|
|
|
|
Bijeljina - The Second Time Around
By Richard C. Matheron
Retired Ambassador Richard Matheron reports on the unusual duty of overseeing elections in Bosnia during the fall of 1997. His recountal of the electoral modalities presents a unique perspective of the tortured politics of that part of the Balkans. First he gives us an overview and conclusions, then a personal day-to-day diary of his experience.
~ Ed.
My first trip to Bosnia was from late April to late June of 1997. Then I served as a supervisor of a voter registration center in Bijeljina under the auspices of the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), of which the United States is a member.
Located in the northeast corner of the Republika Srpska part of Bosnia and Herzegovina some seventy-five miles west of Belgrade, Bijeljina is a city of about 120,000. It is almost exclusively ethnically Serb since the departure of most of the Muslim population during the Bosnian War of 1992-1995.
The OSCE had been given the mandate by the Dayton Peace Agreement of late 1995 to conduct local as well as national elections throughout Bosnia. No Bosnian trusted any other Bosnian to conduct "free and fair" elections, and they still do not. Originally, registration was to be solely for the municipal assembly elections in September. I returned to Bosnia in September, but this time served in Tuzla as a supervisor of a polling station for the municipal elections. Not far from Bijeljina, Tuzla is larger and a more industrial city. Massively Muslim in population, Tuzla is famous for its long, heroic resistance to Serb military onslaughts during the Bosnian War. It is one of the principal political and economic centers of the political entity defined by Dayton as the Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina. This political entity is often referred to as the Muslim-Croat Federation. The Federation and the Republika Srpska are divided according to the Dayton Agreement by something called the Inter Entity Boundary Line (IEBL), a boundary less penetrable than most national borders.
Meanwhile in the Republika Srpska , a power struggle had developed between forces loyal to Dr. Radavan Karadjic, their wartime leader, and President Biljana Plavsic, who had earlier been his strong ally. Karadjic, indicted for war crimes by a UN tribunal in the Hague, had not been allowed by the Dayton signatories to participate personally in postwar politics. Plavsic was elected President of the Republika Srpska in his place. Karadjic continued to oppose the implementation of the Dayton Agreement, whereas Plavsic believed it was in the Republika Srpska 's interest to cooperate.
The Srpska National Assembly that was elected in 1996 had a Serbian Democratic Party (SDS) majority loyal to Karadjic, however, and it succeeded in thwarting the President's efforts to cooperate with the international community and implement Dayton. As a result, the Republika Srpska has received almost nothing in international aid for wartime reconstruction, whereas the Federation has received almost 100 per cent of the available pie.
During the summer of 1997, the National Assembly voted to depose President Plavsic after she roundly criticized the politicians loyal to Karadjic of rank corruption. She was undoubtedly correct in her assessment. She claimed that her dismissal was unconstitutional, and she then dissolved the Assembly. The Constitutional Court upheld the National Assembly's decision, but the international community responsible for carrying out the Dayton Agreement then vetoed the court's decision.
The complex story continues: A political compromise was worked out among the contending Serb parties and the international community whereby (1) new elections would be held for the National Assembly in November and (2) if the President did not win a majority (her new party plus sufficient allies), there would be Presidential elections, probably in the spring of 1998.
The OSCE agreed to conduct the November 22 and 23 elections for the Republika Srpska National Assembly and called, therefore, for volunteers to supervise the polling stations. In September I had very much wanted to be assigned to the Federation side of the IEBL. I wanted to have experienced both sides in the conflict. This time I was delighted to be going "home" to Bijeljina in the Republika Srpska, where I had made a number of good friends.
Physical conditions for OSCE volunteers in Bijeljina were tougher in November than in the spring, but none of us suffered serious hardships, and the excitement of really contested elections was electric. The results indicate that President's Plavsic's hardline foes, though diminished, will still have sufficient voices in the new National Assembly to require new presidential elections in the spring of 1998. This is a disappointment for the international community, which wants the Dayton Peace Agreement to be carried out in full, and promptly.
I have serious doubts about the international community's ability to impose a political union that is firmly opposed by a majority of articulate Serbs living in the so-called nation of Bosnia and Herzegovina. In addition, I undersand that the Bosnian Croat's adherence to the alliance with Muslims in the Muslim-Croat Federation entity is feeble at best. I do believe that the international community, including the United States, should maintain a military presence sufficient to deter a renewal of war and its accompanying atrocities. Today, we and our allies seem determined to forge the Republika Srpska and the Muslim Croat Federation into a single nation of Bosnia and Herzegovina that has never existed historically.
Despite such doubts, I will be willing to return in 1998 should OSCE agree to supervise presidential elections (and should I be seconded by the U.S. Government.) It is a great adventure for an old diplomat, even though I question whether the cost should be born by the international community, with the United States picking up by far the biggest chunk: My round trip ticket and per diem alone cost more than $2 a registrant and $3 a voter. Those figures do not begin to cover the cost of my interpreter and half of a locally hired car and driver, plus general administrative support. Added to this is the cost to OSCE of all expenses for the conduct of the election, that is, machine readable registration forms, ballots, and six- to eight-person Bosnian staffs at each of the registration centers and polling stations.
I am even more questioning of the OSCE decision to subsidize opposition parties in order to foster democratic principles and institutions that have never flourished in the Balkans. Finally, I wonder if we should we be paying the per diem for Czech, Polish, Slovak, and Romanian volunteers in order to give OSCE supervision a less American cast. British, French, and German volunteers in November were noticeable by their absence. Their governments seem much less enthusiastic than ours about running elections as a stimulus for the evolution of democracy.
I do not have my own final answers to any of these questions, but I am worried that we may be trying to accomplish the impossible. I agree with Henry Kissinger that we should at least study the option of a Bosnia and Herzegovina, whereby the population of the Republika Srpska would be able to join Serbia, the Croat population of the Federation would be able to join Croatia, and the Muslims in the Federation create a separate independent state. Once unthinkable because of the intermingling of these populations throughout Bosnia and Herzegovina, today ethnic separation, as a consequence of the terrible civil war, is almost complete. International community efforts to encourage refugees and displaced persons to go back to their 1991 homes are stumbling on one legal hassle after another. Whereas refugees and displaced persons have the right under Dayton to claim and occupy their old abodes, they cannot throw out present occupants, who are in most cases refugees of one of the other ethnicities themselves.
Warren Chrisopher certainly was right in calling Bosnia a "problem from hell." Is Dayton really just an agreement, not a solution? I wonder.
Tuesday, November 18, 1997
This is the first day of OSCE training of international supervisors for the November 22 and 23 elections to the National Assembly of the Republika Srpska, Bosnia and Herzegovina.
There was absolutely no assurance when I signed on that I could get myself returned to the site of my OSCE voter registration activities in May and June. During the processing in Zagreb on Sunday the 16th, I had asked to return to Bijeljina if at all possible. At first, the clerk said Bijeljina was filled up, but one of the supervisors, an American woman officer I had met in June in Sarajevo, suggested that he check his computer to make sure that there was not an extra slot. There was.
When the busload of us got here, however, we learned that only some would be assigned to Bijeljina proper and stay in Bijeljina; the others would be split up between Ugljevik and Lopare in the hinterlands of the Bijeljina region. That would have been worse than not getting the Bijeljina area at all. I had not figured in that possibility. I explained to Federico Borello, the supervisor, about why I wanted to stay and work in Bijeljina. My only real reason was to see Serb friends made last spring. When he handed out the assignments a little while later, I had made it.
All the Bijeljina supervisors were housed at the Hotel Drina, a four-story establishment built during Tito's days and showing the effects of minimal maintenance. The price was right, however -- $18 per person per night, including breakfast. There was no possibility of getting a room by myself. The offer to pay double was to no avail. A young Czech national named Roman Florian responded positively to my question of whether he would like to share a room with me. His father, also an OSCE supervisor, had been assigned to Ugljevik, so they split up, apparently without raising any objections. Roman and I both agreed right off that neither would be bothered by light or noise made by the other. He was exhausted from two long bus rides, the first all night from Prague to Zagreb and the second our six-hour bus ride from Zagreb to Bijeljina. He was in bed by four p.m. and hardly woke until seven o'clock this morning.
My first new impressions of Bijeljina are mixed. I suppose I should come right out and say that I was a bit disappointed by the grim atmosphere. I recall, however, that I first arrived just as spring was breaking out with summer not far behind. Spring and summer people are more joyous, as are the trees and fields. It has not stopped drizzling since we arrived, and today it began to snow. Perhaps the political tensions have an influence on the general mood. Maybe it is because my suitcase has still not arrived.
I was pleased to find Russell Lindquist, my apartment mate last spring, also assigned to Bijeljina again. Knowing of my plight without sufficient warm clothes, he immediately offered and I accepted his loan of a windbreaker. On Tuesday evening, the two of us had dinner together at the Lovatz Restaurant, an old hangout near our hotel. We could not believe that they had no srpska salata. The only offering as a salad was cabbage stuffed with sauerkraut, if one can imagine that. It was the worst dish I have tasted in Bosnia.
The Croatia Airlines employee in Zagreb had taken to her computer when I first reported the non-arrival of my luggage, and within seconds she reported that my bag was still in Atlanta. It would arrive in Zagreb Monday afternoon. The OSCE employee who had accompanied me to her office took the report and assured me the luggage would be delivered to me at whatever post I was assigned. That was, of course, before I knew that I would be stationed in Bijeljina. Federico and his assistant, Leendert Van Hijum, a young Dutch military officer assigned to OSCE, both show genuine concern for my plight.
Thursday, November 20
Yesterday morning, I awakened with a jolt as I heard Roman head for the bathroom. It was past seven. I bolted from bed, dressed as quickly as possible and headed for the post office about three blocks from the hotel. I called Kay at home to ask her to involve Delta Airlines in the search for my luggage. I cannot figure out why I have been so obsessed with finding my bag. All I know is that I was about ready to ask to go home if it didn't show up by Thursday evening.
The landscape along the way to the Ugljevik training site was almost of Christmas card quality. The smattering of snow that remained on the ground in Bijeljina quickly turned into an inch or two as we climbed into the Ugljevik area. I was particularly struck by the beauty of the white snow on top of the yellow brown corn stalks.
Gianfranco Corti, known for some reason as Kiko, 1 was my group's trainer for the day. We concentrated on the mechanics of opening, manning, and closing the polling station on the first day, which will be on Saturday next. Kiko is an Italian who has done graduate work in history at Cal Berkeley and now lives with his wife in Boston. Entertaining and serious at the same time, he did an excellent job, apparently much better than his counterpart, a flip Scottish lass, who antagonized a good number of those in her class with whom I talked.
As the training day began, I again raised the problem of my lost baggage with Leendert. He took notes on the back of his hand and promised to "do my best" before taking off to return to the OSCE office in Bijeljina. "Do my best" is never very reassuring, but again I had faith that he and Federico were genuinely concerned. Before the afternoon session began, I got word from Federico that my luggage had indeed been found in Zagreb and was being transported at that very moment by the Swiss Army to Bijeljina. My new friends rejoiced with me, but with my memories of how slow the Swiss Army was at delivering mail last spring, I was not convinced that the saga was yet over.
The van leaders, of which I am one and Roman the other, had been requested to report our departure from Ugljevik and arrival at the Drina Hotel by radio since a demonstration was in preparation. About half way to Bijeljina, Leendert got on the radio to tell me that my bag had actually arrived at the Drina and was waiting for me. Improvement in my morale was instant. It is scary that I should be so affected by such a non-life threatening set back.
Jenny Sowery, the election officer for Bijeljina, gave us a rundown on the local political scene with an explanation why the outcome is so important to the prospects for any degree of cooperation between the government of the Republika Srpska and the international community. I had no idea until today the extent to which the OSCE is actually financing the growth of opposition parties to the SDS political faction in Pale led by Dr. Radavan Karadjic, indicted for war crimes. I fear foreign involvement to this degree will backfire.
After a day spent learning how to supervise a polling station on Day Two, we eagerly awaited our polling station assignments and the assignment of drivers and interpreters to us. I was given a mobile polling station at Drornje Crnjelovo to the northwest of Bijeljina, which means that we will be in two different, though nearby locations, on Day One and Day Two. Tomorrow we will meet our personal staff and then the chairs of our respective polling station committees.
I have been trying to get in touch with three people since I arrived: Daniela Stanojlovic, my original interpreter; Vesna Bodirogic, the chair of my voter registration center and Milos Karisik, the vice chair. I finally found Daniela's telephone number; when I called she was surprised but apparently happy to hear from me. I suggested that I take her and her husband, Vesna and her husband, and Milos and his girlfriend out to dinner. She was noncommittal but promised to try to contact Vesna.
Daniela told me Thursday morning that she had reached Vesna and that she would contact me. When I got back to the Drina on Thursday after training, there was a note in my box saying that Daniela and Vesna would come to the hotel between seven and eight o'clock. It was already 7:15 by the time I got back. I waited for them until about 8:20 and then gave up and invited Roman to be my guest for dinner. He was happy to do so, but tried to pay for his share of the dinner. I introduced him to the srpska kruna, which I figured was a bit on the steep side for him, so I insisted more than ever that he was my guest. He was generous in his thanks and invited me to a meal in Prague the next time I get there. I told him that I had not been to Prague for forty-eight years, over twice his age, but would make a point of getting back sooner next time. He is obviously proud of his city and the course it has taken since the overthrow of communism in Czechoslovakia.
Friday, November 21
Friday was probably the most "fun day" so far. We all first met for a security briefing in which Federico told of sanctions being taken against the SDS (hard line) for having shot up the SNS (President Plavsic's new party) headquarters in Bijeljina last week and for having not taken down the posters with Dr. Karadjic's face. They had been issued an ultimatum to take them down by 5: P.M. yesterday. Federico apologized also for the OSCE decision not to share all the information with the supervisors. Some of the names on the SDS list are to be struck, and depending on whether it is the number one SDS candidate for Bijeljina will have an effect on the SDS's decision to retaliate or not.
The next step was to meet up with our interpreters and drivers who had congregated in the lobby of the Drina. I had no trouble spotting Olivera from her OSCE ID that I was holding for her. She immediately introduced driver Pedrag Tomic. They had worked together during the September elections at the very same polling stations. She is from Sarajevo and he from Bijeljina. I am happy with our team, and as far as I can see, the chair of the polling station and I are going to get along well. There was not the same sniffing out that I had felt on initial contact with the chair in Tuzla during the municipal elections in September.
We then went to the Youth Hall on the main mall of Bijeljina to meet our polling station chairs. Mine is named Nikola Bogdanovic. 2 From there we went to the Court House to pick up the non-sensitive materials (ballot boxes, screens, etc.) with our chairs. Before heading out to our polling stations in Crnjelovo, Nikola and Roman's chairman invited us all for coffee at the cafe adjoining the youth hall. The hall, itself, is a vast auditorium, but earlier in the year I had not known it was anything but a cafe.
The drive to Crnjelovo is no more than a half hour through rich agricultural lands. I was mightily impressed by the size of some of the houses, really villas, along the way. Predrag explained that many of the owners actually live and work in Germany and America. The two polling stations were not unlocked Friday morning, but the Chairman assured me that we would have no trouble setting them up within the time allotted tomorrow morning. He then invited us for cevapi at a neighborhood restaurant, but it was closed because of some sort of national holiday. I hope that it will be open tomorrow when I need something for lunch. The Orthodox Church in Crnjelovo is a real gem with an onion shaped tower. The light made the whole scene a potential subject for an impressionist painter. All in all, it was one of the most beautiful places I have yet seen in the Republika Srpska.
Shortly after returning to the hotel, I went with Inge-Maj, one of the Swedish supervisors, and Bob Brandstetter to the Lovatz Restaurant for fish soup and salad. We had no sooner arrived than Felix Lepinski (another registration supervisor) came in and told me that Milos Karisik and his girlfriend had been looking for me at the hotel. In fact, he pointed out Milos was standing right across the street. I tore out and yelled for Milos across the street. He and his girlfriend, whose name I regret I had forgotten, immediately came over and we all embraced. I was very touched by the warmth of their welcome. Milos immediately took out three souvenirs of Bijeljina. He had recalled my lamenting last spring that there were no souvenirs from Bijeljina. At the time, he had searched high and low but had found nothing but postcards; this time he had the two really nice keyrings and a Bijeljina banner with the city crest all ready for me. I suggested that we all have dinner Monday night at the Srpska Kruna, and they agreed. Milos agreed to get in touch with Vesna and Daniela to invite them for me.
On my way back to the hotel from the restaurant, all of a sudden I heard, "Mr. Richard" and the sound of a baby stroller. It was Daniela herself and son Boky. We had a good chat, and I agreed to stop by her house Monday afternoon. She agreed in principle for her husband and her to join us on Monday night. I feel that I am really "back home" in Bijeljina.
I had the best nap of the trip this Friday afternoon. Following another pre-Day One meeting with Jenny and Federico and company, I went off with two other guys 3 to my second favorite restaurant in Bijeljina, the only place that consistently has fresh trout. It was as good as ever. The three of us were the only clients in the restaurant although a couple of tables had obviously been set up for some kind of a party later in the evening. Upon leaving the restaurant, I headed off for the Srpska Kruna to make reservations for Monday night.
As soon as I got back to the hotel through the heavy fog (I felt I was in a scene from The Third Man), I decided to do all my ablutions for our early morning wake-up at five o'clock. Roman was partying in the hall with some Czech colleagues. All of a sudden, while I was shaving, a very loud buzzer went off somewhere behind the air vent in the bathroom. My initial reaction was to ignore it, but I then realized I would be very stupid if I let fire reach our area without my even checking on the noise. I opened the door and asked Roman for his opinion. He was about to go downstairs and ask the night clerk when all of sudden the buzzing stopped. We have yet to figure out what caused the strange noise. It was definitely not my electric razor or super-sonic toothbrush as the partyers in the hall had originally thought.
Saturday, November 22
Day One of Voting was no particular cause of anxiety, but I nevertheless had several nightmares having nothing to do with the elections. Once again, I was a DCM with a difficult ambassador to satisfy and a wayward PAO (public affairs officer, USIS), with me caught in the middle. I wonder why.
After a hearty "Engleski" breakfast (sausage and two sunny-side-up eggs and weak tea -- that I usually negotiate to get replaced by equally weak coffee and milk), Roman and I went out onto the front steps of the hotel at six o'clock to meet our interpreters and shared driver. A pall was cast on the scene with the news that one of the interpreters had slipped on the icy stairs, fallen, and likely broken his arm. This unfortunate diagnosis was confirmed later in the day. Another bad start was that Roman's interpreter failed to show up on time. After a decent wait, we felt that we had to move on to the Court House where our sensitive voting materials (unused ballots and accounting forms) were waiting with us along with our chairpersons.
Nikola, my chairman, had already signed for the sensitive materials. Milan, Roman's interpreter, had still not arrived, so it was agreed that Roman's chairman would drive them to their polling place. It turned out that Milan had understood -- or at least claimed to -- that we were going to meet at the hotel at seven o'clock instead of six.
As much as I knew that I could work with Nikola, I was disappointed by the even more scruffy looks of the rest of the committee -- all men and all from the country. I say this with all due respect for the peasants of the world from which I am a descendent of the French variety. They were certainly nothing like the sophisticated women I had worked with in Bijeljina in the spring and Tuzla in the fall. As the regulations required, I asked that all of the committee members vote before the poll opened to the public. That is supposedly designed to cut down on possible fraud when the committee members have access to the ballot box during the course of the day.
One of the scruffiest of the lot [Vaso Kojic], was unhappy by this turn of events. When he did take his ballot, he went over to one of the voting tables but started to mark his ballot on the outside of the screen in full view of the others, another serious violation. One is not allowed to show others how one is voting. I made the mistake of touching his arm and leading him behind the screen. You would have thought the war had started all over again. Within seconds the whole room was in an uproar, or so it seemed to me. He began yelling at me that OSCE supervisors had to sit down and watch. I got together with the chair on the side and explained that I would apologize for having touched the committee member (attributing it to difference in cultures) but that I could take orders only from OSCE, not any of the committee members. If the gentleman continued to holler at me, I would call the OSCE to get in touch with the Local Election Commission (LEC), their bosses. The chairman got the guy to sit down and within a few minutes he had cooled off but refused to accept my apology. I did not go so far as to say that I held the payroll and would not pay anyone who obstructed operations of the poll. I had the authority to do so, however.
It was only a little while after opening that several LEC members dropped in to find out whether everything was going smoothly. My difficult interlocutor looked very nervous as they put the question to me. I had not written up the incident in the Poll Book, a record of what takes place during the day, and so was able to reply with a thumbs-up sign. The tension broke, and at no time during the day was my authority questioned.
From then on, the poll functioned smoothly if slowly. By the close of business at seven in the evening, we had registered only 169 voters, or slightly under 20 percent of the 864 on the Final Voter Register. It looks as if the turn out is going to be lower than for the municipal elections in September. Several times during the day, various committee members and voters joked that Serbs seemed to be voting every couple of months. I refrained from suggesting that voting was a far better activity than fighting, but I certainly thought it.
Shortly after five, the lights went out in the whole village. They had been flickering seriously for a half hour before final extinction. We lit the seven or eight candles that had been provided in the OSCE kit and proceeded to process voters who kept on coming, perhaps at even a faster rate. Just prior to the outage, one of the party observers sent out for cevapis and Cokes for the OSCE team. I was so hungry that I did not question the ethicalness of accepting a small gift of food from a party stalwart.
The thought of more food after the end of the day's work was so unappealing, however, that I retired early to work on this journal and perform my ablutions in preparation for an early rise tomorrow morning. Roman is always happy when I let him postpone facing the daily bathroom chores until morning.
Sunday, November 23
For much of the day I wondered why I had ever left my congenial, sunny, southern California environment to journey to a cold and damp land where so many of the men act out their hostility to other men. I never felt in really physical danger, however. I am getting ahead of myself.
We picked up the tamper evidence bag with its sensitive materials by about 6:30 in the morning and were soon our way to our Number 2 polling station in the village of Crnjelovo. I had seen it on Friday and realized how small Number 2 was, but the reality of the discomfort of this miserable, little, cold, damp room really hit me the moment we tramped through the wet grass to the door. There was only one electric bulb hanging from the ceiling. Neither the chairman nor "my own" Olivera was daunted, however, and I knew I was going to have to make the best of it. Until voters started arriving, it was so cold inside that I could see my breath.
From the moment we opened the door to the voting public at 8 o'clock, it was evident that Day 2 was going to be a lot busier than Day 1. There was room for no more than two or three people at most between the door and the first stop, an ultra-violet lamp to verify that the voter had not voted before in this election. 4 I was surprised that more of those waiting in the cold rain did not try to push in. From that point of view, the day was very orderly.
Within a couple of hours, however, I started getting arguments from two committee members and an SDS [Serbian Democratic Party, Dr. Karadjic's party] observer over who could assist illiterate voters. 5 The OSCE regulations say that only another qualified voter may assist. During the training period, we were told that it should not be a committee member although committee members are qualified voters. That would be to avoid any suspicion that the local committee is in collusion with any of the parties. I had to point out that I had not made up the regulations myself but was only applying OSCE rules and regulations and guidance. Since this guidance is not part of the written material, I conceded that the chairman could let a committee member assist but that it was still stretching the spirit of the regulations.
I had no sooner conceded on that one when someone who was not on the local voter register wanted to help a voter. I insisted that the helper be on the local list. At that moment a member of the Local Election Commission (LEC) for Bijeljina arrived to see how things were going and said I was wrong. I asked, "How can you know that the assistant is a qualified voter if he is not on the list?" His reply was something to the effect, "We all know each other, so there's no problem - nema problema." I said that was all well and good, but the International Supervisor cannot know everyone, and he or she has to be satisfied the assistant is a qualified voter. On this one, I was ready to go to the line.
The LEC member began to back off and said that he would check with Jenny (Sowery) whom everyone connected with the election process in Bijeljina knows very well. I was all for that, because I knew very well that Jenny would support my position. Neither the LEC nor Jenny ever contacted us again during the day on this issue. The issue did not rise again.
What troubled, however, was not so much the substance of the discussion but the manner in which a couple of the committee members 6 and the SDS observer began to holler at me and say that they were going to complain and even ask that I be removed. I immediately invited them to enter their complaints in the official register and pointed out that the regulations do not allow party observers to discuss anything within the polling station. You can imagine the reaction to that. I was a foreigner who had no business telling Serbs what to do in the Republika Srpska. Again, I pointed out that I was not making up the rules, that I was only applying OSCE regulations and that the OSCE had been invited by the Republika Srpska to conduct the elections. I encouraged them to call the LEC. One member feigned doing so, but he was gone such a short time, I know that he never carried out the threat.
In retrospect, I should not have gotten into an argument with anyone but only discussed the issues with the chairman. I am sure that in other circumstances I would have. The problem was complicated by the fact that the room was so tiny and the Chairman was sitting in the middle of the row of committee workers and not taking any part in any of the discussions. He kept his head bent rather than looking at any of us. He is a competent person as far as administering the election process but was obviously unwilling to take a leadership role.
The guy who hollered the loudest was the scruffy little chap whose arm I had touched on Saturday as I was insisting that he vote not out in public. That issue arose again on Sunday when I asked another voter to go behind the screen. Another of the committee members insisted that in a democracy it was everyone's right to vote in public as well as in secret. I tried to explain that if people could vote in public, then there could always be coercion for them reveal their vote. In order to avoid endless debate in this cramped space, I again reverted to the basic principle that I was not there to discuss political systems but to apply the OSCE rules and regulations.
The up-side of the day was the processing of the ballots as soon as the polling station closed a little after four o'clock. Olivera is a "take charge" person the likes of which I have never seen in Bosnia. I knew that she was saying the right things, and the chairman was not giving her any trouble, so I let her take advantage of the long leash in organizing the process. The essentials follow:
In Tuzla last September we had been five off, and the chairman had insisted until the wee hours of the morning that we reconcile all the figures. This time, we had only 532 ballots cast of which 10 were tendered11. Nevertheless, I breathed a sign of relief. We had packed and sealed the sensitive materials in two tamper evidence bags by 8:30 (four and a half hours after closing time) and were on our way to the LEC collection point at the Court House. As we left the polling station, I offered my hand and a hearty dovidjenja to all who had worked together during the day, including the party observers. The committee member who had given me the most trouble refused to shake my hand in front of the others who then showed disdain for their countryman. Even the SDS observer who had complained about my not letting anyone assist illiterate voters extended his hand.
At the Court House, "my" polling station chairman and I presented the two tamper proof bags and our summary materials, he to a LEC receptionist and I to the OSCE Election Officer. After verification, the two of us proceeded to present the summaries to the President of the LEC, who shook our hands and congratulated us on a job well done. He handed the summaries to the Secretary who proceeded to read the results to the assembled observers and press.
As soon as the little ceremony was over, the Chairman Nikola invited me, Olivera and Predrag for a drink back at the Drina. By this time, I was ready for a slibowitz. I finished off two before we all decided that we had put in a hard weekend and were ready to call it quits. Before we had hardly started, the Chairman apologized to me for the behavior of the committee member who had given me such a bad time. I told him that I was satisfied. Was I ever glad that the polling was finished.
Roman and I held our private post-mortem before retiring. He was downcast because he had caught his committee in some outright cheating on Day 2. He is well traveled for his age and Czech nationlality and is not at all bigoted, but his view of these fellow Slavs -- the Serbs -- has been seriously impaired by today's performance in Dornje Crnjelovo.
Monday, November 24
Today has been devoted to finding old friends. Predrad and Olivera showed up right on time at 10 o'clock, and we headed directly for the OSCE Reading Room. Vesna, "my" registration center chairwoman from last spring, is now director there. After a few positive reminiscences, we agreed to continue tonight at the Srpska Kruna. Vesna had given Predrad instructions on how to find Beogradska, where I shared an apartment with Russell last spring. Though very surprised to see me, landlord Djordjic recognized me instantly and welcomed Olivera and me in. Ushered into the front hall, I immediately ran into their neighbor, Natasha, of whom I have written in earlier Letters from Bijeljina. As much as I used to tire of her endless complaining, it was good to see her. She was very touched when I showed her a small pencil drawing of an Adriadic seaport that she had made last spring. For some reason I have carried it in my wallet ever since. The old man telephoned right away to his wife, Slobodanka, who was at work. He told us that she would come right away, and she did. He talks very little, but Slobodanka is a vivacious woman.
We must have stayed a full hour and partook of some homemade rakija and coffee as well as a piece of filled shortbread, another homemade item. I was told that it had pork in it, but I couldn't detect any, except perhaps for the lard. I have been reminded again how much the Serbs are "pig eaters."
From the Djordjics' we proceeded to the market where Olivera helped me pick out a couple of cassettes of modern Serb music, the kind with a definite Middle Eastern flavor. I became addicted earlier in the year. One is by Dragana, the other by Milos Bojanic. I would have like a CD, but they are available only in Belgrade.
Back at the hotel, we bade good-bye. I told both Olivera and Predrad that I would give them excellent reports to OSCE with the recommendations that they be hired again. I also promised separate letters of recommendation should they need them. I must not forget when I get home, particularly since I asked for and got their private addresses.
I had been planning along to visit Daniela in the afternoon, but Milos showed up at the hotel to confirm dinner plans for the evening. He said that he had not been able to reach Daniela. I explained that I had run into her late last week and had invited her and her husband to join us at the Srpska Kruna this evening.
Milos agreed to accompany me to Daniela's right then. We found her at home with baby Boky and her mother. Daniela and I had exchanged a lot of e-mail concerning the need of many women in the United States to have a useful profession on their own above and beyond being good homemakers. We made allusion to this but did not discuss the issue further, particularly as it concerned her.
I had to get back to the hotel by three o'clock for the OSCE debriefing. It was much better than the post-registration debriefing last June or the post-municipal elections debriefing in Tuzla in September. The fact is that the OSCE staff in Bijeljina -- administrative, training and action -- all did their jobs better than I ever remember. Could it be that I am getting more tolerant? That may be to a limited extent, but I do concede that OSCE seems to have learned from many of its past mistakes.
I got to the Srpska Kruna a few minutes before eight and sat in the middle of the table that had been prepared for my party. Much to my surprise, Drazen Glisic, a member of the registration center group showed up, greeted, and sat down. I figured out right away that Vesna had seen him and told him to come to my dinner. That was fine, and I was prepared to ask for a ninth setting at our table. It turned out not to be necessary since Vesna's husband had to stay home and take care of Marko, their son. Drazen was his replacement. I was delighted since I had liked Drazen a lot and had nothing special in common with Vesna's husband except for occasional encounters last spring. Next were Milos and his girlfriend, Slatana. I had forgotten that she had been a member of Russell's registration committee so I placed Russell next to her.
Daniela and Borko arrived within a few minutes. I had forgotten how incredibly young he looks. It was at his shop that I had purchased a Yves St. Laurent sweat shirt on the day of our arrival in Bijeljina to tide me over until my baggage arrived. It is hard to sum up the evening, except that the conversation was abundant and the food and wine copious. I could not have been happier with this reinforcement of our bond. Daniela and Borko drove me back to the Drina.
Tuesday, November 25
I spent much of the morning seeing off the supervisor colleagues who had arrived a day ahead of us. As I was editing this narrative, Roman returned to report that he had located some CDs of the kind of modern Serb music with an oriental theme that I had been looking for. We went together to two shops where I found exactly the same Dragona music that I had bought as a cassette. Roman then invited me for cevapis. I knew a little cevapi shop very close to where we found he second CD. We both chose a five (instead of a ten) piece cevapi and one of the local beers. After that, we both returned to the Drina for naps. It was after four o'clock by the time I was awaked by Roman's dad who had arrived from Ugljevik. I then dashed over to Daniela and Borko's for a last coffee and some picture taking. Boky is a really cute and bright little two year old. We never got around to discussing Daniela's pain at having to stay home and be nothing more than a housewife. I believe I mentioned this in the Letters from Bijeljina series earlier in the year.
Early in the evening, one of the Czech supervisors who had worked in Ugljevik dropped by looking for Roman's dad. He was very loquacious about how much cheating or attempted cheating he had witnessed in Ubljevik. Since the Czechs were all sent here by the American Embassy in Prague, he plans to make a report to the American Ambassador there. None of us feels that the overall results of the election are fraudulent, only that the politicians here will try to get away with as much as they can, hence the real need for international supervisors.
This man turned out to be a medical doctor who is an assistant professor at renowned Charles University. He had been to San Diego last year in relation to some sort of research at Scripps Clinic and Research Center, our very own health provider. Later, I asked Roman why would a medical doctor come and work on an electoral mission such as ours. "Because the pay is so good," was Roman's reply. It turns out that doctors in Czechoslovakia are still paid less than the average salary of a white collar employee of the level Roman will start next year. The Czechs in our group show no concern that they are mercenaries for the Americans. The fact is not generally known among the Serbs, however.
Endnotes
Note 1: I learned later that it was originally Chicco, a common Italian nickname meaning "Baby." Back.
Note 2: Given name first. Other committee members are Cviko Novakovic, Ljubisa Jeremic, Vaso Kojic, Boro Milenko Zakic, and Milenko Mirkovic. Back.
Note 3: Bruce Black from Baltimore and Bob Kinter from Denver. I had met Bob last spring in Vienna on our way to Bosnia. He was not assigned to Bijeljina then, but was with the Tuzla group. Back.
Note 4: As soon as the voter received a ballot, his/her right index finger was sprayed with a silver nitrate solution. For a week thereafter the finger would glow if subjected to a UV lamp. Back.
Note 5: OSCE regulations permit any illiterate or otherwise physically handicapped voters to be assisted by another qualified voter, i.e., someone on the Final Voter Register of the polling station. Back.
Note 6: Vaso Kojic and Vice-Chairman Viko Novakovic, in descending order of rudeness. Back.