By Selim Hasanaj
The first part
Memorie.al / I will write from my memory, even though almost three decades have passed. This is a more or less biographical, personal story in which, with the greatest sincerity and respect, I will also write about other people, that fate may assign us to meet them, to know them and to share our history with them. . I was poor. The only one in the family, I was busy working. This was also the reason why for years I made chalk dodges in the Yugoslav military service, every time I received an invitation. In my heart, I wanted him to never do that service, because I didn’t want to serve the army which, for four decades, had conquered and ruled me. Several times I even thought of injuring myself, so that some handicap or disability would be caused, which would free me from joining the conqueror’s army. God often listens to our thoughts.
So I accidentally, in a football game while playing with my friends, Xhemajl Osaj, Hamdi Gashi, Xheme Gashi, Mustafa Krasniqi, Halil Bicaj, Sadik Zekaj, etc., etc., workers from Dardana in Ljubljana, Slovenia, injured my foot left leg, in which case a surgical intervention was also necessary. This was sometime in the fall of 1979.
Halil Bicaj was a military superior in a barracks in Ljubljana and he spent almost all of his free time with us, because he and I were friends from childhood, since we are also from the same village. Later, Halili became a high superior in Sarajevo, as well as, after the 90s, the man who replaced Ahmet Krasniq, in the position of Minister of Defense of Dardania, after Ahmet was killed in Tirana.
Back to the case of my injury. The surgeons at the well-known hospital “ZALLOSHKA BOLLNICA” in Ljubljana placed a platinum plate on me, with which they had connected the bones of the toes, which had caused a difficult and complicated injury. I didn’t even bother, because I hoped that this would save me from military service. A year passed and on September 28, 1980, I came to my hometown and got married. When suddenly, in December 1980, I was called to go to military service, there was no way to postpone it, like other times. I was assigned to go to Bosnia, to the city of Bihac.
I didn’t know how to escape from this, but I kept hoping that they would release me, as soon as they showed my handicap, which I decided to stage and play the role of a cripple. I started tumbling. A few days I exercised well, walking on my heels, and so on January 6, 1981, I left for Bihaq in the Barracks “7 Juli” (“7 Juli”).
On the train from Belgrade, I met three young people from Presheva (maybe they were from her neighborhood) and I remember their name was Dalip, another Skender and also a Shefketi, from a village near Skopje. They were young, they had just turned 17, 18, 19 years old. I saw that they were honest, but uneducated, naive and desolate.
I told you that I intend to do my best to be released as disabled from military service. From the trip Belgrade – Bihac, these young people instinctively created a personality from me, a person to whom they will rely and consult for everything, during the time of service in the Yugoslav army. None of them knew the Serbo-Croatian language, which was the state and military language in the former entity called Yugoslavia.
Finally, after our night journey by train, we arrived in the morning in Bihaq. I told you thousands of comrades, that he will not immediately go to the barracks. I will sell the city a little, learn it, because we will need to get to know it, during our stay in that city. In those years, it was practical that soldiers were sent to serve, to be prepared first in a city and after quarterly preparation, they were sent to other places, where they served until the end.
The service lasted 16 months, for those who had heads of faculties, 12 months, and for people who were considered as breadwinners, also 12 months, while for students, the service was 12 + 3 months. I had submitted the prayer, to be accepted as a breadwinner – breadwinner, because according to the law, I met all the conditions. The prayer should be heard by the military medical commissions in Nis, Serbia. For this, I will write later.
We walk together until 23.00, around the city. Bihaqi was a beautiful city, but it had a harsh climate, as there was over 1 meter of snow in that January of 1981. Temperatures were somewhere between -25 and 30 degrees Celsius.
We went to the barracks and I saw from above, on two pillars at the main entrance door, there was a white banner, on which it was written:
“DOBRODOSHLI MLLADI VOJNICI” (WELCOME YOUNG SOLDIERS).
We slowly went inside and there was a soldier, who greeted us and said: “Look at the seven pine trees, how strange they are inside” (look at what is written on the inside), I turned around and saw that in smaller letters, it was written : “Ah, add ste najebali”! (Ah, what’s wrong with you?!).
I didn’t tell my thousand friends. They still shivered, not so much from the cold, as from a chill that inexplicably gripped the body and soul. That night they put us in a big room and told us that we will sleep there until morning. I lay down, but I didn’t fall asleep, because I didn’t fall asleep. My mind went to the family, to the old father, to the elderly mother and to the brothers and sisters, who will probably be forced to stop schooling, because they will not have money, not even for books.
Well admits that my heart trembled for my daughter-in-law, whom I had married three months ago and who was now pregnant with our first child. As soon as I was deceived by sleep and had closed my eyes, I heard a voice: “Ustaj vojsko”, come on berzhe, ustaj jebemti boga tvoga”… (Get up, army, come on, get up, I’m your god…!).
I didn’t get nervous because that voice and banal scared me, I got nervous because of the text of idiotic words, a man about whom I later learned, that he was Potporučnik (lieutenant) Milorad Jokanović, a Montenegrin, a crazy Chetnik and a great careerist, but above all, he was also a staunch anti-Albanian. I stood up limping and Lieutenant Jokanović looked at me sternly and said: “Come on, get some Czechs, hoqesh da te ja molim” (Come on quickly, what are you waiting for, I’ll beg you…?).
“No – you told him – but I’m sick, I’m crippled in my legs…! But he sharply put his pee, brought it right in front of my nose and talking and spitting, he started to pee me: “Ne priçaj, dok ja priçam ti mashi rapom”. (Do not speak, until I speak, you wag your tail). This irritates me. I knew that, until I had taken the oath, martial law could not catch me, so without hesitation I pushed the idiot and said with a resounding voice that was heard throughout the building:
“Nemoj da vičesh, nisam ja tvoja zhena, niti tvoj robijash.” Ja sam doshao da sluzhim vojni rok ali niko neçe da me ponizhava, ne jer ja znam da se branim to dobra tako da oni koji meni provociraju deepo da da zhalle za to”. (Don’t worry, I am not your wife, nor your slave, I have come to perform military service, but no one will humiliate me, no, because I know how to defend myself, even well, so that those who provoke me will be sorry.)
To my surprise, he laughed, fixed his eyes on me, like poison arrows, and with an icy smile he said to me: “Dobro ajde sada… nego kako se ti zovesh i od dakle si”! (Okay now…but tell me your name and where you’re from). When I told him my name and that we are from Istog in Kosovo, he turned yellow; “Ovo danas qesh da zampitish i imash da se pokajash”. (You will remember this, and you will regret it).
After all, the idiot thought that I am a Serb, because of my fluent way of speaking, in Serbo-Croatian. Fortunately, he knew that he could not take measures against me, as long as I had not yet taken the oath as a soldier.
They lined us up in the yard, in a place they called; “TRACK”. The circus started there. The superiors, from the peasant onwards, up to the general, had come out to see off the young soldiers. They gave useless speeches, speeches that were more dances than lectures, to teach us the soldier’s craft.
They don’t forget without talking about “BROTHERHOOD-UNITY”, but they don’t forget to remind us, the soldiers of the Albanian nation (they called us: “nacionalna minjana”, national minority), that we don’t dare to gather among ourselves, nor stay alone , we need to be friends with others, but not with each other.
No, because it chills the other soldiers and poses a danger to the safety and life of the army. I was listening and my heart was pounding hard, I was so scared that it would come out of my chest. There were somewhere around 200 or more young soldiers, coming from different countries and nations, and we were only 8 Albanians, but Colonel Rade Llukaq, with our arsenal of weapons and ours, those Serbo-Yugoslav soldiers, was afraid of us.
This was the commander of the barracks. A Bosnian sub-lieutenant, named Rasim Delić, said that he did not like the words of his superior’s colleagues, but there was nothing he could do.The speech given to us by the commander of the barracks, Colonel Rade Llukaq, was not a speech at all, a speech that is usually given before the unannounced mass, to which the gyanas are explained.
It was a threatening, humiliating and defamatory speech. Next to him, approving with his head, stood with his hands behind his back, Lieutenant Jokanovic. Next to me, I noticed that a dark-skinned soldier, with an eagle’s nose, was shouting and I heard him cursing silently in the Albanian language, those beasts of men. I didn’t do it. I was waiting for this man to let me know after this circus is over.
Lieutenant Jokanovic looked at me with disgust and I also stared at him to give him a sign that I will not cower or submit to him. Finally, we were given a twenty minute break. After I saw where Dalipi, Skenderi, Shefketi, that other Preshevar (whose name I can’t remember now) are, and when I made sure that I recognized them, I slowly approached the black man and spoke to him in Albanian:
“Good luck, I’m Selim Hasanaj, from Istog. But who are you and where are you from?!
“I’m Adem Zekaj, I’m from the village of Lëbushe e Deqani, but I live in Junik,” said the man, and at the same time he handed me a pack of cigarettes.
I lit a cigarette and told him that in his village, there are some tezaks, and when I told him which ones, he grabbed me by the neck. “They are my cousins,” he told me. We started talking when suddenly I heard; “Come on… brzhe, brzhe, u stroj po dva. (Come on now gather, quickly, quickly, in line for two…). Adam cursed again, until he stubbed out his second cigarette. Lieutenant Jokanovic hears his face.
“Here you are, mangupe jedan”, he said and with quick steps, he addressed Adam, coming right in front of his face:
“What are you cursing, mangup”?!
Adam looked at her ironically, let out an ironic smile and said; “Psujem boga add me rodeo pa da sad dollazim ovde”. (I curse God for giving birth to me, so that now I am here too). Jokanovic was shaking with rage.
“You will learn what the command of the People’s Army of Yugoslavia is, it will make you wise as a lamb, so that even if someone were to trick you, you would not run away. Where did you hear and learn to swear, while you are in the military?!
Adem Zekaj interrupted him: “Comrade lieutenant, we Albanians have culture and we have never cursed, I learned swearing from you, since last night when I came, and from now on, as long as I will be in the SMB uniform, I will swear. This culture was preached to you, since yesterday”.
Grave silence reigned, but when Lieutenant Jokanović wanted to say something, Colonel Llukaq intervened. “Okay, okay, lieutenant, they are young soldiers and they don’t know the rules, they will learn them later, come on, bring me the list.” A soldier brought him a list and from that list, Colonel Rade Llukaq, started reading.
“Those names that he will read now, come out on my left side here and point to the space with his hand.” Read half of the audience. I saw him read the names of Dalip, Skender, Shefket and the other’s father. You will be the unit of cooks. So you will learn the craft of green oak.
Those of you who remain there are the group of bakers and you too will learn that craft. The time you have to learn these crafts is a month and a half, you will stay here, three months in total, but apart from the craft, you will also learn other professions of the army, then you will keep watch, you will have alarms, you will you have Marxist lectures, etc., etc. Now, before I take over, Lieutenant Jokanovic, does anyone have any questions?
No one does. “Okay, lieutenant Jokanovic, you have the floor from now on, with these soldiers.”
“Gaditu” – the command of lieutenant Jokanović was heard. He greeted the colonel and he left, while Jokanovic told us that; “now we will go to the warehouse, to equip ourselves with uniforms and clothing and other necessary military equipment”. I thought the military command, with people in civilian clothes, was funny.
After I am equipped with everything, they send us to the hairdresser. There were three soldiers, who were waiting in guard cars to cut off 200 people. It was known what a cut it would be. I didn’t have a complex job, but there were others who wanted to cut them well, normally, and not with a bang.
This is what they said about the military haircut, that according to the Gojdhana, to punish the soldier, they sent him to the hairdresser and he threw the helmet on his head and shaved it to zero, around it. When they took off his helmet, the cut was ugly.
Now we were free and I brought you closer to Adem Zekaj. Conversation after conversation and I found out that he was my father-in-law’s uncle. He introduced the entire family of my wife and told me that I had a son-in-law.
After we were cut, Adam did a little work there too, because he had beautiful, raven black hair and wanted it to be cut normally. They send us to the bathroom, to take a shower and then to dress in military uniforms. What are we driving? It was a large room and several showers were built into its ceiling.
“Come on, hurry up,” Lieutenant Jokanovic began to shout. Start the fight, people are like animals, in some cases. They submit to the demands of others, without opposition, they do not hesitate to be commanded and to change. I stood still.
When everyone got up and got inside that room, lieutenant Jokanović saw that I am not a zadesh and that he stands at the door.
“What the hell are you waiting for, don’t you want me to pray?! Get off quickly and get under the shower.”
“No – you said, – I don’t care about these animals! I don’t stand up in front of others, in front of people, that I’ve never seen before! I’m not a shameless person, what kind of army is this, an army of homosexuals, who force others to multiply, to satisfy their own lusts, tue shique young boys’ butts. Shame, shame of the world”!
Surprisingly, Jokanovic didn’t get angry, he apparently gave me the right, just as quietly.
“Okay, okay – he told me. – But you, you have to clean yourself. You traveled from Kosovo, you haven’t showered in three or four days, this is important for your health”.
“That’s right – here I am, – but why should we bathe like prisoners of war, in Auschwitz. Why don’t we bathe one by one, without the presence of others”?! Memorie.al
The next issue follows
