by Laura Aslan
“Be careful,” my father said.
I wrapped up against the cold and ventured out. I wanted to walk up the mountain but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Perhaps another time? Instead, I turned the other way and walked towards the centre of the village. I knew immediately that the atmosphere in the town of Veliki Trnovac had changed. To my surprise there were many people around, faces I recognised from the mountain the night before but there were also Serb soldiers everywhere. Their faces were uncovered so I knew I wasn’t in any immediate danger but I wondered to myself if any of them had been there on the mountain the previous evening. I was conscious that I was staring at one or two of them and when they caught my eye I quickly averted my gaze.
I tried not to think about the incident on the mountain but it was difficult with so many army uniforms around. It also hit home that the very reason the Serb Soldiers had covered their faces meant that they were fully committed and prepared to carry out the despicable task they had been ordered to do. And forget the cause and the war and whatever false justification they were given, those beasts were ready and willing to shoot innocent men, women and children for money. Nothing else but money, my uncle’s deal had proved that beyond doubt. I looked again at one or two of the soldiers and found myself loathing them.
As I walked down the main street I noticed one of my friends carrying a suitcase across the road.
I called out to her, to ask where she was going.
“Drita. Where are you going?”
“We are leaving Laura, we have family in Macedonia and we will be safer there.”
“What do you mean?” I said. “This is where you live, you can’t leave.”
She looked at me as if I was stupid.
“You were there when they were going to massacre us on the mountain?” She said sarcastically.
“Yes, but-”
“Then you know if it hadn’t been for your uncle’s money we would have all been murdered.”
I had no answer for her as she continued.
“And you’ve heard what the Serb soldiers are doing to the Muslim girls.”
“Yes...”
“It makes no difference to them, young or old. They are shooting husbands, fathers and brothers and raping the girls on the spot.”
I took a sharp intake of breath. I’d never heard any of my school friends using that awful word, and because she had used it, it was as if it somehow brought it closer to home... more real. She lifted the heavy suitcase into the boot of a car that had pulled alongside. I recognised her parents and her young brother who was in Amir’s class at school. Her mother gave me a little wave.
Drita spoke more quietly now.
“Sometimes they make the husbands and fathers watch as they take turns, it’s as if it’s all a bit of fun to them.”
She pulled at her hair in an act of frustration and anger.
“The perverted psychopaths. Can you imagine what that must do to a father watching his daughter go through that?”
Drita climbed into the car and started to wind the window down as she leaned out and spoke again.
“I think I’d rather see my father killed before he had to endure that.”
I was subconsciously nodding.
“Goodbye Laura, and thank your uncle for us. We haven’t had a chance to see him.”
I stood frozen to the spot while the car disappeared from view and noticed that the road was unusually busy with cars packed to the roof, some with trailers and one or two even towing caravans crammed with their worldly goods. Some of the cars were bursting at the seams taking family members and friends without transport of their own. It seemed the whole of the town of Veliki Trnovac was on the move and it felt like the end of the world.
I took a lemonade in the local café and the talk was of nothing else but who was leaving town and who was staying. I was welcomed warmly as the niece of the man who had saved the entire population and they even refused payment for my drink. They told me the roads to Kosovo and Macedonia were crowded and then they told me to go home because the streets of Veliki Trnovac were no longer safe for a girl like me.
Back home I told my father everything I’d seen, everything I’d been told. He buried his head in his hands and sighed once more and then he looked up and spoke to me.
“You’ll have to leave too.”
At first I thought he meant we were leaving as a family but then the truth dawned on me and I realised he meant just me.
“No way,” I said. “No way am I leaving without you or Nani. If I’m going it’s with you two, otherwise I stay here.”
My father was furious.
“How dare you question my authority, I’m your father just you remember that and I know what’s best for you.”
My mother stood in the corner of the kitchen visibly shocked, but not visibly shocked at my father’s words, visibly shocked that I had dared to answer him back in that way. I had never spoken to Agi like that, his word was always the last word and as always he knew what was best. And yet I still argued for all I was worth because the thought of leaving them behind was a pain I couldn’t bear to imagine. I was in tears, as was Nani but my father would have none of it and said I was leaving the following morning. His face was red with rage.
“But why just me?” I said.
Agi paused for a few seconds.
“Because you’re a girl that’s why... you’re more at risk than anyone else.”
“But Nani’s a girl why can’t she go with me?”
My father cast a glance at his wife.
“She can go if she wishes, that’s her choice, and she’s old enough to decide for herself.”
I looked at Nani who looked terrified and confused and yet I knew at that moment that she would never leave my father’s side. I respected and admired her decision in a way but regretted that I was an only child. It would have been so much easier making the journey with a sibling or even two.
Late afternoon he brought a sports bag down from upstairs, a bag he had packed with food and clothes and of course money. The only thing that crossed my mind was that Agi never packed a suitcase... it was always Nani.
And the arguments started again because I knew now that this was for real.
“I won’t go without you.” I screamed with tears running down my face.
At this point my father had been standing and I sensed he was about to say something important, perhaps one of those father daughter lectures... but I was wrong. He returned to the table and slowly pulled out a chair. It seemed an enormous effort as he lowered himself into the seat and gazed across the room at me. A smile pulled across his face and then it was gone and he beckoned me to take a seat at the table with him. I walked over and sat down and he reached for my hands which he cupped in his. He spoke in a whisper. His words are still with me today, as if they were spoken yesterday.
“My locki, my beautiful perfect locki. You know I love you with all my heart.”
His eyes were full of tears, the anger having dissolved away in an instant. As he squeezed my hands tight the tears from his big brown eyes began to roll down his cheeks.
It was some time before he was able to get the words out but eventually he wiped his tears away, clenched his teeth and spoke.
“I’m not frightened of anything and I’ll gladly accept death with both hands held high,” he said. “They can’t hurt me, no one can hurt me.”
He leaned over the table took my face in his hands and kissed me on the forehead.
“But I can’t bear the thought of watching you abused by them, I can’t locki.”
We cried together and he took out a handkerchief and wiped my cheeks.
“I don’t want to see that locki, you understand?”
“Yes Agi.”
“Surely that’s not too
much for a father to ask of his daughter.”
I shook my head. No words would form on my lips.
“So you will leave first thing tomorrow okay?”
Without wanting to I nodded my head just once.
“Good,” he said. “that’s settled. I will sleep all the better tonight.”
We sat together at the kitchen table as a family and drank tea as if it were going out of fashion. I didn’t even like tea but it was sort of expected, a bit like a final supper but without any supper because no one had the appetite for food. We sat holding hands, all three of us, parting occasionally to pick up a cup to take a drink. Eventually I decided it was time to get ready for bed and prepared myself for the worst day of my life. No matter what my parents said to comfort me I still felt as if I was abandoning them, the people who meant more to me than the world itself.
My father’s mobile phone rang just before midnight. It was late and my heart skipped a beat as I answered. It was Auntie Naxhia.
“Hi Auntie Naxhia, how are you?”
She asked for my father and I knew straight away something was wrong.
My father took the phone and within seconds he was at the door, pulling on his coat with one hand while holding the phone with the other.
“We’ll be there right away,” he said.
“What is it Agi?”
“Get your coat and the car keys Laura, your Uncle Demir is ill. I’ll get my medical bag.”
Despite the winter conditions I jumped into the car dressed only in my pyjamas and no shoes and drove the short distance to my uncle’s house. Auntie Naxhia was waiting for us, tears streaming down her face and she ushered us quickly to the second floor bedroom where uncle’s body lay at the side of the bed. My father was down on his knees straight away. Uncle Demir was conscious but not speaking and looked at us with a puzzled look on his face. He was grey and his body so cold to the touch and my auntie was shaking him by the arm.
“You’re not leaving us Demir,” she said over and over again.
“He’s fine,” my father kept saying. “You’re going to be just fine Demir.”
Father checked his vital organs and gave him a series of injections before telling us we had to get him into the car and over to the surgery. We carried him down the stairs and thankfully by the time we moved outside Uncle Demir was able to stand by himself and even managed to speak a few words.
“You’re going to be fine Uncle Axhi.” I said.
I drove as fast as I could to the surgery and nearly careered off the road at one point but we eventually made it and we helped him into the surgery. I remember Uncle Demir turned to me and grinned and said it was the first time he had ever been driven in a car by a woman.
In the surgery father managed to get him to lie on a treatment table where he examined him some more and gave him another two injections. He appeared to have recovered well and was alert and communicating fine. I was so relieved.
“We still need to get him to a hospital.” father announced. “Vranje is only thirty minutes away.”
Father said he would drop me back home and he would go to the hospital with Naxhia. I objected, I wanted to go too but father said I had to go back and get Amir the next morning as he had been staying at a friend’s house.
When I returned home I told Nani all the details but said that Uncle Axhi was fine. He’d perhaps need to stay in hospital for a few days but whatever had happened to him, he seemed to be over the worst.
Early the following morning my mobile phone rang. It was my father calling from the hospital. He had been there all night and as he spoke I knew there was something terribly wrong.
“You need to get Amir and bring him here now Laura.”
“What is it Agi, how is Uncle Axhi?”
“Just do as I say locki.”
I drove to the friend’s house and knocked on the door. Poor Amir was in bed and she had to wake him. I explained about Uncle Demir and Amir got dressed and climbed into the car. Amir kept asking about his father and I didn’t know what to say. I told him his father had been taken ill through the night and he was in the hospital at Vranje.
“How is Babi?” Amir kept asking. “Is he going to be okay?”
I kept telling him I didn’t know but we’d find out soon.
We pulled into the hospital and I drove into a parking bay, turned the engine off and quickly ran round to Amir who was struggling with his seatbelt. I helped him out of the car and he reached for my hand as we ran towards the hospital entrance.
About twenty-five yards from the hospital I looked up and saw my father and Auntie Naxhia standing by the doorway. I froze. My eyes fixed on Auntie Naxhia and I knew by the empty look in her tear-drenched eyes that my darling uncle was dead. I lost the power in my legs and fell to the ground. I couldn’t breathe. It was as if a big hole had been bored into my stomach, as if a part of me had died. Amir didn’t know what to do, didn’t know who to run to. I wanted to stand and be strong for Amir as he too collapsed in tears beside me.
“What is wrong?” he kept asking.
I looked into his beautiful deep brown eyes and wanted to tell him that everything was all right but it wasn’t. Nothing would ever be the same again, not for me and not for Amir.
We buried Uncle Demir the next day in line with Muslim tradition. Everyone who had remained in Veliki Trnovac was there to pay their last respects. No one could quite believe that Demir had been taken so soon after what he had done. They were calling him a hero and one woman said that if anyone deserved to be taken into heaven then it would surely be him. She was saying that God was good and he would take special care of Demir.
I was confused and couldn’t help thinking that God shouldn’t have taken him at all.
My father’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
“Laura,” he said gently, “we have buried your uncle.”
“Yes father.”
“Now it’s time to go.”
Forced to Flee
My father had reluctantly allowed me one more night in the family home but it was of little comfort to me and I hardly slept at all. My mother came into my room just after seven in the morning and told me we were having a cooked breakfast as father had planned an early start for me.
She had cooked some eggs and buttered some toast but it would all remain un-eaten and instead the eggs were sliced up and placed between two slices of fresh bread and pushed into my sports bag. I asked again if my mother was coming with me but she shook her head. I wondered if it would have been different if my uncle hadn’t died. My father needed his wife with him, I knew that, but regardless, I don’t think she would have left him whatever the circumstances. My father was giving me my final instructions.
“On no account must you use the main road until you get into Kosovo and you’ll need to go over the top of the mountain.”
“The mountain?” I asked incredulously.
“It’s not far, thirty or forty minutes to the top and then you will be able to plan your route from there. You will see the main road from the top and you can chart a point or two and follow the road parallel until you are one hundred per cent sure you are in Kosovo and then and only then can you try and hitch a ride or take a bus to Pristina.”
“But why can’t I take a bus from the village?”
He was lifting my bag onto my back.
“Because your father knows best locki.”
I looked over at my mother who was standing by the door in floods of tears, tears that I thought would surely never dry. I was still asking questions, I was terrified at that thought of arriving in a city where I knew no one.
“Where will I go?”
“There are Red Cross centres,” my father said. “Head for the centre of town and ask one of the NATO men or a policeman. There are camps for refugees in Pristina and you
’ll be safe there.”
My father, the man who had always been my protector, was sending me off into the unknown and in an instance I knew that if he was prepared to do that then things in Veliki Trnovac must be pretty horrific.
I said an emotional goodbye to my mother. It lasted some time and I felt so warm and secure and safe as she wrapped her arms tight around me. She told me to buy a mobile phone as soon as I got to Pristina so that I would be able to call her. I wanted to stay there forever and felt sure that no harm could come to me as long as she held me in this way. I went to give my father a hug but he said he would walk with me for a while and we set off.
He kept repeating what he had told me about the Red Cross and how safe Pristina was. He also tried to justify his decision to stay, saying it was our home and it was all we had and if he left it, then the Serbs would loot the property and set it on fire. My parents had worked so hard on that property and for so many years and as he told me the war would be over in a few months and everything would return to normal I almost believed him.
The path to the top of the mountain was clearly visible and about five hundred metres from the top Agi said goodbye. It was another emotionally charged moment as he held me like my Nani had done and we shed a flood of tears. As I reluctantly walked away from him I remember thinking I couldn’t take much more and so wanted to turn around and run back.
I stood on the track for some minutes as I watched Agi disappear into the distance and then I dried my tears and slung my sports bag onto my back and started to walk. The path to the top looked a little daunting, very steep and not so well trodden. I kept focussing, twenty, thirty, forty metres ahead and tried to pick out points. I was now more frightened of the wild animals than anything else. I had heard tales of wild dogs and an occasional wolf and every so often I would stop, try not to breath and listen for sounds. Now the town of Veliki Trnovac didn’t seem such a bad place to be.
I picked up my pace as the path zigzagged to the top and within about forty minutes I had made it to the crest of the mountain. It was cold, crisp and clear with four or five centimetres of snow under my feet but the view over into Kosovo was perfect and the sheer beauty of the scene took my breath away. The mountains were covered in a pristine, white blanket of snow and it contrasted beautifully with the deep green of the forests and the dead and dying deciduous trees and shrubs in various shades of red, yellow, black, orange, some even pink and magenta. I eased my bag from my shoulder, took out my waterproof and spread it out on the ground and sat down. I stayed there for some time admiring the sheer beauty and enjoying the stillness and calm. Everything was so peaceful. Surely this place was too beautiful for a war?