CCCRTE

A forgotten Balkan town

Adam Curle

Early in July, I was in Zupanja (prononced Zhupanya). It is a town of about 15,000 on the banks of the River Sava, which separates it from Bosnia. The bridge has been destroyed, but there is a raft-ferry enabling people, especially children from the Croatian population on the far bank, to cross over to go to school. It's very much at the end of the line in terms of help from the government, the United Nations, or any of the aid-giving organisations. No one visits it; indeed the line seems to stop some way away. There is very little money to help the thousands of refugees in the area, or to operate an adequate medical service -- there is no proper ambulance and the hospital staff is short of eight physicians. No one wlll come to work there because it is too dangerous.

The reason why it is dangerous is that the cycle of Balkan violence which began in 1991 has never stopped. Many places have gone through periods of intense violence. Osijek was ruthlessly attacked for six months in the beginning, then with less ferocity for a while, but has been precariously (and more or less) peaceful for three years. But the violence has gone on continuously for four years in and around Zupanja. Initially, Zupanja and some of the neighbouring villages were bombed from the air. Now it is shelled by the Bosnian-Serbs, who are battling with the Bosnian-Croats across the Sava. At times there is a lull for days, then a period of daily bombardment. It is unnervingly unpredictable.

It's a fine town. Superficially, at least, calm and normal. There is a splendid mayor, but grave and troubled having responsibilities which he has not the resources to fulfil to his satisfaction. Unlike some Croatian officials, he is passionate for peace; indeed everyone seems to be. There is no angry talk of fighting back or revenge, no 'ethnic' hostility. Instead there is much encouragement for the embryonic peace group. We stayed with the intense and resolute woman who leads it and met with some of the others in the infant school. Like most such buildings, it ls protected, on the more vulnerable slde, by tree trunks placed upright against the walls (thls ls common practlce over the rlver in Bosnla). But thls darkens the rooms and stinks ln various weather condition. Moreover, lt does not prevent projectiles from landing on the roof, as one did the previous week -- luckily the school was empty. The children are nowhere allowed out to play. One just doesn't see them around. Shortly before my visit, two of them sneaked out, longing for fresh air and sunlight. Their games were ended by a shell.

I recall the beginning of the Osijek peace group just over three years ago. It was hard to lmagine at that stage how lt would develop. Now it is a large and supremely effective organisation which has achieved wonders in the fields of refugee care, human rights protection, the care of the traumatised, peace education, and changing the climate of opinion away from militarism towards non-violence; a force for peace throughout Europe.

The plight and the courageous determination of the Zupanja group is vastly encouraging, but they have nothing -- no fax or computer or e-mail. There is no money or regular place to meet. The qroup in this most beleaguered and isolated town, have no support, moral or materlal, as Osijek does, from Sweden, Holland, Germany, Switzerland or Britain. Could any groups, I wonder, consider twinning with them, or raislng a little money for such minimal material necessities as paying the telephone bill or buying stationery.

newsletter | ccts