Syndicate: Natasa Kandic: Reports 1999

[Zarana Papic <zpapic@f.bg.ac.yu> (by way of Andreas Broeckmann)]

-------- Original Message --------
Subject: [Fwd: Letter from Natasa - Humanitarian Law Fund]
Date: Wed, 27 Jan 1999 00:12:37 +0100
From: natasa kandic <hlc_nk@EUnet.yu>
To: Zarana Papic <zpapic@f.bg.ac.yu>
References: <374C5438.465729F0@dekart.f.bg.ac.yu>


Humanitarian Law Center
YHRF#8
 Natasa Kandic Report

Monday and Tuesday in Kosovo
29 and 30 March 1999

I reached Pristina before nightfall.  I could not get to the HLC
office.  The
building is opposite the Police Department and prison and the front
entrance was
locked. Someone inside said, ?We don?t know you and we won?t open the
door.?  By
his accent, I knew the man was Serb and he must have known by mine that
I was Serb
too.  I knew that the residents were Serb and Albanian and I saw their
determination to allow no strangers into the building as the good side
of
Pristina.  I went round the back and saw guards at the entrance of the
neighboring
building. Several men were standing behind neatly stacked sandbags.  I
spoke with
them and learned that they were Serb and Albanian residents of the
building and
that they were guarding their homes.  They had agreed that Serbs would
defend
Albanians from the police, the Albanians would defend Serbs from the KLA
and all
would defend themselves from paramilitaries and other bands.  When air
raid
warnings are sounded, everyone goes down to the shelter except those
standing
guard.
>From there I went to Nora?s.  I had just arrived when a weeping neighbor
>rushed
into the apartment: ?They have taken our car.?  Three men in police
uniform had
come, she said, forced open the car door and drove it away.  ?Better the
car than
your son,? said Nora?s father. I dialed over 20 phone numbers.  Most
phones were
not working.  It was quiet until 4 a.m.  Then there were explosions,
followed by
silence.
When day broke, I went to see some friends.  The Keljmendis phone was
cut off.
Bajram Keljmendi?s shingle was still on the door of his law office.
Neighbors
told me they hadn?t seen his wife Nekibe since the burial of Bajram and
their
sons.  I asked them to give her my regards.  Then, together with Nora, a
relation
of Fehmi Agani and a driver from Belgrade, I made my way to Dragodan,
Fehmi
Agani?s neighborhood.  When we reached it, we were stopped by police.
They asked
to see our papers and when they saw that Nora and Arsim were Albanian,
the one in
charge ordered them out of the car.  I got out too, saying we all worked
for the
same organization and were looking for a friend.  The officer replied
that
Albanians no longer worked in Serbia and should be on their way to
Macedonia.  I
asked since when police had the authority to fire people and he yelled
at me to
get back in the car and shut up.  I sat on the seat, leaving the door
open and my
legs outside the car. He slammed the door against my legs, saying Serbia
was being
ruined by such Serbs.  The one in charge called someone over his
Motorola.  This
lasted about 10 minutes and then he waved us on.  We made our way back
to the
center, hardly believing that we had got off so lightly.  We drove
through side
streets to the Suncani Breg district.  On the way, we saw wrecked and
looted
stores and kiosks.  We found Vjollca but she was determined to stay with
her
family in Pristina.  We were driven away by her Serb neighbor.  ?What
kind of
gathering is this? No loitering! Albanians, inside your homes!? he said.
In all-Albanian districts, we encountered groups of people discussing
what to do:
should they make their way to the border or stay until the police
ordered them out
of their homes?  Some told me no more than 1,000 people were left in
Pec, those
who managed to get out of the column the police and military escorted to
the
Montenegrin border.  None of them knew if it was true that Fehmi Agani
had been
killed, not even his relations.  They had heard the report on CNN.  Nor
was there
any reliable news of Baton Jakdziju, the editor of Koha Ditore.  People
kept to
their homes.  Only the bravest went to see relations who live near by.
Only a few
phones were working.
The streets of downtown Pristina were almost deserted. People were in
their
apartments or the stairways of their buildings. In one of these
buildings, we
spoke to residents and found Mentor.  He was just about to leave for the
border.
Everyone we spoke to was in a panic.  With one exception, an Albanian,
who calmly
repeated he would not leave his home until he was thrown out.  An
elderly Serb
woman came in and stopped for a moment to chat with her neighbors.  She
too
appeared to be fearless.
We started out for Macedonia, in two cars, at about noon.  It?s 75
kilometers to
the Djeneral Jankovic crossing.  Several cars coming from side streets
joined us.
When we were on the road to the border, there were hundreds of cars
behind us.
The plan was to get to the border, wait until Ariana and Mentor had
crossed and
then Nora and I would make for Belgrade.  Three kilometers from the
border, the
column stopped. Rumors flew around that the border was closed, that
police were
taking cars, that they were separating out the men...  The sight of
police with
masked faces in the column frightened us and we decided to return to
Pristina.  No
one prevented us.  People asked us what was going on and we tried to
persuade them
to go back home.  But only a few cars followed us.  As we drove back, we
saw that
there were more than 2,000 cars in the column.  We also saw groups
making their
way on foot, all gripped by a terrible fear.
We got back to Pristina, dropped off Ariana and the others and I, Nora,
her
brother, and Mentor headed for Belgrade.  I was afraid of what would
happen at
police checkpoints.  The first was just outside Pristina on the road to
Gnjilane.
Our driver asked a policeman if the road to Gnjilane was open.  ?Depends
on the
name,? was the reply.  The officer checked the driver?s papers and let
us
through.  The driver?s papers were examined at the other checkpoints too
and we
were allowed to continue.  Soldiers at a military checkpoint 10
kilometers outside
Pristina asked to see all our papers. There were no problems.  We
reached Belgrada
at about 10 p.m.

Humanitarian Law Center
YHRF # 10
Natasa Kandic Report
12 April 1998

FROM MONTENEGRO TO PRISTINA
3-7 April 1999

None of the Kosovo Albanian displaced now in Rozaje (northern
Montenegro) and
Ulcinj (Adriatic coast) have tried to return to Pec.  Only local Muslims
go to
take food and medicine to the mostly elderly Albanians who are still in
Pec.
Albanians from Istok and surrounding villages started arriving in Rozaje
on
Friday, 9 April.
Though it seems as if all Kosovo is in Rozaje, no international
humanitarian
organizations have a presence here.  Reporters come, take notes if the
story is
about a massacre, and then return to Podgorica to wait for a military
coup.  There
are over 1,000 people in the mosque ? children, elderly, sick.  They
have not had
a bath since they came to Montenegro on 27 or 28 March.  Younger men are
seeking
ways to get out of the country and find somewhere to make a living.
They would
all send their families back to Kosovo if their safety was guaranteed.
A teacher from Pec tells me the inhabitants of her neighborhood were
driven from
their homes and taken to the indoor sports stadium on 30 March.  They
were held
for 12 hours and then the army returned them home.  The next day, they
were again
driven out and ordered to go to Montenegro.  The first men who drove
them out and
took them to the stadium had camouflage paint on their faces and wore
black caps.
The teacher said the soldiers who took them home said, ?We have orders
that you
should return to your homes.? Those who ordered them to leave for
Montenegro, she
says, wore police uniforms.
Here in Rozaje, I was told that that several people were killed while
the
inhabitants were being driven from their homes.  Five men were killed in
the yard
of the Kastrati house in the Brzenik II neighborhood.  A woman whose
son, Nevzat,
was killed, says her son, two brothers with the last name Gega, and
another three
men were slaughtered in front of her.  Some odd men in uniforms and caps
on their
heads came into their yard, she says.  They seemed to be drunk and
shouted and
cursed. They told her she would not be killed, that they would let her
live so she
would pine for her dead son.  They killed the men with knives. Nevzat
bled to
death in his mother?s arms.  One of the Gega brothers, whose belly had
been slit
open, lingered on for a few hours. Other uniformed men came the next day
and took
the bodies away in a truck.
When I said I was going to Pristina, everyone in Rozaje was astounded.
As I was
leaving the town, the police wished me good luck.  The road to Pristina
via Novi
Pazar and Kosovska Mitrovica was deserted ? not a single vehicle.  My
first
impression was that Pristina too was deserted.  The first block of
apartment
buildings in the Suncani Breg district, before Matican village, was
empty.  Cars
stood in the parking lot.  Friends of mine lived on the second floor of
one of
these buildings.  I went up, rang the doorbell and knocked.  Then I
tried the knob
and the door swung open.  Everything inside was as it used to be, at
least at
first glance.  I met only two women on the block.  The residents were
given 10
minutes to leave their apartments and go to the railway station.
On the next block, I saw children playing and found some friends.  The
police had
not been there.  But many people left nonetheless, fearing that they
would be
ordered out of their homes at any minute.  Some returned on Sunday and
Monday (3
and 4 April).  They had waited several days at the border and, seeing
that police
were not preventing people from returning, they decided to go back
home.  Besides
the residents, there are people from other neighborhoods in these
buildings.
Serbs and Albanians are keeping together.  They lock the front entrances
at night
and no one can either leave the buildings or come in.  People listen to
the news
until the power is cut.  Only a few phones work.  They are not in touch
with their
family members or relatives in other Kosovo towns and villages.
They keep talking about the events from 31 March to 3 April.  By a quirk
of fate,
several people from the Taslidze neighborhood remained in Pristina ?
they were not
there when the inhabitants were being driven from their homes.  Pristina
was
gripped by panic when the expulsions from the suburban areas started.
Rumors of
killings and disappearances ran round.  Nobody dares report
disappearances to the
Serbian police.  The bombings in fact do not scare Albanians as much as
?those?
who will come and slaughter them - ?those? being paramilitaries, police
or armed
gangs.
Listening to the news on the BBC, Sky News, Tirana TV and Serbian TV,
they gather
that Pristina was not as badly hit as Pec, Djakovica or Prizren.  The
downtown
cafes were blown up before the NATO intervention.  Some civilian
facilities were
destroyed by the NATO attacks and there were civilian casualties.
Everybody,
myself included, is afraid of being accused of spying and we kept away
from the
ruins.
On the night of 6/7 April, I talked for a long time with my friends by
candlelight.  D. tells me it is the women who bring the news about local
events
and that they get their information while standing in line for bread.
They tell
the men when it is safe to go out or to visit with friends in
neighboring
buildings.  Everyone watches the news and then talk it over.  Another
major topic
is ?what do our Serb neighbors say.?   These neighbors are ordinary
people but a
lot of importance is attached to their words.  According to D., every
half hour or
so, a housewife comes to his apartment with new information from the
Serbs:  ?They
say the situation is better today,?  or ?they say it will be a bit
better
tomorrow.?
We were just leaving at about midnight when explosions were heard and
continued
until daybreak.   The phones were all out in the morning and somebody
said the
main post office must have taken a hit.  It was only when I came back to
Belgrade
that I learned that not only the post office but the Social Security
Department
building had also been hit and that there were civilian casualties.
Before I left for Belgrade, I went to check up on the HLC office.  I had
heard the
police had been there.  There was a police officer outside the
building.  He let
me in but said I was not to touch anything as ?something was found in
here and the
police will be investigating.?  As soon as I was inside, an elderly lady
with a
dog ran up, shouting ?Call the State Security; I was told to report if
anybody
came to this office.?  The officer remained silent. ?Well, I?ll be on my
way now,?
I said and left.  I shook with fright as she shouted after me, and
heaved a sign
of relief once I had left Pristina.
On the way to Belgrade, I saw several large groups near Kosovska
Mitrovica.  They
were on foot, with children, making for Vucitrn.  I asked where they
were going.
?Home, but we?re not sure if we can,? was their reply.   When I told
them to go
back home, they remained silent and just plodded on.  ?People are
returning to
Pristina; go back home,? I cried out to them.
After Raska and about ten kilometers from Kosovoska Mitrovica, I waited
for hours
near a bridge that had been destroyed by NATO, hoping to find some kind
of
transportation.  A villager came up and warned me sternly that I was not
to stand
on their land. He said he had seen a Muslim woman under the bridge
before it was
bombed.

Humanitarian Law Center
YHRF#11
Natasa Kandic Report
May 12, 1999.

Dear friends,

I am currently in Montenegro, consulting lawyer - refugees from Kosovo -
about
ways to conduct research into events in Kosovo after 24 March.  There
are over
80,000 Albanian refugees in Montenegro.  Approximately 60,000 of them
are from
Pec, Mitrovica and Istok.  Interviewing refugees will help us obtain
relevant
material about the pattern of ethnic cleansing in the above places.
This material
will be useful to the ICTY's Office of the Prosecutor for their
decisions on
conducting investigations and bringing indictments.

The office in Montenegro, in Ulcinj, is the third office of the
Humanitarian Law
Center.  The office in Pristina does not exist any more.  Last time I
was there
on 3 April, was my second visit to Pristina since 24 March.  Through the
open
door, I saw books and paper scattered all over the place, desks with no
computers,
and the usual mess after a police search.  Mentor Nimani, one of my
lawyers, lived
in the neighborhood.  I will never forget 29 March in Pristina, and
Mentor on the
staircase of his block, at his wit's end from terror and ready to flee
Kosovo.  We
had been in contact on daily basis in the previous days, so I had known
he lived
in fear that someone might come, knock on his door and kill him, but the
terror I
saw in his eyes made up my mind then and there to depart immediately.  I
had
already found my other staff, so we were ready to go.  Vjollca stayed in
Pristina.  Her father was adamant that she stayed with her family and
that they
were not to loose contact.  She phoned me from Albania several days
later.  All
families from her part of town had been expelled, transported by train
to Blace, a
village close to Macedonian border.  She spent a few days there, out in
the open
together with a group of 20,000 people.  They were put on buses and
taken to the
Albanian border by night.

On that 29 March, we started from Pristina towards the Macedonian
border, Ariana,
Nora, Kushtrim and some friends whose names I cannot disclose for their
personal
security.  Several hundred cars followed us.  We returned after we had
received
information that the border had been closed, and when we saw policemen
wearing
masks on their faces.  We returned to Pristina, dropped Ariana off, as
she decided
to stay until my next visit, and turned Belgrade bound.  I do not know
how we
managed to leave Kosovo, there must be God somewhere.  A car with three
Albanians
and two Serbs.  We cleared all check points, each in fear that they will
discover
who we were, arrest and separate us.  Mentor's fear did not disappear in
Belgrade.  It was easier for him, but that was no freedom either.
Several days
later, we went to Montenegro, Mentor then went to Albania and
subsequently to the
US.  Nora stayed in Montenegro working with refugees for a while.  She
left for
Budapest on 4 May.  She, too, is US bound.  Ariana was waiting for my
arrival in
Pristina.  She was looking after our Jeep.  She left for Macedonia on 5
May.  She
is currently visiting camps and interviewing refugees.  She plans to
return to
Kosovo as soon as it is safe to do so.

Whenever I show up in Pristina, people can hardly believe it possible.
It amazes
me that I manage to do it.  The first time I went back, on 27 March, I
took a taxi
to the bus station in an attempt to find a bus for Kosovo.  Some ten
meters away
from the bus station, it occurred to me to ask the driver if he would
take me to
Bujanovac, a small place 100 kilometers from Pristina, thinking that I
would be
able to catch a lift to Kosovo from there.  He agreed to my proposal,
and when we
were near Bujanovac, he accepted, for a generous fee, to take me all the
way to
Pristina.  If it had not been for him, I could not have taken three
Albanians out
of Kosovo.  He had a way of chatting with policemen, an air of
nonchalance when
clearing check points, asking about fuel and cigarettes, that left an
impression
he was one of their own kind.  I went with him two more times.  He would
always
ask, "who are we getting out this time" before each trip.

When I travel to Kosovo, on roads with no traffic, with police and
military check
points, I never think about the possibility of something bad happening
to me.
Riding through Serbia, my primary concern is fuel.  I keep bothering the
driver
about how much fuel we have already spent.  When I see the road sign for
Kosovska
Mitrovica, I start to look round.  The villages were intact until 5
May.  They
were obviously empty, but there was no arson.  I took a note that on 23
April, I
met a large group of people on the same road, who were walking towards
Vucitrn.
These people were returning to their homes having spent two weeks in
woods hiding,
and were anxious whether the police would allow them to go back and
whether their
houses were still standing.  They were looking at me in utter disbelief
when I
told them they should return home, that people were going back to
Pristina from
the border.  Unfortunately, these same people as well as others from
Vucitrn, have
been expelled from their homes.  On 5 May, I saw that the town was
empty, and many
houses were on fire.  The same day, I passed through Mitrovica.  There
were
neither police nor military in the town center.  There wasn't a soul to
be seen.
Large sections of town had been destroyed.  One could see that houses
had been
plundered first, and then set on fire.  There were some people in the
suburbs.
Serb parts of town were intact.  Afterwards, when I talked to Albanians
from
Mitrovica who came to Montenegro, I found out that approximately 30,000
Albanians
were expelled from Mitrovica on 15 April, and that they had been ordered
to leave
for Montenegro.  They traveled on foot, it took them three days to reach
Dubovo, a
village 80 kilometers away from Mitrovica, where the Yugoslav Army
stopped them.
The army kept them there for three days, when three officers announced
there had
been an "order for refugees to return home".  They were put on buses and
shipped
back to burnt down Mitrovica.  Hunger and fear made many of them leave
Mitrovica
again and go to Montenegro.

Every time I enter Pristina, I feel relieved.  I say to myself, "It's
still
standing".  Bajram Kelmendi is gone.  He was murdered on the first night
of NATO
bombardment.  He was taken from home with his sons that first night.
Fehmi Agani
is gone, too.  I never managed to meet him in Pristina.  He was last
seen at
Bajram Kelmendi's funeral on 27 March.  People were saying he was in
Pristina in
hiding, changing houses, and that it was good he was not going out.  I
tried to
find him, but no one knew where he was.  Now I wonder if it was possible
that he
was still free at the time, and if it was his decision not to
communicate with
anybody.  I shall not have peace until I find out how he was murdered
and what was
happening with him after Kelmendi's funeral.  He was an old friend.  I
can still
hear his words: "How is it going Natasa, are you less busy, how is your
health,
your family?"; and in the same breath: "There is hope, we must believe
that things
will get better".  A long time ago, in 1994, we both attended the
Conference on
the Hague Tribunal in Bern.  I remember those days for two reasons.
Although
there were only a few participants from Serbia, he spoke Serbian in
front of a
huge audience, the majority of them Albanians.  He said he was doing
that because
of his Serb friends, out of respect for their work.  One day during the
Conference, he invited me to meet some of his former students who had
arrived from
Germany and Switzerland to attend the part of the Conference concerning
Kosovo.
When he introduced me, I realized that he had not told them he had
invited a Serb
woman.  At that time, there were few occasions for Serb and Albanian
intellectuals
to sit together and talk.  I could see that his students were stunned,
but soon
they welcomed me and apologized for the fact they did not speak very
good Serbian.

The news about Agani's death has reached me in Montenegro.  At the hotel
reception
desk, I have been told that a cousin of Agani's called from Pristina and
said he
had been arrested.  The next day, the news said his body had been found
near
Lipljan.


Humanitarian Law Center
YHRF#12
Natasa Kandic Report
May 23, 1999

<...snip... - the 23 may letter was already posted on 26.05.99; abroeck>


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