Refugees Dig In Heels in Northern Albania

Relief workers keep coming by the wooden wagon that Emine Ulluri shares with 18 relatives, pulling back the plastic tarp slung over the top and surveying the twisted mass of bodies inside.

Alarmed by what they see, the authorities encourage the young woman to move her family out of this crowded border city near the Yugoslav province of Kosovo and on to safer, more spacious places farther south.

But as with many ethnic Albanian refugees camped out here--in appalling and overcrowded conditions and within shelling distance of Yugoslav soldiers--Ulluri insists upon staying put.

“I’ve already spent three weeks here,” she said. “I can wait.”

Reluctant to abandon their farm equipment, turn their backs on relatives still inside Kosovo or venture too far from a border they intend to return across soon, Kosovo refugees are amassing in northern Albania in numbers that alarm aid workers.

“We believe it is extremely important that as many people as possible move to the south,” said Nicholas Morris, a special envoy for the Office of the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees.

To spread the word, loudspeakers rouse the refugees in the early morning with offers of free bus trips out. In an experiment, two giant NATO supply helicopters and a third U.N. chopper airlifted some refugees to inland camps Wednesday afternoon.

But no refugees are forced to travel against their will, and volunteers are not stepping forward as quickly as authorities would like.

“In every situation like this, you try to move refugees from the border,” said Ray Wilkinson, a spokesman for the U.N. agency based here. “But we’re finding a bit of resistance. They’re near their tractors and their country, and they don’t want to leave.”

By digging in their heels, the refugees are turning what Albanian authorities set up as a way station into a permanent camp. Tiny Kukes has tripled in population, to more than 180,000, since ethnic Albanians began fleeing the violence in Kosovo.

Welcomed by the Albanian government, refugees have taken over schools, parking lots, fields and the local mosque. More than 40,000 have moved into residents’ homes.

“We are absorbed by the refugees,” said Jonuz Kola, a local official charged with providing a head count of the new arrivals. “Our homes are full of people. We are becoming refugees too.”

The refugees say they will gladly pick up camp--as soon as the North Atlantic Treaty Organization gives the word that its bombing campaign has driven back Yugoslav forces and made their burned-out villages safe again. It is a moment that they believe will come soon, quite contrary to the reports coming out of NATO headquarters in Brussels.

Ulluri, who fled the village of Maralija in northern Kosovo, predicts another week of waiting before news of a NATO victory arrives. Hamdi Demiri, another optimistic wagon dweller living at the camp, predicts that he will start up his tractor and haul his 12 family members back to the Kosovo village of Suva Reka by the time April turns to May.

“We’d like to go home tomorrow,” said Demiri, a farmer.

With many more refugees expected to arrive at the Albanian border soon, relief organizations are scrambling to expand the camps for new arrivals at the same time they gently prod current dwellers to move on.

“Taking into consideration that Kukes is a small city and there are not accommodations for all the refugees, please we ask you to go to places farther south,” says a handbill that aid workers distributed. “Staying here makes your life harder and worsens the situation for new arrivals.”

U.N. officials are negotiating with the Albanian government to allow refugees on designated days to drive tractors south along deteriorated highways, a practice that has been forbidden to date.

Safety is one of the motivations behind the effort to push the crowds south.

Kukes lies in a valley a short drive from Serbian-held territory. Skirmishes between the separatist ethnic Albanian forces of the Kosovo Liberation Army and Yugoslav soldiers have occurred in the surrounding mountains. Plumes of smoke and the sounds of Yugoslav artillery are a frequent reminder of the armed conflict that the refugees fled.

“This is potentially a military zone, as you can hear from all the bangs,” said Wilkinson of the U.N.

Some refugees are taking authorities’ advice, but getting out is not easy. Buses must traverse treacherous mountain roads, and the most popular destination--the Albanian capital, Tirana--is not taking new arrivals.

Even airlifts can be a fiasco. NATO’s first helicopter flights out of Kukes were delayed by bad weather and other glitches. Flights to the town of Peshkopi, a 3 1/2-hour drive on rough roads, took more than five hours including waiting time. Five women and two young children who could not fit in the first flight had to wait even longer.

“We had some weather problems and some maintenance delays with some of the aircraft,” explained Hank Adams, a U.S. Army major assigned to NATO headquarters who is assisting with the humanitarian support program in Kukes. “When you’re traveling with this kind of cargo, you don’t want to make a mistake.”