and sleep in their cars, or crowd into the basement. Some people take a lot of energy to deal with, but most are aware of our limits and just help where they can. When people get here, they often end up doing something different than what they imagined. Take me, for instance: early in 1992 I thought the war was basically over and I would set up small environmental centers in the destroyed areas of Croatia. Instead I bike everywhere organizing things, fix computer problems in bombed-out buildings, and race around picking up supplies in our old Renault painted with sunflowers. Many people get here and then move on, tempted a little by danger. When people go off into the war zones, they’re in the back of your mind. I really hate it when they get back and forget to call you. But life can be pretty distracting in former Yugoslavia. People come to us for information. We put lots onto the networks, we give talks, write articles and do radio shows to raise money and get publicity for relief work. We get the news out, and get news back along strange routes — I read a Beograd opposition newspaper, Vreme, which gets sent by modem to the US and back to me here. Smaller kinds of media are also vital. Dealing with refugees takes most of our energies now, so we try to help them become self-organized. We get old stencil copiers, which are being thrown out all over Europe, and give them to people in the bigger camps for their own newsletters. This kind of local communication is of critical importance in the camps. We also try to network people in camps with lost relatives, and help them contact people in the rest of Europe. One of our biggest projects has been helping refugee children to cope with stress. Most of our workcamp volunteers do this work. It doesn’t take too much training — although we did hold a conference on the subject. Primarily the kids just need people to organize games, and play with them. If they don’t get this kind of attention right away the pain of losing their families and friends hardens them terribly. Even donated rolls of tape and colored paints can help children cope. We try to get any donations we can for the camps: supplies, clothes, medicines, toys... In Britain recently the government asked people to donate shoeboxes filled with what they thought refugees would need, and at camps they gave one out to each person. This attempt at “person-to-person” aid bothered me: these people have real needs that should be addressed. Who knows what they’ll get in a shoebox? Relief should be a right, not a gift. People throughout Europe didn’t pay attention to warnings from Yugoslav peace groups when this mess started in the 1980’s, and now many just want their governments to make the problem go away. Their corporations have made profits here but won’t help to buy peace when it’s needed. Everyday I hear about foreign investment in some new business for profit here. That money could be spent on people’s needs, but corporations only want to make a return. Many towns don’t have clean water, yet European companies are selling water tablets here on TV. They should be giving these away, helping to develop goodwill. The stores in Zagreb and Beograd are full, but that doesn’t mean people can afford anything. Everyone abuses in this capitalist marketplace, locals and foreigners alike. Europe isn’t even waking up to the reality of the refugees. Countries say they’ve taken in too many refugees from ex-Yugoslavia, but they are apparently using tricks to over count by including “guest-workers” who were already there. The immigration restrictions also make no sense. The British government just recently refused to let in 170 refugees, when an organization in Leeds had already arranged to take good care of them. Dealing with refugees is of course nothing new for Europe. After World War II, my father helped set up camp with a group of orphans: children of collaboration and resistance alike. The kids ran the settlement themselves, and discovered that for their survival they needed to get along. When I mentioned this successful project, some people began organizing an orphan house in Bosnia along these lines. We learn. One thing we learn is that community reconciliation is crucial, even if it’s tough giving classes on non-violent conflict resolution in a blown-out building to battle weary police and soldiers. The mediation classes may seem absurd, but these people will be going back to their old towns, needing to mend their communal ties. People don’t usually want war, especially soldiers. When you first talk to hospitalized vets, they say they want to go back to the front. But that’s not their whole story. When we were out getting gas the other day, we told the attendant that our check was from the Center for Peace (Centar Za Mir). Some soldiers came up and said “we’re from the center for war (Centar Za Rat). Let’s have a drink together!” After you get to know these guys, they turn out to be really scared like hell and not happy with the war. We try to facilitate communication. People who learn to kill are not fighters on the frontlines and angels at home. Murders are up 20- fold in Zagreb since the start of the war. In a macabre way, soldiers from opposite sides already know how to get along. A soldier told me that there is one battlefield with no winds where the two Page 12 RAIN Spring 1993 Volume XIV, Number 3
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy NTc4NTAz