Hazbije Lahi
Interviewer: Rita Berisha
Interviewee: Hazbije Lahi
R.B.: Thank you very, Mrs. Hasbije. I’m very happy you’re telling us your wartime story. Can you tell us a bit about the time before the bomings. Where were you? Who were you with? What was going on? What did you hear in the news?
H.L: Okay. Hi, thank you for your invitation. I am Hasbije Lahi. I’m 57 years old, so 21 years ago I was 35, a mother of 3 children. I remember very well; it was March 1999. We were living in Prishtina, at “Banesat e Bardha”. We were 6 family members: myself, three children, my husband, and mother-in-law. The war had already started in Kosovo, in Drenica, Peja and those regions, but it was still calm on this side of the country. There were rumours that NATO forces were going to come. During that week, the Serbs evicted the population of villages of Prishtina where my husband’s uncle and aunt lived, and they came to our two-bedroom apartment.
R.B.: How many of you were there?
H.L: It was my husband’s uncle with his wife and daughter, and my husband’s aunt. So, six of us and 4 of them, which totals 10 people. We were also having troubles with food supply. We could move in those areas, we had some stores nearby. We saw a lot of massacres on TV that were committed in different regions. I remember dimly – because I don’t really like to remember those murders – but it’s important for your youth to know what we went through, like we learned from our parents what happened to them, I like to remind them sometimes, but personally I don’t like remembering it. We consistently watched the news, and March 24 when the bombings were supposed to take place was approaching. It was a Wednesday, and I could see through my window people running in other apartments. We were waiting for 7 p.m. because we heard from others that the lights would go off, and the bombing will begin in different parts of Serbia and here in some key places, mainly the post office, which were important for communication. We didn’t know what to do that night because there were many Serbs living in our building, and we heard they’re taking Albanians by force from their homes. We listened to the ticking of the clock, waiting for 7 p.m. and waiting for the police to come to our apartment. It was difficult to keep other people too, because they used to ask “why are you keeping other people here when you’re not a resident yourself?” My husband and I talked about what we could do, where we could go, because it was usually more difficult for people living in apartments than in houses; if you lived in a house, you could see what was going on from your yard, but in apartments you couldn’t. My children were little: the oldest, Albion, was four, my daughter Eliza, 2, and the youngest, Andi, 9 months old. When the lights went out, everybody was scared. My children started crying, they didn’t know what was going on. We got ready and put our clothes on, so that at least we could leave with clothes and shoes on. We weren’t afraid they’d take, but that they’d divide us because they would usually divide men from women. I have to go back a little because I have forgotten the events a bit. Our phone never stopped ringing. We had a landline, not a mobile phone like we do now. People were constantly asking what to do, where to go. That night, however, they cut our phones too. We just stopped and waited. I put some clothes, food for my children, and some pasta we had on a bag. We didn’t know where we were going, I just made a bag ready. We heard people running through the building until 12 a.m. We didn’t know what was going on. Then, everyone went to sleep, but my husband, who stayed up peering through the window, waiting they would come any moment. When the morning was dawning, I went out quickly. Our building had two entrances: one in the front side, one behind. When we went downstairs, imagine, they had blocked the rear entrance with bricks, for their own personal interests and to prevent us from leaving. When we finally went out, we had only one car: where could we go with that car? What way do we go? My husband had a friend from Drenica who lived in a house in Taslixhe. We decided we’d go there with our children. My mother-in-law went at her eldest son, who was living in an apartment in Dardania. My husband’s uncle and aunt went to some other relatives who lived in Dragodan. They weren’t safe in Dragodan either, but we had to disperse. They went by bus because there were buses, although more rarely. We left too. Fortunately, no one stopped us. When we went in Taslixhe, there were over 30 refugees from Drenica who had come to stay at his house. They had some supplies, but they didn’t know how long this would last. We didn’t even know what was happening. There wasn’t enough bread. We started baking, but we’d spend a whole bag of flour in a day because there were too many of us. We were five from our family, plus the rest. We stayed there for 5 days, but more people kept coming from villages. At night, when the lights would go off, the men of the neighbourhood went to Rastigza, to see what was happening in the rest of Prishtina. They were safer to go out because there were no Serbs, only us Albanians with children. They went out in turns, for five nights. We didn’t stay there for long. One night, the men decided to send the women to Kercova. They had some relatives in Macedonia where we could stay. They would stay here, and leave later. We had one car only. We gave ours to my husband’s uncle because he needed it. We were left with nothing. My husband’s friend had a car too. The rest had to leave on foot. My friend was with me too. She’s married to my husband’s friend. She had two daughters, plus my three children, which made 5 of them. Our friend’s sister was there too, and she was pregnant, plus another neighbour woman with a child. All of us got in one car. We decided to leave in the morning. When we went out, as soon as we left our street, we saw a long line of people escaping from other villages. We didn’t even have time to say goodbye… we just got in the cars as fast as we could. I took my gold with me, the gold I was given as wedding gift. Where do I leave it? I had a cradle pillow, and I hid it in there. Do I take with me or do I not? I wanted to take it with me… I didn’t even have a passport! Everyone did, I didn’t! Where could I go without a passport? One doesn’t think in those moment. I told them they could go, and I’d stay here. We had no idea what we would do or what was going on. Eventually, I decided to take the pillow, asking my husband what to do. I also had 600 Marks, which would be 300 Euros now. He gave me those, in case I’d have to give it to the police to let me cross the border. He took the gold and hid it in the yard, he just put a stone over it. I didn’t care about the gold, I just wanted to have it to save my children and myself. Then, all of us, four women with 6 children, and a pregnant woman, got in a Volkswagen, and left. It was an extremely long line of people walking! I have to go back again because I forgot to tell you something else. when we stayed in Taslixhe, they had a landline and I could call my parents. They remained here in Prishtina, in Lagja e Muhaxherëve, four of my sisters, their children and my parents. I talked to my parents that night. They asked me to go stay at their’s. I didn’t know what to do. Two days later, they cult my parents’ landline. I was only able to talk to one of my sisters, and I told her we were planning to leave the next day. I have six sisters. One of them had earlier left to Skopje, Macedonia. She told me our eldest sister had also went to Kamenica, at some relatives, while the other four sisters were at my father’s. I said goodbye to them, crying. I thought I’d never see them again… I’d only talk to them on the phone. We left the following day. I thought I’d be able to stop on our way and say goodbye to my parents, as I was going strolling. Stopping anywhere was out of question! When we left Taslixhe, there were armed soldiers on the street. I was terrified. I thought they’d kill all of us. All I took with me was some cookies. We didn’t have time to take food or anything else. My friend didn’t take anything either, not even a loaf of bread. We thought we would arrive in Kercova that day, and we’d be okay. We drove until Veternik. We stopped there. Apart from the people in cars, there were also people who had been evicted from their houses by force walking. It was cold and rainy. I only had some pyjamas for my children, because there was no space in the car for anything else. We met my friend’s brother-in-law, who had also left by car. When he saw us, he switched with our driver. He drove us. His wife was in Gjakova. He didn’t know anything about her. We left. As soon as we arrived in Kacanik, and wanted to go to Elez Han, they stopped us. There were probably 300 cars there. They didn’t let the cars pass. We stayed there for five nights, plus two days on the other side!
R.B.: In the car?
H.L: In the car. We slept in the car. We had no food. Children were asking for food. Interestingly, they understood – not the little one, I was breastfeeding him – when I told them we didn’t have food, only cookies. I used to give them all two cookies. And they’d tell me, “It’s okay mum, we’re not hungry.” All of them! Some women used to collect nettle and cook them. I didn’t have a pan or anything because we left fast. A woman gave me some nettles she had cooked. He added some flour that she had probably taken from home, and she brought it to me. Andi, the youngest one, ate it in a second. We stayed in the car the whole time. We didn’t know where to go; we didn’t even know what was happening on the other side of the border. Later, they said they’re letting people cross one by one. When they let the cars pass, everyone crowded. Just when we approached the border, they turned us back. While we were staying in the car, I took my kids and went to an abandoned house. A lot women were going there. When I went there, I saw they had already taken the flour and every food article they had found, and they were cooking. I didn’t have anything, and I just watched them. I didn’t know what to give to the children, so I turned back to the car. I remember there was a little fountain on the side. It’s closed now, I’ve seen on my way to Skopje recently that it’s closed. There was a Macedonian soldier on the hill; the border was probably there. He saw us, and he saw the children didn’t have anything to eat, and waived at us to approach. He gave us have a bread. Who do I give it to first? I was also afraid to give it to my children. I was afraid it was poisoned or something. I still gave it to my kids, and they ate it. We divided that bread into 10 pieces for all of us. When they started letting the cars pass, we approached there, and a truck arrived to distribute bread. We didn’t really care, we just wanted to pass as soon as possible. They stopped us again. They took us to a factory in Elez Han. I think it’s a stone factory, I’m not sure. It was raining, it was crowded, and we didn’t know what we were doing. I remembered some movie scenes when they send refugees to factories and burn them alive. It was a factory cafeteria. They said they were providing food. Unfortunately, when we went there, it was closed. Not that it wasn’t closed, there was just no food. They said the police were letting us pass. When we left the factory, they took us near Bllace. Another factory, but on the other side. They told us we had to leave the car if we wanted to go to Bllace. We didn’t want to leave the car; we thought they’d still let us pass. I wanted to take my kids to Kercova.
We spent two nights there, without eating anything, not even the kids. All we had was that kilogram of cookies which they shared for a week. When we arrived there, you could cross the wires and get to the other side of Bllace. My friend’s brother-in-law came from that side and told us, “There’s food on the other side, but I don’t know how long we will stay there, and we’re all staying in an open field. We don’t know where they will take us.” What do I do? Where do I go with my children now? I talked to my friend about what we were going to do. We were all women, only my friend’s brother-in-law was a man. Meanwhile, I saw another friend. It was her and my sister-in-law’s sister, Rosa. She was looking for her fiancé too. She used to live in the same neighbourhood as my parents, and she told me, “They’re okay. They haven’t bothered people in that side of the city.” I had previously heard that they had evicted by force everyone from Matican and below. She told me they were okay. I didn’t know anything about my family. I had been staying in cars for almost a week. It was the fifth night. Actually, I spent five nights in Elez Han, and two in Kacanik. The second night, we decided we were going to leave in the morning. We didn’t have another choice. We took our children and left. While we were staying at the border, the police evicted by force my husband, his friend and everyone else, the entire neighbourhood of Taslixhe. They had planned to join the army, but they hadn’t had enough time. They got in a truck. There were mostly women there, only 4-5 men. And they took them to Tirana, Albania, until Kukes. They suffered a lot too. They stopped in a few places. The women tried to cover them to protect them from the police getting them off the truck. He had a different experience, but I’ll tell you about mine. So, we got to the other side. When we went there, I couldn’t believe my eyes, people were packed like sardines! Everyone was staying in an open field. You may have seen it on TV as well. There were sick people, people lying on the ground. I will never forget, I saw a piece of bread on the ground, maybe it was stale, but when my children saw it, they said, “Mum, look. We don’t have any bread to eat, and they’ve thrown it on the ground!” They started distributing bread, but they’d just throw it; some would end up in the mud, if you couldn’t get it. we saw the family of my husband’s friend, which we had left at home. They had been evicted too. That night, they had built some tents with nylon they had distributed. My friend and I didn’t know what to do. At least, she reunited with her husband’s family. It started getting dark. The train used to come, and people who had left from Prishtina and other places would arrive. I didn’t see any person I knew! I hoped I’d see at least someone from our neighbours, relatives of my sisters… No one! I just kept walking, hoping I’d see someone. Then, I saw my husband’s uncle’s son. I asked him, “Faruk, have you seen anyone?” He replied, “No one! We’re staying here, do you want to come with your friend and stay with us?” I told him, “I don’t know what to do.” My son caught a cold and had fever. The ambulance was there. The doctor examined him and told me, “Your son is very ill.” I didn’t have any medication, nothing. I had some phone numbers on my pocket that I had taken just in case. My brothers-in-law were in Germany, so I thought I’d call them when I arrive in Kercova, and then they’ll inform my husband in Prishtina, and I’m fine. In the meantime, my husband had gone to Kukes. He thought we had crossed the border. When I talked to them in Kercova, they told me he had already escaped. I’m going back and forth because the memories coming. When we were staying in the cars, a few buses came from Ferizaj and Prishtina. The Serbs had packed them with people. Some of my friend’s neighbours were among them too. Their daughter-in-law was in the car with us. And a woman among them told us, “They’ve killed your husbands in the square. We don’t know anything about our son or your husbands.” My friend passed out. I just prayed to God that it wasn’t true. Since she was telling about her son, they’ve probably killed him. She told us what she had heard. I decided not to stay in Bllace that night. There was a hill we needed to pass to go to Stankovec. I didn’t know where they were taking us though, I could just see the line of people walking, and us behind them. I told our friends from Drenica that Faruk was taking me to Stankovec. My friend tried to leave too. You could apply for an asylum in other countries. We didn’t know what it was. They just said they’re making a list of people to send them somewhere else. Maybe the rest had more information. I had three kids, I was stuck, I didn’t know where to go! I got my bag and my children. My husband’s relative helped me climbed the hill. It was difficult for my children to cross the wires. The police got some people, whoever they wanted to, into buses. I saw a young man and asked him to help me with the bags. He said, “I don’t even know how I will get to the other side!” Everyone was worried about their own lives. In that moment, a police officer, said in Macedonian, “Let the women and children pass first. Men will stay.” So, I passed the border. My children started crying; everyone wanted to hold my hand; one of them was holding my bag. All of them were little, the youngest wasn’t even 5 yet! I saw a family, and I would really like to know who they were. I didn’t ask them anything; I just know their house was in Tophane. They were a married couple, with a son and two daughters. But their children were in their twenties. They helped me until we went to the camps. But my children didn’t want to hold them. The main thing was that I was next to them. And the couple told their children the whole time, “Stay close to the woman, help her!” When they told us they don’t allow baggage because there’s no space in the bus, I didn’t know what to do. I only had a purse and a bag. So, I dressed my kids in all the clothes I had taken from home. They looked like snowmen! I didn’t want to leave their clothes there; I was afraid I wouldn’t have other clothes for them. All I took was my photographs and some undeveloped films because my sister told me, the night before I left, “I didn’t take anything. I just took the photographs to keep as memory. If I’m not anymore, at least someone will find them.” We got in the bus. The family from Tophane still stayed close to me. I don’t know how long the journey lasted, but I don’t think it was too far, but it felt like Stankovec was so far from Bllace that I almost fell asleep with my child on my arms. Then they told us, “We’re here!” We arrived there. The soldiers had torches on their hands. They gave all of us blankets, and they didn’t care if you could hold them or not, and they told us in what tents we were going to stay. It felt like they took me miles away. When I went there, another family was staying in the tent. They were from Dardania. A married couple with three children. it was so cold that I had to put my kids to sleep in their jackets. The man who was with his family in the tent didn’t stay there, he went out. I guess he didn’t want to make me feel uncomfortable. He had other family members in other tents. I never slept! I couldn’t sleep, I just cried the whole time. I felt like everyone was with their loved ones but me. I didn’t see a single relative, not even one! I woke up that morning, and prayed to God to help me. I lost the phone numbers I had taken from home. I couldn’t call anyone. Maybe I dropped them on the way. I got up that morning, and the woman who was with me in the tent asked me, “Where are you going? “I don’t know, maybe I’ll find someone I know,” I said. I took my children with me. I saw a neighbour in another tent. She was from Taslixhe too. They had left earlier. I told her, “Merita, can you stay with Andi, and I’ll go see if I can find anyone I know?” Because they said we could leave from there and people were migrating to other countries. She told me, “Not just Andi, leave the three of them here,” but they didn’t want to, so I took them with me. As I was walking, I asked myself, “Where am I going? Who am I going to talk to? Who am I going to call?” I saw a group of people talking on the phone. One of them had a mobile phone, and he was giving it to everyone to call. When I got closer, I recognized him. He was the fiancé of the friend that I mentioned earlier. They had reunited and were staying in those camps. He stopped everyone and said, “No one will make calls for now. Let’s give the phone to this woman,” he was talking about me. He asked me, “Do you want to come and stay with Roza and I in the tent?” I told him where I was staying. Then we went and took Andi whom we had let with that friend and the bag we had left with the few clothes we had. We went to Roza’s tent. She had talked to my brothers-in-law because she was married to my brother-in-law’s wife’s brother. I took the phone and talk to him first. He told me, “Stay with Roza. Go wherever she goes, because I think she’s coming to Germany; they’ve applied for an asylum.” You had to register and write the number of your family members, I don’t know. I had no idea about anything. I said, “Okay, I’ll go wherever she goes.” We food for children there. But, still, I didn’t see any of my family members. I wanted to know what was happening. I stayed there for two nights.
R.B.: In Stankovec?
H.L: In Stankovec. We set out to wash our children’s clothes with a bucket they gave us, and I suddenly heard someone calling, “Hazbije Lahi! Hazbije Lahi!” Who was calling me by my first and last name? It was an officer whom my brother-in-law had asked to find me, because he had gone earlier to Tetovo with my mother-in-law, his wife, children and sister. They heard we were in Stankovec, and they had asked the officer to take me from the tents because they had heard my son was ill. My mother-in-law cried, saying “I am here all comfortable while she is in a tent with the kids, in this cold, rainy weather.” The officer told me who had sent him. They were in a village in Tetovo, called Razhd. We went there. I said goobdye to my sister-in-law’s sister and we went to Razhd, a small but very welcoming village. Obviously, we didn’t suffer for anything there. We were given help. At least I felt comfortable that I reunited with someone I kew. But, still, I didn’t know anything about my family…
R.B.: When did you find out your husband was alive?
H.L: I dind’t for a while. When I went to Razhd, they said they had taken Idriz (my husband) to Kukes, because I didn’t even know if he was alive. When I went there, my mother-in-law told he was in Tirana. He managed to escape, at least he’s alive, and he’s well. He called the next day. And he said I could go there after a few days. But we needed to get a permit first. I stayed in Tetovo for ten days. During those ten days, we went to the market. I had 600 Marks. I thought I’d buy my children some pyjamas and I needed some clothes for myself. While I was waiting for the bus with my sister-in-law, we met some girls from Kacanik. They said they were staying in Skopje and they knew about my sister. My sister lived in Kacanik. She went to her sister-in-law in Skopje from there. And I told her, “Please tell her, if you see her, that your sister is here with her children, in Tetovo”, I told her my name too. She said, “Don’t worry, I’ll tell her.” We went to the market and came back. I wanted to leave for Albania the night before. We decided my husband would wait for me at the border, in Elbasan, and we’d meet at the border between Macedonia and Albania. We left in the morning. The owner of the house where I was staying accompanied me. He said, “Don’t worry. I’ll take you there.” Can you imagine: we left at 7 a.m., and we couldn’t even get out of Tetovo. I was so unlucky! I had a really hard time there, too. My mother-in-law wanted to bake some pancakes for us, but I told her not to bother because we’d arrive there in no time. She told me, “Take it with you because the kids will get hungry.” So she gave me some. When we wanted to leave, the police stopped us at the outskirts of Tetovo. They said, “No, you need a special permit to leave Macedonia.” He told us where to get it. I stayed in the car the whole time. The driver went to get it, but they told him the administration is closed now because it’s 12 o’clock”. We didn’t even know where to stay. We tried it again, believing that the police had changed shifts. They turned us back again. Our car broke down, too. We took it to a mechanic. He said, “You have to leave it here for 2-3 days until I can fix it.” We tried to rent a car, we couldn’t. My husband had called a few times because he was waiting at the border, and he thought I’d be there in 2-3 hours. At home, they told him we had left. We didn’t have a mobile phone to communicate. Then we called a taxi. We tried for the third time. They turned us back again. It was Friday. We returned at 10 p.m. The kids were tired and hungry. They ate those pancakes but… When the driver went to rent a car, I got out and two women saw me through the windows of that building – I don’t know if it was a Ministry or what – and asked me if I needed anything. I told them what happened. They said they’d seen me waiting for a long time.
We returned home that night. My husband waited at the border. When he saw that we weren’t coming, he went home disappointed. The next day, on Saturday, unfortunately the phones weren’t working. You know those days when everything just goes wrong. They didn’t work on Sunday either! I gave up. Since I was there, I didn’t mind if I couldn’t go to Albania. But we still wanted to be together. On Monday morning, as I was waking up my children, the lady of the house told me, “The taxi driver is here to get you.” He told me on Sunday that he would try to get that permit. We left quickly. I said “I’m going, but my husband doesn’t know and he won’t wait for me at the border.” My brother-in-law couldn’t leave because I was a refugee. The owner of the house said, “I’ll accompany you and I’ll take you to Tirana myself, if need be.” At home, they said they’ll try to call him if the phones work and he’ll wait for me at the border. We left with his car. My kids didn’t stop singing “Xhamadani vija-vija” all the way to the border. I wish I had a phone to record them. My eldest son was 4, my daughter would turn 3 in June. It was April. The bombings started on March 2; on April 2 we went to Tetovo. They didn’t stop singing for a second out of happiness that they were finally seeing their father. When we arrived, the taxi driver told Isak, the owner of the house, “I’ll wait for half an hour across the border. If you don’t return in half an hour, I’ll now you managed to cross the border and you’re going to Tirana.” In the meantime, my mother-in-law and brother-in-law had called my brother and told him, and he was waiting for us at the border. I saw someone waiting but… I just recognised him when I heard his voice. I was holding my little son in my arms, and the two others stared running towards him. They didn’t notice it was him first, until my husband said, “Hey, welcome!” I was so surprised when my youngest son recognised his dad’s voice although he hadn’t seen him for two weeks. They hugged him tightly. The owner of the house returned once we reunited. My husband was staying in Durres, at a friend’s house. He was living in Switzerland so they stayed at his house. He had made a long journey to arrive in Durres when the Serbs evicted them. The friend that I left in Stankovec stayed there for two other nights, then left to Kercova. She remained in Kercova; I went to Durres before her. A week later she came there too and we reunited. We were again two families living together, in a house that only had a living room and a bedroom, but we didn’t care. We had food there and we were all together. Still, I didn’t yet know anything about my family. When we stayed there, a neighbour had a phone. I don’t know how my mother found his number. Oh, now I remembered. My sister’s son was in Switzerland and he communicated with my brother-in-law in Germany. I think he got the number from him, I never asked him… And he called me. I asked him, “Where did you get the number?” He said, “Don’t worry. Everyone is okay.” He told me where everyone is, “everyone is safe and sound. What matters is that they’re alive.” They lived in fear for three months, not knowing if we’d survive. “They’re okay. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll bring it to you.” But we were receiving help in Albania already.
R.B.: Where was your family?
H.L: Sorry?
R.B.: Where was your family? Here in Prishtina?
H.L: Here, in Prishtina. He was alone in Switzerland. He had left earlier, before the war. But he kept in touch with his mother, that is my sister. Later, the lady of the house told me, “Someone is asking for you on the phone but I don’t know who it is.” She knew but she didn’t want to tell me. When I got the phone, I heard my mother’s voice.
R.B.: I think you missed your mother more…
H.L: When I got the phone, I heard my mother’s voice. I hadn’t heard her voice for months. She had gone to the post office with my sister, because the landlines weren’t working. She kept asking me, “How are you, are you all alive?” She was afraid something had happened to me, but then she found out I was well, she just kept asking “Are you all alive?” I told her, “Mother, tell me about you. How are you all?” She said, “We’re all okay.” My father had a heart condition. “What about father?” I asked. She said, “Your father and everyone else is okay. You have nothing to worry about.” The call didn’t last for long though; maybe she didn’t have a lot of money to pay for the call. We couldn’t talk, both of us kept crying, and we hung up. I told her, “I believe we will meet very soon.” I didn’t think I’d ever see them again. She hung up. She was crying, I was crying. Fortunately, the girl from Kacanik that I met in Tetovo, told me sister. But she confused the name. She said, “I’ve met one of your sisters with three children, but her husband is not with her.” Another sister of mine had three children, two daughters and a girl. She said, “Which one could it be?” She set out with her husband to find me. But I left for Albania the day she arrived in Tetovo, and we couldn’t meet. I was gutted at my luck! I couldn’t meet anyone, our car broke down. However, what matters is that we survived and we didn’t lose any of our loved ones.
R.B.: When did you decide to return?
H.L: We stayed there for another three months. I didn’t talk to my mother anymore after that. When Kosovo was liberated, people started returning. My brother-in-law used to call us, asking, “What do you want to do? Do you want to come here, or do you want to stay?” He was in Germany and he would tell us, “you can’t go back. You don’t have a house; you don’t have a job. You have nowhere to return to. Come here!” We couldn’t go abroad from Albania. So, we decided to return here and meet my family and other relatives. My husband’s mother was there too. What matters is that our family, our relatives and ourselves survived. Nothing happened to us.
R.B.: Can you describe what Prishtina looked like the day you came back?
H.L: Believe me, when we returned that day, I didn’t even recognise the place where we had lived. They’d made a mess of our apartment; my mother-in-law had gone before, and tidied it up a bit. She went back to my brother-in-law’s in Dardania. When we went there, I didn’t recognise our home. The Serbs had settled in our apartments when we left. My apartment was a huge mess. But that’s okay. There were soldiers on all sides. Something else I will never forget is when my husband tried putting up a curtain because the blinds were all ruined, and we suddenly heard a soldier screaming, “What are you doing there? Are you going to jump?” He thought my husband was going to commit suicide or something but we couldn’t understand him. But, yeah, Prishtina didn’t look good. We got used to seeing it in that condition. We returned with that Volkswagen, we found it again. I have to go back again because I forget some details sometimes. When we were staying in Durres, my husband’s uncle had found the car, and was staying in Elbasan. We went to Elbasan to visit them and we found our car. Then we used it as long as we stayed in Durres for three months. We came back with that car, and we were again 6-7 people or even more because we took some other people who wanted to come back here. I forget some details. I should write down all of them.
R.B.: That would be it. Thank you very much!
H.L: Thank you!