HAJRA'S CHOICE

Beograd Mar 1, 1995

A Road to Uncertainty

The authorities treated the fugitives from Srebrenica fairly, but not all the denizens of Uzice demonstrated good will. Those who did had their motives for doing so.

AIM, Beograd

The odyssey of the Moslems who fled from the surrounded Srebrenica to Serbia continued on Thursday, February 23, when they were transferred from Uzice to the outskirts of Belgrade. Perhaps at the right moment so as to prevent the loss of propaganda points of potentially far- reaching importance, which Belgrade has scored by its gentle treatment of refugees fleeing from the Srebrenica melting pot of human bodies and souls. The official stands of the Serbian government were not, however, shared by everyone in the bordering region along the Drina river. Some expressed their disagreement in no uncertain terms.

"We have been receiving anonymous phone calls of late", says an employee of the "Fire Station", accommodating a total of 36 inhabitants of Srebrenica, of which two women. "We were afraid that they would bomb us, because we have done so much for the Moslems".

No threat was carried out, but the competent organs decided not to leave anything to chance. According to sources close to the Federal Ministry of the Interior, the refugees were secretly transferred to the prison center "Padinska Skela" (their illegal entry is officially treated as a customs violation) by "Raketa" busses. No special security measures were undertaken. They set out without a special escort, at 9.00 a.m. not even trying to hide under the cover of the night.

The Price of Flight - DM 100

Their arrival to Belgrade was not published anywhere, probably for fear that new, perhaps serious problems might arise. The fugitivies did not feel them on their skin so far, thanks to the fact that the degree of intolerance is usually in inverse proportion to physical proximity and the lenght of mutual contact. In other words, the more direct contact people had with the fugitives from the blocked enclave, the less hatred they felt.

"My first thought was : I would kill them", says one of the people in charge of caring for the fugitives. "And then, when I saw them so pitiful, I felt sorry at once. After a day or two we talked like friends, and now it hurts me to think of what they have gone through".

This man (who does not want his name mentioned for security reasons) points out that the fugitives did not appear so miserable and malnourished as they were "depressed" and exhausted by the journey. A journey that can hardly be compared to anything this word usually denotes.

Between February 3 and 17, mainly at night, in threes and fours, these people stole out of enclaves, primarily from Srebrenica and partly from Zepa, surrounded from all sides by the army of the Bosnian Serbs. During the day they hid in forests, and at night they made their way towards Lake Perucica. They told a reporter of the Belgrade Poltika that one Adil Karic took them by boat from one to the other side of the lake. The fee of that modern Charon, working in the opposite direction, from the world of the dead to at least some hope for life, was more than a symbolic obol: DM 100 per person.

When they disembarked on the rugged shore of the Tara river canyon, and Adil disappeared in the dark, they remained alone before the steep cliffs. Nevertheless, all of them managed to climb up, with more or less difficulty. One of them spent a whole night on a rock, until the bear, waiting for him on the next ledge did not go away somewhere before the dawn.

After coming to Mt. Tara, they wandered for some time until they met someone who would take them to the police station. They gathered there and were sent to Bajina Basta, and on to Uzice. The first, largest group of 22 fugitives arrived at the "Fire Station" in Uzice on February

  1. There, they were accommodated in a large common room on the first floor. They had heating and they could take a bath, but the people from the Station say that they could not provide beds for them in so short a time so that they had to sleep on the carpeted floor. The employees of the Station say that the fugitives did not complain. One of them explains: "They kept telling us that everything was fine, as compared to Srebrenica. When we brought them sandwiches the first morning, one of them told me that he had not seen white bread since 1992. I asked whether they could eat by day, because I had heard that it was Ramadan now, and they answered : "Our Ramadan lasted three years"."

The refugees bought food themselves in Uzice, actually sent for it, because they did not leave the Station and they turned over their money to the police which brought them what they wanted. "They mostly asked for salami and sweets" says the storekeeper in the store they got their supplies from.

"No one there is without blame"

What made the fugitives leave Srebrenica most was not the lack of food, but the atmosphere of total hopelessness which had enveloped them. For almost two years now nothing has changed in the anthill in which 40 thousand people are crammed within a city built for 5 - 6 thousand inhabitants. Moslems who had fled from surrounding villages now under the control of the Bosnian Serbs, first moved into the flats, a family into each room. For example, three families live in a two-room apartment. When all the flats were filled, they moved into garages, corridors, pitched tents under balconies and in the end in the streets themselves. UNPROFOR rations are such as to barely keep them alive and everything else reaches fantastic prices. A kilo of flour is DM 16 and cigarettes are worth their weight in gold. A pack usually costs DM 10, and at one time a pack of "Marlboro" cost DM 120.

There was no consolation for the misery, fear and overcrowdedness in anything else life in Srebrenica had to offer either. Fetameta Alihrumic, who left the enclave with her 18 year old daughter Hajra, told us that she had decided to make this dangerous journey primarily because of her child. In the past two years she never let her out of the house, fearing that she might get pregnant, because that could easily mean a death sentence. Namely, women did not wish to give birth to children at any cost aware that they could not feed them. On the other hand, abortions are out of the question in the miniature hospital crowded with heavily wounded and dying patients. That is why women perform abortions themselves "with what they have at hand". The result is high mortality.

On top of everything, the population is dying of boredom. No one has anything to do except wait for his daily ration for survival. There is no electricity, no television, no papers. The only activity is smuggling. Actually, the purchase of cigarettes and some supplies from the Bosnian Serbs from Milici and UNPROFOR soldiers. Everyone in the Station noticed that all the refugees were wearing boots of the former Soviet Army. Most of them addmitted that they had engaged in smuggling and so got money to set out on this dangerous adventure.

Except for having some money, a common feature of the group is that almost all of them had previously managed to send their wives and children abroad by humanitarian convoys. A day after the programme of Belgrade television on their fate was broadcast, the Station was called by the family of one of them from the Netherlands. The group's initial plan was to reach Macedonia, where relatives are waiting for most of them.

Some of them also worked in Uzice before the war so that their erstwhile friends came to inquire about them. But, nevertheless, the prevailing mood among the population was hostile.

"My first urge was to give them up to the Bosnian Serbs" says Milan (28 years old) who himself fought in Bosnia and Herzegovina at the beginning of the war having been mobilized by the former YPA. "The people there hate them so much that it rubs off on you too, whether you like or not".

Other inhabitants of Uzice also explain their dissatisfaction with the treatment accorded to the Moslems from Srebrenica by their solidarity with the Bosnian Serbs. Unless they themselves are from those parts. In Zabucje, a reception center for Bosnian Serb refugees several kilometers from Uzice, Dusan Radovic (68) almost cries: "I have heard that they threw my son-in-law and his mother in Gorazde out of the window from the sixth floor and I am not allowed to give these here even a cross look". Another, younger Serb refugee says: "They cannot be treated as civilians. I was in the Serb army there, they had to be in the Moslem army. No one is neutral in Bosnia, no one is without guilt there".

However, despite the dissatisfaction no more radical action was taken. Radovan Djokic, a 32 year old taxi driver and former non-commissioned YPA officer, believes that this is so because the people have realized: "This is excellent propaganda for us. And more than that. When those in the enclaves hear how these have fared, they will all hurry here and the enclaves will be emptied. The only mistake is to keep them here too long, the people will not stand that. They should be sent abroad, as soon and as far away as possible".

Dragan Chichicc