This article describing our meeting with the Kosovan refugees was written as a record of an interesting and unique experience. It incorporates several issues including: describing the various disciplines and agencies involved in the operation, our own feelings and how we coped with them, highlighting some deficiencies in the operation, mainly due to the unintentional personal reactions of some of those involved.
It was written in a personal style, as a personal record and without reference to any other sources other than our own experience. Some lessons were learned, but all things considered, it was an encounter with the unknown which we as nurses, dealt with as professionally and empathetically as we were able. Some of us were able to continue our relationship with the refugees in the two Halifax centres they went to, (which is still on-going). This has been an opportunity for us to make some small contribution towards helping the victims of a humanitarian disaster, and at the same time learning from the Kosovans how the human spirit can survive in the face of great adversity.
Our involvement with the Kosovan refugees began by chance when members from our community teams were invited to a meeting to discuss the forthcoming arrival of Kosovan refugees in Halifax. It had been decided that the medical care of the refugees would be shared between two GP practices in the area nearest the homes where the refugees would be accommodated, and that input from district nursing and health visiting would be shared between local teams. Our medical team consisted of three doctors, two health visitors and three district nurses.
Twenty-five refugees were to go to Savile Close, a former residential care home and fifty-five to Willowfield, a large mansion in its own grounds which had been empty for two years. We were advised that many Kosovans were heavy smokers and that under the circumstances all no smoking propaganda had to be put aside. It was also pointed out that it was not appropriate for women to shake hands with the men (though we did not find this to be the case, as many men offered us their hands to shake, and seemed quite happy for us to greet them in this way).
We asked the only female interpreter, Antigona, how the Kosovans felt about the situation and she assured us that the people had been thankful for NATO's intervention. Someone asked whether the Serbs and Kosovans looked racially different, but from what she said, it seemed that the appearance of both nationalities was of slightly dark skinned Europeans.
Intimidating
While we were waiting for the plane to take off from Macedonia, we took a trip to Savile Close to see what arrangements had been made there. There was a very overdressed security guard on duty at the home. (It had been felt necessary to have a security presence as it was uncertain how the Serbian community in Halifax might react.) We felt his martial appearance might be intimidating to people who had been in the camps and who would find any reminders of a military presence upsetting. This must have occurred to other workers as well, for he was quickly replaced by another guard of more low key appearance, much to our relief.
With help from interpreters, child education staff, psychiatric nurses and ladies from the WRVS all the rooms were ready, newly wallpapered and refurbished with new furniture and brand new Marks and Spencers nightwear still in its packaging (so the refugees would know they were getting new clothing and not handouts) on each bed.
Extensive preparations had been made by the team for the bus journey back from the hospital. There were to be two coaches and two mini buses, each equipped with wheelchairs, nappies, baby milk, tissues, gloves and last but not least, vomit bowls. The baby milk had been bought from the petty cash with some difficulty, due to one of the office staff being reluctant to release money before a certain time in the afternoon. Apparently Trust Policy could not possibly be waived whatever international emergency was occurring in the world outside Calderdale!
We had also been advised to take our own rations as it was not certain what arrangements would have been made at the hospital for refreshments and we were likely to be working until the early hours of the morning. Janet, one of the health visitors, had filled a rucksack with enough food and drink for an expedition to Everest. She had an amazing array of health foods in little tupperware containers, a flask of nourishing broth and other mysterious drinks to keep her strength up for the ordeal ahead. I had bought a prepacked sandwich from Marks and Spencers after enjoying a lorry driver's breakfast of bacon, sausage, egg and beans at the local transport cafe. Sue hadn't eaten at all!
Finally, at around 3.30pm, news arrived that the plane was in the air at last and we set off. The journey to Wharfedale General Hospital, where we would meet the refugees from the airport, took around 40 minutes. During the journey, Sue and I sat together and talked about how we felt about meeting the refugees.
Apprehension
Sue said that she felt rather apprehensive as it was such a unique situation and it was hard to know how she would feel, and be able to deal with the Kosovans. She hadn't slept for two nights wondering whether she would be able to cope and be of any help. I was certain she would be alright as she was an experienced nurse, used to dealing with all types of problems.
When we arrived at the hospital we were shown around the reception areas which consisted of two wards. The first ward was furnished with tables on which were plates of sandwiches and lots of packets of cigarettes, including foreign varieties like Disque Bleu which smell terrible. All of us were non smokers and used to non smoking environments, but this was an adjustment which we were all happy to take on under the circumstances. We just hoped that things would not get too smoky, but considering the appalling circumstances of the refugees, felt that it was a small sacrifice for anyone to make. There were also dishes of smarties and jelly babies for the children, as well as lots of toys and boxloads of warm clothing.
The second area was immigration where the refugees would be photographed and interviewed before moving on to the health and social screening tables in which it transpired, we were to be involved. A doctor from Leeds was in charge of the entire operation and explained what we were supposed to do, after which we were all completely baffled. However, we gathered that 150 refugees were expected on the flight, of which 80 would go to Calderdale. Our job would be to sit at a large circular table with a social worker, interpreter and community worker and help fill in a health form. The form consisted of four questions:
- Are you vomiting blood?
- Have you suffered from diarrhoea in the past two days?
- Have you a fever?
- Any other medical conditions?
If anyone answered yes to any of these questions then they had to see the doctor. Families were to be interviewed together and any links with family or friends recorded, after which the refugees would then be allocated to their destinations.
It all sounded rather alarming but we decided we could only do our best. However, no sooner had we got used to the idea than a team of health workers from Leeds arrived and confusion reigned once more. The situation was quickly resolved to everyone's satisfaction, three of the Leeds workers going home, having been on duty for the past three nights, and two staying behind, leaving three Calderdale nurses to sit at the tables and two to make themselves useful elsewhere.
Sue and I opted to 'float'. However, we had around an hour to spare before the refugees arrived, and the hospital had invited us to have a meal in the canteen free of charge. We all enjoyed a hearty meal except Sue, who found the sight of the sizzling sausages and mash too much for her stomach, something she admitted was very unlike her.
After the meal we went back to our appointed places, Sue and I going to the first ward where the new arrivals were expected any time. In Sue's words:
'The refugees seemed to appear from nowhere. For a few brief moments time stood still and I felt very nervous. We were standing in a long line, across the ward, all looking in the direction of the refugees. Momentarily I turned round to see the view the newcomers would get on entering the ward and saw a wall of faces all staring in the same direction with blank expressions. I thought to myself that although I felt nervous it must be nothing compared to how the refugees were feeling.'
I, too, found it a strange moment to see, in reality, what I had only seen on television for so many weeks. It was almost like a film clip in slow motion, watching the first few refugees moving slowly towards us looking lost and tired. For a moment, I felt completely inadequate to be involved in such a situation, meeting people who had lost everything they possessed, or had even seen their family and friends killed, and were now thrown upon whatever help the rest of the world could give them. None of us could even begin to imagine the terrible trauma they must be going through.
The refugees were all deeply weatherbeaten, for we had been told that they had been in the camps for several weeks and the weather was very hot in Macedonia. There were men and women of all ages, as well as children and babies (the youngest being four days old); all were dressed in unsuitably thin clothes, for the English weather that evening was cold and damp, though the elderly women were better protected in their traditional, all covering headscarves and 'harem' trousers.
They were all quickly directed to the surrounding tables and encouraged to help themselves to the refreshments. As Sue and I did not have any particular role to play, we started to help by taking trays of hot soup around. It was preferable to standing there just staring and would be a way of breaking the ice. Soon Sue and I were in the thick of it, hoping that we were not appearing patronising with our determined smiles of welcome. It was not long before we both felt much more at ease, after all, it was not so very difficult to give out hot soup and smile, and to try and make the new arrivals feel safe and comfortable after their many weeks of danger and discomfort. We also picked up a few Kosovan words: 'Miresevini' (welcome) 'Po' (yes) 'Jo' (no) and 'mea' (good).
Protection
Soon the air was filled with the pungent fumes of Disque Bleu as the Kosovans lit up and tucked in. Smarties and jelly babies scattered over the floor as children and toddlers readjusted themselves to their latest situation and took advantage of the many donated toys in the crche. Though their parents seemed dazed and exhausted and were generally quiet, the children were bright eyed and on the whole, quite well dressed in jogging trousers, t-shirts and baseball caps. However, most of them had little adequate protection in the way of woolies to combat the English climate and soon the clothes boxes were being pulled apart in the search for warm garments.
One elderly lady tried to tell us something in Albanian, but of course we could not understand her and were unable to find an interpreter. We offered her a smile and a hug and she smiled back, grabbing our hands at the same time. It was obvious that this lady was thanking us, though like her, we had had no direct say in the situation to which we had all been plunged. A girl of about twelve came and put her arms round Sue and clutched her closely for several minutes. It was all very touching and both Sue and I felt inadequate and undeserving of any ones thanks, we were simply sorry that the Kosovans had been forced to flee to England. We were simply trying to give as much help as we could and to try and make things a bit better for people who had gone through a terrible ordeal.
Health screening
By now the first group of refugees were starting to move up through the process of immigration and health screening and a second batch was expected from the airport. Sue and I positioned ourselves in the car park with arm loads of blankets and cuddly toys.
On the first bus to arrive were women and children and Sue was given a little blond boy to carry in. 'He looked quite ill', she recalled. 'I thought there was something seriously wrong with him, but when I asked if he needed to see a doctor, I was told he was fine, just tired. I took him and his mother inside and later that evening I saw the same little boy running round and playing with the other children.'
The next bus from the airport contained a group of young men who had been tortured in the camps. The most seriously injured had gone straight from the plane to hospital in Leeds. The rest of them appeared exhausted and emaciated, their dark eyes enormous on their tanned, weatherbeaten faces, and although they acknowledged our welcoming smile, it was with an air of great weariness. They clustered round the tables, smoking and talking in hushed, solemn voices, occasionally glancing round as though still not quite certain that they were safe at last and there were no Serbs round the corner.
At this point Sue and I were required to take our place at the health screening tables, where the refugees were being interviewed before being allocated to their destinations. It was during this process that we heard some of the harrowing experiences the Kosovans had been through. Wives without husbands, children without fathers, people who had seen their nearest and dearest murdered before their eyes. One mother tried to explain that her boy of eight years would not speak and suffered from continual nightmares since being terrified by armed and masked Serbian police who had entered the building they were in. Another mother had lost her husband and three other children in the turmoil, and had been on tranquilisers ever since. One of the men, when asked to show an injury, misunderstood and turned round towards the wall, hands held above his head, as though a gun was being pointed at him.
Some of the people had been living in the mountains and forests for months. A diabetic child was found to have an unreadable blood sugar count and was practically comatose. Many of the refugees had witnessed the killing of people they knew and had been lucky to escape the same fate.
There were several single men who had been separated from their families in Kosova, and most of them had been imprisoned and tortured and beaten. Broken ribs were common and one man had a suspected fractured skull. Many were clearly distressed and disturbed by their experiences and would need a lot of professional help and support in the forthcoming weeks.
Finally the allocations were complete and the people assigned to the various destinations. Many of the young men were to go to Savile Close while most of the families would be housed at Willowfield. The journey back on the last coach was fairly quiet, though several of the refugees were sick. The children lay across the seats, totally exhausted from their long day of travelling. Finally back at Willowfield, they were able to get to bed, after some confusion from the staff about how the rooms and the refugees could be organised. This was a slight, though unfortunate hiccough during what had been, on the whole, a smooth operation. WRVS ladies hovered around with plates of sandwiches which no one was interested in, while one of the workers clutched a sheet of paper and referred helplessly to the list of unpronouncable names, being in some doubt as to whether it was the 'current' list or not.
'Just get them to bed!' we all chorused, looking at the practically comotose figures around us, young mothers clutching their babies from whom they refused to be parted and the elderly stranded in wheelchairs. The entire building seemed to have come to a standstill with everyone frozen in permanent indecision. Eventually someone took charge and suggested that the refugees go upstairs where they would find their names on the bedroom doors. We regretted that we had not given them name badges at immigration which would have made the allocation of rooms an easier procedure.
Sue and I were both happy that we had been able to help welcome the Kosovans to their 'safe haven' in England after the nightmare of Kosova and we hoped to see more of them in the next few weeks, when we would be assisting our doctors with the medical examinations. Our entire team felt that we had coped quite well with the situation, despite the language barrier and the difficulties of meeting 'refugees' and all the baggage which went with such a label. At the end of the day the Kosovans were ordinary people who had been living ordinary lives until one day brutal, dehumanised men had invaded their lives and ordered them to leave their homes or be killed. Perhaps by imagining ourselves in such a situation, we can imagine, just a little, how the Kosovan people must feel.