Journey Into Hell - World Vision aid worker James Addis reports on his daring journey into Kosovo...
In a world of manufactured excitement – bungee jumping, white water rafting, para gliding – this had the whiff of a real
adventure. Would I be willing to accompany the first relief convoy into Kosovo from Montenegro? The route was unproved
and the Yugoslav army had not yet exited the country. Would we be attacked by renegade Serb forces? Would we be blown up
by a landmine? Would we be picked off by snipers? Would I be willing to go? You betcha!
Even our set off time (3am sharp) added a certain element of derring-do. Our truck drivers wanted to cross the border at
first light then head straight for Pristina. They needed to be sure they could make the return journey within daylight
hours while still allowing time for any potential hiccups on the way – such as needing to cross a bridge blown up by a
Nato bomb.
So at 2.30am I roused myself, got dressed, said a brief prayer, and found my way to the second truck. Ahead of me Judy
Moore – a fellow Kiwi and head of the World Vision Montenegro programme, got into the first. Judy had elected to take in
only a small consignment of goods – 20 tons of food and blankets – the important thing was to prove the security of the
route. If we could do that then larger consignments could follow. We wanted to move quickly since an estimated 800,000
refugees had fled to Kosovo’s mountains – cut off from international aid and without adequate, food, clothing, medicines
and shelter – their situation was anticipated to be especially dire.
In the event the journey proved mercifully (and frankly a tad disappointingly) safe. We encountered a couple of blown
bridges but it proved fairly easy to circumvent both of them. The strongest impression by far was the extent of the
desolation. Slobodan Milosevic’s forces had attempted to rid Kosovo of 85 per cent of its population and as we passed
burned out village after burned out village, I began to appreciate, probably for the first time, what this policy had
meant. This was wickedness on a grand scale.
Ironically though, returning refugees were in good spirits. Already they were clustered in small groups along the road -
some on tractor trailers, some in buses, most on foot - some carrying bundles of possessions loaded onto prams and
wheelbarrows. The UNHCR was warning people at the time to stay put because of the landmine menace but nobody seemed to
care. They wanted to go home. As our lorries trundled past they waved and cheered us on. The oppressors were being
forced out, aid was coming in - liberation had come.
But what a place to come back to. Our first relief distribution was to a village called Quirez in central Kosovo. As we
approached we could see the fields littered with the bodies of slaughtered livestock. When we reached the village itself
every house had been torched. Worst of all, the village well was unusable. It was piled with the corpses of villagers
unable to escape the Yugoslav army onslaught. Looking down the well shaft one could see the body of a woman lying on the
surface of the water – beside her the body parts of other unfortunates. I spoke to Fatmire Xhmajli a young mum whose
wrecked home was closest to the well and who had given birth while on the run. She was still in shock but was grateful
for the food and blankets we were giving out. Her child was suffering from severe skin rashes - a consequence of poor
hygiene and diet – the food pack, and the sanitary items it also contained, would help.
"When we came back [from the mountains] we found all this devastation," Fatmire told me. "Only two houses in the village
are not completely destroyed and all the cows have been killed. There are kids and wives who have been shot and thrown
into our well. We need someone to get the bodies out. We can’t stand it like this."
Quirez was far from an exceptional place. In the village of Meje, south western Kosovo, farmer Martin Pnisihi showed me
a field where 200 people were killed. A severed human leg remained there and in the bushes nearby about a dozen rotting
corpses unsuccessfully hidden. Everywhere one turned one could hear similar stories and worse.
What does one learn from all this? It’s a strictly personal opinion but I’m glad Nato intervened and commenced a war
against Milosevic’s forces. It seems to me wrong that we should witness the systematic killing, rape and displacement of
peoples without putting a stop to it – by force if necessary. Some will argue that Nato attacks exacerbated the
situation and say they simply caused the Yugoslav army to intensify its campaign against ethnic Albanians. This may be
true, but Milosevic’s aims were clear before the Nato air bombardment began and his policy of ethnic persecution was
already under way. Albanian Kosovars would ultimately have been forced out anyway - and made to stay out. Milosevic’s
position would have strengthened. He would have been portrayed as a hero who defied the West and restored nationalistic
pride. As it is, nearly all the refugees have been able to go home and president Milosevic – the biggest menace to peace
and security in the region - is in a much weakened position.
Finally, before I even knew I was going to go to Yugoslavia I read a scripture which haunted me. It was 1 John 2.11:
"Whoever hates his brother is in the darkness and walks around in the darkness; he does not know where he is going,
because the darkness has blinded him". The words were to crystallise my understanding of what I saw in Kosovo. All the
time you are asking yourself ‘How could people commit such atrocities? How could they do such things?’ But the verse
shows the answer – it is because they are blind – they know not what they do.
It is the love of Christ which eliminates such darkness. Kosovo reminds us how important it is to make Jesus better
known.