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February 27, 2001 THE BUFFER ZONE BBB: Bujanovac - Belgrade - BrusselsOur reporter finds himself among policemen in the rocky and rugged border terrain under the Serbian jurisdiction and among the Albanians of the brightest star on the Interpol map. 
The latest "hot spot" in the long bloody sequence that Balkan has contributed to the world in the last decade is called "southern Serbia." Not a very fortunate toponym for the marginal region of the Republic of Serbia near the administrative border with (its own?!) province of Kosovo. It consists of segments of the municipalities of Medvedja, Bujanovac and Presevo with majority ethnic Albanian population, but it should be noted that this "crisis region" is not territorially compact since a part of the Vranje municipality separates Medvedja from the municipalities of Bujanovac and Presevo, the southernmost municipality on the very junction of Kosovo, Serbia and Macedonia. The first military action of the Liberation Army of Presevo, Bujanovac and Medvedja (LAPBM) was carried out on November 22nd last year. Taking advantage of the fact that the 5km-wide so-called ground security zone was free of heavily-armed Serbian military formations, LAPBM launched a surprise attack in which four Serbian policemen were killed. The extremists' strongholds were Albanian villages of Veliki Trnovac, Lucani (both in Bujanovac municipality), and Cerevajka (Presevo municipality) that were out of range for the Serbian police due to the fact that they are all within the "buffer zone." This effectively allowed LAPMB to strengthen its positions by erecting numerous fortification objects in the villages and the nearby hills. New Serbian government, in addition to all other problems, was thus forced to deal with "an armed conflict on its territory." However, unlike Milosevic's regime, the new authorities are trying to react with restraint as much as possible, calling on political representatives of Albanians to engage in dialogue on the basis of the so-called "Covic plan." On the international front, Belgrade launched an intensive diplomatic offensive, lobbying support for its proposal to solve to the crisis. Eventually this diplomatic effort of the new authorities proved to be successful. Unfortunately, the last few days brought the tensions to the boiling point. The response of the Albanian political representatives was to be expected, but the extremists' message was tragically transparent: three police officers were killed on February 18th in an explosion of a planted antitank mine on the road near Bujanovac. The Grand IllusionThe journey from Belgrade to Bujanovac lasts over four hours, which is not at all indicative of the poor condition of the present-day roads in this country, but rather speaks of the sad results of the project "Greater Serbia". True enough, the highway Nis-Skopje, which endows the conflict with a geo-strategic dimension, is in an extremely poor state in the region of Presevo valley, and it remains a mystery how it copes with the heavy truck traffic. The bus under police protection arrives in Bujanovac, followed by curious looks of local residents, both symbols of "normality" - kids carrying their schoolbags, and symbols of "reality" - armed men in miscellaneous uniforms. Visit to Bujanovac is the best proof that nothing is as it first appears to be. Under the February sun, local high school girls are taking an afternoon stroll, modeling trendy brand-name outfits, as if they were in Belgrade. It is definitely not a backward area in appearance, let alone a "crisis" region. With a smile, the guide clarifies our astonishment: "All journalists who spent more than a week here have already gone berserk!" Professionals and patriots
Nearby Albanian extremists' positions reveal the gravity of the situation. Although we have taken a bus to Veliki Trnovac and Serbian police positions, just to be on the safe side, it is quite clear that we could have taken a walk instead. About a hundred metres away from the asphalt road, one can see the remnants of the jeep where Serbian policemen were killed after hitting a landmine. As soon as we get off the bus, we run one by one to the police bunker, close enough to the Albanian base for a snowball fight, let alone for exchanging sniper fire. Although a police officer from the headquarters was assigned to deal with the press, a single look at the rest of the policemen suffices to grasp their indifference. The Albanian positions are on the dominant hills, so that Serbian police are left with "places to hide as best they can," instead of having active military position. "Strategically speaking, terrorists are in a much better position. They can beat us in no time," reckons the "press" officer. The order is to use force only in response to provocations, which brings to complete paradox a reflector that is defiantly on even in broad daylight. "At night, they try to dazzle us, so that they can get over the line and set an explosive. Unfortunately, they were successful in it a few days ago." When we ask them why they don't just hit that light with a shotgun, the "press" officer, who refused to reveal either his name or his rank, and even forbade us to take a picture of him, is obviously confused, and keeps repeating "the request for restrained reaction."
Veliki Trnovac. I am trying to get a glimpse of the whole village through a peephole in the bunker (actually, adapted "little house" of drug trafficker Mahmut Malici), trying at the same time not to stick out too much - you never know. The whole Konculj foothill is crammed with houses enclosed within high walls. "We support the stance of our authorities regarding peaceful solution to the crisis, but I want to say that we are all professionals and patriots. In case the need for action arises, we are ready!", said the "press" officer in typical leader's tone of voice. Stone-faced, furrowed, weather-beaten. I am thinking about everything this From Here to EternityAt a checking point a few metres away, the culmination of this whole confusion is tangible. If there is a border, even between two parties at war, there must also be a checking point. An old Audi with Vranje car plates is approaching us, heading for Trnovac, the drug traffic capital of Serbia. I stop the car with a colleague from a Slovenian TV station. On the front seat, there are two men, and the driver with a sullen expression opens the window. "Is there army in Trnovac?" we ask. "Of course there is," replies the chatty driver. We are persistent: "And who shoots first?" "Those from here," answers the driver in a cool tone and closes the window. Just to remind you, we are on the so-called Serbian territory. 
Nonsense par excellence is a bus crammed with Trnovac villagers, probably en route to Presevo. There are many young men in it, described by "the press officer" just a few minutes ago as "positively terrorist, for what else can a resident of a drug traffic center be but a terrorist." The police officers are steaming and swearing, explaining that some of the passengers took off their uniforms only half an hour ago, and now they are posing as civilians. The moment when the bus door opens for a bus controller to hand over to the policemen a list (the list of passengers, I suppose) is the perfect time for me to jump in - a piece of cake, considering my years of experience with public transport in Belgrade. Potentials of economic cooperation between Trnovac and Belgrade"What's up man, what's going on in Trnovac," I ask amiably. "Well, what are they doing out there you ask, man, they are thinking about peace, that every man needs, and so do we," answers the controller readily, a friendly-looking middle-aged man. I ask him about the Covic peace plan and he replies: "If it were good for every one, it would be just as good for us." "We want to get all the rights we are entitled to as citizens," gradually the old man is becoming talkative. I insist on some more answers, and then he says, very resolutely and dourly: "What do we lack? Not a single man is employed. No one! Nowhere! There is not a single factory in Veliki Trnovac." Economy is fine, but where would he rather see his village, in Kosovo or in Serbia? The old geezer is a real McCoy in diplomacy: "Everyone should live in its own village. We are here and have always been here!" Encouraged by an emerging atmosphere of brotherhood and unity, I ask him if I could drop in Trnovac on the way back? "Well, I cannot guarantee anything," he is at least sincere. "What a pity, I have heard that there are many various industries in Trnovac," I say jokingly. "Drugs are not done in Veliki Trnovac. We do not make drugs here. No factory of drugs. Nothing we have. Maybe drug comes from somewhere to Trnovac, and then goes to Belgrade. There is a lot in Belgrade," explains the old man. "This means that there is intensive economic cooperation between Belgrade and Trnovac," I go on jokingly, but the man answers this time in a lower voice and more slowly: "You must live on something. From drugs or cigarettes, there is nothing else here to live on." The bus driver hurries us to finish, since the timetable must be respected. "Thanks a lot and take care," I jump off, quite euphoric. The best-selling toy: rifle
Tour de Bujanovac - thirty minutes would suffice. The square, promenade, market, pastry shop, several cafés, hotel. The cigarettes vendors, Romanies are pushing carts with collected waste cardboard. There is a police officer on the crossroads, a local resident, so I approach him. "You're from Belgrade? Well man, I don't know what this is…I've been to Kosovo, but there haven't been so many journalists. Look now at our Bujanovac," this is the only possible version of pride in these unfortunate circumstances. In front of a supermarket, an old lady is selling toys. "What do kids buy," I ask her. "Look, these rifles," she replies and readily poses for our photographer. The fact that boys prefer rifles and guns, and girls prefer dolls, is nothing new. The question is when the adults are finally going to get bored with these "toys." Back to Belgrade.
Dusan Kosanovic
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man may have gone through (done?) over the last ten years. "We are usually provoked by sniper shots, and sometimes they even attack us with artillery. We return fire only selectively, mostly rifle fire," he says. Even to a total military dilettante like myself, it is clear that any action of police forces without the support of the artillery is impossible, and I venture to comment on it. He confirms through clenched teeth that I am right. Retreating from a protruding position, I manage to "melt" one police officer for an off the record chat: "Hey, bro, can you beat up those from up there?" Gazing at Trnovac, he says quietly: "Bro, this could only be a new Vukovar." 