Smuggling myself into a war torn Socialist country. No kidding.
Is it human trafficking if I’m doing it myself – with myself, I mean?
I worked for the United Nations in the Republic of Yugoslavia June 1995 - April 1996. During that time life in Yugoslavia was rather difficult. Yes the bread line riots and massive daily inflation were over – the folk had a short break. However, due to the ending of one war and, a pause before the next. At the same time, life was pretty good, away from the capitol and, after having seen a town or two in the provinces, I’d decided that there was a lot more to learn about this place. More to it, there were was a lot to learn that would be to my benefit at some time in the future. As for the food I was, at that time, still not quite addicted to a lot of Balkans cuisine. The time would soon come though, when I knew it was to be some of my favorite ‘ethnic’ cuisine.
The terms of our employment with the UN were varied and sometimes strange; we did have regular periods of vacation. However vacations were not long so we were mostly limited to European/East Coast US travel when possible make a trip that long. Many trips were weekends. This trip was planned to be longer and boy was it. It all sounds so simple but, even the simplest things go awry, at times. Somehow, [and I’m still not quite sure how-don’t ask] I made it back, in time for work, on the appointed day.
For my second or third vacation, I went into Western Europe and spent some time in Amsterdam & Prague. I also had contacted a close friend from college to join us and, we had a pretty great time. We greatly enjoyed the architecture & history of the Netherlands and we drank quite a bit of coffee. Alas, my trip was far less than perfect. Agreeing to stay in a hostel was the least of my mistakes but, it was the singular mistake that led to all the others. It’s not a very boring nor short chain of circumstances either. Then again, none of my stories are anyway, so what.
Whilst we were preparing to enjoy some architecture in Amsterdam, my wallet was stolen from our room in the hostel. Actually we were in the room, getting ready for the day, showering, etc. Someone just reached in and grabbed it. So, there ya go. Off to the races we were.
Whoosh - there I went!!! Vacation completely changed-not to say destroyed. I mean, I could have just been sitting around either Prague or Amsterdam but, no. Somehow it was decided that I’d much rather be calling, walking, tramming, taxiing and/or running back and forth between various and assorted offices of bureaucratic agencies and departments. So, that’s what I did.
First, I needed to get a passport and was able to do so almost immediately. I don’t know why but, I remember at the time not being very suspicious about the US State Dept moving so quickly. Now I see this oversight for the tragic error that it was. Mystifying. Potentially crippling. Clearly I wasn’t thinking.
Then the visa to get back to the job site. Well, job country, to be exact. In 1996, with war fresh [if not still being fought] there weren’t so many applicants for visas to travel to the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Said visas being a prerequisite for boarding/departing on a flight to Belgrade, the capitol.
While still in the Netherlands, I attempted, several times, to obtain a visa from the Yugoslav embassy, in Den Haag. To no avail. Let me say that I called them more than several times – I just didn’t quite burn that bridge but, it was certainly smoking. They failed to understand the United Nations part of the call and, continually told me to, “…have your company call us for verification of your employment…..” Somehow that didn’t work either – surprise, surprise.
I then traveled further to Prague, as I knew the location of the Yugoslavian/Serbian embassy there at that time. Now, let me add that, at this time, though I was not fluent in Serbian, I was pretty good at getting my point across, in their language. More on that later. ;}
So two embassies down, no visa – but I’m in constant contact with the office of the UN mission, in Belgrade, who employs me there. Though there were being as supportive as possible, there wasn’t much that they could do about helping me obtain a visa: all the visas for all the mission members were obtained in situ, upon arrival at Surcin, the Belgrade Nikola Tesla International Airport. They were used to that as were the rest of us so…….they simply advised me to get on the flight and to let anyone who asked, that I was going to be met by the UN delegation! Sounds really simple huh?
Yah, it wasn’t that simple. Not at all. Lots of convincing required. And as we all know, Americans have been the ‘favorite group’ of foreigners in Europe for quite some time. Heh, heh.
On the flight to Belgrade, thinking I must have done something really special to be able to get on the flight with no visa. Still laughing at that thought, clearly this was just a highly choreographed conspiracy to either: get rid of me or, test me in some way. OK, whatever……..
As I arrive in Belgrade, I see that two flights have arrived at the same time, as I’d seen before. Mostly just to compress the work time of employees at the airport – as I don’t remember there being a large surplus of employees at that airport, during those days.
To be honest, our procedure at the airport was a no brainer. We, [UN employees] would simply gravitate to the back of the line for immigrations, until we saw the lady from our HQ [headquarters] come into the hallway from the other end. At which point she would contact the immigrations folks and, poof, we were out the door and on the way to the luggage conveyors.
So, just waiting - waiting. In the arrival lounge of an international airport. Well, before immigrations so, there were some seats but, no lounge. The main international airport in a country who was not too friendly with the US Government, at that time. Waiting - waiting, good thing I was in the military, got this waiting thing down…….
When I look up at the immigrations agent [a Militija officer] I see that, there line is now almost non-existent, except for two very suspicious looking Middle Eastern men and, three western businessmen. [as a note: Serbia itself is an Orthodox Christian nation. At the time, 1996, they had just been fighting with Bosnia and, were just entering the Dayton Peace Talks.] Now, I’m thinking that, this is going to put a fly in the ointment as the lady from the UN isn’t here.
I look back up, it’s me, the Middle Eastern guys with their passports out and, the lady from the UN isn’t here yet. THE LADY FROM THE UN ISN’T HERE, oh crap, I’m in real trouble now!!!
Now the Middle Eastern guys walk up and, begin to talk to the Militija officer in broken Serbian and/or broken English. Both languages very broken – I’m not sure if they were attempting some sort of stereo effect but, they were having an effect. The 1st man takes out his passport and YUP – green as heck [green is a VERY muslim color], covered with gold lettering, and LOTS of allah as well. Hmmmm.
a question, an answer, not much heard there, then,
“…but wait seer, I haf the veesa to be enter your Yugoslavia country!”
And the Serbian Militija officer answers-
“I don’t care what you have – you’re from Syria. I’m not going to let some Syrians travel to Sarajevo, when my Christian country is at war with them. You may sit over there [points toward the exit to the tarmac] and, wait to make flight arrangements!!”
Wow, so, not a lot of sugar coating there. Man, this is NOT going to be pretty when I get up there. For about one-half of a second, maybe more like three, I’m looking for an escape route. Except the Militija officer is looking at me, half-smiling, as if to say: let me stamp your little book now, so that we can go and get a coffee!
Now by this time in my stay in Yugoslavia, what the Program Manager had hired me for was really starting to show. I had already manifested decent ability in holding a conversation about basic matters in about 10-15 weeks. Great. But, this isn’t basic conversation, I’m hoping to at least stay out of jail and now, he’s just kicked two other foreigners out, and they ACTUALLY HAD the visas I had spent so much time and trouble locating yet not acquiring. Well, I think we all know how this one’s going to end up. I can just feel that phone call now.
I walk up to the window and meant to place my passport on the little ledge next to the cut out in the window. Somehow, my fingers were sweaty, the passport stuck a bit strangely to my hand and I ended up using my passport as a Frisbee to nail the nice Serbian Militija officer just about in the tie bar. Well above the belly button. If you know you’re going, might as well go in style and leave a trail.
As he looks at me, I tell him [in what was admittedly very, very basic/pidgin Serbian],
“pardon me much seer but, it’s seemingly that I want to enter your country with not having a visa, which was needed!”
So, he tilts his head & kinks his eyes a bit [who in the heck wouldn’t at this point] and asks,
“Well, how does that work? You got on the plane in Vienna to come here, how do you not have an Entrance visa for my nation?”
Well, to say that it was a long and torturous explanation is an understatement that would shock a British soldier – but I got the major details in for him and, then he smiled. He effing smiled.
“So, I see,” he says, “…you’re waiting on the girl, Bisera, who works for the UN to come and get you – you work with her, yes?”
Well, no I don’t actually work ‘with’ her but, at this point, any harbor is safer than waiting with the Syrian war-bringing dudes, so, “YES, of course I work with her!!”
He looks at me and, with a bigger grin states, “You must like it here in my country – your ability to speak my language is pretty good sir.”
I admit that the food, the sites, the women and, the people in general, have caught my attention more than once.
Then he looks around and, we’re alone except for the Syrian ‘merchants’ [probably the Merchant Marine, I guess] and the surveillance cameras. He reaches into a low drawer, draws out a rubber stamp and, breathes on it whilst looking at the cameras. [even ink was in rather short supply so, a good inking at the beginning of the shift; then a couple of hard breaths could produce a readable stamp] Wonder of surprises, HE STAMPED A VISA INTO MY PASSPORT – I couldn’t believe it at all. Except, then, I needed to pay him – that was the going method in those days, they stamp at the border/entry point and you pay on the spot. I took a look at the stamp – every visa/stamp at the time had a place on it where the price you paid was handwritten. Except, he didn’t write an amount, he wrote some word in Cyrillic Serbian script. I was just barely learning that at the time and, needless to say, I became super nervous again and, just reached for my money.
“Hey sir, if you can read that, read it before you simply get out your money – what if you don’t have enough?!”
So I began to eke out the sounds of the letters – so talk about sounding like a danged hayseed trying to read this guys writing!
Annnndddd, here we go, for the exit from immigration control:
G [for sure, that angle thing’s a ‘G’]
Gp [looks like a ‘p’ but, wait, that won’t work…..]
Gr [OK, now we’re cookin, for sure that’s an ‘r’]
Gra [so three in a row, maybe I WON”T be in jail tonight]
Grat [the ‘a’ and the ‘t’ are both latin looking, easy to recognize so……HEY, hold on here]
Gratn [noooo, surely he’s not talkin about potatoes with – wait, it’s backwards ‘N’ so that means – I??}
Grati [no, not a chance, b/c for sure, the last letter is…….]
Gratis – WTF???? He wants to charge me nothing, NOTHING – in a very corrupt country, he’s charging an American ZERO for entry?
He laughs and says, “Hey, I know the town you work in, nobody can get anywhere fast from there, these days. And, it seems you like it here so, it’d be a shame to make you wait. Have a great day, welcome to Yugoslavia and, go and get your bags sir!”
WOW, just not even barely understanding that but, I need to get out of here so, I get my bags and, make my way to the hotel where the UN mission was staying/Headquartered. Hilarity ensues whilst walking from elevator to room:
“Hey mate, there you are Bisera – wait, Bisera left just now to pick you up at the airport, how’d you make it here so quickly?”
See above!!