The Cradle Is Rocking

The train to Kosovo Polje is a rundown heap, but the passengers do not complain. It goes only when there is fuel. When it does go, it stops every 100 meters, because of the line and for God knows what other reasons. The passengers then take the opportunity to open the windows and spit outside. It is dark outside. Darkness permeates Kosovo which has an average salary of 15 Deutsche Marks.

There are exactly 399 km between Belgrade and Kosovo Polje, and the train covers them in eight-nine-ten hours. There is no welcome, and one knows one has arrived in Kosovo, where practically everything has deteriorated from politics to the economy, and where people lead what is called "parallel lives."

Serbs and ethnic Albanians have their separate schools, shops, kindergartens, theaters, governments, out-patient clinics, promenades, Academies of Arts and Sciences... They use their own languages, and manage not to mix. They are together only at the market (better supplied than the ones in Belgrade) and when they die, their cousins stick the obituaries one over the other.

Serbs in Kosovo are mainly in charge of the "state sector" and they do not look too happy about this, judging by the empty shops and gloomy faces of those working "for the state." Vice-president of the local Serbian Radical Party branch Ranko Babic, says that ethnic Albanians say "that we are keeping them down politically, while in fact, we are encouraging them economically." Ethnic Albanians run practically all of the private businesses in Kosovo, and they know how to the job. The shops are exceptionally well stocked and they are very polite, even when serving a Serb who has entered by chance.

In describing this entire parallel way of life, some people use the word "strange." The Secondary School for Economics "Hasan Pristina" is located in two private houses in Vranjevac and is a public secret (since it can be visited by anyone, and is, at the same time, illegal). The New York Times journalist who visited the school could not understand why the pupils here had never gone to school together, why they weren't speaking Serbo-Croat and why they weren't Yugoslavs first and foremost, and then ethnic Albanians. The teachers' strict faces, worn out clothes and strong convictions bring to mind pre World War Two teachers-revolutionaries. They had to explain everything in detail to the journalist, and perhaps he managed to understand the whole situation in the end. But, the word "strange" still holds.

The "Hasan Pristina" school is one of 19 primary and 53 secondary schools for ethnic Albanians which are located in private houses. Professor Fehmi Agani, the number two man in the Democratic League of Kosovo (LDK), says that around 100,000 pupils attend these schools, and that earlier, when ethnic Albanian schools had been shut down, over 2,000 new schoolrooms had been found quite quickly.

Recently pupils and teachers have started coming to these schools openly, and Rexhep Osmani, President of the Association of Ethnic Albanian Teachers "Naim Frasheri" - an organization which rallies 30,000 ethnic Albanian teachers in Kosovo, Macedonia, Montenegro and Serbia, says that this is how it will be in future. "We have no reason to hide or be afraid."

A parallel life also offers parallel versions. Tomislav Sekulic, who many believe to be the most influential representative of the Serbian side, says that ethnic Albanians can say that because "those schools are not persecuted by anyone anyway." President of the Democratic Party committee Milan Laketic says that the whole issue boils down to "using children for political purposes."

Be as it may, to get to the "Hasan Pristina" school one must take a road, badly in need of repair, through Vranjevac which is full of red roofs and walls in need of a coat of white wash. The school is hidden behind a tall wall (everything here is hidden behind walls) and a green gate. When you get there with the help of a guide, you come across an enormous muddy yard, several good houses and one dilapidated one. The old house serves as a staff-room for the teachers, while classes are held in two of the four new houses. The houses had been built for seven brothers, but they had not moved in. Chickens strut in front of the houses, and the smell of cow dung fills the air, (the cow sheds are right next to the houses). There are heaps of wire, shelves and fifty-odd pairs of children's shoes.

Every room in the houses is a classroom, and the numbers are chalked on the doors. The classes are small, some 10 square meters, stuffy, with bare walls. The blackboard is on the floor, and a naked bulb hangs from the ceiling. There are no desks and the pupils sit closely together against the walls. The only chair is for the teacher. The pupils hold their books and notebooks on their knees. A stove stands in the corner. The class we visited has 28 pupils (the whole school numbers 1,550 pupils.) One of the pupils laughs and says that they are studying "law and democracy." All say that this is their land, their place and that they have nowhere to go. They know they will win, and that after finishing school they will enroll at various faculties (also in private houses), and that by the time they have completed their education, everything will have changed. They like their school since there is no better one.

What the pupils are learning at these public-secret schools is the greatest problem in negotiations between Serbia and ethnic Albanians so far. Ethnic Albanians demand that the pupils return to legal schools unconditionally, while Serbs demand that ethnic Albanians first accept the state-approved curriculum. Rexhep Osmani says that the Serbs' behavior is to the advantage of ethnic Albanians, while on the other hand, Ranko Babic, Milan Laketic and official Serbian representatives believe that ethnic Albanian children will be able to attend classes when ethnic Albanian programs stop negating the existence of Yugoslavia, and Serbia is no longer presented as an occupying state.

We asked teachers at the "Hasan Pristina" school what they were teaching children, and they said that the programs for Literature, the Albanian language, Music, History and Geography were altered. The question: "Is it true that Nobel prize recipient Ivo Andric has been dropped from the curriculum?" was not answered directly. They said that Andric and Dobrica Cosic (writer and Yugoslav President) had been translated into Albanian, and that Andric had had plans for the expulsion of ethnic Albanians.

Ethnic Albanian teachers earn 30 DM - 40 DM monthly. The first two years of "illegal" work they were not paid, and then the system of "solidarity" came into being. Osmani says that there are now municipal committees and boards for financing teachers.

"We do not care if the state does not recognize our diplomas, we are creating our own cadres," said a teacher, putting an end to talk about diplomas and the institutionalization of teaching (Osmani adds that ethnic Albanian diplomas are recognized "abroad"). The teachers at the "Hasan Pristina" school have clearly defined political stands.

Their staff-room is a little better furnished than the schoolrooms, with some couches against the walls and a small table in the middle. The walls are covered with time-tables, pictures of ethnic Albanian leader Ibrahim Rugova, Skenderbeg and other "historical figures," and flags - red and black with the black two-headed eagle.

Stands are stated without qualms. "What do you urge for?" "An independent and sovereign Kosovo." "Is your ideal unification with Albania?" "Yes (the answer is followed with smiles and the V-sign), but we know that the international community would not allow it because of the principle of inviolability of borders." "But you still urge it?" "Yes, just as the two Germanies united."

In the end they put down our names in a book, "for the archives" (according to protocol, we put our signatures next to our names) and they see us off cordially. The green gate is discreetly closed and Vranjevac looks ordinary again. We pass a public-secret out-patients clinic.

"You are much safer here than in Belgrade," said Ranko Babic while sitting in the foyer of the Grand Hotel. And, the Grand is safe. The police and the financial police are there. During our visit the financial police were undertaking an "action," which they said, was "mild." Serbian MP Zeljko Raznjatovic Arkan's men are here too with their characteristic skinhead hair cuts. The scene is not to the liking of ethnic Albanians and they do not enter the hotel (many probably could not, even if they wished to.) Jeeps and Mitsubishi Pajero's are parked in front of the Grand, and when Raznjatovic is there, all the engines are kept running, bringing to mind scenes from various films. When he leaves, it is quiet in front of the Grand. The hotel is in the city center, but the center is not what it used to be. The main street was once the promenade and closed to traffic. Ethnic Albanians used to walk on one side of the street, Serbs on the other. Then traffic was allowed to pass through the main street two years ago, and ethnic Albanians interpreted this as a ban on gathering in the center (for a while they refused to pass through it), so that their promenade is now on the outskirts. That is why the Serbian language is heard mostly in the center of Pristina today.

If one turns left or right of the main road, one runs into the parallel territory where the Albanian language is spoken, and where all the necessary institutions for the implementation of a policy aimed at an independent Kosovo, are to be found. Agani says that this is not the ethnic Albanian's maximum demand. "The maximum demand is unification with Albania and a state which would encompass all ethnic Albanians from the spaces of the former Yugoslavia." The most important institution is housed in the drab building of the Association of Writers of Kosovo which is the headquarters of Rugova's Democratic League of Kosovo. This is where the political strategy which has brought so much trouble to the Serbian side was drawn up. It is always open and there is no visible security. Milan Laketic says that this is unnecessary, as "Rugova is the best protected man in Kosovo, and he is being protected by the Serbian police."

The only thing that points to the fact that this is a serious political party is an expensive car parked in front of the dilapidated house, obviously the required image of an activist. All are well dressed and prepared to talk at all times, and to answer all questions. Tomislav Sekulic believes that we were lucky to be working for VREME, "otherwise they would not have been so nice to you." That this is true, is underscored by the fact that apart from Sekulic, none of the Serb officials were too keen to meet with us.

Ethnic Albanians are full of facts and wish to talk about them. The ethnic Albanian institution with the greatest number of documents is the Human Rights Committee headed by Adem Demaqi. Hydaet Hyseni, one of Demaqi's deputies, says that the Committee is not a political organization, but it is clear that the organization is in the service of the general goal. We met Mr. Hyseni in the lDK offices several times.

When we entered the Committee (this building also hides behind a large gate and wall), the first thing we noticed was that the activists looked different. They were dressed inconspicuously, mostly in cheap sweaters. When they told us that only one of the five people we met there had not been in jail (most had spent ten, seven, five years in jail...) things made sense.

Hyseni served time in Nis, Pozarevac, Belgrade and Pristina from 1981. Ten years later he said: "We are all in prison here. The Serbs should understand that."

Hiseni has many Serbian friends "from jail." People there were in the same boat, and Serbs serving time helped him, prevented wardens from beating him, brought him magazines and fruit. "I'll be grateful to them for as long as I live," said Hyseni.

We were then given a thick book with photographs of ethnic Albanians who had suffered in Pec in 1992. There are photos of women with beaten breasts, a girl with her ear torn off, men and women their eyes red from beatings, backs with countless weals... Hyseni is a mine of information. "Since 1981, nineteen under-age youths have been killed. Twenty ethnic Albanians were killed, prosecuted in 1992, and in the last ten years the police have maltreated in various ways over 600,000 people..."We then see photographs of mutilated bodies, more beaten children and after a while we just want to get away. Hyseni is still talking. In the end he says that he feels uncomfortable having had to tell us all this. We feel uncomfortable too.

A youth enters the Committee. They tell us that he is a new case. He first dictates a statement, and then pulls up his sweater and shows us traces of beating (not too visible to us laymen). Then he takes off a shoe and sock. The big toe and some other toes are blue. This is immediately photographed. The youth has medical confirmation from one the public-secret out-patient clinics. A new file has been started.

Talking to us, the youth says that he ran into the police and got frightened and started to run. When they caught him, they pushed him down, and hit him. "They forced me to lick the sign YUGO on a car," and then they took him to the police where they beat him "and made me kiss Milosevic's picture." They let him go after two hours. He says he is a medical student and that he survives by selling cigarettes on the black market. Asked why he ran from the police, he shrugs and says: "I got frightened." Asked what exactly scared him, gets no answer. These days the police have been cleaning the streets of cigarette sellers. We met the youth in the street the next day. He was polite. The girl with him asked: "Who are these people speaking Serbian?"

Tomislav Sekulic says that ethnic Albanians cannot prove they are being terrorized, and that numerous delegations which had arrived with this purpose in mind, left without having done anything. We do not know if this is true, just a we do not know if the facts given to us by the Committee are true (the Serbian side does not have data to the contrary, or it is not offering them). But if the delegations saw what we did, they must have felt ill.

It is interesting that all the participants in Kosovo's parallel life are convinced that in the end things will be their way. Sekulic says that Serbia cannot lose Kosovo ("this is the cradle, many have left, but they have long memories.") On the other hand, Agani believes that Kosovo will soon achieve independence, because "the international community is becoming aware that a solution within the framework of Yugoslavia, is no solution." Both admit that in the whole affair, both sides are losers, but loss is obviously not enough to change matters.