Worldwide Family Activity Report - Special Issue on Former Yugoslavia
FAR001 - GP
July 1994 by The Family, Zurich, Switzerland
The Family
Making a Difference!
Healing Hearts in the War-torn Former Yugoslavia!
Part 1
Why would anyone choose to leave home and loved ones to risk life and limb, live in an old converted bus and travel the war-ravaged former Yugoslavia encouraging and assisting victims of that genocidal conflict? For a small group of volunteers from The Family, the answer is clear. Like thousands of other Family members scattered around the world who are also involved in sacrificial service to their fellowman, they simply say, "The Love of Christ compels us." (See The Bible, 2 Corinthians 5:14.)
Eight Family members are in Croatia, bordering the war zone in Bosnia, offering counsel and comfort to all in need, regardless of age, situation or ethnic origin. Their ongoing story, as told by team leader Joseph Eastman in excerpts from his daily log, begins here...
Our team
Mihai, a 35-year-old Bulgarian, and I are the "senior" members of our team. The other six--Jonathan, Peace, Christina, Mike, Rebecca and Sara--are all between the ages of 18 and 23. Our nationalities and backgrounds are diverse: Three of us are Americans, three are from former Yugoslav republics, and Jonathan is a Briton and ethnic Pakistani. I've been involved in Family projects--though none quite like this--for almost 25 years. Mike and Peace grew up in The Family. Slovenian Sara has been with The Family for just six months; the others for between two and 12 years.
First impressions of Croatia
We had no problems entering Croatia from Hungary on our way south towards Bosnia. Most of the first people we met seemed interested in the simplicity of our message--that God's Love can transcend all ethnic and religious bounds to comfort and heal the heartache and wounds of war. We also met others who didn't want to hear anything about love being the answer. Bitterness runs deep. People have lost loved ones, houses, lands and livelihood. The economy and infrastructure are in shambles. No end to the misery and suffering is in sight.
Refugees--Bosnian and Croat, Christian and Muslim--are everywhere, tens of thousands of them. We have since learned that the local people call the Bosnian Muslims "refugees," whereas they call the displaced Bosnian Croats "ours." There is also a distinct difference in the care given to the two groups.
At every turn in the road, we are faced with more signs of destruction.
* * * * *
On our first day in Croatia we stopped to talk to some Bosnian Muslim refugees who are camped in dilapidated train wagons. Their living conditions are heartbreaking, but their smiles and hospitality helped us to see sweet, gentle people coping bravely with those bleak circumstances. They were encouraged by our message of God's Love, but what seemed to touch them most was that we had bothered to stop at all. They so appreciated a listening ear and a sympathetic word. Though they have so little, they invited us to have coffee or juice--a traditional sign of acceptance.
* * * * *
That night we made it to Karlovac, just two kilometres from Serbian lines. This city was under siege until six months ago, and there is still occasional fighting. Bullet-riddled buildings, blackened by fires, are missing windows and large chunks of concrete. Many still have sandbags stacked high in front of the doors.
While looking for a safe place to park, we met two soldiers who led us to the city's Croatian army headquarters. "Park here," they suggested. "There are armed guards. It's the safest place in the city." Several hours later we were awakened by a huge explosion. Someone had blown up a U.N. jeep parked nearby.
* * * * *
The next day, on the ferry to Split, we talked to a group of young soldiers who have been too badly wounded to remain in the war zones. Most of them joined the army and began fighting when they were 17, and are now about 20.
One 26-year-old soldier explained how disillusioned he had become over the past couple of years as he realized that this is just a political war. (This is what we hear from nearly all of the soldiers we talk to, no matter which side they are on.) This young man is now a semi-invalid. His kidneys were badly damaged by shrapnel, so he's been given a less arduous job as an army driver. As we conversed and showed him passages from the Bible, we were able to help him sort out the trauma he's been through, overcome his bitterness, guilt and remorse, and find hope for a brighter future. Tears welled up in his eyes, and every few moments he looked down and took a deep breath to keep from crying openly. "I can't believe that there are people like you who are trying to change this world!" he said. "But now I know what you are doing can change things, because I feel changed already!"
Like this young man, many of the soldiers we've talked with have been wounded and traumatised so many times that they suffer from mental and emotional problems. They open up their hearts like children to talk about all they have endured, including the heartbreak of losing loved ones. None of us can remember any other situation where our counsel, encouragement and friendship has been more needed or appreciated.
As we disembarked, the group gathered around told us, "Go and help the people here. This country needs people like you!"
* * * * *
(Some days later:) We are all well and presently in Makarska. This once beautiful seaside resort now has the highest concentration of Bosnian refugees in all Croatia. Of a total population of 20,000, half are refugees--7,000 Bosnian Muslims and 3,000 displaced ethnic Croats. We are camped along the sea next to two refugees. Between them, they have lost 12 of their closest relatives, including wives and children. "You have given us the greatest gifts," they told us after we had talked late into the night. "You have given us faith and hope!"
* * * * *
Croatia and Serbia are officially at peace, and before coming here we had had the impression that Croatia was not such a volatile and dangerous area. That may be true compared to the all-out warfare in neighbouring Bosnia, but Croatia is also close to the brink of war. Tensions are very high, and occasional battles break out in different parts of Croatia.
And the suffering is staggering! Everywhere we look there are maimed veterans, grieving widows and mothers, and orphans living on the street or in deserted buildings.
When we look at the enormity of this situation--the tens of thousands of desperate and despairing people, the complex and seemingly insurmountable problems, the pathetic conditions--we are sometimes overwhelmed. How much of a difference can eight volunteers make? But each time we listen to the heartcry of some individual, or help them find new hope and direction for their life, we know we are making a difference.
The United Nations soldiers
This town is full of U.N. soldiers--Canadians, Russians and Ukrainians. Perhaps there are others, but those are the nationalities we've met and talked to thus far.
We've learned that the U.N. peacekeeping troops help with all kinds of things: they work in hospitals, evacuate civilians who are caught between warring factions, and transport people in and out of troubled areas. For example, some farmers whose land is situated in no-man's land can work their fields during the day, then at nightfall U.N. soldiers escort them back to their village, almost like a wartime taxi service.
Of all the people we've met, the peacekeepers seem to have the clearest, most objective, unemotional view of the situation--although a few of them have started to cry as they recounted to us different incidents they have witnessed. Many of them don't want to be risking their lives in a war that makes no sense to them, a war which they perceive to be intentionally prolonged by politicians and ideologues.
International news reports make scant mention of the U.N. forces' casualties, but their soldiers are constantly being wounded and maimed and killed. Canadian soldiers told us that their contingent alone has lost over 30 men in the last few months to mines, snipers, shells, rockets, etc.
We comforted one young soldier who lost both legs when the armoured vehicle he was driving on a main road in Herzegovina hit a land mine. He explained that the warring factions have started to dig up the roads and plant mines. Another U.N. soldier who is assigned to clear the mines told us that there are now approximately four million land mines in Bosnia.
As in almost any conflict, no side is completely innocent or in the right. All of the peacekeepers we've met tell us that U.N. soldiers have been shot at, wounded and killed by Bosnians, Croats and Serbs.
* * * * *
(Two weeks later:) We are now on standby 24 hours a day for the U.N. peacekeepers and others. Many people have become dependent upon us for counsel and support, and come to us at all hours of the day and night.
The U.N. troops often behave as one would expect rugged career soldiers to act, boisterous and coarse, but the next moment they may turn dead serious and ask us to pray for them. A lot of them have very dangerous jobs and fear for their lives each time they go out on patrol or to do field work. We feel privileged to be in a position to help them when they say they need it most.
At first some of them almost apologized for being in the army.
"Look," they said, "we really don't want to fight, and we don't want to kill people. We're trying to bring peace here." Their unspoken question was, "Are we doing the right thing? Are we helping or hurting humanity?"
"We share the same job," we encouraged them. "You help these people physically, clearing the mines and helping to protect them. We have come to help them spiritually."
"Good," one replied. "You do that and we'll do what we can to try and change the rest."
(To be continued.)
Copyright (c) 1998 by The Family