Geert Lovink on Wed, 31 Mar 1999 16:54:15 +0100

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Date: Tue, 30 Mar 1999 08:32:37 -0500


Monday already and it's 2:30 am, I have been trying to reach my family and
friends in Kosova helplessly. Until Friday they were there, in the city of
Peja, Gjakova, PrishtinaÃ?I heard their voices Asking me "Are you going to
help us?" My answers were somehow grumpy asking them to endure, to endure
one more day because I believed it was going to be better for them
tomorrow. > >And then the telephones became silent, I ring, ring, ring for
hours all the >numbers I have in my notebook. But no answer comes through
except the ring of >death, and heavy silence in my heartÃ?They are gone, my
entire family along >with all the families of my friends and
relativesÃ?God, they are gone to >nowhere and the phones continue ringingÃ?I
want to cry in my head echoes their >hopeless cry " Will you help us, will
you help us, they are killing usÃ?Help >us" >My colleagues are gone,
writers, artists, actors...They are all gone killed >each morning while
their bodies with massacred faces are left on the streets >to be seen by
the citizens who dare to go out to by food... > >I continue calling the
same numbers despite the fact that there is no >answerÃ?Kosova is the land
where I was born and reared and I can't believe that >at once we don't
exist at all, that our houses are burned along with all the >memories,
with the graves of our forefathers, with our families whipped out >and
burned alive. Our children, men and women are being slaughtered
>mercilessly. We watch all that on TV and listen to the comments, but the
>shadows of their faces call us "will you help us, will you help us, will
you >help usÃ?" > >I ring the phones again and all of a sudden someone
answers in >PrishtinaÃ?Finally I reach a friend whose voice has almost
disappeared from >fearÃ?"How are you?" I ask her ashamed that I am alive
watching this massacre >and genocide and not being able get up and do
anythingÃ? >She cries and admits that she is afraid. "We don't know how
long we are going >to last like thisÃ?Last night they killed 70 more in the
downtown block of >Prishtina," she said. Bodies rot in the streets.
>"Today I went out in the morning to buy bread but they wouldn't sell any
bread >to any Albanians. 'Only Serbs can buy food' they said Ã?We stay all
night in >the >balcony waiting to see what streets they are going to
cleanse nextÃ?Tell me >please tell me, is any one going to stop this
madness?" >In my voice there is silence. What can I say to my friend who
has lost >everyone, whose phone will probably be silenced tomorrowÃ?How I
am going to >tell her that I have know anything about the solution.
Because somehow the >world is late again, Albanians are being slaughtered
and even though NATO is >trying to help, their strategy is not fast enough
to save the lives of my >peopleÃ? >What should we do as the world watches
the slaughterhouse and we Albanians who >live in the US are calling
numbers in agony to find out who is left alive, if >any, for how longÃ?
>Who is going to count the dead and will any one be able to bury their
>belovedÃ?As the merciless Yugoslavian army filled with anger and rage has
no >limits not only toward the living Albanians but also toward the dead,
cutting >people's heads,and massacring their bodies, while they have the
odacity to >appear on TV and deny everything what's happening. > >Last
time I heard from a friend in Peja, she told me her 21-year-old son was
>killed in front of the door, then they dug out his eyes and threw them at
his >motherÃ?She no longer answers her phoneÃ? > >I have nothing to say to
Mr. Milosevic except ask him a question, how can he >live with so many
dead people on his soul?  EVIL has no other face but the >face of Mr.
Milosevic. And he will not win this war because no evil has ever >won. >
>And for me nothing else is left but to cry and hope that my people will
have >the strength to bury their dead, while I continue ringing the silent
phones >hoping they can answer answer them again. > >I Plead to everyone
to say a prayer for our living and the dead. While we try >gain strength
and tell the world that we will make it and we did not deserve >this
destiny. > >KOSOVA MON AMOUR > >I turn my head away, >My Land >I, who
abandoned >Your cradle, >Your face >Your soft chest >That's being killed
for years >And frightened >From its bloodshed >O! My land. > >Hunters with
iron boots >Mercilessly march over >Your depths, >Raping your eyes >Your
breasts >Your innocent womb, >With Satan's arrogant thirst >Tear apart
your skin, >Laughing and spitting at you >In stupor >While we wait for a
miracle >To happen >O! My land. > >Your longing >Creates scars over my
stomach, >And those who rape you >Dirty my blood as well, >My love. >They
wounded you and me >With their greed for more >Earth and flesh >Night
after night, >Killing, killing, killing >In the name of what, >O! My land.
> >I am wandering around the world >Helpless and voiceless, >Afraid to
look at you, >Not knowing, >That I carried you in my heart >Forever, >Not
knowing, that your breath >Is the same as mine, >I waited for us to be
saved >Of the same suffering >O! My land.
>I looked to find you
>In the foreign eyes,
>Praying for your strength
>From foreign hands
>Not raped,
>Not touched
>Not broken and spat at,
>But I almost lost you
>Begging, begging, begging
>Through their silence
>While you wait
>For a miracle to happen
>Kosova mon amour,
>My land, endure
>Another dawn.
>By: Shqipe Malushi
>(Shqipe Malushi is an Albanian/American poet/writer living in New York.)
>(212) 675-4380 ext. 351
>E-mail: Malushi@Aol. Com; or