extended family stayed behind.
Despite being spread across the world, the Kosovars have maintained a virtual nation through the international telecommunications. For the Albanian diaspora, the phone network operates like a global nervous system, alerting the dispersed community to trouble spots back home. At one community dinner, the announcement of total funds raised was greeted with the cry 'Six more fax machines for Kosova!' Communication has been the key to liberation.
Last weekend, the phones ceased functioning through much of Kosova. Without the electronic grapevine, Melbourne's Kosovars are left alone with their fears.
The stories are chilling. The last time Suzie heard from her family they were in Pristina, huddling together in a basement and afraid to go out. She is worried how they will survive. There had been no time to gather supplies, and with no electricity food in their deep freeze is going rotten.
But that was Saturday. Since then she has had no direct phone contact. But just as the brain creates new neural paths after injury, alternative phone routes can sometimes be found. On Sunday, her husband Shpen got through to a woman in Turkey, whose brother has one of the few phones operating in Pristina. The brother was then able to reassure them of their safety, for the time being. Most often, the calls are unanswered. There is no way of knowing whether this is because the lines are down or the inhabitants have been forced to flee, or worse. Occasionally, the phone lines open for a brief period. You keep trying.
Diaspora Kosovars had come to rely on the phone system as a nominal form of security for endangered relatives. This silence is a new disturbing development. For Shpen, 'We used to worry that they were eight hours distant from us. But now, it's like a million light years'.
In Pristina, Shpen had worked as a television producer. Now, with all the world's media at his disposal, the only news he can find about his family is that their home in Mitrovitsa has been destroyed. He can get no news of his mother and crippled father. He shares news from Sani, whose family are also in Mitrovitsa. Sani's father was an officer in the Yugoslav Army, and his mother a university lecturer in accounting. From Sani, Shpen learns some troubling developments. Sani talked to his sister in London who had heard from a friend with parents in Mitrovitsa that army had started clearing out homes. He hasn't heard from his parents since Saturday. Sani is on constant tenterhooks: 'every second the news is changing'.
There are sometimes reasons for fearing success in getting through. On the weekend, Sani had tried to ring a friend in Pristina. The brother answered the phone, incredulous that someone had been able to call from Australia. Sani's friend was outside queuing for bread, but his brother warned, 'it is better you don't ring, we don't want calls coming from outside'.
In this state of fear, the unanswered phone may be more than an ill omen, it may itself be source of threat. Fearing that communication has turned from a source of protection to potential threat, Kosovars have asked that their surnames not be printed in this article. The worst of the weekend did not come through the telephone line. Ilire Zali left Kosova nine years ago when studying medicine. She left parents, two brothers and four sisters at home for a job in Australia as a nurse's assistant. Since then one brother and two sisters have immigrated to other countries.
Worried about her family in Kosova, she rang her brother on Friday night. He reassured her that they would be all right. Later on Saturday, there was a knock on the door of her St Albans home. 'I answered the door cheerfully thinking it was a friend dropping in for a cup of coffee.' The look on her friend's face said it all.
He had a difficult story to tell. Six hours after Ilire had spoken with her brother, he had been rounded up with her father and four other males living in the house. To placate the hysterical women, the Serbs claimed to be merely taking them down to the Police Station for questioning. They were shot in the yard. After witnessing their death, Ilire's sister called her other sister in Switzerland. The sister in Switzerland could not stomach ringing Ilire in Australia, and phoned a friend instead. In addition to mourning her male relatives, Ilire despairs of her remaining family, 'I don't know what happened to my sister. I can't contact her any more'.
It was not always thus. The scene of this tragedy, Gjakova, has a long history of religious tolerance. In his 'short' history of Kosova, Noel Malcolm records the tale of a 17th century church delegation who was scandalised to be welcomed by a Gjakova priest, 'Come in, Fathers: in our house we have Catholicism, Islam and Orthodoxy'. Like most other Kosovars I contacted, she cannot imagine Albanians and Serbs living together again.
The one bright light for Australian Kosovars is the sympathy they find from neighbours and workmates. For Suzie, this is a rare source of brightness: 'Even people you get to know on the train have asked after my family.'
Back in the Balkans, the Albanian enthusiasm for the Western order has opened a Pandora's box. There is an ancient Albanian saying, 'Hospitality honours you, but also creates problems for you.' Having opened the door to the West, Kosovars are now waiting for their honoured guests to enter.
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Forecast for Melbourne Issued at 0505 on Monday the 29th of March 1999 A few light showers at first, clearing to become fine. Partly cloudy with moderate southwest to southerly winds. Max 18
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[second message]
Christians and "Ottomans" on the Ethnic Frontier in the Balkans: Ten Years Ago and Now
(by a sociologist who has asked to remain anonymous)
Ten years ago, I was part of a sociological advisory group in Bulgaria, brought in as part of the new democratic opening to advise on ethnic relations. The past few years had seen much tension between the Bulgarian Bulgarians (usually called simply "the Bulgarians") and the Bulgarian Turks. Many Bulgarian Turks had fled, and those remaining were forced to change their names to ones that were Bulgarian sounding (and suffered other indignities. In large part these actions against the Bulgarian Turks had been fanned by the Communist government who saw nationalist sentiment as a last gasp way of hanging on to their fading power. However, I must emphasize that the situation was no where as difficult as has been the case in Kosovo. There were hardships but no systematic killing, etc.
Our advisory mission went to Kurdzhali, a city habitually run by ethnic Bulgarians but with a majority Bulgarian Turk population. The ethnic Bulgarians were acutely aware that in the first free election, they'd lose power in the city and province.
The ethnic Bulgarians thought that our group might help them. My colleague and I sat in our suits in city hall and listened to the ethnic Bulgarian delegation say, "Sirs, we call on you to protect Christianity from the Ottoman hordes!" This is similar to the situation reportedly in Serbia today, ten years later.
We were startled to hear such a world view. But the ethnic Bulgarian minority in this region near the frontier were very apprehensive about their future as a local minority. Ironically, both members of our advisory group were Jewish and had seen something of anti-semitism from Christians in our lives.
end ```
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