Documenti
Milan Corriere della Sera (Internet version) in Italian 21 May 97
Report by Massimo Nava
Vlore -- Even the right to burial has been abolished in Vlore.
Covered by a fly-blown, bloodstained sheet, the corpse of Osmen Kovaci, 18, lay
for hours in an excavated alleyway, like some dog run over by a speeding car.
He is the latest victim. He was killed at 1000 hours with a burst of machine gun
fire, and not even the undertaker will violate the undeclared curfew. The
children around the dead man recount his execution as though they had been
watching a television movie. His father and uncle pleaded with our troops, and
then asked us to take him away: "The blood is dry; it will not stain your
seats." But this is not the problem in the deserted streets, amid the
frightening silence, broken from time to time by bursts of gunfire and
explosions. A car with a Tirana license plate is enough to draw insults and to
constitute a target. At last he was carried off. Wrapped in a carpet, with one
arm hanging from the open trunk. After three months of anarchy, Vlore is like
the Wild West, where not even hearses go. The Zani gang, which suffered an
attack by heavy machine guns the other day, is holed up in the Ciole quarter and
has organized check points, like a military force. The schools are closed, and
people's blinds are drawn. In this "Tartars' desert" our soldiers mount guard
against an invisible enemy, and one that cannot be attacked even when he does
materialize. The tide of anarchy has prompted a kind of self- imposed siege,
but nobody surrounds a city which can be entered only under escort and which it
is dangerous to leave. Only the beach shows signs of life. Little children jump
from the jetty, a few fishermen are returning to shore, and the illegal emigres'
inflatable dinghies try out their engines. "Nobody can impose order.
Officially, there is a police force, but none of the policemen are willing to go
into the streets. We cannot intervene in the gang warfare. The same applies to
contraband, the departure of illegal emigrees, and drug dealing," according to
Girolamo Giglio, who commands the operations of the multinational force in
southern Albania and who is answerable to General Forlani. Was this an admission
of impotence? "Definitely not. We were assigned other tasks -- to defend the
population and to ensure the distribution of aid -- and I think that we are
performing them very well." Then he pointed to the map: "Even if we did receive
different orders, with 1,000 men we could not disarm this extraordinary people's
army and control such a large area." The alternative authority of the "salvation
committees" -- an expression of the anger of the people who have been defrauded
and of political expectations -- is now considering new tactics. "The parties
squabble; we no longer believe anyone; it is better to blow up a few bridges and
to govern ourselves," some say. This is the prelude to secession. A few
bridges have already been blown up further south, in Gjirokaster province. The
moderates are talking about independent candidates for a kind of "Southern
League," if elections are ever held. The fact that the country is split is shown
by the surreal election campaign begun, without agreed rules, by President
Berisha, who yesterday held a rally in Fier, the last area south of Tirana still
under his control. The president arrived with a procession of armored cars
flying flags, accused the opposition forces of not wanting an agreement, and
left again for the capital where "his" prime minister is issuing increasingly
insistent appeals for international aid: "We want elections, but fundamental
guarantees are at stake," Prime Minister Fino keeps saying. Overnight he made
yet another mediation attempt. The trial of strength conducted on hot coals
continues, and the South in turn accuses the government of boycotting an
agreement. The committees accuse Berisha's secret police of organizing
terrorism: "They have enrolled former convicts and paramilitary groups to carry
out attacks. Nobody believes the stories about gang warfare." According to the
inquiries, the attack the other day was organized by a group to avenge a
kidnapping by Zani's men. But it is impossible to obtain confirmation, when the
institutions are nonexistent, and to reconstruct a scenario of kidnappings,
attacks, robberies, and homicides nurtured by this absence. Gang leader Zani
claims the role of the city's defender: "I was offered a million dollars to
kill the members of the committee," he told one Albanian daily. Opposition
political sources argue that funds made available under the state of emergency
have been used to enroll at least a thousand agents. Supposedly, 300 of them
have been assigned to protect the president: One Tirana daily reported the
details of a failed attempt in early March. Apart from the "disclosures" and
steered reports, there are many signs of the fact that the Albanian crisis has
entered a new phase of intersecting strategies, both within and perhaps outside
the country. Having been duped and deprived of even short-lived prosperity, the
South will never agree to be governed by the "state robbers," by the government
clans which, clinging to power at all costs, hope to appropriate the
international aid and finance business, too. There is only one solution --
either to step up efforts to establish peace, or to give up.