What
It’s Like to Chill with the Most Ruthless Men in the World
Ratko
Mladic and Radovan Karadzic:
Confessions of a Female War Crimes Investigator
Retrospectively,
it was all so simple, natural and matter of fact being on a boat
restaurant in Belgrade, sitting with, laughing, drinking a two
hundred bottle of wine and chatting about war and peace while Ratko
Mladic held my hand. Mladic, a man considered the world’s
most ruthless war criminal since Adolf Hitler, still at large and
currently having a five million dollar bounty on his head for
genocide by the international community. Yet there I was with my two
best friends at the time, a former Serbian diplomat, his wife, and
Ratko Mladic just chilling. There was no security, nothing you’d
ordinarily expect in such circumstances. Referring to himself merely
as, Sharko; this is the story of it all came about.
It all
began as former United States President Bill Clinton spearheaded
NATO’s war against Serbia, Montenegro and Slobodan Milosevic
(March 1999). Thirty-five years old, conducting graduate study work
at the New School for Social Research in New York City in political
science, I planned graduating spring 1999 with an area study
emphasis in international law and human rights. I was naïve
then, still believing strongly in democratic liberal concepts such as
freedom of academic thought. Hence, I never anticipated my political
views would impede either my graduation or completing my master’s
thesis work on whether NATO member states committed gross violations
of customarily accepted international criminal law in launching
military aggression against Serbia and Montenegro owing to not
acquiring United Nations Security Counsel approval prior.
Then
as hit with the identical smart bomb dropped on Milosevic’s
presidential palace in Serbia the night of April 22nd
1999, political science chairperson then at the New School, Professor
David Plotke, summoned me into his office before class that evening
and dismissed me from the master’s program at the New School
owing to what he considered my possessing unsavory political
science opinions.
1
Only
having to complete two more classes to graduate, I always thought my
future in political sciences as wide open with innumerous
possibilities; unfortunately this proved untrue. Plotke told me in
no uncertain terms that I was not the type of person the New School
wanted walking around with a degree stating the New School’s
prestigious name on it.
Ironically,
the New School was an institution I attended only owing to its’
placing great pride and emphasis on allowing students complete
academic freedom of thought without dictating what is and what is not
politically correct to discuss. Yet surprisingly, dismissal
from the program and blow to my graduate work should not been
completely unexpected since the semester immediately prior, the
school refused allowing me to conduct my graduate thesis work on the
subject of whether the NATO and Bill Clinton committed war crimes
against the former Yugoslavia during the Kosovo war (1999) and
internally suggested I write about infringement of Muslim human
rights in France. I suppose with the likes of Hillary Clinton and
Tony Blair hanging about the fourth floor of the school at the renown
World Policy Institute in 1999, I should have expected the university
would not take kindly to student‘s speaking out critically
against Bill Clinton and the Kosovo war (1999) he went down in
history for advocating. Then again, in 1999 I still believed in the
school’s core ideals of academic freedom, especially since I
was paying no less than one thousand United States dollars a credit
to attend. My civil rights lawsuit against the college is another
story in and of itself not deserving extended amounts of space here,
except what I already mentioned.
Dismissal
from graduate school left me in a complete state of scholarly anomie
seeking empathy and solace from my few friends and confidants at the
time including many diplomats I studied with at the New School for
several years. The list included but was not limited to ambassadors
from Iran, Oman and a newly appointed First Secretary of the Bosnian
Mission to the United Nations in New York, Darko Trifunovic.
Noteworthy
of mentioning, both the ambassadors from Iran and Oman both confided
in me their own extreme dissatisfactions and the scholarly problems
they themselves currently encountered at the New School for Social
Research. On the last day attending the school, both aforementioned
men explicitly complained to me the school was holding them back from
graduating owing to their own so-called extremely unsavory political
viewpoints. In particular the Iranian ambassador, Amir, was writing
his master’s thesis on the Iranian contra affair and the man
from Oman told me for years he was being held back from graduating
because Greek Professor Addie Pollis strongly disdained his Islamic
religious and cultural views insofar as human rights and multiple
marriage partners by Muslim sultans in his country of origin. It was
May (1999).
Riddled
with uncertainty about my future scholarly status, I immediately
applied for graduate study at Farleigh Dickinson University in New
Jersey where I studied an additional two years before encountering
similar problems with the graduate school faculty there. Ironically
it was only FDU professors whom formerly studied themselves at the
New School still in touch with the faculty there, who were later
responsible for my having to leave the graduate program at FDU in
early 2002.
Between
the time of my dismissal from the New School and my dismissal from
FDU the fall (2002), I stayed in touch with many scholars and other
politically active persons sharing similar anti-war views as myself
regarding NATO’s 1999 Kosovo war including: Professor Barry
Lituchy (NYC), Ramsey Clark’s people at the International
Action Center, and a couple of new acquaintances I’ve chanced
meet online in Serbian political activist forums. One of those
people was, Darko Trifunovic.
Darko
and I were e-mailing each other regularly by early spring (1999) at
which time he informed me that he became the newly appointed First
Secretary of the Bosnian Mission to the United Nations in New York
City and wondered whether I would pick him up at JFK airport when he
arrives in a few weeks; I acceded. Darko arrived first, his very
beautiful wife, Bojana, arrived as expected about one month later
after he was settled.
Darko
greatly impressed me at the time. Being a former political advisor
to the to the former female President of the Republic of Srpska in
Bosnia, he had a degree in international law, diplomatic immunity,
was a writer, handsome, and fun to just hang-out with and work. The
three of us became extremely close friends and confidants. I even
became voted in as the executive director of the Law Projects Center
Yugoslavia in New York . The Law Projects Center was a United
Nations accredited NGO and offshoot of the Yugoslav Coalition to
Establish and international criminal court. Darko and some political
people originally founded the organization in Belgrade Serbia prior
his arrival in New York City in diplomatic capacity. I worked
fervently legally registering the organization in New Jersey as a
legally filed non-profit successfully. The Law Projects Center and
its activities demanded Darko, his wife and I often stayed the night
over each others’ apartments often; many times working days at
a time with very little sleep.
From
winter (1999) until fall (2002), Darko, his wife and I worked daily
at the Bosnian Mission to the United Nations in New York City
co-authoring two books: 1) The Bosnian Model of Al-Qaeda Terrorism
and; 2) The Srebrenica Massacre. As a young student of war and peace
in the former Yugoslavia, I was in scholarly heaven accessing the
United Nations to work with Darko daily. This enabled my meeting
many of the most fascinating people in the world. I vividly remember
Senator Bill Richardson at the time giving nightly press interviews
on television about meeting with OPEC members states, “setting
them straight about lowering oil prices in 2000.” Yet when I’d
chit-chat with the Iranian ambassador in the city before class asking
him about it he would say to me something to the effect as,” We
at OPEC are so angry about former colonialism by England and
America, OPEC will continually attempt bringing both the United
States and England to their financial knees on energy issues…And
by the way Jill, Russia does not in any manner intend to halt weapon
sales to Iran.”
In
fact Amir and I, notwithstanding our theological differences, got
alone well. We’d often sit together before class acceding on a
great many matters. In particular I remember us sitting one night
and looking me square in the eye stating, “You know Jill, I
will never believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God.” I
replied, “And I Amir will never convert to Islam.” Now
that we got that out of the way, we both smiled at one another
getting down to discussing real issues.
The
Bosnian mission to the United Nations in New York City in 2001 was an
extremely interesting place. Reflecting the rotating ethnic
presidency existing in Bosnia unto present, Mission employees were
comprised of people of completely bipolar ethnic, theological and
politically ideological viewpoints. The Head Ambassador of the
Mission post 9-11 was then combating rumors of his soon becoming
persona non grata in the United States for allegedly giving Osama Bin
Laden a visa to travel through Bosnia illegally when previously
stationed in Italy in 1993. There were also rumors he confessed to
the United States Department of State of running international arms
trades in connection with Al-Qaeda. The number two man at the
Bosnian mission, the First Ambassador was Serbian, Orthodox Christian
and a doctor of medicine by university degree. The First Secretary
of the Mission was my friend Darko, the Consulate department was
headed by an ethnic Muslim lady from Bosnia, and there was an ethnic
Croatian woman floating around with other various diplomats being of
Roman Catholic Croatian descent.
My
time at the Mission was primarily spent fixing Darko’s laptop
computer which became daily infected with computer viruses he
continually claimed emanated from other employees at the Mission who
were allegedly trying to sabotage him because of his ethnic Serbian
background. I vividly recall the constant bickering between all the
mission employees; always accusing each other of committing war
crimes and giving each other computer viruses making it virtually
impossible for any of them to get along. The Croatian diplomat
usually stayed to herself with her office door shut while the others
present usually just listened to Led Zeppelin rock music on their
personal CD-ROM players. They told me repeatedly they had nothing
else to do with their time at the United Nations beyond an occasional
meeting except for listening to music and playing computer games.
Sad
and ironic was the few things I noticed all the Bosnian mission
employees agreeing upon was their undying love for the rock band, Led
Zeppelin.
A year
had come and gone while I totally immersed myself into political
inquiry as to just who was guilty of committing war crimes in the
former Yugoslavia. My favorite subjects of inquiry included: NATO,
Kosovo & Metohia, Serbia, Montenegro, Bosnia and persons of
interest such as Mladic and Hacim Thaci (Albanian Leader of the
Kosovo Liberation Army). It was not enough for my merely taking in
nightly news reports from CNN and other mainstream American media; to
conduct an investigation for inquiry of social fact, I needed to go
to Serbia and investigate for myself.
Only
after seeing firsthand the goings on in the Balkans could I make a
discriminate determination of guilty parties insofar as genocide
there. After my fateful month long trip to Serbia and Montenegro in
the fall 2002 I later concluded all warring parties involved had
blood on their hands (Croats, Serbs, Muslims and the NATO); there are
no innocents. But in 2001, neither my finances nor busy schedule
allowed such a trip. Moreover, not speaking fluent Serbian coupled
with the anti-American sentiment existing in Serbia then listed on
the United States Department of State travel warning website caused
going to there an unfeasible option. Hence, my life and studies went
on as usual.
Several
seasons went by and now it was spring 2001. Darko and his wife
Bojana had time off which they spent visiting friends and family in
Serbia for about two weeks. Because of this Darko was unable to
function in full diplomatic capacity. In spring 2001 there was a
preparatory commission meeting of plenipotentiaries to establish an
international criminal court at the United Nations in New York City.
Topics of the meeting included but were not limited to defining
interstate acts of aggression, court financing etc.. Darko asked me
if I would sit in for him at the meeting taking as many notes
possible owing to the Law Projects Center possessing United Nations
accreditation as a NGO (non governmental organization) with full
observer status at the United Nations; I acceded.
Darko
faxed me all necessary paperwork enabling my application attendance
at this crucial meeting; I filled out the necessary forms and faxed
them to the appropriate United Nations office for approval. It was
an extremely exciting time for me. My close friend and colleague,
Arnold Stark (History professor and Columbian University PhD) drove
me into Manhattan walking me through the United Nations main entrance
and security the day of attendance. Professor Stark himself was an
old foreign service man from way back in the day and he told me I
never looked as professionally sharp as I did on that day; I wore a
navy blue pin striped suit. I must admit, I looked good.
Only
post attending that day did I truly understand the total lapse of
security existing then at the United Nations in New York City. I say
this owing to the social fact that the Law Projects Center was indeed
registered as an United nations accredited NGO it is true. However,
closed meetings of this sort meant attendance was strictly limited to
head ambassadors of valid United Nations member state missions and
non governmental organizations possessing observer status were not
allowed.
Unto
present, I’ve yet understood whereby I gained entrance into
this privy closed meeting consisting of only United Nations
ambassadors, but I did. Walking to the basement floor of the United
Nations building that day, I merely wore a visitors badge given to me
at the front desk in no manner indicating that I was an ambassador of
a United Nations mission; least of all the Bosnia mission as
required for entrance. Totally unaware I didn’t possess
necessary credentials to enter the meeting, I walked confidently
towards the entrance door and past the guard stationed outside it.
The guard never bothering to examine the type of badge I wore around
my neck simply said “good day Madame” and urged me into
the meeting; it was just about time to begin.
I
immediately sensed something wrong once through the door past the
guard. First, I was uncertain where to sit. Everyone else had a
sign in front of their seat stating their country of origin. The
Israeli ambassador sat in front of the Israel sign, the Spanish lady
sat in front of the seat indicating she represented, Spain etc..
I
looked fervently around the room seeing no seats indicating seats for
United Nations observers anywhere. The last thing I wanted to do was
to embarrass myself by taking the seat of an important ambassador; I
noticed a couple of men seeming from some African state grabbing some
meeting paperwork nearby so I inquired of them. I told them I was a
newbie and inquired where to sit and what I should do. With heavy
African accents one of them said, “just grab a bunch of these
papers, sit there and look like you are busy,” so I did. In
fact, I grabbed as many extra copies as I could without looking
conspicuous when noticing another peculiarity.
The
meeting papers indicated they were for restricted for the eyes of
state mission heads’ only (chief ambassadors of countries) and
allowing other persons and/or United Nations employees to view them
was a punishable offense. Uncertain what to do, and with the meeting
beginning, I merely sat there stunned. My seat and the one the
African gentleman next to me took seemed extras because they
neglected having any indication regarding country origin in front of
them on the table; I felt safe.
As
totally immersed and interesting as I found the topics, the African
ambassador seated found boring. I say this owing to noticing during
the entire meeting he was merely doodling nonsensical pictures on
some legal pad. I think that no one took more notes that day than
me. I was especially interested in the interstate bickering about
financing the international criminal court should and when it came
about. Spain was particularly forceful in vocalizing its opinion
that the countries giving the most monetary contributions to the
court itself ought have more power over both its staffing and its
innocent and guilty verdicts as well as judges appointed. My
suspicions’ equally shared by scholars such as Noam Chomsky and
former attorney general, Ramsey Clark were now fully justifiably
confirmed. The court itself was a great travesty of justice and I
was actually witnessing quarrels between countries insofar as
controlling the courts judges and verdicts based on financial
contributions rather than on law and true international justice.
The
most shocking point of the meeting for me was when the Israeli
ambassador admitted openly to the other attendees that Israel was
indifferent to war crimes, crimes against humanity and would in no
manner support any international structure limiting its’
ability for practicing war and peace against any other state and/or
party it considered a threat to its national interest. The
ambassador representing the United States that day strongly and
equally explicitly backed the Israeli position making clear American
attendance was more for information gathering purposes and show than
true concern for international law, world peace and social justice.
When the meeting ended I slipped quickly out the front entrance of
the United Nations; notes and papers in hand; I would read them in
detail later that evening.
It
must have amazed Darko upon returning from Serbia I actually gained
entrance to the ICC preparatory closed meeting because within a week
he invited me to the city to attend another important meeting at the
United Nations comprised of diplomats from some very selective and
prestigious NATO member states. I don’t recall the date but
by his return fully I understood the definition of a closed
meeting. Upon approaching the meeting door I became at once
cognizant the meeting stated “closed meeting,” on the
door. I did my best to point this fact out to Darko who told me to
go in with him anyway; we did. Darko obviously thought because I
gained entrance to the ICC meeting I ought not have in his absence,
perhaps if I were with him, he covertly could gain access this closed
NATO meeting; no dice. Upon entering the room, immediately some
important looking man called him over and diplomatically informed him
that “Serbia was not invited.” Darko pointed to me
explaining that he was with the American lady but he was asked
politely to leave; I followed him out the door embarrassed.
The
following year was mundane. Filled with activities like shuttling
back and forth to FDU for graduate school, fund raising for the Law
Projects Center and co-authoring two book with Darko. The fateful
day of 9/11 and the attacks by Al-Qaeda on the World Trade Center
Towers in New York City changed my venue forever. Post 9/11 Darko
became a man on a personal mission seemingly unrelated to the Bosnian
mission itself.
He
told me it was the utmost importance to publicize the alleged fact
that the head ambassador of the Bosnian mission was in his estimation
involved with Al-Qaeda. Darko had a seemingly ton of secret
documentary evidence emanating from the ministry of internal affairs
in Belgrade and Bosnia seeming true bolstering his allegations in my
eyes then.
Asking
me to fervently work on editing a book on which topic was meant for
exposing the head ambassador of the Bosnian mission at that time; I
acceded. The publication was later published by the Repubika Srpska
information agency in Bosnia. The Serbian government in the
Republika Srpska in Bosnia then was seriously pressing Darko for a
fast publication so we stayed up many nights over his apartment in
Forest Hills, New York working to do so. The book was entitled, ”The
Bosnia Model of Al-Qaeda Terrorism. It can probably still be found
and read online. Last time I checked it was posted on the website:
http://www.analyst-network.com/profile.php?user_id=240.
Darko always told me I possessed full rights to this and other
publications we worked on together. Although I edited and
co-authoring the Al-Qaeda work, a few years back I noticed Darko
removed my name on the inner front cover page as editor replacing it
with the name of a Serbian editor. When questioned about it Darko
told me he kept my name from being published because of the death
threats and dangers to my life that he himself encountered because of
its publication. I do vividly remember Darko receiving a great many
death threats and threats towards his wife at the time, Bojana, so it
is possible he was telling me the truth.
Even
prior completing our work on the Al-Qaeda book together Darko was
obsessed with manifesting the Bosnian Chief ambassador at the time as
a terrorist. At the time I had no reason to doubt Darko’s word
and assisted him in rabidly writing an open letter to all the United
Nations member state missions exposing him as such. I surmise this
is when Darko’s job at the United Nations as First Secretary of
the Bosnian mission became jeopardized.
Today
I surmise Darko’s employment at the United Nations genuinely
became compromised owing not only to the inter-ethnic conflicts
existing between him and the head ambassador then, a proud Muslim
man, but also owing to the fact he forged birth certificates to
acquire his position in the first place later becoming a social fact
from the interior ministry in Bosnia. It was an emotional shock when
Darko informed me a by summer 2001 that he lost his job and he and
Bojana had to immediately return to Belgrade to work out the matter
in court. This was also a great emotional blow to me also owing to
the fact that I always possessed a crush on Darko and he knew
it. This was a social fact I never publicly admitted previously to
writing this book. I once even asked Darko if he wanted to have an
affair with me but he declined stating he would never be unfaithful
to his beautiful wife, Bojana. This left me in an extreme morally
uncomfortable position because Bojana was my best friend. I
continually told myself being attracted to her husband Darko was a
non-option. Working so closely with him on an almost daily basis
however made my attraction to him difficult to overcome.
I was
also engaged to Professor Arnold Stark at the time and wore the ten
thousand diamond ring he bought me on my finger. Arnold became
increasingly jealous of Darko in time and eventually forbid me to
work with him altogether. Notwithstanding, I continued working with
Darko against Arnold’s wishes. This coupled with my trip to
Serbia and Montenegro in 2002 eventually led to my breakup with
Professor Stark and after almost an entire decade, my relationship
with Arnold never fully recovered.
Darko
tried keeping his job in diplomatic capacity at he UN as long as
possible but the bipolar friction and hate existing between himself
and the chief ambassador at the mission proved too much. The chief
ambassador in contact with the Bosnian government at the time in
Sarajevo eventually had Darko dismissed as first secretary of the
mission. To the best of my recollection Darko was no longer
receiving a monthly salary from Sarajevo by spring or summer 2002
(approximately).
I
often came visiting Darko and Bojana’s apartment in Manhattan
then situated on a side street within walking distance from the UN to
help them out financially by buying them inexpensive dinners and such
in Manhattan and chauffeuring them around (they did not own a car
for the majority of their stay in the States).
In
July 2002 as I remember the three of us spent many memorable moments
going to the beaches outside the city and just spending time talking
etc.. At the time and owing to my being in graduate school at FDU, I
had plenty of extra money to burn owing my taking the maximum GSL
student loans totaling about twenty thousand dollars a semester.
Then one day that summer Darko informed me he and Bojana were only
awaiting the Bosnian government to wire them a sum of five thousand
dollars to pay off their American bills, last month rent and they
would make a hasty exit back to Belgrade permanently. I was
emotionally crushed.
Desperate
not to lose contact with Darko because of my personal feelings
towards him, I told him my summer classes at FDU were about to end
August 2002 and although the fall semester was about to begin, I
wanted to visit him in Serbia as soon as possible. Soon for me meant
as soon as I received a check from the United States government for
the total of that semesters’ student loan money in the amount
of about ten thousand dollars.
Darko,
hesitant at first soon gave in to my constant petitions to visit him.
The day I brought them both to JFK to return to Serbia permanently,
Bojana whispered something in Darko’s ear as we hugged saying
our goodbyes all three of trying to hold back tears of parting and
Darko looking me in the eye said something to the effect, “Jill,
don’t worry as soon as you can afford it call me and we’ll
arrange your visit.” Darko never could stand to see me cry
which on many occasion I did owing to the loss of my two children and
other personal challenges in my life. They turned and boarded their
plane to Belgrade as I drove back to New Jersey. Driving home I felt
an odd combination of extreme sadness at the loss of my two best
friends mixed with the cheerful prospect I would shortly be boarding
a plane myself destined for Serbia and Montenegro by mid August 2002
when my student loan check arrived.
Upon
arriving home I immediately began making all necessary arrangements
for my forthcoming trip.
The
day following Darko ‘s departure, I bought a great many
prepaid phone cards for the purpose of calling him owing to both my
missing him and also my primarily wanting to began making all
necessary arrangements facilitating my forthcoming visit from JFK to
Beograd. I had countless questions such as: how much money will I
need, how will I obtain a VISA being an American citizen with all the
US State Department warnings against US citizenry traveling to the
region, etc., etc., etc.. I had already obtained a valid United
States passport many years ago which I always carried with me. I’ve
always held the strong opinion that having a valid passport with you
at all times is just a good idea. It enables one the necessary
freedom to go to the airport and catch a plane going anywhere at
anytime.
Darko
told me that I need not worry about all the complicated VISA
requirements listed on Serbian government website required of other
Americans that he would handle everything. I was told merely to
bring with me about five thousand United States dollars in cash
spending money and it was a done deal. I went to buy some new
suitcases and clothes for my trip in Wayne, New Jersey during the
first two weeks in August 2002 in preparation. Packing was always a
problem for me as Darko can attest to owing to my medically diagnosed
attention deficit disorder. I had a difficult time deciding what to
bring, so I tried to bring everything I thought I needed. The day of
my departure my suitcases weighed way over the weight limit
restrictions indicated by the airline.
Getting
to JFK for departure in mid August 2002 proved to be an almost
insurmountable task in and of itself owing to my heavy luggage and
everyone I asked to drop me at the airport that day had strongly held
views against my going. Arnold Stark declined to bring me owing to
his personal jealousies insofar as Darko and everyone else had one or
another excuse rooted in the anti-American sentiment in Serbia at
that time and danger involved.
Undeterred,
I finally convinced Archbishop John LoBue, my priest and confessor at
the Holy Name Orthodox Christian Church in West Milford, New Jersey
to take me as far as the Port Authority in Manhattan; from there I
took a bus to JFK managing myself.
Post
9/11, JFK was supposedly safe beyond reproach insofar as security;
this proved untrue. I had not traveled outside America in many years
so I was unfamiliar with the new travel restrictions on such items as
nail scissors etc., being illegal to bring onboard flights and
carried several very sharp ones right passed JFK security inspection
inside my purse on board out of my own ignorance of new flight rules.
It was not until I arrived on my stopover in Paris, France that I
was boarding onto a JAT (Yugoslav Air Travel) flight for Belgrade
that the security officer of JAT told me that he had to confiscate
the aforementioned items owing to new security precautions
implemented post 9/11.
I
informed him upon boarding my initial flight at JFK in New York, the
security guards at the gate allowed me to board my flight to Paris
carrying them in my purse. The JAT security employee merely shook
his head in amazement mentioning something insofar as his seriously
questioning American security in general stating that Jugosalv Air
Travel obviously took airline and passenger security much more
seriously.
I
loved flying JAT! Not only was I completely satisfied the flight
from Paris to Belgrade was many times more secure since JAT searched
boarding passengers more thoroughly than JFK, the hospitality, food
and drink was excellent. I say this owing to my being a well
seasoned traveler having previously visited places such as Indonesia,
Thailand and Hong Kong, etc.. It was extremely laid back on the
flight. People moved around switching seats and chatting with good
friends and the food was the best! My favorite Serbian food and
drink were served and all airline employees shoed me the highest
level of hospitality. I was extremely pleased with the
professionalism and service on JAT I later began an online blog about
it on Yahoo360.
Upon
my flight arriving in Beograd, all passengers left the plane in the
usual manner except Serbian citizens were shuffled through customs
quickly merely showing their passport. All others including myself
were asked to relinquish their passports and told to wait an
unspecified amount of time in a holding area at the airport. An
airport security officer went around confiscating our passports
afterward leaving us merely standing there not knowing what to expect
next. No other announcements were made; I did the only thing
possible I relinquished my passport to the Serbian custom official
along with the other western Europeans and/or Americans (if there
were any) which I surmised like myself were attempting to enter
Serbia from countries that were NATO allies in the Kosovo war against
Slobodan Milosevic in 1999. There must have been about twenty
persons with me just waiting.
All
types of nagging thoughts plagued me such as “perhaps my
friends were correct that I ought not have taken this trip…was
it really too dangerous to travel to Serbia with all the
anti-American sentiment and what would happen if Serbian customs
decided I was an American spy, kept my passport and I ended in some
unknown jail and/or murdered….who would find me…what
could I do about it etc., etc., etc..”
It
seemed nearly an hour passed; me and the others were still standing
there waiting. I didn’t want to seem scared or overly curious
by asking either Serbian custom officials or anyone else waiting with
me anything as to not cause unnecessary attention to myself. I also
kept checking my watch wondering if Darko knew I was here waiting. I
had hoped with his government connections he would at least inquire
about my arrival since he told me he would pick me up. I drew
comfort from the fact Darko was always very punctual picking up and
bringing himself and others to airports. On numerous occasions I
gave him and others rides to and from them. These and other thoughts
plagued me when suddenly I heard a voice on the loud speaker call my
name, Jill Starr, asking me to go to a customs area to claim my
passport. I was the first person called so I don’t know what
happened to the others standing there still waiting. I hurriedly
went to obtain my passport and was told that I cleared; the guard
pointed the direction for me to go claim my luggage. You have no
idea what a relief that was!
I took
in my new surroundings pleased that I made it into the country
successfully. As a young child my father took me with him traveling
the world when he was an active nuclear engineering consultant for
Chas T Main, USAID and the IMF. I had been in Indonesia during the
turmoil in East Timor so I was used to being in war zones surrounded
by soldiers with guns. I was presently older, but still I found such
travel extremely exciting more than dangerous and looked forward to
enjoying the rest of my vacation with Darko and Bojana.
Making
it to the baggage claim area successfully I was relieved seeing Darko
standing their waiting for me. I was not fluent in Serbian and
didn‘t want to publicize it by asking people questions in
English manifesting I was American. I hurried to him giving him a
large hug.
I was
so glad to see Darko. I noticed upon my arrival at the Belgrade
airport that there were many female police officers equipped with
guns wearing short mini skirts and extremely high heels. I asked
Darko how they apprehended criminals in such high heels and he
replied smirking that they don’t have to run, they merely shot
those not halting in the back and that stopped them.
Like a
dream come true, there I was in Beograd Serbia against all odds and
complaints from my friends. Darko helped me get my luggage to his
friend’s vehicle telling me we could talk about everything I
had to say later because we had to hurry. Darko‘s friend, a
German man living in Serbia for years and an important military
employee of the Serbian government in a grayish older large SUV
vehicle with what seemed a special license plate was impatiently
waiting at the front gate of the airport for us. Darko’s
friend did not speak fluent English but he did speak fluent German
and Serbian. Darko told him to help lift my luggage into the trunk in
Serbian and he did. Darko always liked to brag and as usual he
introduced me to his friend giving me the details of his being an
important man in the Serbian military etc.. We went straight from the
Beograd airport to the home of Bojana’s family in the suburbs
of Belgrade and all became reacquainted.
Bojana
and I hugged; she introduced me to her family (father, mother and
brother who was a high school student in Beograd).
Afterward,
Darko showed me the room upstairs where I would sleep which was
actually Bojana’s room also informing me of our three week
itinerary; he had it all planned out. Darko told me we would all
spend the night over Bojana’s house, the next day sleep at his
apartment outside Beograd and later explained the next day we would
stop at his father’s family’s house for dinner and leave
from there making our way into Montenegro for a ten day vacation
staying at his friend’s resort on Budva’s seaside coast.
Along the way Darko told me he would give me the best tour I could
ask for and he did. He showed me military installations and one of
my favorite stops was the NATO bombed Chinese embassy which I stood
in front of only several yards from.
My
night at Bojana’s residence was wonderful. I was never showed
as much love and hospitality as I did from her family. Although it
was late in the evening (about 11pm Serbian time) when we arrived,
Bojana’s mother, a wonderful woman, treated me as her own
daughter. She insisted that Darko, Bojana and I enjoy what seemed a
10 course home cooked meal. She was still cooking while she served
us a variety of cooked steaks, vegetables and pastries. And like many
Italian families she insisted I tried and ate everything. To top the
night off before bed Bojana and her father performed an accordion
duet live in the kitchen for me. Apparently, Bojana and her father
were professional accordion players and Bojana explained that her
father’s employment consisted of playing nightly in a local
bar. Thereafter, we went to bed with full stomachs.
The
next morning we all enjoyed an equally exquisite breakfast. Bojana’s
family had livestock in the backyard and her mother cooked us a fresh
eggs and steak for breakfast like never before experienced. We said
our parting goodbyes and left for Darko’s apartment in the
hills of Beograd. We brought my suitcases in and upon entering I
noticed there were lots of stray dogs around the apartment entrance.
One in particular was very cute and Darko explained that the various
residents fed it because it was so adorable. I found it interesting
that so many old men were just hanging about the entrance to the
apartment building drinking and just sitting there with seemingly
nothing to do. They remained there throughout my entire trip.
Even
when Ratko Mladic came to see me on my final day in Serbia in full
military regalia giving me a parting gift (a book he inscribed to me
entitled Serbija) while Darko took pictures of Mladic with his arm
around me, the men remained there merely looking like old bums.
Retrospectively, I wonder if they weren’t some watchmen and/or
guards. Unto this day I always wondered what Darko did with those
photos.
I was
surprised what a very large apartment Darko owned. He showed me into
his guest room and I unpacked my suitcases in just enough time to
inform me I was to consolidate all my truly necessary items for
Montenegro into one small bag that would reasonably fit into his
trunk in the morning because he needed enough room for his and
Bojana’s luggage also. He laughed at all the things I brought
with me to Beograd telling me that I had no idea how to pack.
By the
time I was done with that task Darko told me it was time to go meet
some friends at a local café for coffee. It was late summer
and the outside café’s in Beograd were the best ! We
met up with a few friends in some restaurant in Beograd; there was
about five of us sitting there just chatting and drinking coffee when
I noticed an older gentleman sitting a few seats down with feathered
salt and pepper colored hair not saying much except for an occasional
laugh and nod at us. I wondered wherefore Darko a man about thirty
would associate with such an older person, as for me being several
years older than Darko, I thought to myself, what a cute guy. Then
upon closer inspection, I realized it was doctor Radovan Karadzic. I
knew he was a psychiatrist. By no means was this to be our last
meeting. Throughout the time I spent in Serbia Darko met with
Karadzic on many occasions in Beograd. The meetings were usually
brief; only to exchange oral information and/or a few papers with
Darko and whisper something or other in Darko‘s ear. He looks
as the news media portrays him dressed in his gray wrinkled suit and
tie and salt and pepper colored hair. He was a perfect gentleman all
times I met him with Darko. After finishing our coffee, Darko said we
ought leave and get a good nights rest because we had to leave early
the next day for Montenegro.
The
next morning we all got into Darko’s blue Audi (car) and left
for his Father’s house. I remember arguing with Darko about
wanting to bring lots of luggage with me and he replied I didn’t
need all that stuff and I could only bring one normal sized bag with
me and I had to leave the rest of my things at his apartment; I did.
On the way to his father’s, Darko made a few important stops
for the purpose of giving me the grand tour. We only stopped briefly
at some military installations; we didn’t get out of the car.
We drove up to the gates and Darko pointed out, “look Jill,
this is an important military facility.” Darko always
sarcastically smirked as he pointed out these places to me. The only
place we got out was in front of the bombed out Chinese embassy in
Beograd. There were Serbian military officers in front of the
embassy. I was amazed owing to I always had thought bombed out
buildings were totally demolished. But standing in front of the
Chinese embassy that was bombed by the NATO in 1999 taught me the
definition of a “smart bomb.”
Only
the portion of the building hosting the embassy employees on the
upper level of the building itself was demolished and in particular
the window where the Chinese embassy officials worked. I could see
in the window and I even got a sad glimpse of the Victorian styled
chair sitting there empty in the bombed out window. I wondered who
used to sit there and if they were dead or alive. No other parts of
the building was seriously damaged. There were even flowers and
trees still growing untouched in front of the building. I strongly
believe that NATO knew exactly what they aimed at when they bombed
the building.
I
brought a digital camera with me on my trip but upon returning to the
United States, all the film Darko claimed to snap for me was returned
by my local film developer as blank. I wondered if Darko told me the
truth about snapping photos for me at all. Throughout my trip he
insisted on taking all the photos I wanted claiming I take poor
pictures. It since crossed my mind he may have removed the film from
my camera prior my departing Serbia so I could not take it back with
me. One thing I am sure of is both Darko and Bojana refused having
any photos taken of them throughout my entire stay.
After
leaving the scene at the Chinese embassy, we made our way to the home
of Darko’s father driving through a beautiful park not
dissimilar to Central Park in Manhattan along the way. I can’t
be certain what park it was because I didn’t know the
geographical area; we soon arrived at our destination. Darko’s
father lived in the most incredibly beautiful green hills in an area
of Serbia existing somewhere between Beograd and Montenegro.
Immediately upon entering and meeting his father, stepmother and
grandmother who recently passed away, I felt part of the family.
Although his family did not speak English, Darko and Bojana
translated for me.
Darko’s grandmother was an extraordinarily warm and wise woman
in whose presence I felt comfortable and happy the entire time.
Before dinner there was the customary libation of grappa (a Serbian
hard liquor of incredible potency). If only I could find grappa here
in America. After another dinner that would give Manhattan’s
top chefs a run for their money, Darko brought me upstairs into a
guest room to take a nap.
I told
him I was not tired but he insisted I nap saying we would be driving
all night before reaching Montenegro and I need my rest. I must have
slept an hour before he awakened me to say our parting goodbyes and
begin our journey. I was extremely excited; Darko promised me a
three week Adriatic holiday allowing me swimming privileges at every
beach from Hercegovni to an area he said was only ten meters from
Kosovo’s border. We couldn’t go into Kosovo Darko said
because it was too dangerous. I knew Darko had been shot several
times and almost killed in Kosovo previously so I didn’t push
the issue. As a former lifeguard and avid swimmer, I couldn‘t
wait for my vacation to start and Darko delivered it to me as
promised.
The
onset of our journey began at sunset; still adjusting to the time
zone differential I dozed off in Darko’s backseat; for how long
I’m uncertain. I dozed on and off until sunrise when we
reached the Montenegrin border. I mean, there wasn’t much to
see driving in the dark cover of night. The wider well lit highway
we initially set out upon gradually narrowed as the highway lights
became fewer. Eventually there were no highway lights at all. My
body continuously shifted from one side of Darko’s backseat to
the other making sleep difficult.
It was
obvious the road we traversed was analogous to Pacific Coast Highway
in California driving through Big Sur. It was mountainous,
dangerously ridden with hairpin turns and no guardrails. In
Montenegro, inexperienced travelers could almost mistake the scenery
for Big Sur with the beautiful blue Adriatic sea hugging the bottoms
of the cliffs we not so cautiously traveled. I asked Darko to
slow down because he was driving like speed racer. He replied not to
worry explaining he could drive these roads blindfolded he knew them
well. I thought to myself, better safe than sorry buddy. It
is a good thing I had some prescription Xanax with me, I popped one,
maybe two just to relax while simultaneously trying to hide this act
from Darko since he hated drugs in general. He especially hated my
taking the prescription medications my doctor gave me saying I didn’t
need them, they were addicting and poison. He also strongly
disdained cigarettes; Bojana smoked covertly.
The
sun was just rising when Darko awakened me excitedly pointing out the
tunnel we were driving through. I think he said at the other end
we’d be entering Montenegro. Driving to the Budva Riviera in
Montenegro we drove through some similar tunnels; the scenery was
unbelievably breathtaking. There is no other place in the world I’d
rather be than in Budva Montenegro and I recommend everyone vacation
there. We were making our way to a seaside resort a friend of Darko
owned. Still driving like speed racer around the hairpin turns and
mountainous cliffs compromising the road, we finally arrived at our
destination safely. I admit Darko is an excellent driver; his
driving is reminiscent of agent 007 in James Bond movies.
Because
of the Kosovo war, there was not one functional ATM in either in
Serbia and Montenegro. To be safe I split the five thousand dollars
we had between Darko and I. I held onto half and he the other. One
of my favorite stories I tell people of my trip is how I swam with my
money throughout the trip; it made me feel secure always keeping some
cash on me at all times; even when I was swimming a quarter mile out
in the Adriatic sea. Darko told me not to; I did anyway.
Owing
to that, the cash I held was often wet. One particular time we went
to a bank in Montenegro. The banks there are so remarkably careful
of counterfeiting, they refused exchanging my United States dollars
for Euros because my money was wet; the three of us returned to the
hotel using my blow dryer to evaporate the dollar bills until dried.
The three of us henceforth joked about this saying we laundered
the money.
Upon
arriving at the resort, Darko introduced me to his friend and we
worked out the financial gratuities for our stay. We paid him eight
hundred United States dollars for ten days; meals included. Unlike
hotels in America, meals meant an extremely large home cooked
breakfast consisting of large varieties of meat, coffee and juice.
Lunch and dinner consisted of many course meals where main dishes
consisted of either freshly caught seafood or meat. Our
accommodation consisted of two medium sized rooms with separate
entrances; one for myself and another for Darko and Bojana. To reach
the beach we only needed to walk across the street and down a small
path; one could see Italy at the other end of the horizon on a clear
day. I was ecstatic loving to swim. Since Bojana didn’t swim,
Darko couldn’t always accompany me to the beach so I‘d
just walk to it myself for periodic swims throughout the day; August
was a very hot month. Of any country I’ve visited, Serbia and
Montenegro wins my top prize for fun, food, beauty and hospitality.
Everyone is friendly, warm, the atmosphere is relaxed and laid back
and most persons speak some English owing to children learning
English as a second language in school at a young age.
Unfortunately, American school children do not grow up learning
another language other than native English which leaves them I feel
at an intellectual disadvantage.
Each day Darko took us to another beach for a day enjoying food,
drink, music, perhaps some shopping and primarily, swimming. As long
as I could swim for hours each day I was happy. By the time
nighttime rolled in all of us were so tired each day we usually had
dinner and retired early, except for one night. This just happened
to be the one night of my entire vacation I was overly exhausted
wanting to retire early at any cost. Inversely, this was the one
evening both Darko and Bojana incredibly excited informed me to take
a shower, dress and get ready for a big surprise.
When I
asked Darko what this surprise was and its great importance being I
was so tired; he merely insisted I go get ready for it. Darko was
always very bossy in my estimation constantly telling us when to
sleep, awakening Bojana and I up early, limiting our time before
breakfast for dressing, blow drying our hair etc. which the two of us
always complained about privately to each other. I always accepted
this as part of his personality but this night it annoyed me to no
end; I simply wanted sleep, surprise or not. As usual I gave into to
Darko’s demands by hurrying to my room, showering, changing,
and preparing myself for a night out. If you’re a woman, you
understand when you have a crush on someone as I did Darko, you
usually give into his demands easily; so I did.
Upon
changing, Dark and Bojana were waving me to hurry to the car;
exhausted I got in and slammed the door. Less than ten minutes up
the pitch black road Darko pulled the car over and we got out. Darko
and Bojana said, “Hurry Jill look down there.” At the
bottom of the cliffs was the most beautiful city of lights I’ve
ever seen. Darko said proudly, “this is Budva Jill, that‘s
where we are going.” It was many times more beautiful that
Paris or Manhattan at night and situated in a valley about a mile and
a half wide forcing the Montenegrin peninsula farther out. It was a
remarkably amazing sight, Budva itself being lit up with a wide
variety of bright lights surrounded by an aura of pitch black. By
this time Bojana started complaining to Darko to move his car in more
because someone may come around the sharp turn in the darkness
sideswiping it. Darko never worried much about illegal parking or
his speed limit owing to whenever getting pulled over, he just made
manifest to the officer his huge governmental badge and they let him
go; the badge was at least three times larger than the usual
American police officer badge and was gold in color.
Darko
became annoyed with Bojana’s complaints so we returned to the
car, got in and descended about five minutes down the treacherously
dark road into Budva and parked. I couldn’t believe it! It was
like a dream, We walked down around Budva, Darko pointing out
everything.
We
stopped to have a drink at one of the many outdoor bar/café’s
and listened to the live entertainment while we sipped our drinks.
Then I went to buy another bathing suit at a small shop when Darko
told me to follow him and Bojana into the most amazing bar I’ve
ever seen, anywhere in the world. The bar itself was actually a
small island rocky island; to reach it one had to walk underground
maybe a little less than one quarter mile. Upon entering the bar it
had many levels; all outside surrounded by the roaring nighttime surf
of the sea and live entertainment. I saw a few people illegally
swimming and asked Darko if I could swim there too. He informed me
the swimming was closed for the evening. We ordered drinks and sat
there chilling for a while. On the walk back Darko showed me all the
gambling casinos along the Riviera. It looked like anyone could get
whatever they wanted in Budva if they had the correct amount of money
with them. Montenegro was to me akin to a luxurious playground for
the ultra rich, famous as well as infamous. We then walked back via
way of the tunnel, stopped at a small outdoor restaurant all ordering
a type of delicious pancake we enjoyed by dipping it in chocolate
syrup and drove back to the hotel to get some rest.
The
next day Darko took merely us to another gorgeous beach. It was
reminiscent of Greece. The water was sapphire blue, clear and warm.
The beach itself was not large, but completely hidden by huge rocky
cliffs. The three of us took a kind of small craft about a quarter
of a mile out into the Adriatic; Darko and I jumped in for a swim.
Bojana was partially nude sunbathing at the time on the boat and
since she was unable to swim, Darko teased her by stealing her
clothes, pretending not to give them back to her. She immediately
became upset demanding Darko return her clothes; Darko soon complied
with her demands. Thereafter, we ended the day with lunch and
drinks. The following day was one of my vacation high points. We
visited the Ostrog monastery.
Driving
to the Ostrog monastery was long, hot and boring. It lied somewhere
deep beyond the Montenegrin coastline inland. We drove a long windy
road without even so much as a store on it. After a couple of hours,
Darko stopped for lunch at the only restaurant I noticed the entire
trip. You’d think it would be small being situated in the
middle of what I considered, “nowhere.” However, this
was not the case.
There
was actually a long line and tons of people there having lunch. I
could only imagine like us they were on their way to visit Ostrog.
The restaurant itself was classy and I can only liken it to seeing a
luxurious restaurant in the middle of the Mohave desert. While I was
visiting Ostrog monastery in Montenegro, Darko introduced me to a
Serbian priest asking me if I wanted confession. The man looked
almost verbatim to Karadzic in his monks getup. I mean the way the
latest news photos of Karadzic in his monk getup looks. I only
became cognizant of this recently since the photos of him since his
arrest have been made publicly manifest. In particular I remember the
priest’s large darker curl on the top of this priest’s
head like in the recent Karadzic photos; I wondered who would make
their monks hair like that. This priest blessed me and told Darko in
Serbian he could not hear my confession owing to his not
understanding English well. He gave me a gift, a book about the
monastery itself which I gave to Archbishop John LoBue in West
Milford (my priest).
While
visiting Ostrog, we venerated the holy relics leaving an offering of
either food or money at the door leading to the holy relics; I can’t
remember which now. Leaving, we looked around the gift shop, had
coffee at the small Ostrog monastery café and Darko gave me a
tour where the monks sleep and shower. Then we made the long drive
back to the hotel. We had the usual dinner at which time Bojana was
overcome with a terrible toothache. I told her I’d pay for the
filling tomorrow; Darko knew a dentist 10 meter from Kosovo‘s
border. Tomorrow we‘d swim there and have Bojana‘s tooth
looked at. The town we went to the next day possessed an ethnic
Albanian majority and organized crime was everywhere.
Before
retiring for the evening I went for a small walk around the corner
from the hotel to buy some snacks; there was a small store there. I
never felt endangered at any time by anyone. During my stay in
Montenegro I walked to the store myself almost daily buying drinks
and other items I could enjoy privately in my room at night. I never
noticed previously to that evening’s walk just how many persons
actually were vacationing from Western Europe in Budva the fall 2002
like me.
After
promenading to the store, upon returning to the hotel, a German man
sitting outside the hotel and speaking in broken English introduced
himself. When I told him that I was from New Jersey in the United
States he became extremely interested and warmly said he is pleased I
was able to enjoy the area. I replied, “I was tired and needed
to retire.” Saying he understood he returned to his card game.
We had
the usual dinner at which time Bojana was overcome with a terrible
toothache. I told her I’d pay for the filling tomorrow; Darko
knew a dentist ten meters from Kosovo‘s border. Tomorrow we‘d
swim there and have Bojana‘s tooth looked at. The town we went
to the next day possessed an ethnic Albanian majority and organized
crime was everywhere.
We
awoke early as to get Bojana to the dentist. This is actually where
the Montenegrin bank had refused to exchange our money for Euros.
Managing cash was difficult in Serbia and Montenegro owing to that
the national currency in Serbia was still dinars and in Montenegro it
was Euros. Most businessman preferred either Euros or American
dollars, but one never knew which.
Upon
parking, Darko led the way down the busy street towards the dentist
who I remember being an ethnic Albanian man. Apparently, they
visited this dentist previously and he was extremely friendly. Not
at any time did any ethnic Albanians cause me, Darko or Bojana any
problems because I was American and they were Serb. The dentist was
going to take a while and since the bank would not exchange our
American dollars for Euros, we could buy neither lunch nor anything
else and we all possessed a ravenous hunger for lunch.
Ignoring
Darko’s warnings not to go wondering myself, I left the dentist
office under the pretense of going for a walk while Bojana had her
dental work completed. Before Darko could catch me I was gone. I
walked up the main street about one mile and began asking people in
English where I could exchange United States currency for Euros. I
came upon a well dressed ethnic Albanian high school student, a girl
speaking perfect English who told me to walk up the street about
another half mile and when I see men selling the cigarettes outside
on a bridge table, ask them to do the deed; I did.
The
girl asked me about America saying her greatest wish was to study in
New York City one day. When I told her about my experience at the
New School for Social Research, being dismissed for my anti NATO
views on the Kosovo war she replied to me, “maybe she was wrong
about wanting to study in Manhattan.”
I made
my way to the table with about five ethnic Albanian men hanging about
selling cigarettes and asked them in English if they could exchange
money for me; they did. They were definitely organized crime. They
took my wet cash, examined the bills, one man walked into an
apartment building with my cash while I merely waited. He didn‘t
rob me and returned with my Euros. Surprisingly, I found everyone
in both Serbia and Montenegro very honorable in their business
dealings; even if those dealings are organized crime.
Upon
receiving my Euros from the men, I walked away back to see if Bojana
was through with the dentist; she was. I excitedly told Darko that I
had successfully managed to exchange American dollars for Euros
thinking he’d be pleased with me; he wasn’t. Darko was
always very protective of me. Instead of commending me he
immediately got very angry; scolding me he said exchanging money
illegally in the streets of Montenegro was both illegal and
dangerous. You can’t change the past so I diplomatically
apologized and Darko soon forgot his anger I lieu of the fact that
now we all could have lunch. Afterward, Darko brought us to a
beautiful beach nearby. The majority of the sunbathers were ethnic
Albanian and again no one harassed us based on our ethnicity. I
tried pushing Darko into driving into Kosovo but he flatly refused.
I found it interesting that the international news at this time was
reporting that there were hundreds of thousands of homeless ethnic
Albanians being ethnically cleansed to Albania, I did not see one
ethnic Albanian or Roma homeless on the streets anywhere. All seemed
normal only ten meters from the Kosovo border. After a day of
swimming and partially nude sunbathing, we returned to the hotel.
Insofar
as sequence of events, at this junction in time it was the last few
days I spent in Montenegro; it’s difficult now to remember the
exact timeline of events. In other words, I remember visiting Old
Town and Podgorica also in Montenegro but uncertain of which
locations we visited first. During the last two days, Darko took me
one day to Old Town in Montenegro for dinner; there we greatly
enjoyed an expensive seafood meal after which we walked around.
Darko got a parking ticket that night in Old Town and greatly
complained about its five dollar fee; for some, five dollars is
equal to an entire week pay in Serbia. I think I offered him the
five dollars for the ticket feeling guilty because it was only for my
benefit he parked there at all. Darko wanted to show me Old Town; he
already knew what the beautiful cobble stone streets looked like.
We
also went to the Montenegrin capital, Podgorica. I really don’t
remember much of Podgorica except for walking around the streets one
night. Since we didn’t swim there so it wasn’t a high
point for me. When our ten day stay in Montenegro was finished we
all packed and returned the way we came in Darko’s car. The
day before we left, Darko’s car required maintenance. We
didn’t have enough cash on hand left to pay for the needed
repairs so I called Arnold Stark, my fiancée in the states,
asking him to please wire us five hundred dollars cash to Montenegro;
he did. This is a fact that Arnold himself can verify being that he
alone possesses the charge card receipt for wiring us the money
through Western Union to a town not far from Budva. With Darko’s
car repairs complete, we returned home for Beograd.
On the
way back to Beograd we made two more important stops. One was
Hercegovni where we met up with Darko’s cousin, a soon to be
freshman college student and her friends. We had a couple of drinks,
snapped some photos and Darko and I went for a quick swim in the sea.
When it began to rain, we called it a day. The other stop was
somewhere on the way back, where I have no idea. We pulled up to a
large lake. Darko pulled his car onto a large ferry boat. There
were some people on the ferry, but primarily soldiers from the
Serbian military. Reaching the other side we drove around but I
can’t remember much.
Returning
on the ferry, we piled into Darko’s car and appeared at his
apartment several hours later. We were all extremely exhausted and
passed out as soon as possible in our separate rooms. Again, we
walked past the same old men sitting in front of Darko’s
apartment building seeming to do nothing; they waved at us.
There
were only two days left of my vacation at this point; I didn’t
feel like doing much of anything. I’d come down with terrible
stomach symptoms that began in Budva several days prior. This was
probably owing to my ignoring Darko and Bojana’s warning not to
drink tap water but only bottled; a lesson I ought have learned in
Indonesia as a young girl. We were all feeling tired and slightly
under the weather merely wanting to recuperate. Notwithstanding,
Darko, always an avid early morning riser, insisted we promenade
Beograd’s renown indoor marketplace; an extremely large indoor
flea market. We walked approximately an hour or two. I tried on
several dresses before finally buying myself one; the type I can’t
recall. Bojana bought herself Serbian brand makeup after which Darko
informed us it’s time to leave.
Shopping
was always boring to Darko unless it was for himself and during his
stay in the United States Darko, Bojana and I hit many malls in New
York and New Jersey such as Willow brook in Wayne, New Jersey. Other
favorite stores we often visited were Daffy’s and Macy’s
in Forest Hills, Queens, New York. I vividly remember the Republika
Srpska diplomatic contact to the Hague court in the Netherlands
visiting. Me, Darko, he whose name was Dan in English, along with my
daughter little Jill went to Macy’s at the Willow brook Mall in
Wayne NJ allowing Dan to buy some gifts for his girlfriend back in
Bosnia. Afterwards, we all enjoyed a wonderful lunch at Six Brothers
Diner on Route 46 not to far from Montclair State University in New
Jersey.
I
can’t recall whether it was prior to vacationing in Budva or
after, but close to the Beograd marketplace we visited the apartment
of a Serbian basketball player and his disc jockey roommate (the
walls of the apartment were covered with music CD’s from around
the world). It was a very impressive CD collection. He said he often
spent time in Manhattan studying when not having to compete.
I
became increasingly sad during this time owing that in another day
I’d again be saying goodbye to the man I loved, Darko; perhaps
leaving Serbia forever. I wanted to stay and live in Beograd
permanently but I had duties to my graduate studies at FDU in
Hackensack, New Jersey. Had I known the university (FDU) would be
soon dismissing me from their graduate program similarly to the New
School for Social Research, I would have stayed in Beograd. I always
told Darko my greatest desire was to live in Serbia and/or
Montenegro. He always replied, “Jill you have your children
and your studies now. After your children leave and you complete
your graduate degree, then you can come reside in my country.”
After the New School discriminated against me and I was recently
receiving poor grades at FDU from professors that had formerly
studied and graduated from the New School themselves, I felt I wanted
to leave America thinking strongly I would have more academic freedom
in Serbia. In fact during my entire Serbian trip, I discovered that
myself and others freely spoke our minds on a myriad of subjects such
as politics and theology without being badgered. This was my
personal experience and I know allegedly not all Serb citizenry under
previous regimes enjoyed such privilege.
Upon
leaving the marketplace we enjoyed lunch at Darko’s which
Bojana prepared; she was an excellent cook! My favorite Serbian food
is Gibanica (I think this is the correct spelling). Gibanica is an
exquisite main dish comprised of Greek filo dough, beef, cheese and
sometimes spinach baked in layers similarly to Italian lasagna.
After lunch, I decided to walk by myself to a local store for
purchasing some items. I wanted some air alone outside not wanting
Darko to see me cry. As aforementioned, I became extremely sad about
returning to the United States the following day. When returning to
the apartment, Darko suggested I nap a while so I did. I don’t
remember what time it was when Darko knocked on my door waking me up.
He informed me we were heading out soon to meet up with a friend of
his named, Sharko, he wanted to introduce me.
We
left Darko’s apartment after dusk and about ten minutes later
parked nearby a beautiful green park lined with trees along the
river, somewhere in Beograd. Uncertain exactly where we were going,
I allowed Darko and Bojana to lead.
Strolling
down the narrow paved path a few feet wide cutting into a grassy
hill, we headed directly towards a boat restaurant. Traversing the
small shaky wooden bridge, we boarded. The place was empty; we were
the only persons present besides one waitress. We sat as follows;
Darko and Bojana sat next to each other as in American restaurant
booth’s and I sat alone across vis-à-vis. The boat
itself was very luxurious resembling the interior of several large
boats formerly owned by the late Aristotle Onassis. I have several
books on Aristotle Onassis so I have seen photos of the interior of
his large boats. The waitress came over to take our order; there was
no menu. We verbally told her which libation we wanted; as she
walked away Sharko came in. Sharko was Ratko Mladic; he wore old
faded blue jeans sagging a bit around his waist.
I
wasn’t scared at all. When first shaking hands with Mr. Mladic
I thought quietly, this couldn’t possibly be happening; but
it in objective reality it was really happening. I’ve met many
interesting people since graduating WPUNJ in New Jersey in 1997. I
personally coined the term, extreme sociologist which I
consider myself. I may not be rich, but achieved my scholarly goals
notwithstanding either FDU or the New School for Social Research in
Manhattan dismissing me from their graduate study programs. Since
completing my undergraduate degree, I’ve desired to better
understand our world by meeting with and talking with the world’s
most controversial individuals. I believe in traveling to hidden and
seemingly remote places around the world, partaking in local cultural
activities for better understanding wherefore people behave as they
do.
Mladic
first seated himself across from me, in a separate chair the right of
Darko. The waitress returned asking Mladic what he preferred to
drink; he ordered expensive wine saying jokingly it was “two
hundred dollars a bottle,” smiling. I was already drinking an
alcoholic beverage of some sort I can’t remember along with
Bojana. Darko rarely drank and sipped on something non-alcoholic.
Extolling me to Mladic, Darko explicated whereby I was the only
American college student standing firm on grave issues pertaining to
international justice insofar, the NATO and the former Yugoslavia.
Darko
finished boasting about me to Mladic after which I in an extremely
forceful forthright manner explained to Mladic my political views
insofar as NATO’s breaching international law by launching
military aggression against the former Yugoslavia, by bombing the
Chinese embassy in Beograd, and, by purposely bombing other civilian
targets in Serbia and Montenegro in 1999. I have a film of when NATO
bombed a newborn baby hospital unit in Beograd; disgraceful!
Mladic
seemed impressed with my viewpoints on war and peace. He was very
warm friendly man; very relaxed and laid back. He smiled the
entirety we were chilling out just enjoying each other’s
company and drink. Hanging out with Mladic was no different than
chilling with my other friends back in America. I ordered another
drink with Darko’s disapproval. As aforementioned, Darko
strongly disdained mind altering substances, always trying to help me
overcome my craving for them. Then, Mladic opened his wallet,
showing me photos of his wife and children; he had a very attractive
family as portrayed in his wallet sized photos. I think he missed
them, perhaps empathizing to the loss I felt being estranged with my
own two children for so many agonizing years.
Like
General Mladic, I possess very few photos of my own children. The
photos Mladic had in his wallet were obviously very old because his
children were still very young in the pictures. It was evident he
didn’t have any recent photos of his family in many years; I
sympathized with him in this respect. After reminiscing over family
photos he got up sitting next to me across from Darko and Bojana. I
let him hold my hand gently massaging it. He kissed my hand,
inviting me to spend the night with him in the hills of Beograd; I
declined on account of my strong Orthodox Christian theological
convictions. I admit Mladic having warm inviting hands and greatly
enjoying the manner in which he touched me. I did consider him an
attractive man; yet as aforementioned I declined his invitation. He
accepted my decision although he did ask me again; again I replied
the same answer. It was getting late and I was departing Serbia the
following day in the afternoon. Still sipping my drink, I began
urging Darko to return to America with me making a life for himself
teaching as a professor at a university.
In
retrospect, I now feel tremendous guilt and shame because of my
advances towards Darko owing to Bojana my best friend sitting there
with me vis-à-vis. Feeling a bit tipsy from drinking, Mladic
continued making sexual advances towards urging me to go home with
him. Darko laughed seemingly thinking Mladic’s advances
towards me were cute stating, “go ahead Jill, spend the night
with Sharko, it’s fine…Sharko‘s a good friend of
mine…don‘t worry if you want to…I promise you’ll
not miss your flight back to America tomorrow…“ I
continued declining the advances and when it became obvious I
wouldn’t change my mind, Darko said we had to leave because I
had to finish packing for my flight and get a good nights sleep.
We all
departed identically to boarding the boat restaurant, crossing the
small narrow wooden bridge; Sharko/ Mladic departed with us. After
exiting, Mladic and I stood in front of the boat restaurant for
several minutes. I began crying because I loved Serbia not wanting
to leave the next day. Mladic pulled me close to him and embracing
me, he kissed both my cheeks. I kissed his cheeks also embracing
him.
Darko
and Bojana were walking ahead towards the car leaving me and Mladic
alone. Knowing, I’d continue crying, I broke our embrace
saying “goodbye.” Mladic promised to visit me the next
day dressed in his full military uniform before I left Serbia. I
didn’t want to part; but I did. I saw Darko and Bojana walking
towards their car up the grassy hill and followed. I walked briskly
catching up with them; I was exhausted and still had to finish
packing back at Darko‘s apartment. Once more I turned and saw
Mladic drive away in an old brown Mercedes Benz on its left front
side. I was surprised to see it was scratched and slightly dented.
Arriving back at Darko’s place, I completed preparations for
departing the following day and fell fast asleep.
The
next day I woke up around mid morning feeling depressed so I went
for a walk to a local store picking up some things. Returning to
Darko’s, we were standing outside his apartment discussing
something when I turned seeing Mladic approaching me in full military
regalia. We shook hands glad seeing each other. Of all photos I’ve
seen online, Mladic never looked better than he did then.
His
military uniform was clean, ironed and he wore every military metal
ever earned it seemed to me. He was as honorably decorated as any of
the American Joint Chief’s of Staff; even wearing his gold
colored in sigma upon his green military cap. He had many gold
colored metals hanging from his uniform on the left side by his
chest. I was privileged to see him this way; I confess being
impressed.
I was
surprised to say the very least. Darko said to stand next to Mladic
insisting on snapping some photos of the two of us. Mladic placed
his arm around my shoulder and I his; we both smiled as Darko
snapped some photos. When finished Mladic presented me with a gift.
The book I posted online for you all to view, signing it to me under
the alias name, Sharko thanking me for beautiful times spent together
in Beograd. We embraced and he left as Darko interjected saying we
had to hurry to the airport before I miss my flight.
Darko’s
German friend delivered me back to Beograd airport the same manner as
picked up. There was little time, my flight was actually locking the
gate and about to depart without me. Darko ran up to someone
important showing his governmental badge as I recall, asking them to
hold the flight until I board. There was hardly time for JAT to
weigh my luggage; they did however inform me it weighed over the
limit allowed. Darko said there was no time to be picky about what I
was bringing back to the States ; I obeyed leaving one full suitcase
behind with him as to not miss my flight. Quickly helped me through
customs and the gate, I tried prolonging our goodbye. Darko didn’t
want seeing him cry and urged me on as the Serbian flight attendant
waved me to hurry. The gate was closed up and I had to run with my
carry on to board the plane. One last time I turned briefly to see
Darko; he tried hiding the tears swelling in his eyes as I. I took
my seat on the JAT flight back home to America. Upon reaching JFK my
luggage was lost and it was delivered over the weekend to my home in
Bloomingdale New Jersey. This is what it’s like to chill with
the most ruthless men in the world. No biggie really.
THE
END
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