LITMIR.BIZ

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mainly Bosnian Serbs, for a while it was Bosnian Serbs and Bosnian Croats. For a brief mad moment, the Sarajevo authorities themselves prevented us from feeding the people of Sarajevo.

      Occasionally the conferences produced a flash of humour. High on the agenda of one was “Bull semen for cows in Sarajevo.”

      The meeting was chaired by the Vice President. Tony Land was leading for UNHCR.

      – Mr. Vice President, firstly I have seen only one cow in Sarajevo. Secondly, the transportation of bull semen is not easy, unless you happen to be a bull.

      Vice President Lagumdzija replied—To answer your first point, there are few cows. There will be even less if we do not get semen. To answer your second, it needs to be transported in temperature-controlled containers.

      Tony drew on his chemical engineering degree and his Sarajevo knowledge. Mr. Lagumdzija, the containers need to be nitrogen cooled. There is no way the Serbs will allow such containers in.

      – There you go—said Lagumdzija petulantly—back to what the Serbs will allow.

      Tony then said only half in jest—Maybe we can negotiate that the Serbs have thirty per cent of the semen?

      Back came the vice president’s reply—The Serbs can go and fuck their own cows.

      But more often than not, the conferences were hard work. In January 1993, Vice President Zlatko Lagumdzija came to the meeting in a fighting mood. When we arrived, there were TV cameras set up in the conference room. Always a bad omen.

      – Mr. Hollingworth, you are failing in Sarajevo, in Srebrenica, in Zepa, in Gorazde. Let me give you some solutions. Model one: Give us the means to solve the problem ourselves. Model two: Give us airdrops. Model three: You use all necessary means.

      This was a good start and left no opportunity for me to get in.

      Mr. Hollingworth, are you aware that in Zepa 291 people, including 166 children, have died? You told us that you were going to take a convoy on 21st of December. You said that the Serbs told you it was impossible because of heavy snow. There was no snow. You told us that you would go in on the 6th of January. You said that the Serbs told you it was impossible because of heavy fighting. There was no fighting. Here he paused. He was clearly perplexed and angered by our lack of action. Mr. Hollingworth, what is the role of UNHCR? What is the role of UNPROFOR?—These were rhetorical questions. He left no time for a reply. Believing you, we have been promising the people aid. But all of the UN institutions have done nothing…Nothing…—Another long pause. I thought about interrupting but he continued. Why do you not adopt the mandate you have been given?

      Oh boy, I am not going to try to answer that one.

      – Negotiating with the Chetniks is a waste of time. Go on, admit that UNHCR and UNPROFOR cannot achieve their aim—I thought “NO,” I will sit this one out—Mr. Larry, tell the donor governments that it is not possible to provide aid to the enclaves. Tell the governments that hundreds are dying of cold and starvation. Continue the way you are and all will die. The Chetniks started this war to annihilate these locations. They are close to finishing what they started.

      At this stage, the Vice President stopped and amazingly—yes, that is the right word—amazingly, began to cry. These were genuine tears of frustration and emotion. I am sure that they took him by surprise. His emotion devastated some of his colleagues.

      I was not prepared for it. I had until the moment of his tears thought that I was listening to a carefully prepared and rehearsed speech.

      In the pause a doctor from Zepa whose brother was practising in Zepa stepped in—Why haven’t you reached Zepa? The road is clear today, there is no fighting today. Go now.

      This was not my day. No sooner had he stopped than my friend Murat, the ex-Mayor of Srebrenica, who knew how much effort I had put into attempts at reaching Srebrenica, began.

      – There is no fighting near Srebrenica. Try now—He caught the “Et tu, Brute?” look in my eye and mellowed—Try. If you have to return, it is OK. At least they will know you tried.

      These interjections had given Zlatko time to recover and back he came with a vengeance.

      – So we agree we cannot enter anywhere because the Chetniks do not let us. So whatever happens, it is because the other side will not let us. Then let us inform the media that it is the Chetniks’ plan to kill all these people. You, the UN, have the mandate to relieve them. You, the UN, are holding cities under siege. At the airport meeting, the Chetniks agreed to allow convoys. They clearly did not mean it. So, UN, with your mandate, there is no solution. We demand airdrops. Please try again this time with adequate air drops. If you cannot respect the UN resolution, we will do something on our own. It will clearly be suicide but we will do it. Mr. Hollingworth, inform Geneva that the people of Bosnia believed in the United Nations. But you have not carried out the mandate it gave to you. We must now do it our way.

      Then he left. No farewell, he just swept out of the room.

      Zlatko, if I had been in your shoes, I would have said exactly the same. You were not normally a passionate man—you were on that day and I admired you for it.

      I was not too happy with him the next meeting.

      – Mr. Hollingworth (a bad sign), we have received from your office in Zagreb all the paperwork for all the aid that has arrived at the airport. There is a thirty per cent deficiency between that which was put on the aircraft and that which was distributed. Who is eating our food?

      – Mr. Vice President, you cannot eat aircraft pallets.

      Zlatko and the Bosnian Government were shouting about Srebrenica and Zepa, but we had promised an early return to Gorazde which, having done it once, seemed easier. We told the Serbs of our plans and they gave approval. Naturally, we told the Bosnian government. They must have told the authorities in Gorazde.

      We had a French escort and Egyptian drivers. The drivers were late, and I cursed their ancient ancestors that must have annoyed the Egyptian duty officer. They were late, but the journalists as ever were on time. The first to arrive was one half of the BBC twin legends Kate Adie. She had set off with her team in Sarajevo city. They were the first down the dreaded sniper alley. The duty sniper was alert and delighted to see a single vehicle travelling fast enough to challenge his skills. He fired one round. He was a good shot, he aimed off to compensate for the moving vehicle, his range and distance were correct, but his weapon was firing low. Thank God. The round hit Kate’s armoured Land Rover at the base of the panel in front of the passenger door. The round lost velocity as it passed through armoured plate, the footwell of the Land Rover and the boot on the right foot of Kate. Naturally, the crew did not stop. They raced on and arrived at the airport. In the quiet of the morning, we had heard the shot. The Land Rover parked alongside mine and Kate removed her boot. The round had not penetrated the skin, but her foot was sore. As the day progressed, it became a dark blue. She was lucky as she had been in Tien An Men. It was an omen for the day.

      The road from Sarajevo to Pale twists and turns, and the final kilometres are down a steep hill. The terrain in Egypt must be flatter. I know this because the Egyptian drivers, each and every one, drove down the hill slowing their ten-tonne vehicles laden with flour using just the brakes. The gear lever was an expensive cab ornament, not even used as an optional extra. I was not aware of this, as I proudly led the convoy waving to the children until the third vehicle burst into flames. The convoy stopped. I walked back to the vehicle, passing vehicles one and two, which smelt of burning rubber. The fire in the third was quickly extinguished. The vehicle was unloaded in Pale. Pleasing the locals and making a virtue out of necessity. The drivers were introduced to the gear lever and we proceeded.

      At Rogatica, the inspection team were vicious. But for a good reason. On this very day, the Bosnians had decided to break out of Gorazde, to end the siege. And apparently, they were doing well.

      – It is all your fault—I was told.

      –

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