SRPSKA REC magazine
Issue 343, March 31, 2004

By Miodrag MILOJEVIC

What do children know about ethnic cleansing? Nothing much; nevertheless, on March 17-18 of this year, it was Albanian children who ethnically cleansed Obilic of its Serbs. With their schoolbags on their shoulders, their hands full of stones from the nearby railway tracks, their hands carrying bottles filled with gasoline. Children burning, children setting fires throughout Obilic. Armed with knowledge and Molotov cocktails, elementary school pupils were so disgusted that they interrupted their classes and delivered a history lesson to the Serbs. They ethnically cleansed the Todorovices, the most numerous and resistant Serb family in Obilic.

What all happened and what didn't in Obilic on March 17-18? There were clashes on all sides. There were conflicts among the Serbs. Some of the 17 Serbs of Obilic who are members of the Kosovo Police Service used rifle butts against their compatriots so as not to lose their jobs, their salaries of 220 euros and the right to 1,000 euros in credit. In a KFOR base in Pristina there was a conflict between Serb refugees and a Serb priest from Canada who held a speech and tried to convince them to stay in Kosovo, to guard and protect Serbian land and holy shrines. Because if they leave, who will be left in Kosovo?

A year ago, in April of last year, 20 year-old Jelena Todorovic arrived in the Serb enclave in Obilic directly from Serbia. Jelena had heard the word "enclave" before; she probably knew what it meant but she didn't attach a lot of significance to it. She married from Serbia into an enclave. She had barely arrived and begun to adjust to life in the prison camp, when the triple murder of the Stolic family happened not far away, some ten minutes' walk from her house.

"I lived in Obilic for a year, just under a year. We had no freedom of movement beyond our first and second neighbors in the same street. Once in a while, we would dare venture a little bit further, across the railway tracks. Taking a risk, of course... We lived in the hope that the situation would improve, that Serbs would begin to return. I lived in this hope for a year, the others, for five..."

Every day except Thursday there is a convoy to Gracanica or Mitrovica from Obilic twice a day - for the Serbs to go shopping. For the first three years the convoy was escorted; by the time Jelena arrived, it was not.

"I traveled, too. There were a lot of travelers from Serb villages. In Gracanica, which is free, you shop for two or three hours. The drivers are Serbs, all professionals, who know no fear. We crossed the big bridge and Veternik Hill to arrive in Gracanica. I was petrified but my fellow travelers, who had been living the same way for five years, were used to it all. Once in while a rock flew at us; they swore at us and made provocative comments; they placed their fist under their throat - that means, we'll slit your throat. With time I learned to be courageous, too. We lived like all courageous people."

Every day is the same in an enclave but holidays were observed:

"Whenever there is a holiday, you have to go out and buy some things..."

Whenever there is a murder, no one goes out of their house for a month and KFOR reinforces security. After a month everything is forgotten. KFOR gets bored with protecting the Serbs and the Serbs get bored with protecting themselves.

EVERYONE DEFENDS HIS OWN

On March 18 courage did not help courageous people much - when others were even less helpful. When children appeared in front of the Serb houses at 9:30 a.m., children who feared neither KFOR nor the Serbs, neither mathematics nor physics. And the math showed that there were exactly 378 Serbs living in Obilic.

"First of all, the secondary school students gathered in the center of Obilic on March 17 after their classes were cancelled. They walked in a column with four flags in front. They passed through our street noisily and with drums. They smashed the windows, broke the doors and they left. They didn't set fire to the houses. My property is big and the house is far from the road. They didn't break my windows. My husband works in Zvecan. I was in the house alone with our one month-old baby. The railway is not far away with Serb houses on both sides of it."

At about 5:00 p.m. the demonstrators withdrew. The Serbs were watching Serb TV; those who know the Albanian language were watching Albanian TV, too. The Albanians were blaming the Serbs for the barricade on the Caglavica bridge, for three Albanian children who vanished in the Ibar River. The Serbs were saying that this was an organized and pre-planned attack as churches and villages went up in flames. Jelena was not sure what was happening: "Of course, everyone defends his own people..."

At about 5:00 p.m. the demonstrators withdrew. Everything was silent. Night was coming in complete silence. People were panicking but no one was fleeing because to do so would mean running out in front of the Albanians and falling into their hands.

Walking in step next to the demonstrators were policemen of the Kosovo Police who were also demonstrators at the same time. They protected the integrity of their uniforms by not joining the masses throwing stones. They just watched and enjoyed.

"We all gathered because no one dared spend the night alone in his house. If we made it through the first night, we figured, we would survive. KFOR was bound to arrive the next day. We got through the first night in excellent shape. No one came. We sat in front of the TV, watching what was happening hour by hour..."

They sat and watched what was happening in other locations. As if the Albanians would forget them.

The next day, with her baby in her arms, Jelena returned to her house. The horrible night was over and her baby was returning back home alive.

"I was preparing the water for the baby's bath. Everything was quiet until 9:30 a.m. The window of my bathroom is on the side of the church. I heard that they were first setting fire to the churches and my house next to the church. First I heard: 'Don't be afraid; the church is burning!' First I heard and then I saw the smoke rising for myself. I took the documents and the baby, and ran again into the neighbor's yard."

Whether it was a omen or not, the church in Obilic refused to burn. The stones clanged as they struck the copper roof; the door began to burn but the flames refused to enter the church. The furious Albanians scavenged some tires and broke down the door. Only then did the mixture of gasoline and tires begin to burn.

Friends and relatives from Gracanica and Plemetina, nearby Serb villages, created even more panic: "Run! Get out of there somehow!"

But there was no getting out. Nothing to do but sit and wait, said Jelena.

At 8:30 a.m. on March 18 elementary school pupils concerned about the fate of Kosovo arose in revolt. Others saw their teachers, too, but Jelena saw only the children. If a single soldier had stood in front of the children, if a firecracker had exploded, the Serbs of Obilic would have been saved.

"You wouldn't believe it; the children were carrying their schoolbags, rocks, bottles of gasoline and they were setting the fires. I saw smoke on the other side of the railway; I saw my neighbor's house in flames." In the crowd of 400 children that passed through the street, I saw more girls than boys! We were supposed to run from children!

The family of Stojan Todorovic also found itself face to face with the children. Stojan, his wife Javorka, a nurse, and their children: Bojan, a fourth year secondary school student, Ljiljana, Jelena and four year-old Lazar: face to face. The Albanian children set fire to the entrance door and the house was enveloped in black smoke. The entire Todorovic family is in the house; the flames are drawing nearer, inch by inch. The Albanian children are standing in front of the door. The Todorovices jump out the window and run barefoot across the meadow. They swim across the Sitnica River and head toward the village of Crkvene Vodice. KFOR caught up with them in their flight and gave them a ride.

BARBED WIRE

In their fury, the Albanians set fire to the houses on the other side of the railway immediately. The houses on the same side of the railway as the church were first looted, once the Serbs left, then set on fire.

Had they wanted to, the Albanian children could have circled from the other side and brought the Todorovices back into the flames. But they didn't because this was a process of humanitarian relocation.

"Had they wanted to kill us, they could have. But their goal was simply to chase us away..."

Help arrived at the last moment. The picture of dedication, they pulled the Serbs from the flames of their burning homes. KFOR soldiers arrived with their bullet-proof vests and helmets and pointed guns. In Obilic there were Englishmen and Norwegians; now there are Finns and Swedes but they were all the same. The English soldiers were frightened: if elementary school pupils did this, what could the secondary school students do? If 10 year-old children burned everything in sight, if 10 year-olds occupied the Serb houses, what would those going through puberty have done?

As far back as 1999 KFOR soldiers had given all the Serbs in Obilic rolls of barbed wire. For their personal use as a means of protection. The Todorovices had woven the barbed wire through their wrought iron fence and placed rolls of the stuff in front of their entry door. Now the soldiers are either frightened or in an awful hurry. They were rushing the Serbs. The Serbs got tangled in the barbed wire like hens in nettles. They had imprisoned themselves.

Jelena said: "They came with three jeeps, nervous and frightened. There was one KPS policeman with them, an Albanian. The Englishmen were rushing us: (in English) "Go, go, go go!"

Like dogs the Serbs scratched their way under the fence to get the street. But Jelena was holding one month-old Andjela (Angela) in her arms. The soldiers improvised, lifting the entire gate - so that Jelena could crawl underneath it on all fours with the baby.

There was a soldier behind the wheel and another with a pointed gun by the door of the jeep. They drove directly in front of the Obilic police station. Jelena cried during the trip because she had heard them say "Women and children first". That meant they had left the men!

For five years there had been no problems with the Albanian neighbors, all of them natives of Obilic. But Semija, the first neighbor, was an emigrant; he had bought a house from a Serb and Jelena will remember him.

"I gave birth in the hospital in Kosovska Mitrovica. I had not even returned home yet and Semija brought a little outfit for the baby to our home. We talked by phone. He couldn't save anything..."

The little outfit that Semija had bought was in the washing machine with some other clothes. There was laundry drying outside on the line...

Jelena admits that there was plenty to loot. But everything else aside, what she cannot forget is the cradle which she had purchased in Gracanica, traveling at risk and in fear: "The cradle! The brand new cradle!"

Jelena and Andjela, one month old, lay on sponges in the dirt in the KFOR base. There was another baby, twenty days old. Jelena pleaded and begged for housing because the child was starting to choke.

By coincidence, she knew one of the translators, a Serb. He promised to get her out. Jelena arrived in Kosovska Mitrovica on Saturday, March 20. Dazed and just arisen from the dust, she became a media star. She stepped out of the vehicle and there were hundreds of cameras waiting for her.

"You've probably seen me on TV. On BK. Sonja Stupar, my husband's sister, saw the baby and me in America! They showed the footage in Greece, in Macedonia..."

Jelena got out with unsure steps; she was afraid of walking on the earth as she was followed by hundreds of cameras. They followed her every step, the expression on her face. Dazed, she embraced her husband and brother-in-law, who had arrived in Mitrovica from Zvecan.

Then and only then was Jelena the center of attention. Then the whole world saw Jelena and today no one sees her anymore.

She is a refugee. She gets three kilograms of sugar, three kilograms of beans and an occasional kind word. She borrows clothes.

"Write that now we have nothing..."

Jelena would like to return to Kosovska Mitrovica if a place could be found there for her family. If it isn't a collective center and if it could be...

INSTANT LOOTING

From the fifth floor of the Serb apartment building in the center of Obilic popularly known as Lamela 5, Dalibor Petkovic watched the torching of the church, Serb houses and everything else that happened in Obilic on March 17-18. According to Dalibor, everything began on March 17 at about 3:00 p.m. when the Albanian crowd beat up several Serb women and a man, travelers who happened to be at the railway station. Dalibor speaks English and spoke several times with a U.S. policeman named Will, who is from Tennessee, who on March 18 would order the evacuation of the building, regardless of the fact that it was located across the road from the police station.

Through a cordon of policemen, right from the building into the police station.

Will was categorical: "Not enough resources, not enough soldiers. Evacuation will be in 15 minutes!"

Dalibor worked for a time for the Committee for the Protection of Human Rights, a Serbian non-governmental organization. He worked for three years for UNHCR, distributing canned goods and chocolate. He delivered humanitarian aid to the murdered Stolic family.

He watched thousands of Albanians showering stones and destroying the municipal building in the YU Program complex popularly known as the White Building.

"I watched them carrying automobile tires and setting fire to the church. I watched them removing the icons. I can recognize at least 30 people who took part in the burning of the church..."

I watched the mob of 300 Albanians attacking the house of Trajko Todorovic, which was set on fire. Before it they set fire to the house of another Todorovic, who is known in Obilic by his nickname, Curi.

"On March 17 KFOR attempted to stop the masses with four soldiers. There were members of Czech special forces in the police station. While the Kosovo police or Czech special forces were evacuating the Serbs, the mass of demonstrators waited for them to come out. As soon as the vehicle began to drive away, the looting would begin. They would arrive at the scene together."

Dalibor Petkovic has a six month-old son and Ana Petkovic, his wife, spent the last six months in their building, never venturing outside.

"I visit our neighbors in apartment number 3. In the afternoon I visit my sister in apartment number 4. In the building there is a three-year old child that has never seen a chicken. I can also go to the fourth and the fifth floors to play cards. Every day is the same whether it's summer or winter. There are no seasons here. No rain, no snow."

Also living in the building was three year-old Jovana (Joanna) Rajic, who had never been on a swing. She had never walked in front of the building or gone to the park. There were four children living in the building who had never seen any other children. Jovana could see them through the bars; she could see the Albanian children playing. She would stand on the gate, grabbing hold of the bars. She would call them at the top of her voice:

"Little brother, little sister! Come play with me!"

The Albanian children walking with their parents would turn their head away. Jovana Rajic would go back to her apartment and begin to cry. She would continue crying, with interruptions, for a long time.