Leave or die. The choice given to Vjollca Jakupi and her family was clear. Never did she anticipate that leaving her home would be the only option during the war that ravaged Kosovo in 1999. Many families fled in the face of violence, but Vjollca did not want to leave her country. She bought enough food to last several months and believed that the war would soon end. As days passed, the daily shootouts between opposing groups intensified and posed a constant threat to civilian families. Vjollca clearly recalls the moment when she would have to make a vital decision. One afternoon, while sitting with her family in their living room she heard gunfire outside. “I looked out the window to see a person laid out in my garden. I did not see the face of the person, but I noticed that my surroundings were full of Serbian paramilitary. Soon thereafter, a knock was heard at the door. The Serbian paramilitary was now forcing their way into Vjollca’s home.
“They moved so fast as if they knew my house well. My family was silent. In a moment, they took my son by force and put a gun to his head. Some of the Serbian paramilitary started to laugh while the others continued to look around, but all my attention was on the face of my son. I did not know if this would be the last day I would see him alive. The Serbian policeman who held my son said, “You need to pay for his life, if you want to see him alive.” He was serious.”
Vjollca gave the man all of the jewelry she had and her husband relinquished all of the money that was in the house. Despite these actions, the Serbian paramilitary did not immediately release the young boy.
I was silent. I looked into the face of my son. He closed his eyes and I noticed he slowly moved his mouth. I thought he was praying. I don’t know how long this situation lasted, but it felt like a lifetime. After a while, they left our house and released my son. Before they left, one of them said to us, “You have five minutes to leave the house. After that, we won’t guarantee your life."
Everything familiar and achieved was gone with a soldier’s demand. Vjollca learned that the person she had seen laid out in the garden earlier was an eighteen-year-old neighbor who died from gunshots wounds. The family immediately left the home and stayed with friends for two nights in Prishtina. After two days in the city, they were forced to flee again, this time to Macedonia. Behind, they left several family members many of whom were pregnant, elderly or sick. Others parted with small children. En route, Vjollca and others encountered paramilitary who asked for money. By the time they reached Macedonia, they were broke. Fans of Vjollca’s husband, who is a popular Albanian singer, offered shelter and food. After a one-month stay in Macedonia, offices were set up in Skopje and refugees began receiving assistance.
"My family was lucky, because we had some cousins (who would also become their sponsors) in New York, and they were waiting for us. The rules were to visit the doctors and get vaccinated. It took us only three days. We were interviewed on Tuesday, May 4, 1999, and by Saturday, May 7, 1999; we were on an airplane out of the country."
"On May 8, 1999 I set foot in New York for the first time in my life. I did not have time to think about whether it was good or bad, I just wanted to go somewhere else, to have my home, somewhere where my child will have a choice of schools and go freely out to play with friends."
The new lifestyle was an adjustment. Vjollca took on a full time job as a cleaning woman and was also a full time student, sometimes working from 6 a.m. to 2 a.m. Today, Vjollca and her family are making very different decisions from that pivotal one back in 1999.
“That event pushed me outside myself, it was horrible. Violent, threatening; yet it was also the clearest, most simple decision I’ve ever had to make. It reduced every concern in my life to one. It reduced my past, present and future to one decision, to one move. In literally five minutes I gave up all my future dreams and hopes for an unknown. This was what others couldn’t see me losing; this was the most personal loss. My house, my job, childhood street, language and country are easy to imagine being taken away. What people couldn’t see that I lost there were the future dreams and hopes that I had. My dreams were rooted in that house and country, but never had a chance of coming about.”
She continues to take non-credit English classes and expects to buy a house this fall. Vjollca is also the Program Manager of the Albanian American Women’s Organization and notes that “we talk very little about what happened there.” We focus on this future here and the strength we need to realize it. We know the challenge of replacing a lost future.”
“I’m not sure what I lost when I lost that future, but I know that being forced to have a new future has enabled me to feel and see that I have so many choices and possibilities. From that one clear, initial decision – leave or die - I now feel stronger knowing that I can make such change in my life. It has given me a faith in my potential and the awareness of futures lost and gained.”
Hilary Langford, 2003
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| Vjollca |
