Fehmi Ajvazi, an eminent author from Kosovo, has shared his book ‘In the Kingdom of Death’ published in Albanian in 2012 in Pristina, and in Romanian in 2019, and was translated from Albanian to English
[In March 1999, the Serbian regime blanketed Kosovo with a contingent of 120,000 regular police, military, and civilian paramilitary forces. Just about two weeks before NATO’s intervention in Kosovo began, the region was surrounded on all sides, while pockets of the interior (villages and towns) were hit with arrests, liquidations, and massacres. Kosovo became a reservation. A kingdom called the “Kingdom of Death” established authority everywhere! However, some areas were controlled by insurgent liberation forces, and in some places, Serbian forces couldn’t penetrate. Well, the hatred between Serbs and Albanians was the same, but the bullets were the same too: they brought death to everyone, and it was no problem for the “bullet” whether the target was Albanian or Serbian. I mean, the forces of the Kosovo Liberation Army held some territory and kept it free! But about ten days before NATO planes launched their attack in their battle for Kosovo, Albanian insurgents managed to have the world’s most powerful force as their ally: the NATO alliance. However, no one had managed to master a pact with death. Just a few days before March 24th, the “Lady of Death” was the ruler of Kosovo, in reality, she was the ruler of the Albanian citizens of this extremely small territory! And for the third time in history, the state of Serbia wanted nothing more and nothing less than: the ethnic cleansing of Kosovo. Over 1 million residents before March 24, 1999, challenged “this kingdom” by saying, “Here we are, your power is not the power of God!” I had decided to stay, not to leave. I was a journalist, but also a creator. And so, I had no idea what dilemmas lay in this direction, despite the open threats from the Serbs, and I knew well that they would try to wash their hands of us like Pontius Pilate! Regardless of every situation and circumstance, I sacrificed to be a witness to a time and a history without parallel! Yes, a witness…! And everything I have said and written about literary-historical conditions is in this book – a testimony. Therefore, this book is a source and my personal experience of a time I pray will never be repeated – anywhere. Just as I pray for the souls of those who did not come out alive in this “kingdom of death” in the third millennium! Read the truth about Kosovo… Author]
ORDER FOR EXPULSION
The dark day
I spend a portion of my time gathering information, never taking my attention away from the radio and television for a moment. I also continue to “eavesdrop” on Dragan’s apartment, hour after hour. By keeping my ear against the wall that separates us, I imagine that I am holding him and others under “virtual surveillance.” I heard about the terror in Fushë Kosovë from these accursed individuals, even though it was in a generalized manner. I listened with a sense of satisfaction when one of them said, “Danas, zapalili s’mo Kosovo Pole.” (“Today, we set fire to Kosovo Field”). However, somehow, my head began to ache, which I usually have to rest against the cold wall of the room and keep it there for a long time to listen to their conversations. Therefore, I need a solution: from now on, when I rest my head against the wall of the room, I will wrap it in something.
The time is 9:00. Shpresa, somewhat relaxed, says she will cook a good meal mixed with meat. She starts preparing the dishes, water, salt, and other ingredients for lunch, without knowing that this will be the last lunch made during Serbian captivity in Kosovo. Electricity and water are not lacking. NATO is not hitting vital targets, especially those intended for the civilian population.
The meal simmers slowly. It’s 10:30. We are isolated. Our lives remain in the corner of the grave. Today is April 1st. Oh God, how I wish that everything around me today were an April fool’s joke. But it’s not. Everything else may be a “joke of this world,” but not what is happening to us…! All the neighbors in our building are here! No one has left yet. Neither have I. Since the bombings began, we (all of us) live a virtually shared life, a solidarity life for everything. More or less, we also submit to the same psychological state produced by the war, in our case, the occupying state. We have become accustomed to the bombings by NATO airplanes. The powerful roar of their engines no longer fazes us. On the contrary, whenever the planes come and hit the Serbian police-military units, we feel motivated for psychophysical defiance, happy that the venomous serpent is constantly being struck. Their arrivals and strikes are our only “hope’s stars”…
Almost by accident, perhaps by instinct, I was slightly moving the curtain (carefully) of the window facing the street, between the building quarters. That’s all it took for my eyes to catch five military vehicles coming hurriedly from the northern side of the road. The vehicles parked one by one in the corners of the buildings, right in the quarter where we were. Then, three civilian cars and two police cars also arrived swiftly. Various persons in uniforms and civilians holding automatic rifles and Scorpions emerged from these vehicles. They moved like madmen! Perhaps following a pre-arranged scenario, they scattered all over the middle of the buildings. The civilians, in groups, headed towards the entrances, accompanied by a police officer each. In every corner of the buildings, a person in uniform positioned themselves. These did not look ordinary! In fact, they did not seem official in appearance either. They were dressed in black leather uniforms, gangster boots, and masks. They took positions, ready and alert. They carried their guns resting on their chests. The guns were Scorpions.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye. I didn’t perceive any kind of danger! But there was nothing surprising either: this was the expected “action” of our departure…!
The order spread rapidly. People immediately understood what it meant. Some went out onto the streets and started walking with their heads down, their legs… Others were preparing to leave. The streets and alleys, building quarters, were filled with residents of all ages. With various belongings in their hands, with suitcases, with small children, some holding their elderly family members on their arms, they rushed outside their homes: onto the perilous path of forced departure. Some went towards the main road of exodus. It was never going to be a good day! But it was something else in question! It was an order for expulsion. I moved away from the window. Slowly, I sat down on the couch. I was saddened, drained, and heartbroken! The pain hit my legs. My wife turned off the electric stove.
She managed to say, “Oh, are they expelling us too?” I just shook my head as I got up to prepare the suitcases. Our apartment was on the eastern side of the “Sun Hill” neighborhood. It didn’t take long, and after about three or four minutes, a knock was heard at the door. I opened the door, while one of the neighbors, whose name I didn’t know, with a pale and sad face, said with sadness: “It’s an order to leave…!”
We got ready. In truth, we didn’t need much time to prepare: all we could take with us were some personal items, a bit of food, and Niku’s essential things. However, I had a delicate problem (not for the moment): I didn’t know what to do with my writings, some personal notes, numerous personal and family photos, some special books…! In other words, I didn’t know what to do with these things that were my little world, my identity, my biography. Throwing them away was out of the question. Leaving them to the mercy of fate, risking them falling into the wrong hands, felt like a betrayal. So, I quickly put some of these important things into a black plastic bag (the kind used for garbage). Among them: a manuscript of poems, some pages of texts about the work of writer Ismail Kadare, notes from the days of the bombings, dozens, if not hundreds of photographs, seven or eight selected books. I quickly threw the bag into the trash among the collected garbage.
In a few minutes, we were ready. Ready, in our own way. As we were leaving, I took off my Swiss watch, a gift from my cousin at the time of my wedding, and left it on the table. I said, “If it’s ‘our time’ over there, you will find it…!” Then, a few tears betrayed me. Shpresa went out first with Niku in her arms. I took the two suitcases filled with our belongings and carried them on my side. Then, I locked the main door with the key. I hid the key deep inside the suitcases. The main door of our apartment, number 4, was reinforced. It couldn’t be broken except with explosives. We were on the street. All three of us. We had no idea where to go. We didn’t have a car like some of our neighbors so that we could immediately head towards the border. People lined up everywhere, moving like a torrent.
Where would we go? I had no idea. In front of us, there was only one road: either to join and merge with the crowd that had formed a long line and was moving slowly toward the city center or to decide to stay somewhere in Pristina. Should we stay…? Where…? Should we head somewhere, anywhere, our legs wouldn’t carry us…! The weight of the earth had weighed down my body. Heavier than death… (Continues)
Click here for Part-1, Part-2, Part-3, Part-4, Part-5, Part-6, Part-7, Part-8, Part-9, Part-10, Part-11, Part-12, Part-13, Part-14, Part-15, Part-16, Part-17, Part-18, Part-19, Part-20,
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[The book ‘In the Kingdom of Death’ is being reproduced in episodes with the consent of the author]
Read: The Lament of the Earth – A Bouquet of Poems from Kosovo
