It is Tuesday afternoon, March 23. I am in Athens, Ohio. It is about 1 p.m. As I turn on the TV the following report is given: "NATO airplanes are ready to attack Yugoslavia."
I sit on the chair and start shaking. I can't speak and my whole body is paralyzed. I lean over the table and reach for the phone.
"Grandma...listen...take some food and water and go to the shelter." As I am talking to my grandmother on the phone, more news is broadcasted on CNN.
"Don't worry...All diplomatic talks are postponed until next month." I realize now that nobody in Belgrade has any idea of what's going to happen in the next couple of hours.
"Grandma, there isn't enough time for explaining, just do what I told you as quickly as possible." I hung up the phone. At that moment I felt helpless and lost. I saw what was happening and I couldn't stop it.
It's 2 p.m. This past hour has seemed like a year. I am still sitting in the same position that I've been in since 1:00. More news from CNN: The first cruise missile was sent from the Adriatic Sea to Yugoslavia." This missile was soon followed by other cruise missiles and aircraft.
The first thing that goes through my head is my memory of Belgrade from six years ago. It was one of the most beautiful cities in Europe. I used to go to the banks of the Danube and sit next to the water. From the old part, Zemun, you could see the skyscrapers of Belgrade appearing on the horizon. The streets were always full of people of all ages.
Today I see Belgrade falling to pieces under the NATO attacks. The streets are empty while the shelters are full of mere shadows of human beings.
I pick up the phone again. All the lines are busy. I spend an hour trying to get through. When I finally succeed, I can barely hear my grandmother's voice. "Grandma, is everyone alright there?" Silence. Her voice shakes when she finally tries to talk to me.
"They're bombing us... Belgrade is in flames." I wanted to tell her that everything would end soon, but we both knew that wasn't true. I gripped the phone as hard as I could, forcing myself not to cry.
"I'll call you again in a couple of hours." I hang up the phone. I slowly go to my room and close the door. In total darkness, I lay on my bed for a while.
Today is the second day of NATO air strikes. It is Wednesday, March 24, 9 a.m. During the night I don't get much sleep. I turn on the TV as soon as I wake up. "Kosovars....Ethnic Albanians....Manslaughter." All these words are repeated by TV journalists. Do any of them even know where Kosovo is? And what does the word "Kosovar" even mean? I was born and raised in Serbia, and I've never heard that word before. If they call Albanians that live in Kosovo "Kosovars" then what do they call Serbs that live there as well?
My emotions shifted from sorrow to anger and despair. More than half of the American public has no idea where Kosovo is and how much it means to Serbian people. Kosovo is the heart of Serbia. It is a place where many battles were fought against the Ottoman empire. Heroes such as Kraljevic Marko, Milos Obilic and Car Lazar gave up their lives in Kosovo for the Serbian people. We can never forget them and it is for them that today the Serbs are willing to give up their lives to keep this region.
In the midst of all of this thinking, I am interrupted by a phone call. It's my brother. He tells me that one of our best friends wrote him an e-mail this morning. As he was writing the message, the air-raid sirens went off.
Life in Yugoslavia has turned into a living nightmare. Sometimes the sirens blare for hours straight. I can't imagine how it feels to sit in a shelter and hear all the explosions outside.
My living room, on the other hand, has turned into a broadcasting station. I've spent two days now, sitting in front of the TV, listening to the radio or waiting for a phone call from Yugoslavia. I feel miserable. My legs are so heavy that I can't even lift them. My head is pounding.
It's 6:00pm. I make another phone call. I call my grandmother just to hear her voice. Everyone is still alright.
Thursday morning. It's the third day of NATO air strikes. I have a headache. I drink some coffee and turn on the TV. More bombs have been dropped in Belgrade. Does NATO know when to stop?
The following report came on the news: "Early this morning, NATO started with the attack. They are planning to continue their campaign throughout the day."
I am so sick of politics that I decide to go to my room. I sit in the chair but soon after that, I can't sit. I start twitching. I feel nervousness in my stomach. I have to call home!
"Grandma, how are you?" I can hear in her voice that she is worried but that she doesn't want to upset me.
"I'm fine...don't worry...it'll stop soon." I think to myself, how can NATO do this to innocent people? I am so angry and disappointed in "world politics." It's just a game of power for some, while the others suffer. It's not just my grandmother who suffers, but millions of other people. Today in Kosovo, Albanians, along with other nationalities that live there, are leaving their land because of the NATO air strikes.
Today they are out of control. Supposedly, they were only to bomb the military bases. But what about the hospitals, schools, or residential areas that were hit? Throughout the day, many targets are hit. The NATO campaign continues through the night.
Friday afternoon. The whole day I can't stop thinking about my friends that are spending their days in a shelter. They are sitting with children and their parents underground. How does it feel to sit in a basement full of people who are nervous, desperate, and helpless? Some of the old people have heart conditions which can't even be treated properly. Half of the population is exhausted. How can they torture them like that?
In any war, humans forget who they are. They become hungry for power and blood. Today in the Balkans many people, not just the Serbs and Albanians, are suffering. Croats, Montenegros, and Macedonians are among the many other innocent victims.
My brother informs me that he received an e-mail from our friend. This afternoon, the city of Belgrade is organizing a live concert. All the young people are gathering at the main boulevard and they are carrying signs which say "TARGET" covering their hearts. Even in the worst times, the young generation doesn't give in. With their last atoms of energy many are standing proudly to say "You will never destroy me."
After my last phone call, I go outside. I haven't been outside for four days now. The night is beautiful. I look to the sky filled with stars and remember the words of my grandmother: "Whenever you feel lonely, look for the brightest star. That's where I'll always be, watching over you." I return after a while and get some sleep for the first time in four days.
Copyright © 1999, The Oberlin Review.
Volume 127, Number 18, April 2, 1999
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