Excerpts from Adem Osmani’s War Diaries, March- June 1999

March 24 1999- Wednesday

Early morning- everything’s okay, the same. People were in the streets; kids played in the Mahala.

We talked about the bombing; it’s supposed to start tonight. We were still joking.

At 8 PM sirens went off and the power died. I guess they started to bomb Serbia first; political reasons.

The first bomb nearby was loud. We were at home, like normal. We still weren’t sure, before, that the bombs would come here. The target was some army place, but it was only one kilometer from the village. A lot of windows broke here because of the explosion.

That night, three more bombs fell on the same site. We didn’t sleep. It was a long night.

March 25 1999- Thursday

Day two of the bombing. We went to the shelters. Everyone else went as well. We were four large families in one basement; it was tight. Too many children, too many voices, some panic- everything.

At 8 PM the power went off. Same as last night. We waited for the bombs to come, and a few minutes after 8 it started. Sometimes they were close; sometimes not.

This night I won’t forget. I didn’t sleep because of the bombs, and the children that cried near me.

Sometimes my friends and I went outside, to see what was happening. We couldn’t see anything, but we could hear, and feel, the explosions nearby.

One old man said- ‘Nights at war are the longest nights.’

March 26 1999- Friday

Day three. We left the shelters at 5:30 AM and went home. I slept for a few hours. I wanted to go out, but my mother was scared; she thought something bad would happen. The streets are full of Serb soldiers.

I went out anyway, and found a few of my friends. We talked about what we’d seen in the past few nights.

My sister, I, and a few others from my family went back to the shelter that day, and tried to clean it up a bit. We laughed and cleaned, knowing that we’ll be back that evening when the bombing starts again.

One of my family told another family that they couldn’t return to the shelter that night. There were too many people in there. I was upset about this, but they found another shelter that would take them, so I felt better. They were very poor.

When we finished the cleaning, we went out and sat on the grass, talking. Two planes came in low. I felt fear for a second before I saw the Yugoslav markings on the planes.

That night in the shelter, there was a little bit more room, because of the absent family. It was easier; we expected the bombs by now. Tonight they all landed very far from us.

This is my third day of war, and my second day of sleeping in a shelter.

March 27 1999- Saturday

Early morning- came back home, hung out there, went outside, back to the shelter to clean up, back home, gather the goods we need for the coming night in the shelter.

The streets are full of soldiers, and a lot of them are drunk. The shops are empty, but they still have liquor and beer.

This feels normal for us. A day at home, and a night in the shelter. We got there at 7 PM .

Same time, 8 PM , the power went out. The bombing started, but this time it was really close- nearby villages and towns. It was difficult- sometimes we slept for a bit, but not always. There wasn’t room enough for sleeping.

We understood this now, because it was war. The exhaustion, the crying, cramped in a room full of stink and burning tobacco as the walls shake- it makes sense.

March 28 1999- Sunday

It was a holiday but we forgot to celebrate. This morning I went into town to find yogurt, milk, and eggs.

Behind our Mahalla, in Kišnica, were many Albanian homes. Today I saw them burn. It hurt. So their homes burned; I couldn’t see the houses, just the black smoke. I hope the people from those homes got out

Again in the shelters this evening. A difficult night; lots of planes in the sky and bombs falling around the village. No sleep.

March 29, 1999- Monday

Day six. The shelter was cold; the children were shivering. They’re getting sick. We felt sick too. This could be a problem; this morning I went to the ambulanta, for some medicine.

My friend walked with me. At the ambulanta, we saw people running out, and we followed them to the police station.

The police had three Albanians, two men and a young boy, spread-eagled on the ground. A crowd surrounded them, watching. We got our medicine and left.

Those Albanians were only simple people; there was no reason for them to be laid down like that by the police. That’s what I think; or maybe, maybe, there were reasons.

Same pattern that night. In the shelter, listening to the bombs, and no sleep at all.

March 30 1999- Tuesday

Day seven. Same morning as before.

A lot of solders in our village, in shops started to not have enough food; we could buy only milk and yogurt.

I rested at home through the day; the bombing only begins at night, so we feel safe.

7 PM , in the shelter, we wait again for the bombing. Tonight I thought that it would be wonderful if this were only a dream. Lots of bombs fell near the village. If we could see the flashes, the fires, if we were outside to witness it, I’m sure we’d all cry, but inside, wed don’t. I’m trying to forget things before they even happen.

March 31 1999- Wednesday

Day eight. My father is in Italy ; he is trying to send money to us, but this is hard considering that there’s war here. We still have some money for food.

My teacher was working with others today, handing out relief supplies- all food. Lots of people waited for it. My older brother and I waited on line as well.

I thought, ‘this is my teacher. Surely he’ll give me something.’

He didn’t even see me. He was drunk. After awhile, they began to give the food to Roma, not just to Serbs. They didn’t do it in a normal way; they just threw the food into the crowds.

Tonight in the shelter there were 23 people- three families. Not too many bombs outside.

April 1 1999- Thursday

Day nine. Everybody’s talking about leaving- going of to somewhere else. I said that it was too late- we’re already nine days into this war. My family still talked about going- up to Belgrade , or near it. But why? There’s bombing up there too. Maybe more than here.

My grandfather ordered us to leave. He has a relative up there, in some village called Vladimirovac. But he didn’t really decide yet.

Tonight I went to a different shelter, with a friend. He told me there was a place to stretch out and sleep there. So I did; I slept all night. I didn’t hear a single bomb.

April 2 1999- Friday

Nothing special happened today.

Some of my friends left, with their families. We speak more about leaving, my mother doesn’t  agree. We don’t know yet.

April 3, 1999- Saturday

Today we decided to leave. It wasn’t my decision. We’ll go to Vladimirovac, 50 kilometers from Belgrade .

When I heard this, I went through the Mahalla, to say goodbye to my friends. I didn’t want to go and do this. This was not my wish. My grandfather decided this.

Tonight we didn’t sleep in the shelters; we slept at home. There were no planes, and no bombs, or at least we didn’t hear any. We all slept through the night.

April 4 1999- Sunday

We woke early and packed. We went out and waited in front of the bus stop- right in front of our home.

It’s a hard feeling- leaving the place where I was born, leaving the place of my childhood, my best memories in the world. I was the last one to leave the house.

First we traveled to the Pristina bus station; then we headed to Kosovo Polje. At the Pristina station, columns of Albanians waited. They’d been forced out of their homes.

In Kosovo Polje we stayed at my sister’s home. We waited until 3 PM ; that was when the bus left to Belgrade .

The road to Belgrade- lots of burning homes and dead animals. A real war atmosphere.

When we crossed into Serbia , everything was different- nothing was destroyed. They weren’t in a war like Kosovo’s, because there weren’t Albanians there.

The ride took 11 hours. We waited in the Belgrade train station until 6 AM , then went to the bus station, to catch a ride to Vladimirovac. We arrived there at 9 AM . Our cousin waited for us; he took us to his home.

We stayed for 17 days. Not a lot of bombs falling in the Vojvodina, where Vladimirovac sits. My father wired us money; the post still worked up there.

April 21, 1999

The bus back to Kosovo. When we arrived we saw how the bus station was totally destroyed. Pristina was quiet, empty, no one was on the streets. We couldn’t find transportation to Gracanica; no more buses. We sat on our things for a long time, trying to figure out where to go?

We thought to go and find a shelter, but my mother remembered an old Roma friend she knew in the city. We walked to her home; we hoped she was still there. She was, and she welcomed us and fed us. We all slept well. We were lucky.

April 22, 1999

Home- to Gracanica. We caught a single bus running to Gnjilane. The stop was in front of our home, and from the front of our house everything looked normal. But when we got closer we saw that it wasn’t too normal; the front door was broken, and inside, everything had been smashed up and looted. All our things were gone.

For the rest of the day we worked to fix our home, to clean it, to make it normal again. I could not even look at my mother, look into her eyes.

I asked around, to see who did this to us, but I couldn’t find out.

No one was sleeping in the shelters any longer. People worked in their gardens; none of them paid attention.

Food is so expensive now. It’s hard to even find food. We don’t have much money left, and my father cannot send us any here. So we’ll fight, and we’ll stay alive.

May 1- 2 1999

Bombs in Gracanica. Big ones. There’s a military base here, or at least there was.

May 7 1999

The Pristina- Gnjilane bus was bombed today, in Gracanica. Three Serbs from Gracanica died.

June 9, 1999

The bombing stops. We had political negotiations since early June, and something was finally agreed upon.

Lots of parties. People singing, drinking, just having fun.

June 10 1999

No more soldiers in Gracanica. The Serbian army has left Kosovo.

June 11 1999

1:30 PM- Russian soldiers enter Pristina.

And some Pristina Roma waited for them, to welcome them. There was a Roma band. They played good Roma music. The Serbs were out in the streets, kissing them.

The welcome the Russians because they know what may happen to them next. They’re going to have to leave like the Albanians had to leave. Their Mahala will be gone.

They’re so happy to see the Russians, to see their faces, they think the Russians will save them, and they’ll get to stay in their homes.

Adem’s last entry:

The Russians left soon, and the Serbs and the Roma left with them.