the kosovo crisis

Kosovo's Hidden Killers

by Antony Robbins, CARE UK Media Manager

Mine field
One of many minefields in Ferazaj, Kosovo.
FERAZAJ, Kosovo (December 20, 1999) -- In his bright orange overalls, Nhama Madaba, or "Champion" to his friends, is an imposing presence.. The 43-year-old native of Zimbabwe works on the front lines of Kosovo's post-conflict clean-up, removing unexploded mines, mortar rounds, grenades and shell casings from what otherwise would be rich and productive soil.

Champion and his all-Zimbabwean team are based in Ferazaj, in Kosovo and operate across the war-torn province. Their company, Minetech, has been subcontracted by CARE to clear explosives from all the villages in which CARE is implementing projects.

But removing and destroying mines is only part of the story. Where mines cannot be removed, minefields are painstakingly mapped and marked so that people do not unknowingly wander into danger.

Minetech's teams also work with local communities to run land mine awareness sessions in more than 200 villages throughout Kosovo. They offer similar types of training to international aid workers.

On a chilly December morning with the Balkans winter approaching and the mist hanging heavy in the air, Champion and his team of experts set off through pretend minefields with a group of about 50 humanitarian aid workers from countries as far away as India, Kenya and the UK. The aid workers traipse behind Champion, hanging on to his every word as he points out the dangers. The minefield may be fake and the visitors in no real danger, but the burnt-out buildings nearby and the pock-marked roads are a chilling reminder of the deadly toll one false step could take.

Champion
"Champion" points out the dangers during a mines awareness demonstration.
Champion jumps into a shell crater, behind him is a burnt-out car. "Is the car booby-trapped?" whispers an Austrian. "Is it surrounded by mines?" ask some Americans, "Maybe that's a trip wire?" suggests an Australian. Champion raises his baton, as if directing an orchestra. "What you must remember when you're in the danger area is to exercise extreme caution. Be aware. Look around you. Learn to spot the danger signs and, above all, seek local information." Champion points out the tell-tale signs as the group moves along. "Look out for barbed wire or other signs of military activity. Shell cases, spent bullets. All of these are just the flotsam and jetsam of modern warfare," he says. He also introduces the group to less obvious items of military hardware. Innocent-looking spindles, the size and shape of ordinary cotton reels, are an indication that a trip-wired booby-trap may be nearby. The coiled trip wire is unwound from the spindle and the spindle often carelessly discarded, giving a sharp-eyed observer a clue that death or serious injury might lie in the path ahead. Champion then takes the group to some innocent-looking tufts of grass in which his men have buried a number of fake land mines - a selection of explosives ranging from simple devices no bigger than a hockey puck to state-of-the-art hardware. All are now common objects in Kosovo, and all are equally deadly and continue to kill or maim the unwary.

Mr. Billy
"Mr, Billy" lost his left leg below the knee when he stepped on a 35-year-old land mine in Mozambique.
The tour ends with a very real reminder of the danger of these hidden killers. One of Champion's de-miners, Billy Paul, or "Mr. Billy" as he is called, lifts the left leg of his bright orange overall to reveal a prosthetic limb, which he proceeds to unscrew just below the knee. Mr. Billy trod on a 35-year-old mine in Mozambique in the 1980s. "My foot slipped just a few inches out of a marked safe area. That was all it took to lose my leg," he says.

In Kosovo, as in the scores of other countries polluted by land mines, the effects of these hidden time bombs are felt across many communities. Farmland is rendered useless, and livestock and wildlife are in constant danger. Traditional industries, like the chalk mining that used to take place in the hills above the southern province of Prizren, are abandoned. Communities can no longer forage for firewood in the woods, and parents are fearful of letting their children wander too far from their homes, especially since the unusual shapes and bright colors of many mines attract the eyes and hands of small children.

It will be many years before Kosovo is finally free of the scourge of land mines but CARE, together with a host of international humanitarian and mines clearance agencies, have at least begun to clear the long path to peace.

CARE is a member of the International Campaign to Ban Land Mines. The campaign, which was formed in the early 1990s, involved more than 1,000 non-governmental organizations and provided the impetus for the Ottawa Treaty banning the use, stockpiling and production of anti-personnel land mines. The treaty has yet to be ratified by the U.S. government.

Back to Stories from the Field


    Join the CARE community     Follow us:   Share: Connect & share on our blog >>

To donate today, please call us. Within the United States: 1-800-521-CARE or 1-800-521-2273 (24 hours)

Outside the United States: +1-404-681-2552 (M-F, 8:30 a.m.-6:00 p.m. ET)

CARE is a nonprofit 501(c)(3) organization (EIN/tax ID number: 13-168-5039).


Join The CARE Community