Let me introduce myself. My name is Bojan Budimac. Born in 1959 in Novi Sad, Yugoslavia. Graduated from The Academy of Fine Arts (painting), at The University of Novi Sad. Worked 12 years as a set designer for the local TV (now there's just rubble). After the country became devoid of hope (February '93), I moved with my wife (an ethnic Hungarian -- mixed marriages are very common in Vojvodina) to Budapest, Hungary.
In your article Sincere regrets you listed destroyed material goods in Yugoslavia. Well, the damage is huge, but I am even more worried by damage done in people's minds. My generation (and not just mine) was generally brought up on western culture (certainly our heroes were not communist workers but rock 'n' roll stars). Now, logically we feel betrayed by the same west whose values we shared. I am afraid that there is no "Marshall plan" capable of healing that kind of wound.
A popular joke nowadays in Belgrade is: We definitely proved that earth is round. For decades we shitted on the East and shit came from the West!
Losing trust in Western democracy in my opinion will be the major damage produced by this war. This is the first war that the attacked nation can watch on TV. Most of the people there have satellite dishes or cable so they can watch CNN, SKY and other western media (if they have electricity, of course -- maybe I am misinformed but my knowledge is that power plants are protected by the Geneva Accords). Everybody is shocked with the fact that "free" media are just as much 'propaganda machinery' as Serbian TV. Every day they see with their own eyes that NATO is bombing civilian targets (how can a sugar factory be a military target?), and every day they watch the briefing from Brussels where Jamie Shea is repeating that NATO targets are legitimate military targets. Then Slobodan Clinton comes on and convinces them that NATO has nothing against people of Yugoslavia. How cynical...
As you already know my city is quite a popular target for NATO. Besides all the other material damage, the average citizen of Novi Sad will never forget/forgive the bridges -- especially the oldest iron bridge. That was not a beautiful bridge. It was made by German POWs just after W.W. II on the pillars of the bridge destroyed by Germans. It was meant to be there just for five years and then to be replaced with some more lasting construction. But it stayed.
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Novi Sad lost great deal of money because of that bridge. It was the lowest bridge on the Danube and far below European standards, so when the water is high big ships could not pass below it and had to wait for a lower water level. In such cases the city was paying penalties to shipping companies. Still we loved that bridge. I myself was using it daily while I was studying because my Academy is in the Petrovaradin Fortress.
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Speaking of bridges, here is one authentic story. Last week my friend, who lives in Prague, had a meeting in Szeged (a Hungarian city close to the border with Yugoslavia) with his ex-wife and four-year-old daughter (they still live in Novi Sad). While they were taking a walk by the riverbank little Timea asked: "Papa! How come these bridges are not in the water?"
I would like to inform you about Vojvodina. As you know that is the north province of Serbia. Like Serbia and Yugoslavia itself it is multiethnic and major nationalities are Serbs, Hungarians, Romanians, Slovakians, Ukrainians, Croats etc. At present the population is about 1.8 million. The demographic situation has changed in last ten years. The Population grew by about 20% (refugees from Croatia and Bosnia) and about 10-15% of Hungarians (who are the major minority, estimated number about 300 000 - 350 000) left the country for Hungary. More than 50% of all refugees in Serbia are stationed in Vojvodina (and generally those poor people are not welcomed anywhere).
To all that we have to add abolition of Vojvodina's autonomy by Slobodan Milosevic in 1989, the main consequence of which was a rapid falling of the living standard (Vojvodina was, with Slovenia and Croatia, one of the richest parts of former Yugoslavia). Another consequence was the narrowing of minorities' rights. There's no separatist movement in Vojvodina, but there are political parties who struggle (in democratic ways) for the return of autonomy. Although all nationalities lived in peace for 50 years these demographic changes make Vojvodina very vulnerable to ethnic clashes.
I am very afraid, if the West makes some deal with Milosevic, after a while he will start something there. The history of his rule shows that every time he had some problems maintaining power he started a war, or in this last case a crisis (in that he is very similar to W.J. Clinton -- just that the latter is bombing countries far away from the USA). If Milosevic could be removed with a simple "Go away!" (i.e. elections), he wouldn't be a dictator. So most of the people in Yugoslavia are in a schizophrenic situation, they would love to see Milosevic toppled but not with bombs falling on them.
Graffiti in Novi Sad: MILOSEVIC ON THE EARTH, NATO IN THE SKY AND WHERE IS GOD?
My best regards,
Bojan
Update: Blackout in Novi Sad
Viktor Levi
Thursday, May 27, 1999
from The Guardian, LondonEveryone is going to church these days in Novi Sad. It is the only place to obtain candles, which have sold out in the shops. People buy them from the churches or, if they are poor, the priests give them away.
Since Sunday night, when Nato's planes hit the main power station for Novi Sad, there have been no street lights at night: the city has become completely ghostly.
You find a lot of people walking around - especially those who live alone - talking to themselves. One evening I met four or five elderly women chatting away to no one.
On Sunday night, the planes hit our main, high voltage supply station, Novi Sad Three. It was struck by real bombs and missiles, not the graphite devices that cause temporary disruption. Now it is completely out of service.
The generating station was the main source for the whole of Voijvodina and one of the largest, high voltage stations in Serbia. Novi Sad One and Two are much older and smaller generating stations.
On my estimate, we have, perhaps, 15% of supplies and that through lower voltage transmission lines. Yesterday there was light for three hours in some residential areas. I measured it at 150/160 volts instead of 220 volts. There's no electricity here in the university where I'm stuck. I'm trying to prepare papers for American and British academic journals, but I can't use my computer. Lectures have all been cancelled because we are forbidden from gathering large groups of students during air raids, but it is exam time.
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Everyone is afraid of the bombs. Three weeks ago we were evacuated from our offices during a raid and there was real panic.
Sometimes water comes out of the taps. Each area of town gets service for part of the day. But the pressure is very low. Flats at the top of high rise buildings don't get any water at all. Only customers with priority number one are being supplied with electricity. This means hospitals and the most important institutes.
You see some people going to work but very little's being done. Lots of factories have stopped. Sections of the food industry are still in production, although a lot of industry has been destroyed; you can't imagine how many buildings.
There are people queueing for bread every day because they can't bake it so fast without electricity. Here, in the north of Serbia, at least there is food. In the southern part not so much. Near the Bulgarian border, at Pirot, where one of my students comes from, I'm told there's no food at all. People are starving.
It's terrible. Everything is horrible; everybody wants the war to stop right now; everybody asks why.
I was helping to plan new power stations and to develop the network grid. The bombers hit all the big generating stations at the weekend, including the ones near Nis and Belgrade. So the blackout experience is similar across the whole country. Fifteen minutes ago there were more sirens for air raids. I don't know what they are going to bomb now.
Viktor Levi, 40, professor of power engineering at Novi Sad university, was talking to Guardian reporter Owen Bowcott.
Lara Marlowe
The Irish Times
Tuesday, June 22, 1999
The fish at the Alaska Koliba open-air restaurant are fresh, and if you pay them enough, the gypsy singers who croon Love Me Tender beside your table will leave you alone. Looking across the Danube at the green hills and redroofed houses glowing in the afternoon sun, you might think you were in northern Italy. But as you watch the boatmen on small outboard launches puttering from one bank to another, fighting the river's strong current to pick up clients with pre-arranged appointments, there is a persistent absence: the bridges of Novi Sad.
All three were destroyed in NATO's 11-week bombardment of Yugoslavia, along with the oil refineries and most of the infrastructure of Serbia's third-largest city. Residents wait up to three hours for a ferry to the other bank of their city - about the same amount of time it takes to drive to Belgrade, cross the Danube and drive back up to the far side of the river.
Bridges dominate the collective imagination of Novi Sad now.
Slobodan Savic, a cameraman for the local official television station, was crossing the Sloboda ("Freedom") Bridge when NATO aircraft bombed it at 8 p.m. on April 3rd. He was driving very fast, and his friends think that saved him. Dramatic images of his Mazda car clinging perilously to the steep incline where the middle of the bridge crashed into the water were seen all over the world.
Mr Savic was so badly hurt by the concussion that he could not walk, but he managed to pull himself out of his car on to the tilting asphalt. He saw another missile coming towards him and believed his life was over. The missile hit a different section of the bridge a few hundred metres away. When, eventually, a motor boat came to save him, the cameraman slid down the broken bridge to the water. "Please go and get my camera from the car," he begged the rescue workers.
Two days earlier, a 26-year-old oil refinery worker was not so lucky. He was crossing the old Petrovaradin Bridge on his bicycle when it was bombed just before 5 a.m. For a month, the young man's family and friends searched for him. No one was sure whether he had been on the bridge when it was destroyed. Then his body - without legs - was discovered 10 km downstream.
The inhabitants of Belgrade wondered why NATO spared their own four bridges over the Sava and the Danube. A few days ago, President Jacques Chirac of France announced that he had vetoed the bombing of the Belgrade bridges. Cynical Serbs interpreted the gesture as an early French bid for Yugoslav reconstruction contracts, but it could backfire.
"If he could save the Belgrade bridges, why didn't he save the bridges of Novi Sad?" one official asked.
There was plenty of cynicism to go around in this war, not least from the Yugoslav government. State employees were ordered to join "spontaneous" night-time "human shield" protests on the Belgrade bridges; if they did not, they risked losing their jobs - of which there are precious few here. At the beginning of the war, the bridge protesters were paid 20 deutschmarks per evening. When the money ran out, they were given two litres of cooking oil instead.
Because Novi Sad was one of the hardest-hit Serbian cities, President Slobodan Milosevic made his first post-war appearance here. Despite his aversion to public speaking, the President has visited other badly damaged towns, such as Kragujevac and Cuprija.
The people of Serbia must work together to rebuild their country, he tells his audience in each city, calling for volunteers to join work gangs.
The crowds are neither warm nor enthusiastic. "When you watch him on television, you get the impression that he believes this is his country, his property, that it belongs to him," an unemployed woman said.
With Western countries refusing to help rebuild Yugoslavia as long as Mr Milosevic is in power, the government apparently intends to squeeze the population for reconstruction money.
Parliament is expected to end the state of war today or tomorrow, but Serbs see only future hardship. Cafes in the capital were ordered to bring all their tables and chairs off the pavements yesterday, then allowed to put them back outside after paying a new 35 dinar per square metre tax.
"Rocky" (known for throwing drunk customers out of his restaurant) owns a truckstop on the highway from Belgrade east to Romania. He fired two waitresses and pulled his son out of university last week, after receiving exorbitant income tax, water and electricity bills. And he has no customers, because all of the bridges on the way to Romania were blown up. "I may as well skin myself and sell my hide in the market," he said.