Second letter – Crucifixion of Kosovo
May the Lord help you, my dear friends, last time I wrote something about myself and about the place where I live. This time I’ll write about the event that has marked my childhood. I also wrote about this for my school paperwork on the topic “The event that I will not forget”. And you can estimate by yourself how deep the mark that this event has left on me is. 17 March 2004 – Orahovac, view from the graveyard 17 March 2004 – Prizren Превод: Хришћанска Заједница Св. Ђакон Авакум - Видиковац, Београд
It was the 17th of March, we were painting our house and everything in the house was moved, my parents were on the ground floor and me and my two younger sisters were on the 1st floor in our room. I’m the oldest and at that time I was 7, and attended the 1st grade of primary school. My sister Andjelija is a year and a half younger than me, she was around 5 and a half at that time, and the youngest Coka was two years old. The three of us were watching TV. While I was switching the channels, I ran across the news. For a moment I stopped, and saw that something was happening in Kosovo. I went downstairs and called my parents to come and see that. When my mother came and saw the news, she was speechless. She didn’t say a word; she was quiet avoiding looking at me lest I should see the tears in her eyes. She went downstairs together with my father and it looked like they were in a rush. I understood that something was going on in Kosovo, TV was broadcasting the news all the time. The news showed different places. On that day the entire Kosovo was torn apart. Houses, churches, monasteries were set on fire … everything was burning... the whole Kosovo was in flames. For a moment the sound of helicopter was heard. I moved towards the window and that was the moment I got scared the most. Helicopters were flying over the Serbian part of the city. On every corner there were fully armed solders and police. Voices of evil people could be heard from a nearby, they yelled: UCK, UCK and some other words unfamiliar to me. My palms began to sweat and at that moment I felt as if my heart was in my throat. I hugged my two sisters and we sat on the floor. I doubled up on the floor and kept quietly repeating the prayer Our Father. I don’t know how to explain it, and there are few people who could understand how the innocent child’s heart was beating at that moment. Then my mother entered the room, she was crying and tightly hugging me and my sisters, we went downstairs and my mother lit the icon lamp. The night fell, it was dark and there was no electricity, my parents were tense, sitting quietly in the dark, only the icon lamp emitted the incredibly shining light… My parents were beside us and we children went to beds with our clothes on. Our parents were sitting at the table still awake; on the table was a large white folder with our documents, and by the bed stood a big blue bag. My sisters are sleeping for a long time, but not me. I am listening to my mother’s and father’s conversation and their sighs… in that long and uncertain night, I am quietly lying in bed… secretly and quietly I’m swallowing my tears lest my parents should notice… in my mind I’m repeating the prayer “Rejoice Mary, Mother of God” and pray to the icon of my saint patron, St. Nicholas which is hanging just above my head…
Only faith and prayer keep us here; that is the reason why these people have survived in this land, we must pray to our Lord both in hard and good times, Lord is here with us through fair and foul.
Jovana Radovanovic, Orahovac
