It is early spring of 1999 and by now it is absolutely clear that the mythical picture in which we see a river of people leaving the town carrying its dead, while the toll of the church bells is seeing them off will never happen. The Serbs did leave Vukovar: according to some data, since the day when Franjo Tudman arrived to this town by train, several thousands Serbs have left Vukovar, but there was nothing mythical in these departures. The people would simply collect their meager possessions, pack them in a car and leave for Yugoslavia. Some of them went even further, so that the former inhabitants of Vukovar are today scattered from Canada to Norway, but those several thousands of Serbs who left did not fulfill the expectations of Croats from Vukovar.
"The Serbs from Vukovar never accepted official data about the ethnic composition of the inhabitants in this town. In 1991 at least 50 percent of the population in Vukovar were definitely Serbs, if those who declared themselves as Yugoslavs are counted. Before the war we always said that Vukovar is neither a Serb nor a Croat town," says Milos Vojnovic, the president of the Common Council of the Municipalities [with Serb majority] and a member of the Independent Democratic Serb Party (SDSS).
"According to the census from 1991, the population of Vukovar was 48 percent Croatian, 32 percent Serb and there were 20 percent of 'others'. Out of these 20 percent, 12 percent declared themselves as Yugoslavs, while the remaining 8 percent were true minorities, such as Hungarians, Russins, Germans... Serbs now claim that all those who declared themselves as Yugoslavs were actually Serbs," says Vladimir Stengl, the mayor of Vukovar and a member of the Croatian Democratic Union (HDZ).
By the way, the Vukovar city council consists of fourteen Croats (ten from HDZ, two from Mercep's People's Party (HPS) and one is an independent representative) and twelve Serbs (eleven from SDSS and one from Leskovac's Party of Serbs from the Danube Valley (SPS)).
No one in the town hides that an invisible line divides it into a Serb and a Croat part. Thus, Croats mostly frequent pub "Zurich" on Trpinjska Road, while Serbs prefer the establishment "Tri Ruze" [Three Roses] in the town center. Recently, there was a clash between the guests of the two mentioned pubs. A delegation from "Zurich" visited "Tri Ruze" and vice versa. There were a few broken glasses and then passions calmed down.
Besides, classes with Croat children are strictly segregated from those with Serb children, and they have no contacts even during school breaks. Thus, it appears that the basic function of elementary education in Vukovar is to inject into children chauvinism and hatred. The only thing, which to a certain extent connects Serbs and Croats in Vukovar, is folk music: they can frequently be seen jumping in reconciliation to the sound of folk music in several specialized pubs in Borovo Selo, Bobota and Tenja.
"Croats are afraid to be seen with us, because those who maintain contacts with Serbs usually get taken to the city hall for a lecture. Also, if two Croats walk together and meet a Serb they know from before the war, both of them hang their heads and keep quiet because neither one is sure that the other one won't report 'unseemly' behavior," says Vojnovic's driver Dragoljub Stojic.
Croat-Serb divisions extend to soccer as well. About a month ago, ethnically pure Croat soccer team "Vukovar '91", the most serious candidate for promotion to the Croatian Premier Soccer League at the end of the season, and ethnically pure Serb soccer team "Vuteks-Sloga", which competes in the County Soccer League played a match. The Croat team won 7:0.
"The fans were more interesting to watch than the game. Croats shouted at Serbs 'go to Kosovo' while the Serbs retaliated by 'go to Ovcara'," says Predrag Jovicic, who plays mid-field for "Vuteks-Sloga" and is also a journalist with the bulletin of the Common Municipal Council [bringing together municipalities with Serb majority]. He adds that his team had no chance against its rival, since only two Croats from Vukovar play for "Vukovar '91", while the rest are professional players, who play for money. "But that's impossible to explain to our people. They experienced that defeat as a national catastrophe," adds Predrag. Milos Vojinovic does not even understand the origin of the two numbers in the name of the Croat soccer team.
"I don't know if that's supposed to be some victory or what. There are no victors here. Vukovar does not exist today at all. It only figures in the Croat public as a symbol, a symbol of resistance, symbol of sacrifice, this and that... For us, it is only a symbol of human tragedy. However, I have to remind you that it was not easy being a Serb in Vukovar starting with May 1990. After Tudman came to power, we were exposed to all sorts of persecution, arson attacks on houses, assaults, and murders. Most of the Serbs who disappeared during the Summer of 1991 are still unaccounted for and we have no information about them," says Vojnovic.
Fine, but you must admit that the Serb revenge was rather too criminal!
"I agree that the revenge was fierce and it is definitely true that Ovcara is a blight on the honor of the Serb people. But even that story is not as brutal as it is usually portrayed".
You must be kidding?
"The story about ugly, dirty and evil Serbs has another side and we know that side. Many things were exaggerated for propaganda purposes. Croats will soon have to bring the myth of Vukovar to the factual domain".
After these thoughts, Milos Vojnovic started to talk about the NATO attack on Yugoslavia, and said that the local Serbs experienced the attack as an inexcusable tragedy. He says that Belgrade TV is probably not showing the truth, but that CNN does not show the truth either, and that Yugoslavia has the right to prevent an attempt at secession of its integral part.
"People die in war and two armed factions are fighting in Kosovo. I want to say that CNN is showing a lot of fabricated and incorrect stories," says Vojnovic and adds that he still hasn't thought about inviting the local Serbs to assist the defense of Yugoslavia. There haven't been many arrivals of refugees from Yugoslavia so far, only a few pupils and students came back since there is no school in Yugoslavia.
Two years ago Igor Ninic participated in anti-Milosevic demonstrations in Belgrade and he says that the people trusted the West without reserve, and that they carried American and German flags. Today, he says, those same people swear at Cinton, because he decided to punish the whole people because of the politics created by Slobodan Milosevic. "NATO won't do a thing. The only thing they managed to do so far was to unite the supporters of 'Red Star' and 'Partisan' [two most popular soccer teams in Yugoslavia], which is incredibly painful for me as a supporter of 'Red Star'," says Igor, who is also a journalist with the bulletin of the Common Municipal Council.
But, while the Serbs from Vukovar were listening to distant rumble of detonations from the neighboring state, fearful for the fate of their relatives and friends, the local Croats have mostly been celebrating. They have been drinking in spite of the pre-Lent fast and mayor Stengl, according to a rumor circulating around the town, requested several times song "A Bomb will fall on Belgrade" on the local radio station Croatian Radio Vukovar.
"The local Serbs were visibly nervous when the bombardment of Yugoslavia began," says Vladimir Stengl, "since all of them have loved ones over the border, and a lot of them have houses in Yugoslavia. Actually, all of them are getting ready to leave and move to Yugoslavia."
"I won't answer that question, because my answer would get me in trouble. But I must tell you: listening to the children who are today aged fifteen, I came to the conclusion that even they do not want to establish normal relations with Serbs. It is hard, more than three thousands of Croats died in Vukovar, two hundred victims were dug out from the mass grave in Ovcara, about a thousand at Novo Groblje [new cemetery], and people who participated in those crimes walk the streets of this town... Last year, I was at funerals of 600-700 people, at least half of whom I had known personally," says Stengl, who, according to what he told us or, more likely, because of his official duty, believes immeasurably into the return of all expelled Croats to this town. According to him, people are not coming back exactly because of a psychological barrier and because the reconstruction of destroyed houses is not going according to the plan. The state does not have enough money, so that companies are leaving construction sites before buildings are completed.
Nebi Ademi returned to Vukovar a year ago and today works at the sweet shop "Park", owned by his father. He says that he cannot go to his house because it is occupied by a Serb from Brsadin, who is refusing to move out. In the meantime Ademi is renting an apartment and pays DM 300 a month. He says that he does not expect that to go on for long.
"Until now, I've been trying to follow the law, but it's not working. If it does not work nicely, maybe force will help," he says. To the question whether he has had problems with the local Serbs since the beginning of the bombardment of Yugoslavia, Nebi says with self-confidence: "I do not, because they don't dare touch me. They know that I've trained in martial arts and that I am not afraid of them. Albanians are five times as courageous as Serbs and we shall get our own independent republic. If we don't that will be a huge shame for the world."
Do you intend to go to Kosovo and fight for independence?
"I would go, but I have a heart ailment. I may go in the end, if necessary".
Are you related to general Rahim Ademi?
"We do not know," jumps in Nebi's brother Xhesim.
In spite of its conspicuous presence in the life of every inhabitant of Vukovar, it seems that the story about wars and hatred carries less importance than daily existential problems. When a conversation about that starts, both Serbs and Croats say that life is hard, that there are very few people with jobs and that pensioners are in the best position since their small pensions at least arrive regularly. Combine "Borovo", a former Yugoslav commercial giant, used to employ more than 20,000 people during some better times. Then the united deranged forces, which decided that the production of corpses is much more profitable than the production of shoes, stepped on the scene and today "Borovo" employs only about 50 workers.
"It is still not known when the privatization in the Croatian Danube Valley [Podunavlje] region will start. Also, there are not indications when such a decision could be made. Perhaps, it suits somebody to wait for the market value of the local companies to drop sufficiently, so that they could be bought cheaply when the privatization starts," says Milivoj Susa, the coordinator of the Association of Independent Trade Unions for Podunavlje.
Marija Molnar is aged thirty one. She graduated from the architecture department of the Belgrade University three months before the start of war in Vukovar. Then, in 1995, she enrolled in the study of journalism in the same city and is currently in the third year of her studies. She is active in the Vukovar Youth Peace Group Dunav [the Danube]. Their basic idea is that young people should spend time together and find ways for creative expression regardless of ethnic differences and everything that has happened during the last nine years. When the streets of Vukovar empty, immediately after a sunset, Marija likes to walk through the town, climb the ruins and watch the Danube. Once, she says, in the dark she saw an incredibly beautiful woman sitting in the dark inside a ruin and staring in front of herself. Marija invited her to go for a walk, but the woman rudely chased her away.
"A lot of experts, psychologists and sociologists should be sent here, to spend months talking to people and to try and help them. Most of the people in Vukovar are sick and someone must help them," says Marija. She continues: "Our elders did a lot of horrible shit, while no one explained to us why all of that had to happen. The authorities are not doing anything and have no idea about what is going on in the town. They do not know that a large number of the young are using drugs, because they do not know what to do with their lives. If this continues, all the young people will leave Vukovar. Well, perhaps that's what these authorities really want. I think that people should not leave. They should stay and fight. This place is miraculous, it is a magic town. All the ash gives you the impression that something can be built. However, it is difficult to build anything now, because of the enormous amount of stupidity and hatred".
Restaurant "Tri Vrske" is on the right bank of the Danube and has apparently always been a meeting point for all sorts of people: it used to be frequented by swine traders, sailors from Russian ships, drunk managers of local companies, all sorts of politicians, peacemakers and murderers, and even, in secret, lovers from Novi Sad, Subotica, Vinkovci or Osijek. Waiter Ante Paradzik has been working in "Tri Vrske" since 1995. He is a Croat with a somewhat screwed name and surname [namesake of the late leader of an extreme right Croat political party], and stayed in Vukovar during all these nine years. While this town was a part of Krajina, the manager of the restaurant used to show Paradzik with pride to his guests, and he in turn would state for journalists that he would be the first one to leave Vukovar if it returned under Croatian authorities because his "Croats would never forgive [him] for staying". The Croatian authorities came and Ante is still working at "Tri Vrske". His manager does not show him to the guests any more.
"Before, the manager was a Serb, now he is a Croat, and it's all the same to me: I keep working for someone else. However, I don't care. I love my job and I'd never change it for a different one. I stayed then, and I'm here now, so what... It was important to stay sane in all that madness and try not to fear anything. My friends, only mice are afraid, only mice," says Ante Paradzik.
And the Danube, my friends, rolls by, wide and oily. Even if it were twice as large it would not be able to wash away all the hatred, stupidity and evil that has collected in Vukovar.