Front Matter - Part 08

One time Rade explained to me that there were cases where people who served their sentences in Goli Otok were brought back after they were released. If anyone or any of the other convicts informed on them they were re-arrested and brought back again. They were re-arrested and jailed if they were critical of how they had been treated in the prison or spoke of the injustices inflicted upon them. They were even re-arrested if they spoke against any of the politicians. If they made any criticisms, no matter how justified, they were sent back to prison, to that hellish island. They were severely punished if they told anyone about the suffering they had endured in the prisons, especially in Goli Otok. If he is in prison again, if such a thing has happened, I know that neither he nor I will be able to endure it. This will be the end... I am so exhausted, so weak... that I can’t even cry...

In moments when Rade was all alone he would try to justify to himself his hesitation to become involved. What kind of questions could he ask? If those he asked wouldn’t tell his uncle, they certainly wouldn’t tell him, especially if he was in prison. He would often ask Vera and Stefka if anyone had mentioned anything. And then he would start with his accusations.

“I was the first to say that nothing good was going to come out of all this. I was sure that it would end like this or something like this... But Dushitsa likes to make her own decisions, and when she faces the consequences, the bad consequences, she asks others to save her...” said Rade.

* * *

About a month later Dushitsa was taken to the cardiology ward straight from work. Her health had deteriorated so much that she had to be under constant medical supervision. She persistently refused to take her medication. The only place they were sure she would take it was in her hospital room under watch. That way at least her already poor health wouldn’t worsen.

Vera and Stefka visited her every day and frequently during the night. Each time they arrived they were greeted with the same question. With her wide-open, half-extinguished dark eyes looking

at them she would ask, “Is there any news about Milan?” They had no such news and they couldn’t make her happy. When she didn’t get a positive response she would close her eyes and not open them until almost the end of the visit. Even the slightest desire for life seemed to be lost in her during those moments.

“He will call, you’ll see, he will call from somewhere. He’s not going to give up on you…” her mother would say every time she visited her, in an attempt to comfort her.

But it was all in vain. It would have been great if only they could get the slightest bit of news about him. Stefka didn’t want to impose on Slobodan. She didn’t want to ask him to look for him in the prisons. And for her to go to the police to look for him would have been inappropriate given that her son was a policeman. She couldn’t go to her son’s work and ask about someone who wasn’t even her relative. That wouldn’t be good for Rade either. More and more hope was lost with each passing day. She was sure she would lose Dushitsa. The hope that Milan would appear from somewhere was also diminishing.

* * *

After Milan disappeared again I went to the psychiatric hospital to inquire about him. I went to see the same doctor. I begged him with tears in my eyes to tell me the truth. I pleaded with him to tell me if Milan had been brought back here again. To tell me what had happened to him. He assured me that Milan hadn’t come back and that no one had reported seeing him in the city. He then, there in front of me, picked up the telephone and called the police to find out if they had seen or detained such a person. He even asked them to immediately let him know if they had found him in the city, because he was a patient at this hospital. But unfortunately weeks passed and there was no news about him. Where should I look for him? Who can help me? How could he disappear without a trace...? Did he really disappear on his own? How could he not feel sorry for me? What could have made him do such a thing? I was convinced that he was well... That he was happy being with me. I no longer had doubts that he would completely recover...

...None of the neighbours had seen him when he left. The old woman who took care of him while I was at work was very upset but hadn’t noticed anything unusual. She felt guilty. That day she had gone home to her house for about an hour. That’s the only time she wasn’t there, she swore… That’s when he disappeared. He either left voluntarily or he was taken by force by the authorities. I don’t know…

Sitting in the hallway of the hospital, Stefka and Vera were getting desperate and didn’t know what to do. They felt helpless. Vera said:

“Tomorrow I’ll go and see Slobodan. I’ll ask him about this. Let’s see what he says. If Milan is in prison he should insist they let him out for few days so that she can see him before she’s gone. Her tears are flowing non-stop.” Stefka started crying... One of the nurses came over and told them to keep it down, they were disturbing the patients.

They took to the streets. They felt a bit better, probably from the cool air and from the noises of people and cars passing by. They didn’t know where to go. Just as they were about to cross the street, they noticed a car driving slowly, as if wanting to stop. Vera recognized it; it was her uncle’s car. He stopped. Confused and afraid that Dushitsa might have already passed, Slobodan got out of the car and hugged them.

“I was coming to the hospital. I went to inquire about Milan. One of my acquaintances from the Ministry of the Interior seems to think that he’s in the psychiatric hospital in N. He was found in a freight car by some railway workers. He was lying on the floor of one of the cars completely unconscious. He had no documents on him. Nobody knew anything about him. That’s what one of the policemen who recognized him said. They still can’t communicate with him. No one knows until when. That’s all I know. It’s better if you don’t tell Dushitsa about this. Why tell her? Is there a benefit to that?” said Slobodan.

“No, I must tell her. She needs to know that he left because of his illness…” said Stefka without hesitation.

“Maybe you’re right... But I need to leave now... Let’s hope that the worst won’t come. It will pass us by,” replied Slobodan.

“That’s all we can do... The doctors did everything possible. They did as much as they could. But nothing seems to help. She has given up…”, said Vera with pain in her voice.

“I’ll go and see her tomorrow. I will try and see if she will listen to me,” replied Slobodan.

“She doesn’t listen to any of us, not to me… not to her sister, not to mention Rade. She greets him with her eyes closed when he comes and does the same when he leaves. He, on the other hand, can’t bear to see how sick she is. He constantly cries,” said Stefka trying hard to hold back her own tears.

“As much as you can, please try not to cry in front of Rade. The less he comes to the hospital the better. Let’s not make him sick too. His health is very fragile already. His bosses often mention this to me. They worry that soon he won’t be able to do his job. They also fear him because he carries a gun. They’re afraid he might do something reckless. They can’t seem to take it from him. I’ll have to move him to another job as soon as possible,” said Slobodan.

“How could a few village children turn into such hypersensitive adults…?” Did the city wear them out or were they not ready for city life?” said Stefka very quietly.

“It’s the bad times. Who could have imagined or predicted all this. The Russians leaving us in the lurch. Some people, like Milan, got it into their heads that they should overthrow the government. What were they thinking? Obviously they weren’t. Did they think the government wouldn’t be prepared for that? What government wouldn’t fight back against those who stand against it? And our little girl got involved with him, with a renegade. What did she expect from him? Even if he recovers, it’s over for him. What kind of life could he live with a noose always hanging around his neck... I pity her, I pity Dushitsa very much,” said Slobodan.

Slobodan went silent. They all went silent.

Stefka took her thoughts to several years back. She had the words at the tip of her tongue and wanted to tell Slobodan about a conversation she’d overheard between him and his brother during which Jovan said something to him before he died. Stefka remembered Jovan telling Slobodan not to trust Tito and those around him because they had betrayed the Soviet Union and the Bolshevik Party, as well as all the countries that were with him. That only we had turned out to be black sheep. She also remembered that the brothers always avoided talking about politics in front of her and kept quiet. It was inappropriate for her to talk about those things. Now her mind was on her daughter. What would happen to her?

“The biggest mistake she made was to take him home with her while he was still sick. She got even sicker,” Stefka heard Slobodan say. “After I found out that she used my name without my knowledge to get him out of the hospital, I didn’t do anything. I didn’t want to cause problems. I didn’t want her to hate me. I didn’t want her to think in the future that I had stood in the way of her bringing him closer, of taking care of his health as she believed she could. And now here are the results of that action. This is exactly what I predicted would happen. But I thought that when she saw him up close, she would feel that she had to give him up. If he hadn’t escaped on his own, she would have had to return him to the hospital.”

“She is tormented. She won’t allow anyone to get close to her. A great misfortune has befallen us. On her the most. It’s a good thing your brother died. He is spared from all this. He didn’t see any of it. He didn’t see many of the bad things that came to this country and to his house. It was my destiny to live through it all,” said Stefka.

“I need to go. My family will worry about me…” replied Slobodan.

“Be well and thank you,” said Stefka and Vera simultaneously.

“I have news about Milan but it’s not all good news,” said Vera in a quiet and calm voice when she entered Dushitsa’s room. Dushitsa straightened up in her bed as much as she could and opened her eyes wide.

“Did he die? Is he alive?” asked Dushitsa.

“He’s alive! He’s in the hospital… Why do you always have to think of the worst?” said Vera.

“Don’t lie to me?” yelled Dushitsa with a very weak voice.

“I swear on our mother’s life I’m not lying to you. If you don’t believe me you can ask our uncle. He gave us the news last night. Late last night. You were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you up,” replied Vera.

“Go to him, go to him immediately. See how he is. Make sure you see him with your own eyes and come back and tell me,” whispered Dushitsa like she had a bad fever.

“Our uncle said that we should wait for a while for his health to improve and then we can visit him,” replied Vera.

Vera embraced Dushitsa and tried to give her support.

“No, that’s what the doctors always say. I won’t be able to wait. Go right now straight from here! I don’t want you to say anything… Just go!” said Dushitsa.

Vera stroked her hair and promised she’d go. She then helped Dushitsa lie back down again and went to the door. Vera heard her sister whisper something.

Dushitsa said, “Tell him this time he needs to come to the hospital and take me home like I took him... I’ll be waiting for him... I’m not angry with him for leaving like that, without saying goodbye...”

Dushitsa almost lost her voice completely. Vera turned around and went back to her bed. Dushitsa seemed to have fallen asleep... With this little hope that she had given her she figured she would regain a bit of her strength so that she could endure a bit longer, but didn’t know how long that would be. Soon Vera ran out of the hospital and was suffocating from a strong cry.

Vera was the first to arrive at the cemetery. It was a well-arranged beautiful cemetery. If anything at all could be so beautiful in this joyful end of the huge city, it was this cemetery. People began to arrive one by one...

Vera slowly approached Dushitsa’s grave. She felt the same painful cramp in her chest as she had during the funeral when Dushitsa was buried. As if three years hadn’t passed since then. Vera had made an agreement with her brother to come here and decorate the grave with flowers. Dushitsa had no one else, not a husband or children.

When Vera came close to the path she saw a shadow appear behind the branches of a leafy tree. She thought she’d made a mistake and had taken the wrong path... A tall monument of a woman made of white marble just appeared in front of her. She was wearing a white wedding gown, with a wedding wreath on her head... It appeared a bride had died and was buried next to Dushitsa... And while she was thinking about that she slowly approached her sister’s grave and read what was written on the statue “She was killed by the evil in human hearts”! On the image of a human-sized tombstone, she instantly recognized the face and figure of her sister. I was Dushitsa! Dushitsa as if she was alive, with a hidden smile in her eyes, in her face. A smile through tears... Vera collapsed on her sister’s grave. She then hugged her sister made of marble and yelled out loud:

...No one but Milan would have done this. Why now...? Why Milan...? It’s late... It’s too late... And in that loud cry she heard footsteps moving away quickly... She saw him... He was bent over ... Bent... Inhuman... She felt sorry for him... She wanted to call him... Something resisted in her... She was left with her mouth wide open, but no voice would come out. She was mute...

Shortly afterwards she heard her brother’s footsteps. She wanted to go and meet him away from the grave... To spare him the shock that she had experienced... But she didn’t have the strength. She couldn’t find the words. She heard him suddenly stop. Not far from her. Just a few steps. He seemed to have realized what was going on. Surely

he must have seen her huddled under the monument. She watched him stand there like he wasn’t there, like his mind was somewhere else, looking surprised. He approached slowly, very slowly. A strong rage was developing in his eyes and painful spasms on his face. At first, Vera thought he wouldn’t go to the monument. He stayed where he had stopped for such a long time.

“Who did he ask...? Who gave him consent? He mustn’t come here to her grave... let alone... He wants to free his conscience...” yelled Rade.

His anger suffocated him. Vera didn’t say anything. What could she say? It would only make him angrier.

They left the flowers next to the white roses, which of course he had brought...

They said nothing in the car. All the way home. Vera didn’t even dare to cry although everything inside her, in her soul, was crying.

They came home. Vera hesitated to tell her mother about the monument. Better not tell her now. Besides, Stefka had never gone alone to the cemetery. Unfortunately her mother sensed that something was wrong from the moment they entered the door... Especially when she looked at her son.

“Were there many people at the cemetery?” asked Stefka.

“Very few... Hardly anyone,” replied Vera slowly.

“I was thinking maybe we should have a gathering to remember her... We should invite people... We will serve them something... I didn’t have the strength to go with you today… I keep lying to myself that she isn’t there... That it’s all in vain...” said Stefka.

Vera knew that her mother wanted to ask her something else... She knew by the look on her face what it was... Was he, was Milan there, or had he at least brought flowers. But she said nothing. Maybe there was a wish in that unspoken question - he, although Dushitsa wasn’t alive, still didn’t want to forget her. He still loved her... They

had heard that he had been released from the hospital and that he was working in the same store where he had worked before. Vera knew her mother didn’t hate Milan. She felt sorry for him.

Stefka spoke the least about everything that had happened between Dushitsa and Milan. She always felt, and often said, that other people were to blame... The bad times were also to blame.

Because of that Vera was pretty sure Stefka would be happy with the monument. She wouldn’t think that Milan shouldn’t have done it. The poor man, how did he even raise that kind of money? Vera wondered. Maybe one of his fellow sculptors did it for free, feeling sorry for him... Or, it was done for him by one of his associates...

Stefka, with all her motherly burdens and pain, at no time wanted to blame the man who, due to a combination of circumstances beyond his control, had separated himself from her daughter.

…Who here was willing to go so deep into the unfortunate events in the country a few years ago? How could she understand whose fault this was? Who was the person responsible for sending Milan to prison in those fateful moments in his life and in Dushitsa’s life...? Why did this have to happen to innocent people because of the quarrels between the highest leaders of our state and other socialist states? He was sent to prison just because he didn’t seem to think the same way the Party leadership thought? This is how Stefka explained things to herself simply, in order to make it easier for her to cope.

While Vera was hesitant to tell her mother about the monument, Rade left the room and rudely said:

“The untried son-in-law even made a monument of your daughter! The likes of which isn’t found in the entire cemetery! He made her happy in life, so now he’s continuing to make her happy in the other world as well! He never told or asked anyone if he could do this!”

Stefka stood there in shock. At first she thought something was wrong with Rade. Vera realized that Stefka didn’t know whether to believe him or not so she said:

“We were truly surprised... We felt strange about it! The monument is beautiful, but that’s how thing are...”

“What are you talking about...? How could he do that? He has no money and his health is impaired... how did he raise the money…? The poor man...” whispered Stefka.

“The poor man! You still feel sorry for him? What about your poor daughter who is lying in the ground?” yelled Rade.

“Do you think this is good for him? May those who did this to him and your sister should be damned...” Vera yelled back.

All three went silent for a long time. Stefka decided to speak first.

“Son, if Milan did this in her memory he didn’t do it with bad intentions. He did it out of sadness. You, of all people, know how much they loved each other, said Stefka and began to cry loudly.

“Okay Vera, make some coffee,” said Rade to change the subject and ease his accusations.

After they had their coffee they dispersed.

If there was someone to take her, Stefka would have immediately gone to the cemetery to see the monument. But she didn’t tell her children that.

* * *

Just days later, someone found Stefka dead, with her arms wrapped around her daughter’s marble body. Maybe it was Milan because people said they often saw him around Dushitsa’s grave... with white roses in his hands.

The End

Note: The following was added by Risto Stefov;

About the Inform Bureau Resolution

By Dr. Michael Seraphinoff, March, 2017

https://jsis.washington.edu/ellisoncenter/wp-content/uploads/sites/13/2017/05/Seraphinoff_Michael_Documentat ion-of-Human-Rights-Violations.pdf Abstract:

After the break with the Soviet Union in 1949 the Yugoslav communist regime took special measures against its own party members who had questioned the new party line.

Tens of thousands of suspected supporters of the Cominform, in the dispute with the Soviet Bloc, were arrested and imprisoned. They were sentenced to years of imprisonment based on mostly hearsay evidence and without public or even secret trials where they might defend themselves against their accusers.

Prisoners were often subjected to cruel and unusual punishment and thousands are reported to have died. The state exercised arbitrary authority and used terror and intimidation in its struggle with political opponents.

This entire period of repressive measures was a taboo subject in communist Yugoslavia for half a century, and the repression of many of these prisoners continued long after their confinement through secret government surveillance and acts of intimidation.

With the break up of Yugoslavia secret police files became available to the former prisoners, and by the late 1980’s and early 1990’s a number of them had published accounts of their arrests and imprisonment. However, by that time the horrors of the new wars over the break up of Yugoslavia overshadowed these more historical accounts of state violence against the citizens of the former Yugoslavia.

Dr. Toma Batev, a former prisoner in the most notorious prison camp, the island camp of Goli Otok, wrote in the introduction to his 2006 book Mislata i dushata vo obrach: “Storm clouds had gathered over Yugoslavia back then [1949]. The state’s top officials took drastic measures against the political line of the InformBiro. A dictatorial approach was used to purge the Communist Party.

In those confused times the security apparatus of the party used various means to persecute those members of the party who, on the flimsiest of evidence, were deemed disloyal. Those who hesitated in the least in support of the sudden and confusing political policy changes were declared traitors, enemies of the people and the fatherland.

“In that abnormal time the state took extreme measures. Fear and confusion swept through the ranks of the party. There was widespread mistrust among the members. It was these terrible circumstances that led to so many being locked up in torture camps like Goli Otok, in the guise of socially useful labour camps.”

If you’re interested in reading the rest of Dr. Seraphinoff’s article please click to go to this link:

https://jsis.washington.edu/ellisoncenter/wp-content/uploads/sites/13/2017/05/Seraphinoff_Michael_Documentat ion-of-Human-Rights-Violations.pdf