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"It began in Kosova and in Kosova
it will end up". That is the famous saying describing the Balkan
conflict. We Malaysians in general have never heard of such country
until the news of Kosovar Albanians being massacred appeared in
the news in 1998 and early 1999. Thanks to Dr Jemilah (an obstetrician)
and her humanitarian missions to Kosova, we have, hopefully, a better
idea of Kosova. Two paediatricians had henced joined the missions
i.e. Dr Wan Ariffin and Dr Zabidi and 1 am sure that they have their
own stories to tell.
1 was lucky to be selected to
join the 5th MERCY mission to Kosova last 29th November - 16th December
1999. Our mission was nicknamed the "iced" mission due to the subzero
temperature there. There were 4 of us - 2 psychiatrists - Dr Rashidi
and Dr Abdul Kadir, S/N Latha of A&E Dept HUKM and myself. 1 received
a lot of mixed responses regarding my decision - some were encouraging
while some were downright blunt, questioning my sanity to venture
into the unknown territory in winter! As for me, it was like a dream
come true. It was something that 1 always dreamed of doing participating
in a humanitarian mission worldwide.
We left for Rome in the early
hours of 30th November. After a day of rest, we continued our journey
to Skopje, Macedonia via the Macedonian airline. The two and a half
hour journey was filled with excitement and worry not to mention
apprehension, as for the next 13 days we'll be on our own, no means
of communication with our families, not even with the Malaysian
embassy in Rome. Fortunately, we made our way through the airport
customs without a glitch (they were known to make life dilficult
for the last mission). The next step of the journey was by cab across
the Macedonian Kosovan border. It was a taxing four hour journey
with most of the time spent queueing up at the border. It somehow
made KL's traffic jam more bearable after that.
My first glimpse of the children
was at the border. They were selling cartons of cigarettes and offering
luggage ferrying in their wheelbarrows. Most of them were boys around
8-16 years although occassionally girls could also be seen. They
would approach passers-by and soldiers at the border without fear
and were very persistent businessmen. It was not surprising since
that was their only means of survival.
Our base was at the Sunny Hill,
Prishtina town, where the Medical Director of Helping Hand USA (our
host lives there). The electricity and water supplies were unreliable.
At times we had to make do with the stove as our heater. It was
times like these when you start to appreciate every single thing
at home that had been taken for granted all this while.
Our main activity each day was
our mobile clinic. We set out at around 8.30 am with the Helping
Hand's ambulance and reached our destinations around 9.30-10.00
am. As the daytime was shorter and the fog was thick at times, most
of the time, we limited our clinics to the villages which were of
close vicinity to the main road, most of the time. Our clinics were
set up in all sorts of places - from a proper health clinic to classrooms
and even the villager's house. As we drove to the villages, trying
to avoid potholes created by tanks, bombs and mines, we passed mosques
with their minarets toppled, houses with bullet holes visible and
skeletal remains of steels which were once government offices, etc.
Nevertheless, the natural scenery was breathtaking - beautiful mountains
in greens and whites surrounding the country.
The response from the villagers
was overwhelming. Despite closing clinic at 3.00pm, we had a minimum
of 3 9 patients to a maximum of 240 a day. And the thought that
they actually braved the cold weather to seek medical treatment
was heartening. We really felt appreciated and needed- The elderly
came hobbling with their canes and some were carried by their sons.
I remember attending to an old lady in the back seat of a car (she
was bed-ridden). She came all the way hoping that we could provide
a wheelchair for her to mobilise. It was actually frustrating when
you have very limited resources to deal with. The children were
adorable. The toddlers and infants were being bundled up in layers
and layers of clothings.
Majority of the patients were aged
below 20 with around 6% below 5 years old. As it was winter, URTIs
were the commonest malady. Paracetamol and multivitamins were being
handed out like candies. However, posttraumatic stress disorder
was another major problem, even the children were deeply aflected.
The adults would complain of all sorts of bodyaches. The children
mainly presented with nightmares, mutism, poor concentration in
school, etc. When gently probed, their stories came pouring out.
Although we had to use interpreters for communication, their pain,
sadness, anguish, horrors and despair came across strongly to us.
The children were encouraged to draw their fears. The finished drawings
were full of tanks, soldiers, refugee camps, etc. One even drew
how he witnessed his uncle being slaughtered, while another drew
how a Serb soldier shot one of his friends while they were playing
football outside his house. It was when listening to harrowing tales
like these that your vision started to blur, a lump in your throat
would form and a strange numbness would occupy your mind. You wanted
to do so much but you had not the time nor the place to do so. In
the end, all you could do was prescribe some antidepressant/ anxiolytics,
and offer them spiritual solace. 1 felt very helpless at times searching
for the right words to say. 1 realised that the amount of psychiatric
exposure 1 had in my undergraduate years did not prepare me for
this mind shattering experience. However 1 was lucky to have the
two psychiatrists with me.1 have learnt a lot from them.
The worst experience was when it
snowed and we had to work in a clinic with no heating facilities.
It was very cold and all our hands and feet were numb. Despite that,
the patients kept on coming. It was a miracle that we survived the
day without any frost bites, but most of us were down with severe
cold the next day that we decided to take a break after 6 continuous
days of working.
All of us were very sad when it
was time to leave. Although we wanted to stay, we had other commitments
waiting for us at home. It was drizzling on the day of our departure.
We had to walk about 1 km across the border carrying our luggage.
The thought that we were on our way home kept us going. After spending
a night in Skopje, we took the first flight to Rome the next day
(15th Dec). We finally reached KLIA at 11 am on the 16th December,
1999. All in all, it was a valuable experience. The Kosovar Albanians
are very strong willed and patriotic people and their hopes are
high in rebuilding their country. The children are very resillient.
1 have learnt a lot from them and hopefully that will make me a
better doctor. If you ask me whether I would like to go back there
again? My answer is a definite YES!
1 would like to end with this
quote from Dr Flora Bovina, an eminent paediatrician and humanitarian
worker in Kosova, upon her 12-year prison sentence by the Serb government
in December 1999. She (a 52-year old lady) was found guilty on the
charge of "conspiring to commit hostile activities" and "terrorism":
1 dedicated my whole life to children
and children do not choose their ethnicity, children do not know
what ethnicity they are if their parents do not tell them. With
my patients, I have never divided them according to their ethnicity~
according to religion or the ideological choice of their parents.
I feel proud because of this and even if 1 was not an Albanian woman
I would have done the same thing."
Dr JURIZA ISMAIL, M.Med (Paeds).
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