Witnessing the War

It was one of those freezing nights of March 1999 when I took the train, from the Romanian capital Bucharest, to go to Yugoslavia, a country in war just across the Danube. In spite of the warnings that many people gave me, I volunteered to go as an 18 years old reporter for the Romanian weekly newspaper "Dreptatea".

After fourteen hours the train finally reached Belgrade. In the Yugoslav capital the atmosphere was eerie and you could feel that by looking at the people. Years of hardship had taken their toll on Yugoslav society. Burdened by sanctions, a massive influx of refugees, and NATO's destruction of factories and workplaces, the unemployment rate had soared. I frequently saw people standing by roadsides with plastic
bottles of gasoline for sale, as another means of survival for the destitute.

Arriving in the central square of Belgrade, I looked around for people to interview. The only people I had the courage to talk to were a group of youngsters around my age who were flying Serbian flags. " Hi I'm Dan! I am Romanian and I am writing an article about the events that are happening here. Can I talk to you?". "Yes!", they answered in English, looking curiously at me. For them, it was strange to speak with someone in English, taking into consideration that English was "American imperialism" for them. In a country bombed by American planes, English was the language of war, for them the bullets were speaking English.

I talked to them and found out about the bombings, the sanctions and shortages, the death of children and young soldiers, and the general impoverishment of ordinary people. They told me that they were bombed constantly for days and nights, without any break or pause. They were without water or electricity for days. They were all afraid, staying in the dark lobby for hours, listening to the scary sounds of the low-flying warplanes, detonations, children crying, car alarms, and people screaming who simply couldn't stand it anymore.

After listen to them, we walked down to view the destroyed buildings in New Belgrade, the more recently built section of the city. Nothing remained but a mound of concrete, bricks, broken boards, and upturned earth. As a sort of memorial, someone had scrawled graffiti on the remnants of an adjacent building: "Bombed March 30." With fatalistic humor, graffiti on another house read, "Sorry. You missed us."

After hearing their testimonies I was ravaged by anger. During my way back home to Romania, all kinds of thoughts started to tear up my mind. I didn't hate NATO or the Yugoslav president Milosevic who provoked this terrible war. I wasn't siding with anybody because war means death no matter which side one takes. War is famine and disaster. It is because of this, that I hate war. I hate the fact that I was born in a time and place where people kill each other just because they have a different religion or ethnic background. I hate the fact that our world is still trapped by history's ghosts and it is not going forward.

Arriving back home to Romania, I realized that my trip to Yugoslavia made me see the world with other eyes. The human tragedies of Yugoslavia made me understand that war is the most diabolic thing in the world and it is never a solution for anything.

The alarm center announcing the intrusion of enemy airplanes in the Yugoslavian airspace. The aerial attacks came every evening and frequently went on all night, rarely during the day in Belgrade. The raids began as warning sirens wailed and local TV and radio stations advised people to avoid panic and to prepare necessary personal items. Local residents in the capital responded calmly, although fear was clearly visible on the faces of mothers with small children and among the frail elderly.

Protesters having a " BEOGRAD SE SVET" banner, meaning Belgrade is the world. Some demonstrators carried pictures of Milosevic, while others held banners reading: "Slobo, You Are Chosen By God To Defend the Serbs." Pictures of Gen. Ratko Mladic, the former Bosnian Serb military commander and a U.N. court war crimes suspect, were also defiantly displayed.

In the back, a billboard saying STOP THE BOMBS and a Bill Clinton dummy hanged from a tree

A concert stage set up by Milosevic to keep the spirits high among Yugoslavians in the central city Square of the Republic. Here several ten thousand people gather every day to sing with the known singers of all genres - from pop singers Bora Corba and his hit "Air-plane, I will break your wings" and Bajaga, to stars of falk-dance Ceca Raznatovic (Arkan's wife) and Era Ojdanic. For the first time in Belgrade on the first day of the concerts, an American flag was set on fire. The absolute hit song of all the concerts titled "The Song Has Preserved Us" is the gypsy song "For Belgrade" from the film "Who is Singing There" (the song played on the accordian with the following refrain: "If this were just a dream, if this were just a dream"). Since air-raid alert is mostly sounded at the time when the concerts are held, those present pin black-and-white target signs somewhere on themselves and carry all sorts of banners - so far the most popular one is - "Sorry, we did not know it was invisible" occasioned by the shot down famous F-117 plane, but there are also a lot of vulgar ones referring to the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal. The atmosphere at the concerts was positive and for a couple of hours raised the spirit of the people.

A white trash can saying "White House garbage only"... In the center of Belgrade, some demonstrators carry banners listing the true "war criminals." Bill Clinton is at the top, sometimes followed by leaders of the NATO countries, Javier Solana, and even Christopher Columbus. For a nation that routinely relies on far more distant historical memories to prop up its claims to territory, that's not much of a stretch...That's also me in the back...

Destroying McDonald's was the duty of every Yugoslavian, taking into consideration that this was for them "American Imperialism".As NATO launched air raids to force Milosevic to accept a peace deal for Kosovo, pounding sites in the capital, anti-Western emotions erupted with angry crowds trashing the U.S. and Western European embassies.McDonald's was also attacked. Vandals, many of them crewcut young men uniformly dressed in black leather jackets and jeans, smashed everything, from the restaurants' windows to chairs. The Belgrade restaurant was forced to close down.
McDonald's, in fact, was once the pride of Belgrade, opening in the capital on March 24, 1988 -- exactly 11 years to the day before the North Atlantic Treaty Organization began bombing. It was the first branch in Central Europe and quickly became a source of local pride. At soccer matches in the old Yugoslavia, when teams from Belgrade met opponents from Zagreb, the Croatian
capital, Belgrade fans would taunt their rivals with chants of "We have McDonald's and you don't!" Some say that "McDonald's is the only American who wished to become a Serb."

The American Library in Belgrade after the bombings.All three United States Information Agency libraries in Yugoslavia have been trashed by residents infuriated by NATO bombings. In Belgrade, assessments of damage to the Information Resource Center (IRC) at the United States Information Service building on the embassy compound and to an IRC reading room at the American Center have been difficult to obtain, but early reports said windows were broken there as well as at the IRC in Podgorica in Montenegro. The British Council, the Goethe Institute, and the French Cultural Center had all been trashed along with the American Center in Belgrade. On the walls are written things like "Albright,sorry we didn't know the F117 was invisible", "Serbia", "Dear Bill your Democracy is more efficient, Sincerely, Ku Klux Klan", "This is a toilet" and many other vulgarities.

A picture from Reuters

The human target badges were omnipresent allover Yugoslavia.The target sign was everywhere: adorning billboards, the clothes of young children, newspaper front pages, web sites, bridges and lapels of government ministers. Consisting of a black bull's-eye surrounded by two concentric circles, and usually attached to people or
peaceful objects, it was designed to mock Western claims that NATO has no quarrel with the Serbian people, only with their leaders.Something of a Serbian equivalent of the peace sign worn by American peace demonstrators in the 1960s, it reflects widespread anger and bewilderment over the NATO bombing campaign. While the anger has been harnessed by Serbian authorities and fanned by government propaganda, it has deep roots in the popular psyche.The ubiquitous target sign is said to be the brainchild of Serbian activists in Boston who appropriated the emblem of the U.S. retail company, adapting it slightly to their needs. It then crossed the Atlantic via Internet.

In spite of the NATO bombings, some youngsters are still Chicago Bulls fans... That's me in the back...