Koha Digest # 139

Front Page: KOSOVA: MURDER IN PRISON AND THE MOUSE'S HOLE

ALBANIA: SHKODËR IN VLORË TOO
Date: 5 March 1997

EDITORIAL

WHERE WERE WE WHEN...?

by VETON SURROI

A basic mental test, a test that all of us should take: do you know what was the name of the
person killed by the Serbian police, in the Prishtinë prison, before young Besnik Restelica? In
case you don't immediately remember, I will remind you of his name: Feriz Blakçori, and he
was a teacher. And before him, in the Prizren prison? And the person before him and before
him? Do you know the name, have you seen the faces of those killed in the ritual feeding
form of the Serbian Repressive Machine, month by month, year by year? Can you form the
large sinister chain of Kosovar parents and children that have the protection, the safety, as if
they were in a zoo where a safari was organized? Can you turn your heads back and see the
eyes of that sixteen- years-old girl that went out to town to buy shoes in 1989, the same day
there were demonstrations in Prishtinë, and the very same day when the police was shooting
at raw human meat? Can you see the lifted fingers of the six-years-old children from Zhur,
while two hundred meters away two policemen were emptying their Kalashnyikov 30-bullets
chargers on them?

Have you realized that many of these things were never registered in your minds? Is one of
the reasons the fact that in our collective mind we know that Serbia will act with repression
against Kosova Albanians, and that it will not be strange at all if it kills children and people it
arrests? It is true then that we have closed ourselves in a vicious circle in which we wait for
the murders of people and the other repression to stop when the Serbian regime will decide
so, and the Serbian regime has no other way to act towards Albanians that it identifies as
biological enemies? Is it true that thus we amnestied both Serbia and ourselves; giving Serbia
the licence to kill and giving ourselves collective amnesia until "the question is solved"?
Do you know where were we as Besnik Restelica's arms were being broken, when his mouth
was electro-shocked, when even the torturers would get tired of beating and had to organize
their work in several shifts?

Do you know how big is the mouse's hole?

Do you know that a whole society, and even a people can fit in it?

Do you know that the society whose culmination of political life is to grandiosely entomb its
killed victims, in a way has started burying itself?

The weekly Koha (The Times) was published in Prishtina (Kosovo) between 1994 and 1997. Edited by Veton
Surroi, a young Kosovar journalist and one of the pioneers of democratisation in former Yugoslavia, Koha
soon became a symbol of quality among the region's media. In 1997 it started to be published daily under the
name of Koha Ditorë. W ith the kind permission of Mr. Surroi, Koha digests were originally posted on
http://koha.estudiosbalcanicos.org.
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MURDER

TERROR, VIOLENCE, MURDER AND SHAMEFUL SILENCE

by BATON HAXHIU & DUKAGJIN GORANI / Podujevë

STORY 1

At the end of the town, where hundreds of people were headed to

express condolences to Besnik's father, in the last turn to the
left was the place. A group of people that were holding their
hands over their hearts were waiting for hundreds of others that
were coming in and out from one big room. We entered too. In
front of us was Besnik's father. He was standing strong, with
dignity. He turned to D. Gorani, and asked him: "Do you remember
the other day when you came here with the Swede and the
Englishman..." (Two days after Besnik's arrest, DG had visited
the Restelica family, accompanying two officials of the Swedish
and British embassies). "...This is how Besnik ended". There were
many that were waiting and tens of others entering the room. We
moved aside. We entered the house where the women were gathered.
Besnik's mother received us. "I knew this is how it would end.
But, I didn't know that they loved him so much. He died for
Kosova". We waited almost one hour, meanwhile a Japanese
journalist who had heard of the case, left the room. As we were
waiting, a doctor and Besnik's relative explained about the
tortures he was subjected to. The relative carried tens of
photographs in his pocket (it has almost become a habit to take
pictures of the Albanian corpses killed by the Serbian police,
for the archives of the torture epidemics). He showed them to us
one-by-one. "We knew he would suffer. But we didn't know he was
so strong. We found out that tortures didn't stop for days. The
only day he had seen his father, he had told him he was OK. He
never believed he would die. Although he was beaten constantly".
He had waited for the doctor in his cell. As he were expecting
to be saved by him. And, he had said that one of the most
difficult moments was to see the doctor enter the torture room.

Besnik had felt relieved as he saw the doctor come in, but in
fact the latter had come to help his torturer, and make the
torture even more unbearable, guarantee that he would die. He had
said that he could bear more and that he wouldn't faint. Seeing
the doctor as part of the torturing team, Besnik had lost faith
in all others.

Besnik had been tortured mentally and physically. Torture is

better understood as a process, says one of the doctors, as we
were looking at the photographs. It started with the brutal
arrest and violence at home. Two to three days, Besnik was

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subjected to systematic torture. He had been kept hanging for
several hours. The photographs clearly show bloody traces around
his hands. The beating was systematic. He was hit with the butt
of a rfile or special police sticks. He had been kept sleepless
for days, he hadn't been given water or food, nor blankets. He
was humiliated. This is a component of torture.

It is hard to imagine the dismay of the physical methods of

torture, continues the doctor. The pictures show them all. We
were told that the psychological torture had not destroyed much
Besnik's personality.

Besnik was deprived. Deprived of the senses, sleep or contacts

with people. He was isolated in a small cell, first with no light
and then with strong light. He was not allowed to take a bath or
go to the toilet. Everything had to be done in the cell.
Besnik was constantly tortured physically.

The systematic beatings known in the police world of torture as

the falange, were applied against him. The pictures show, says
the doctor, that he had been beaten on his feet with sticks,
metal tubes and wires! Look at his ears! He was hit on both ears
simultaneously. They had broken his both clavicles and fingers.
He was hit in the stomach.

He was sexually tortured. Look at him, says the doctor. The

method applied is the direct violence against the genital organs
with rubber sticks. This method, it is said, has been applied in
the past years, against former policemen and military and all
others that are actively engaged in politics, in one or the other
way.

Look at the electric shocks he suffered. It is usually applied

in cases when the police is after a signed statement in which the
victim declares himself guilty of what is imputed to them. Besnik
was probably provoked convulsions that are very painful. The
electrodes are usually placed in sensitive parts of the body, the
tongue, the gingiva, finger tips, genital organs and chest.
The stomach, hands, back are full of traces of extinguished
cigarettes or hot metal sticks. The lesions were caused and the
pain was unbearable.

It seems that Besnik was proven to be strong, and this is why the
pharmacological torture was applied against him. It was used for
no statements could be extracted from him. He was forced to
swallow too many tablets. And he was probably taken into a stage
out of control, in which he could declare anything the torturers
would need.

What characterizes this shameful police regime is the dental

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torture he was subjected to. Besnik's teeth were broken in an
dysfunctional way, i.e., with an uncontrolled blow. The teeth are
pierced, as well as the gums.

During investigations he never signed a paper stating that he

committed the crime he was accused of, this is why he was killed.

STORY 2

In the small room of the head of the Restelica household in

Podujevë, the young boy tries to act as a grown up. As those who
despite the biggest tragedy try to keep calm. Twenty-years-old
Fahri Restelica accounts the chronology of terror he went through
- the arrest, the torturing and the killing of his only brother,
Besnik. Fahri just became part of the endless sea of our
youngsters that reach adulthood through terrible tragedies.

***

"The night of the arrest, after the syfyr (brunch) of the Ramadan
- Besnik's college mate Sulejman Jashari was our guest - we
stayed up to five o'clock in the morning", started Fahri.
"Only a half an hour later, I hear a noise coming from the
garden. I thought it could be thieves, so I go out. The dogs were
barking, then there was silence. I come back to the room and go
to bed. The previous noise now becomes a noisy march of many
people. The engine of a heavy machine is heard, as if tanks were
being parked in front of the gate. I see the head of a policeman
that was looking through the bathroom window.

This is where it started.

I go to Besnik's room. I think I should wake him up. Late. I come

back confused - the whole family sleeps, I was the only one, by
chance, awaken. I decide to wake-up my father: "Father, the
police..."

As soon as I told him and turned the back, the door of the room
was torn down and I see an automatic weapon leaning against my
chest. My older sister - convinced that criminals want to kill
us - is terrified. Realizing that it is a police matter, she
calms down. Police raids are nothing new nowadays...

***

My father and I are hand-cuffed, and are dragged to the garden,

in front of the house. They order us to lie on the ground. It is
freezing cold, some five or ten below zero. I don't know what to
think. I worry about papa, he is old, I just remember that he has

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pneumonia. As we lie, a policeman comes to us - seemingly the
leader of the whole action. He orders us to stand up. They bring
us back to this room. My sister and mother are kept in the other
room, in front. They take the handcuffs off. I hear the noise of
the search that is now taking place in Besnik's room. We are told
to kneel, and look down and not move at all. Finally, they order
papa to with them go Besnik's room. Shortly after, they bring him
back, very much upset. The demolition of the house starts. The
policemen have a dog with them, and he barks loudly. The brutal
search of the house lasts till eight o'clock in the morning. They
had destroyed everything: closets, beds, doors, walls, windows,
ceilings - they even searched our dog's house.

"Shall we take the small one too?" they threatened me. To tell
you the truth, I didn't give a damn. I was not scared and I am
still surprised how come.

When they had no more to register, they went outside. I come out
following them. They order me to go back. Again, from the
bathroom window, we see how they drag my brother and his friend,
with their coats on their heads. I hear Besnik yelling to the
policemen: "Take me, do whatever you want with me, let my friend
go!". My brother is a real man.

I can't forget this image. As if he were a criminal and not my

brother, a just graduated engineer. This happened in my house.

***

The next morning, somewhere around ten o'clock, we barely find

out that Besnik and his friend were taken to Prishtinë. No one
could sleep at home. I go to Prishtinë, to the CDHRF. Where else?
My brother was arrested, my house demolished, my father and
family were exhausted... I had no experience, I didn't know what
to do, where to go.

At the Council, they give me the name of an attorney. I meet with

Fazli Balaj. He accepts the defense immediately. The first
problem appears as we enter the office of the Serbian judge
(Danica Marinkovic). She refuses the authority given to the
attorney to be Besnik's lawyer.

Four or five days pass, I don't remember. I hear that Besnik was
interrogated by the Judge. His statement will prove his bravery:
he hadn't admitted anything that was imputed to him - even after
all those tortures. He hadn't admitted anything. There was
nothing to admit...

See, I have always been close to Besnik: if there would have been
anything, I would have known.

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Then another week passes. Balaj informs me that he had met with
Besnik once. Brief: "He's OK. he has been beaten and tortured,
but not as much as the others", he consoles me.

The first visit approached. Who is to go? I would like to go and

see him, but I fear from what I will see in him...

It is papa, me and my cousin that go. Father gets the permit, he

enters. I remain outside. Terrible. I am just a couple of meters
away from my brother, and there is no way I can help him.
I remember that as he entered, father had to give in his
passport. During the raid, all his documents had disappeared.
In less than half an hour, they come out. Father tells me that
Besnik was worried about me. Who knows what had they told him,
that I was also arrested, beaten... "I am fine, they have not
beaten me", he had told father, who still remembers that on that
day Besnik was wearing slippers, for his feet were swollen from
the beating.

The whole visit lasted only seven minutes.

The next day, after the visit, Balaj tells me that he will go and
visit him again, on Wednesday. To keep his morale high, he says.
Very upset, he comes back from the visit. They had refused his
request to meet with my brother. "I am telling you and you tell
this only to your father and not the whole family. Besnik has
been taken to the State Security..."

I feel as if it takes me hours to reach Podujevë. I don't want

to meet with father. What will I tell him?

***

On Thursday, I start towards Prishtinë again. Maybe there is news

about him, his health. Nothing.

Attorney Balaj promises me he will visit him tomorrow, on Friday.

Now as I am telling you this, I have the feeling that the night
between Thursday and Friday was the fatal night. I know today
that on Friday he had been already killed...

On Saturday I don't go to Prishtinë at all. They wouldn't let me

in during week-days, there was no chance to see him during the
weekend.

"A police car is coming", the older sister told father on Sunday
morning. I was scared to death, "they are after me now".

Nevertheless, I go out and wait for them, together with papa. He

is ordered to get into the car. He had to accompany them to

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Prishtinë. I was very worried about Besnik and now seeing father
in that car, I am lost. I will never forget what mother told him
on his way out: "I know where you are going... they have killed
our son". She had simply felt it.

I called the attorney, and now I know that he knew the whole
story by then. The conversation with him calms me down. He told
me that he was headed to visit my brother and that I shouldn't
worry about my father, for there is nothing they can do to him.
Maybe they will only interrogate him and let him go. I calm down.
Father comes back. "I am sorry I have to break the news", some
policeman had told him, "but your son has committed suicide".

"NO! YOU HAVE KILLED HIM!!", father burst. "You have dragged him
from his house and you arrested him here! You killed my son!"

***

Sunday afternoon. We wait for father to come back. He walked from

the bus station back home. As I see his face, everything is
clear. He comes close to mother: "Inshallah he's in paradise,
they have killed you son..."

My sister started crying loudly. Mother stands strong, and I...

The whole world falls on me. I express my condolences to father,

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-8-
Vrapçishtë, Kumanovë, Çair and Dibër, while PPD gave their votes
in Gostivar.

This was the only way of action of the Albanian political

parties: otherwise there would be no sense to be engaged in
politics. In Tetovë, the agony of the first round of elections
had the same character: who will get the lead. When this ended,
the agreement was easy, for it was led by the logic of political
wisdom and functioning.

KOHA: Tetovë and its processes remain always actual. Do you

believe that this will be the policy to follow in the other
municipalities too?

DEMIRI: Tetovë sees the use of the Albanian language, the flag,
the institutionalization of the University, the establishment of
Albanian informative, economic, cultural and scientific
institutions as key matters. This will also be the direction of
my activities as mayor, besides the other pragmatic needs which
define all citizens as equal. And, naturally, the processes
occurring in Tetovë and Gostivar could serve as model in other
Albanian municipalities, since with the new territorial division,
towns such as Kumanovë, Strugë and Kërçovë lost this function and
were forcibly "Macedonized".

KOHA: The law on local self-administration is very restrictive

in the rights of the municipality and the mayor. Do you think you
could do something of capital importance for Albanians from
Tetovë?

DEMIRI: The restrictions of this law are big, however the latency
of its application is also big. The function of the mayor, as I
see it, is a political function and not that of a mediator
between the government and the Tetovans. The referendum and other
forms of initiative are well known democratic instruments and
their application will be in the function of the democratization
and the decentralization of the power, which is anyhow too much
centralized. The methods of civil disobedience become a reality
when civil rights can't be achieved otherwise.

KOHA: What can you do about the University of Tetovë?

DEMIRI: The UT is a consensus of all Albanians and its

institutionalization is our first aim. Otherwise, the above
mentioned methods can be applied. Concretely, we have planned the
construction of the University premises. We hope that the
University will produce other scientific institutions that will
cultivate Albanian distinctions.

KOHA: There is a lack of an Albanian informative network. Is

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there hope that this can be achieved in Tetovë?

DEMIRI: There are many specific institutions Albanians lack in

Macedonia. So far, every initiative has been opposed
systematically by teh government. With a lot of efforts have we
managed to impose the TV program on a daily basis. We had to take
advantage of a serious matter - conversations with Arens - to
extend the program for one hour, which explains the
restrictiveness of the Government towards any Albanian request.
Albanians should have their autochthonous information. We are
thinking of establishing a regional new agency that would cover
Tetovë and Gostivar; an agency that with time would produce a
regional TV and newspaper. All of this is possible thanks to the
right that the municipality has to establish its informative
institutions. The only news is that we will establish the
network, jointly with Gostivar.

KOHA: What is the concrete step of the regionalization of the UE?

DEMIRI: Regionalization is a completely natural issue for

Macedonia. The configuration, the population, the economic and
demographic development, all follow this principle. Finally, it
was the Macedonians that established the term "Western Macedonia"
and today it has become a reality hard to undo. But,
regionalization is also a project of the European Parliament
which is dedicated to the multi-ethnic states as a model to solve
the national contradictions wherever they exist. In Macedonia,
the processes have not ended, the contradictions are increasing:
the application of a project represents a need. The Macedonian
political elite refused this project precisely because it offers
solution. We believe that we should enforce this solution in
Pollog, Tetovë, Gostivar and prove its advantages in other
Albanian regions too. Regionalization has also its concrete
advantages: language, information, education, economy, market and
culture.

KOHA: Tetovë is an Albanian center in Macedonia, and you are its

mayor. What significance has this for PPDSH's global policy as
opposed to the other Albanian parties here?

DEMIRI: Yes, Tetovë is an Albanian center, but I wish to remind

you that 70-80 years ago, Shkup and Manastir were also Albanian
centers. They ceased to be. In Manastir there are very few
Albanians, whereas in Shkup, the Law on the Territorial Division,
has split them. The Romany gained something, Albanians didn't.
They were rejected into the periphery, to the rural areas. Tetovë
is important politically, this is why the party that wins, has
the primate. Having in mind our victory in Gostivar, PPDSH is
installed now as a moving force of the political forces in the
future. The Macedonian factor should by all means count on

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PPDSH's force, for the solution of the ethnic conflict in
Macedonia. We have announced this and we will keep this political
course.

REPORTAGE

TO FERIZAJ AND ON

by DUKAGJIN GORANI

I am an agronomist. I have been working as an unregistered taxi-

driver since three years ago. I never worked in my profession.
I had no chance. I have four children. Don't ask me what I have
worked so far: I used to wash tea glasses 12 hours a day. Not
much choice... says 35-years-old Milaim, the first person from
Ferizaj that I meet on my way to do this reportage. Towards the
region that suffers typhoid epidemics, endemic tuberculosis,
forcible unemployment and the daily police beating.

On the thirtieth kilometer of the highway to Shkup is the right

turn to Ferizaj. During that time, Milaim talks about everything:
he expresses his political opinion, the reasons of the
destruction of the former Yugoslavia, the illustrations of the
societal misery and the harsh auto-criticism on our poor
organization. Milaim and his postures define the typical Kosovar
- who knows very well what is going on and that finds it very
hard to expect that things will change for the better.
In Ferizaj we have to meet with the activists of the Mother
Teresa Association (MTA). Although we didn't inform MTA's
headquarters about our intention to visit the branch, we anyways
hit the road, counting on the good will and understanding of the
local activists.

And, we were not wrong.

"It is hard to see anything good in Ferizaj - because there is

poverty all over", says Nazim Azemi, a 43-years-old teacher,
chairman of the MTA branch in Ferizaj, while we talk about the
"tour" in a tea shop, sitting close to the inevitable billiard
table, aiming at finding the social ruin, in search of what the
activists call "a case".

Ramë Ramaj from Ferizaj, a poor textile merchant. His 21 members

big family was the first case we visited. In two dark rooms of
a one floor house, there were three more families living: those
of Ramë's brothers Bajram, Xhafer and Ymer. "Wood", explains
Afërdita, one of the brides of the house, surprised by our visit.
"we suffer for wood, heating". The Association helps as much as

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it can. Not much. The men are not at home, the women don't want
to have long talks. And while the oldest bride, Ramë's wife,
talks about the poverty of the family, the two others try to fix
the room: to remove the rusty tin plates from the rotten sofër
(the traditional meal table), remove the half-naked kids and to
put down the volume of the small device hanging over the stove
and echoing a recomposed folk sound.

We go out. In this case, coming out from the house is a moment

of spiritual relief. They are happy because they finally
understand that this is really a reportage - and not something
else - while we feel easy, thinking shamefully how happy we are
to live where we do... And the way we do.

The "Golf" lent by Muharrem Sulejmani, merchant and MTA's donor,

takes us to the other side of the town, passing by the huge
sewage holes, the neighborhoods of the local gypsies, the walls
of the households, often higher than the houses they hide
inside... till we reach the door of Gani Baftiri's home. He is
52 and used to be a physical worker and is now a life-long
invalid. Along the way, Naim explains what is obvious. The
assistance of MTA are not enough to assure the survival of the
families. It is not sufficient and it is not distributed often.

We enter the region, which by the activists of the Association

is known as the Second Sub-branch with 170 extremely vulnerable
families. No one asks how do they manage to survive. No one
asks, because the truth is that no one knows how they manage. All
these children and adults that we see live, nevertheless.

Mihane Baftiri is 72 and she leans on a metal stick, probably

taken from a broken umbrella. At the entrance of the half-ruined
house/cabin, the grandmother of the 16-years-old Jeton starts
crying. Gani is not home. He is in the hospital. He is always in
the hospital. Everything was fine while her only son was sane.
"Now, he spends the whole day outside facing the sun. He can't
move".

A huge house, newly constructed, stands beside Gani's cabin.

Under it's heavy shadow, the mother explains that the land on
which it was built used to be his property. He had sold it cheap,
in order to be treated medically in Germany. For the surgery. No
success. Only the flowers, son, only flowers and my grandchildren
keep me alive in this life, says Mihane, showing her numberless
flower cans in her empty room.

Faton, Agron, Fidan and Fatmir are the minor children of Feriz
Dinarica, who lives with the seven members family of his brother,
Ramiz, in a deserted cabin at the outskirts of Ferizaj. Men are
not at home, again. Naim and Salih introduce us: "They are

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journalists, m'am. They have come from Prishtinë. They want to
see how you live".

How we live? If this can be called life, then it looks like this:
in the extremely filthy aisle that separates the rooms of the two
families, stands the smoking stove on wood, that barely boils a
can of water extracted from the well of doubtful quality water;
the rooms are empty, covered by pieces of rugs and ripped
clothes.

Asked about her name, she replies "Ramiz's wife". Period. They
hadn't received any assistance since Bayram. Ramiz used to work
as a night-guard in a school. He works no longer. We have
nothing, we don't have, we can't, we don't work, we don't dare,
we don't, we don't...

The negation adjective follows us all over, aisle, garden. They

offer us the coffee they don't have. We take a couple of pictures
and go out.

Going through the busy streets of Ferizaj on Tuesday, a young kid

gets almost hit by the "Golf". As he hits the car's mirror, he
falls down. Together with Naim, we come out from the car,
terrified. After all the misery we saw, the last thing we needed
was an accident. The kid, confused by the fear, doesn't cry. He
starts walking. He is not hurt. We take him home.

We continue our journey to Bibaj, a village nearby Ferizaj, in

silence, pale of the impact. From what happened to the Slishani
family several years earlier, when the father of five minor
children (four girls) found death in an accident. In the small
garden of the family that lives in the village but that is not
from the village, we met the oldest daughter, 20-years-old
Magbule. She is the head of the household, sister and a surrogate
mother for Fitim (11), her only brother. Bayram was the last time
they received assistance. A good and bad news: their father's
pension has started coming, however it is only 50 dinars per
month. So much for the good news.

We pass through Bibaj, accompanied by a villager who knows the

home of a "case". In the meantime, Naim informs me about the
assistance MTA gives, the quantity, the evidence, the exactness
of the organization - but also on the fact that some Serbian
families also depend on this assistance. "Yes, there are some in
Ferizaj and surroundings", he explains with calm. His job is to
distribute and evidence the assistance. Without any burden.
Albanian or Serb, a needy is a needy.

The children of the villagers play in the wide playground of the

"Muharrem Shemsedini" elementary school, meanwhile Shemsi Sojeva,

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teacher, talks about the problems in education, about his 239
students, about his experience as a teacher, his unachieved
ambitions... We reach Sojevë. Salih tells us that the soil is
bad, that much fertilizers are needed, and the majority of the
villagers have come from remote areas, they don't deal with
agriculture and largely depend on the jobs in town. Which, since
long ago are only a notion.

Through the open gate we see a forgotten wheelchair. We stand in

front of Murat Mehmeti's house, 50-years-old, father of eight,
who since early adulthood suffers from TB. Kneeling, and with
tearing eyes, Murat tells us about Arzihane, his 25-years-old
daughter who was paralyzed a child, his mentally ill wife, his
seven brothers that live in the village but whom he sees every
once in a while. As he tells us about his treatment that started
in the early '60s, Murat stresses that the humanism of MTA and
his fellow villagers keeps him and his family alive. In the dark
room that is supposed to be a sitting room, comes in the youngest
member of the family, 16-years-old Gazmend, a sane and bright
young man, the only person that the eyes of the family are turned
towards. He is an excellent student of medical high school in
Ferizaj, to which he usually walks to. What does he expect from
life? To become a doctor. By all means. "Why a doctor?", would
be a question out of line.

We leave Sojevë behind together with the dusk. The tea-shop

hasn't experienced much since we left it this morning. Maybe it
is only me to have the impression that I have been in Ferizaj for
over two years, that I have nothing to eat, that I have nothing
to wear, that I suffer from chronic TB and that I live in
Shtime...

In the late afternoon, a mass in the memory of the late

Archbishop Nikë Prelaj had started in the Catholic Church. While
the political leaders who had come from Prishtinë were carefully
listening to Don Lush Gjergji's sermon, I thought of Gazmend who
wished to become a doctor. Tomorrow. By all means. I was thinking
of the deep misfortune we are going through, and that any success
in the future will derive as today's consequence. Gazmend will
become a doctor, by all means. But he will hate poverty, the
past and all what is linked to it. In the eyes of Gazmend and the
other Gazmends one will see the strong promise that they will
never again go through the poverty of their childhood. Regardless
of the price to pay. At any price...

"How many of you are for Prishtinë", Milaim's colleague asks us.
Two. Only two. "30 dinars". Maybe a bit expensive for you
journalists". At any price. Any...

My colleague Agron sleeps in the back seat, as Sejdi the cab-

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driver tells me that he is a teacher and that he is forced to
work also as a cabby, that his colleagues registered as taxi-
drivers make any profit impossible, that Rugova and Demaçi have
no idea what they're doing, that he used to read newspapers
before, but that today he has to struggle for survival...
Prishtinë.

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