Fehmi Ajvazi, an eminent author from Kosovo, has shared his book ‘In the Kingdom of Death’ published in Albanian in 2012 in Pristina, and in Romanian in 2019, and was translated from Albanian to English 

Fehmi Ajvazi author

[In March 1999, the Serbian regime blanketed Kosovo with a contingent of 120,000 regular police, military, and civilian paramilitary forces. Just about two weeks before NATO’s intervention in Kosovo began, the region was surrounded on all sides, while pockets of the interior (villages and towns) were hit with arrests, liquidations, and massacres. Kosovo became a reservation. A kingdom called the “Kingdom of Death” established authority everywhere! However, some areas were controlled by insurgent liberation forces, and in some places, Serbian forces couldn’t penetrate. Well, the hatred between Serbs and Albanians was the same, but the bullets were the same too: they brought death to everyone, and it was no problem for the “bullet” whether the target was Albanian or Serbian. I mean, the forces of the Kosovo Liberation Army held some territory and kept it free! But about ten days before NATO planes launched their attack in their battle for Kosovo, Albanian insurgents managed to have the world’s most powerful force as their ally: the NATO alliance. However, no one had managed to master a pact with death. Just a few days before March 24th, the “Lady of Death” was the ruler of Kosovo, in reality, she was the ruler of the Albanian citizens of this extremely small territory! And for the third time in history, the state of Serbia wanted nothing more and nothing less than: the ethnic cleansing of Kosovo. Over 1 million residents before March 24, 1999, challenged “this kingdom” by saying, “Here we are, your power is not the power of God!” I had decided to stay, not to leave. I was a journalist, but also a creator. And so, I had no idea what dilemmas lay in this direction, despite the open threats from the Serbs, and I knew well that they would try to wash their hands of us like Pontius Pilate! Regardless of every situation and circumstance, I sacrificed to be a witness to a time and a history without parallel! Yes, a witness…! And everything I have said and written about literary-historical conditions is in this book – a testimony. Therefore, this book is a source and my personal experience of a time I pray will never be repeated – anywhere. Just as I pray for the souls of those who did not come out alive in this “kingdom of death” in the third millennium! Read the truth about Kosovo…  Author]

Unconfirmed News Mirror

There is a spreading rumor that somewhere in the Vranjevci neighborhood (Kodra e Trimave), an action by the KLA (Kosovo Liberation Army) has taken place, in which several Serbian police officers are said to have been killed. In Tauk Bahqe, Sofali, and other neighborhoods of the capital, it is reported that numerous Albanian residents are being arrested. Some mention the names of intellectuals, politicians, and journalists who are either already arrested and being executed or will be arrested and executed. In the afternoon, news started circulating that the editorial offices of the daily newspapers “Kosova Sot” and “Koha Ditore” have been set on fire, along with the correspondents’ office of the Western-published newspaper “Bota Sot,” where I work.

Deportation of Albanian population in Spring 1999

This is possible. It is also said that a guard of the “Koha Ditore” editorial office, located in the center of the capital, has been killed. Additionally, it is reported that the headquarters of the Writers of Kosovo, where the Democratic League of Kosovo is also based, has been set on fire. The numerous and horrifying afternoon reports do not end there. There are talks of numerous public-hotel buildings being burned and destroyed, self-immolations, looting, artisan shops being smashed and looted, and so on. But nothing has been confirmed yet. These pieces of information cannot be verified or confirmed by anyone.

The night falls terrifyingly. Pristina is finally engulfed in a world of terror and crime, just like the entire Kosovo.

In the international media, in any language, there are still no reports on potential human casualties, property damage, etc. But “where there’s smoke, there’s fire.” The night falls terrifyingly. Pristina is finally engulfed in a world of terror and crime, just like the entire Kosovo. We, the living, are confined to our homes and apartments, in basements, etc. The situation is not just dramatic but volcanic. The words, in the form of news and information, arrive astonishingly. The worst part is that they are not only numerous but terrifying.

(In the late afternoon, the events talked about throughout the day also start to sink in. They are tragic. So, most of the circulated rumors, filled with fear and sorrow, turn out to be true.)

Notes from Darkness

The food supplies I’ve gathered may last for Niku as well. The rest (bread, pasta, sugar, oil, salt, flour, juices…) will likely run out in two to three weeks, I believe. The electricity during the night (probably) will keep going out intermittently. This is due to the sophistication and camouflage tactics of the planes. The Serbs, fearful of the bombings, want more darkness. We, too, in fear of the Serbs, have covered our windows so that when night falls, not a glimmer of light is visible from outside.

The second night of bombings is even more tempestuous than the first. I don’t sleep until morning. My wife, as soon as the bombings start, hides under the blanket and enters the “world of lethargy.” Niku keeps me company, of course, not understanding anything about what’s happening around. He touches my hands, giggles, and utters inarticulate sounds, filled with love and life. I offer him water, milk, biscuits, but not toys. It seems we both seek refuge from the noise together, even though he doesn’t know why.

Deportation of Albanian population

Suddenly, very suddenly, NATO planes arrive. Equally sudden are the explosions. It’s said that NATO bombers are as fast as sound. I continuously try to shield Niku from the abrupt noises of the metallic planes and the volcanic blasts of bombs and rockets. It’s strange: he doesn’t utter a sound. I immediately take him in my arms, carefully, and hug him gently. I speak to him, trying to make him understand (as much as a child can understand) that all of this is a kind of “momentary play” and that this “story” has nothing to do with him. Without forgetting, I then cover his ears with the palms of my hands. To surprise him even more, I talk about whatever comes to mind, anything I can recall. Why? Because, especially after the noise of the planes (within an interval of four to five seconds), there come the impacts of bombs and rockets. Their explosions are sometimes farther away, and the tremors and vibrations are less unsettling. But in some cases, especially when the planes hit within the capital, the explosions and tremors, in terms of the intensity of the impact force, are beyond imagination.

Not only does everything shake and tremble, but your heart plays tricks on you.

Interesting: When the bombs, cruise missiles, or Tomahawks explode, Niku doesn’t seem to get scared at all. He doesn’t flinch, nor does he cry. It’s like this is his routine behavior now, in relation to the noise of the planes and the blasts of bombs and rockets.

Yesterday and today, there have been numerous hits in the capital and its surroundings. I think to myself, “…did he get used to the explosions, or is he even looking forward to them?” I have no explanation. Believe it or not, there’s only one thing that troubles this child who hasn’t even reached seven months of life in this world during all this terrifying recycling: the absence of light.

Hajvalia is continuously bombarded. The detonations of munitions at this military base don’t cease for hours. The night everywhere is now the kingdom of silence, pitch black. 

Niku doesn’t like the darkness. Darkness bothers him more than the explosions. Even the dim light from a candle irritates his eyes when he tries to play with something, get closer to it, or take it into his cradle. Meanwhile, it’s also said that very young children (infants) don’t like darkness at all. Well, who does like darkness? Hajvalia is continuously bombarded. The detonations of munitions at this military base don’t cease for hours. The night everywhere is now the kingdom of silence, pitch black. Nothing stirs. Not even the Serbs, who, despite being armed to the teeth, don’t dare move for now. Fear has quickly overtaken even the Serbian civilians, who, as soon as night falls, seek shelter in the city’s bunkers, which are designated for wartime conditions. Some of them are said to bypass the bunkers designated for wartime and instead go to the Central Hospital, convinced that NATO won’t bomb this facility.

Deportation of Albanian population

In the building where I live, there are several Serbian families. I reside on the second floor. On the ground floor entrance, to the left of the entrance, there’s one Serbian family. Then, right there, another family. Meanwhile, above my apartment, there’s also a Serbian family. On the floor where I live, there’s a certain Dragani. He lives alone and is probably a chronic user of alcohol. This Dragani character has turned his apartment into a sort of “cafe.” In recent days, especially since the start of the bombings, perhaps due to the fear of being alone, or maybe due to wartime needs, he has transformed his apartment into a “crisis headquarters,” even a nightclub. Many Serbs of different ages are coming to him. And as they gather, they toast with brandy and sing songs, in a way… just as the Serbs have it as a tradition. They speak and sing loudly. Dissonantly. Without harmony. Like crows perched on a branch. Sometimes, especially around midnight, they light their cigarettes. And when they smoke enough, they start cursing and swearing, they start threatening with loud voices. Not infrequently, they shoot with revolvers and automatic weapons. Except when the alarms go off (which implies NATO planes are coming), they go silent: lower their voices, stop shooting, and speak slowly. Then, when the bombings stop and the noise of the planes melts into the deep darkness of the night, they return to the state they left behind