Mitrovice: A Frozen Conflict

The bus from Pristina arrives at the central bus station. The bus station has no electricity inside the probably once impressive building. The place smells pungently of urine, so much so that we think the lakes of liquid covering the stone floor may well be the source. Fortunately, we have no need to stay and walk toward the centre of the town and the Metrovica bridge. We’re passed by the usual hum of Kosovan traffic and there is steam rising from the sides of the street where the kebab houses, patisseries, and shoe shops form the backbone of the street economy.  These shops die away as we approach the bridge.  There is a large UN compound surrounded by razor wire and high metal fences on the right hand side. On the side of the road is a man taking away the number plates of his car.  Mark approaches the guard and asks if the situation is calm today: we intend to cross if there are no incidents reported today. Another man is called from inside who speaks fluent English. He says that the place is “a time bomb waiting to go off” and gives strong advice not to cross to the other side.  However, he gives us the information that the situation is no different today to how it normally is but that violence can happen “at any time”.

The bridge itself is now in sight. It’s a new looking four lane road bridge, with an obvious architectural intent to make it look nice. The bridge itself is empty except for two Kosovo policemen and a French lookout post flying the French and NATO flag on a nearby building.  We approach the policemen in order to get an up to date report of the situation. One policeman, about five feet nine, with kind looking eyes, but armed with a Sig handgun and CS gas on his waistbelt claims to speak a little English. In fact he’s got much better English than that.  He’s keen to know our nationality and what we are doing. He says that if we are not with an international institution, and have no necessity to cross there is a strong chance that we’ll be taken away for questioning by the security forces on the other side, or worse, by the paramilitary hardliners who watch the bridge twenty four hours a day.  It is a certainty that we’ll be followed wherever we go and our nationality will be a problem.   He says that “Not as a policeman, but as a friend, I tell you not to cross”.  We talk for a while, and ask about his experiences and what he is allowed to do on the other side which is not much. He once drove his car to the other side only to have it vandalised.  He claims that Serbs are safe to cross to the south and do not face intimidation. At this point a car with Serb plates drives freely into the south seemingly validating this point. No vehicles with “KS” number plates have crossed to the other side and none do in the time we are on the bridge except those turning left along the river road.

We ask where the jurisdiction of the southern side ends. The policeman points to the (Serbian) flag which flies on the far side. We make the decision not to cross into the North but to walk to the flag.  Traffic, both pedestrian and vehicular is very light.  A KFOR jeep and OSCE 4×4 cross whilst we’re on the bridge and two pedestrians also cross. We take photographs. As we approach the north a policeman (probably from the north, but we can’t be sure) tells us that we cannot remain on the bridge for longer than a minute and tells us either to cross or to return. We have already decided to return and the incredibly tense atmosphere has not changed our mind.  For the first time politics is more than simply discussion by men in suits and students over beer.  In north Metrovica things are real; and there’s no better way to describe it.

We walk back across the bridge and chat again to the policeman on the South side. We get along well and we all shake hands when we part ways.  At a newsstand barely 50 metres from the bridge some French soldiers are bartering and joking with the store owner.  Although I’ve seen similarly armed soldiers in Gare du Nord, these soldiers are obviously armed less for show and more for necessity.  I ask in broken French whether it would be possible to have a photograph with them. They pause and look in the direction of their NCO who is standing a little back. “Oui” is the response and so we take a couple of photos, very similar to the ones of the Carabinieri we took outside the OSCE in Pristina.  This time however we say “Merci bien” rather than “e tutto, grazie!”

Tags: Kosovo, OXAB Kosovo Exploration Trip