Sunday 30 August 2015

Up a Mountain in Kosovo (Part Two) by Inez Cook


(Please see 25/08/2014 for Part One)

We are glad to get out of the cold when we step inside the house.  The room we enter has rough white plastered walls and is empty apart from a single mattress, plastic chairs and a woodburning stove in the middle.  Hysen invites us to sit as he hangs his shotgun on a hook behind the door.  He explains he must keep it to hand at all times, as the wild animals on the mountain include bears and wolves. 

After collecting firewood from the store outside, he deftly lays and lights the stove.  The warmth spreads and shortly after the teapot is whistling on the stove.  Hysen is preparing Turkish tea, a remnant of the Ottoman Empire in the history of Kosovo.  It is also a central tradition in Kosovo-Albanian hospitality, where guests are afforded great respect and are regarded with an almost regal courtesy.  He uses a blue enamel double teapot.  The pot on top is made into a strong tea and then diluted using the water from the lower pot.  It is taken black with sugar and is served in a small curved glass.  Hysen opens a carrier bag and lays out some tomatoes and a generous bunch of wild garlic leaves.  He gestures to us to help ourselves, reminding me of the Albanian saying which sums up the simple tenets of hospitality here: buk, krip e zemer (bread, salt and heart).  

A little later we are joined by brothers Bajrush and Bekim, friends of Hysen and our hosts during our stay.  When we set off in the Lada Niva, they walked on foot, scaling the streams and crags and reaching the house in about two hours.  After our tea, Hysen sets up his chessboard and challenges Bekim to play.  They settle down on the mattress and, in the quiet concentration of the game, I realise how loud the wind and vehicle clatter were on our way up.  The room is silent until Hysen, acknowledging defeat, knocks over Bekim’s King.  The pieces scatter and laughter fills the room. 

Hysen shows us the three unfinished rooms of the house.  The largest room contains wooden animal enclosures lined with straw, ready for Hysen’s goat herd that will come and graze in the summer.  The second room will eventually be used to store homemade cheese and pickles.  The third room contains metal bunk beds and blankets for travellers to use.  It will be used on 1st August, Hysen explains, when hundreds of people from surrounding villages climb Lybeten and camp overnight.  By then the snow has melted and walkers can see the glacial lake that sits just behind the summit.  Hysen describes how Lybeten holds a sacred significance for locals and how national identity is closely connected to the landscape.  Kosovo lies on a plain surrounded by mountains.  This means that wherever you are in the country, the mountains always remain in sight.  For centuries, as well as providing sustenance to people, the mountains have been revered for being a natural fortress against invaders. 

Hysen points out a small stream a few yards away from the house.  A concrete trough siphons off some of the stream water down to a small water-wheel.  The wheel has been hand-cut and hammered from tin and is connected to a generator which will eventually provide the house with electricity.  The house and its hand-made hydro-power system have taken years to build, as all the building materials have had to be transported by car.  The project is a long-term one, and despite his ingenuity and resilience, Hysen is aware that it always remains subject to his health and the mountain weather conditions. 

We walk to a grass ridge as Bajrush and Bekim gather kindling.  Every so often Hysen looks up and scans the mountainside.  He tells us that there are certain places where it is best not to walk.  Since the war in 1999, most unexploded mines have been cleared by NATO but he is still cautious.  We huddle around the newly-lit fire.  The flames seem strangely intimate next to the vast drop a few feet behind us.  Warming his hands, Hysen tells us about his mother.  He says the mountain kept her healthy and the clean air and mineral-rich springs were the secrets to her longevity.  He smiles as he speaks and I see how he has transformed during the journey.   Far from his shop where he first greeted us with stoic reserve, up here he is in his element, the guarded alertness occasionally thawing to reveal a man at ease and at home in this landscape. 

Around where we are sitting, the grass is dotted purple and yellow.  Hysen points and names each one: wild violets and celandine.  These tiny bright flowers seem incongruous with the bare branches of the woods below but even on a wintry April day the richness of the biodiversity is clear.  This region is particularly known for its butterflies, including some very rare and endangered species.  Apart from the illegal logging it is unspoilt, making it an area of interest for conservation research.   

A little later, Bekim spots an eagle dipping below us.  We walk closer to the ridge to follow its descent.  Through a thin layer of cloud the city of Ferizaj is visible and beyond that the capital Prishtina.   Up here it is almost possible to forget that there was a war in recent past.   After collecting our things, we climb back into Hysen’s Lada and start our descent.  Hysen points out a helicopter circling a neighbouring mountain.  It belongs to KFOR, the NATO organisation in charge of peace-keeping.  Soon other signs of war start to reappear, the shells of burned-out houses and empty villages.  Our journey off the mountain takes us along the same route that the villagers took in 1999 to flee violence.  In two days we will attend a memorial service to commemorate the local civilians killed during the conflict.  For now though, we clatter down the mountain and say goodbye to Hysen, grateful that he invited us to share the thing most precious to him: his mountain.

Monday 24 August 2015

Level Four. Part Six: ‘Rafa’ by Dave Rigby

I shield my eyes from the burning sun, as I watch a pair of vultures circling slowly. There’s sudden movement in the undergrowth. The boar has decided to make a bid for freedom. I’m quick with the shotgun, but not quick enough. The boar suddenly lurches off to the left, unharmed, the gunshot ringing in my ears. The sound is followed immediately by a prolonged scream, a human scream. I break the gun and run forwards, almost certain my shot went to the left of the scream. Around the other side of a large pine sits a man.
I’m much relieved to find him fully alive, if a little out of control. He tries and fails to get to his feet.

“What the hell are you doing firing that thing?” he shouts.”You could have killed me!”  
“I’m shooting in my forest. What are you doing here, off the trail? Didn’t you see the signs?”
He calms down a little and tells me what has happened. He’s lost the rest of his group, can’t walk and the pain in his knee is awful. I notice his swollen hand. No doubt one of our local bees has been busy. I need to get him to the Land Rover, but I can’t manage on my own. There’s another movement in the undergrowth, but it’s too slow to be the boar returning.        
“Clive! Clive!” It’s a woman’s voice. She’s crying as she emerges from the bushes, her clothing not entirely how it should be. “That gunshot! What the hell happened?”
“Jemma” is all Clive can manage to say. She sits down beside him and they embrace, awkwardly, both now crying. Slowly she seems to take in the whole scene, and turns on me. I hold up my hands and wait for her tirade to finish.

“So, do you want your boyfriend to be rescued or not?” I ask. “Perhaps you’d better check with him, before you refuse a ride home.”
“What do you mean a ride home? And he’s not my boyfriend, he’s my hus…..” She stops, mid-sentence, as another figure emerges from the undergrowth. The man looks sheepishly at the other two.  
“Seamus!” Clive shouts out. “Fantastic – you’ve come to rescue me as well!” The walkie-talkie on my belt crackles into life. 
It’s Rodrigo. “Rafa! Listen, I’ve just spoken to Tash. Her walking group - one of them’s injured. He needs a lift. Where are you?” 
I interrupt him. “You’re not going to believe this, but I’m with him and a couple of his walking friends right now. Rafa to the rescue eh!”
“Nice one mate. Bring ‘em in. I’ll get as near as I can in the Toyota and round up the rest of them. Tash says they scattered, didn’t follow her instructions. She told me where to start looking.”

My little group clearly hasn’t understood a word of the conversation. I tell them it’s their lucky day. I may be a barbarian hunter, but I’m also part of the local rescue team. Once I’ve strapped up Clive’s knee and given him the bee treatment, we make our way very slowly downhill to the vehicle. On the way down, we come across another walker, Charlie. He stares at the struggling Clive.
“Some of this lot shouldn’t be let out on a Level One walk, let alone a Level Four,” he calls out. I’m not sure I fully understand what he means, but I take an instant dislike to him. I let Rodrigo know about our new arrival.


When we finally complete the rocky-road journey to the hotel, they stumble out of the Land Rover, as if they’ve just been delivered from a warzone. Natasha’s sitting by the pool, looking as cool as a lettuce, like always. But, before I have chance to say a word, they turn on her.
“What on earth are you doing here Natasha? You should be up there searching for the others, instead of chillaxing. You abandoned us! We’ll have to report this.”
“Why don’t you ask her what she’s been doing here, Charlie”, I say, “instead of jumping to wild conclusions?” 
“When I find poor Clive injured, I need a vehicle for him.” Natasha’s voice is calm and confident. “When I go back to our meeting point - nobody there. So I need a sheepdog to find you all. I decide it is best to run back here to the hotel.”
“Why?” Charlie interrupts. “And how could you possibly run that far so quickly?”  
“It was three miles Charlie. One hour walk, as I told you. But I am a runner, I can do it much faster. Mobile phone useless all the time I run, but here in willage, I know there is rescue and walkie-talkie. Better than mobile. It is lucky Rafa has already found some of you. I tell Rodrigo where to search for the others and to take with him the - what do you call it in English, Rafa…..?”
“Megaphone.”
“Yes – megaphone. It can shout even louder than me. Rodrigo has found the others. They are on their way here now.”

Charlie stalks off towards the hotel entrance. Jemma, Clive and Seamus stare at the ground, heads bowed, all aggression gone. There’s a long awkward silence. I guess their holiday is over.


The End
(If you missed the beginning, go back to Part One, 20th July)

Monday 17 August 2015

Level Four. Part Five: 'Clive' by Virginia Hainsworth

I hear a sharp crack. What was that? I know there are hunters in these woods. Or maybe it was distant thunder. Calm down, Clive old boy. I sometimes find that talking out loud to myself steadies me. But not this time. Instead of floating away from me, as they usually do, my words hang in the oppressive air and enlarge my feelings of isolation. This is not going to plan.

My badly twisted knee is throbbing like hell and the bee sting is causing my hand to swell up like a balloon. There is little chance that I shall be able to climb back up the steep incline towards the path at the top. I only meant to hide in the bushes by the track, but taking a tumble like this has left me shaken.

Damn Michael. I speak out loud again. When he and I had agreed that I would ‘become lost’ at some point on the walk, we both grinned at the simple idea. I would be able to test Jemma’s reaction to my disappearance. He would report back to me how she behaved. My unexplained absence would surely make her realise how much she depends on me. And he, in turn, would observe the group dynamics in response to a crisis, as material for the detail of his Level Four game. Brilliant. Only now I’m hurt and can’t re-join the path to follow the group. Damn him.

I could have told him how the others will react. Natasha will be cool and professional.  She will tell the group to stay put whilst she retraces our steps. Charlie will assume leadership in her absence and do exactly the opposite from what she has instructed. Prats like him are so predictable. Diana will flip. She’s a bit unstable. Seamus, the creep, will move in on Jemma. And the rest will melt into the background, unaware of their bit parts in our little drama. Except Michael, of course. He’s a manipulative git. It occurs to me that I find it easy to predict the reaction of everyone except my own wife. What exactly is Jemma doing as I sit here? What else can I do to jolt her into some kind of tender feeling towards me?

“Clive? Clive? Can you hear me? Are you ok?”  Natasha’s distant voice interrupts my thoughts.
"Down here,” I call. Within minutes, she has slid and scrambled her way down to me.
“What have you did?” she enquires, and I want to laugh. I tell her that I went behind a tree to take a pee, when I fell. As she leans over me to examine my knee, I can smell her perfume, mingled with the sweetness of perspiration. A thought occurs to me. Now that would definitely prompt Jemma into some kind of reaction. But very possibly not the one I want.
“It is good job I saw broken branches and slip marks by path. But I cannot get you back to top by my own self. I must go and get help.” Natasha pulls a bottle of water out of her backpack and thrusts it into my swollen hand. I yelp in pain.
“So sorry,” she says. “You have no allergy to stings, yes?”
“No,” I say. “I’ll be alright.” After a few words of reassurance, she climbs back to the top of the incline and disappears. I lean back again, cursing my own stupidity but sighing with relief. At least I have been found before it gets dark. Overhead, I can see vultures circling. In more ways than one. I speak out aloud again but my voice sounds strained. I hear the sharp crack again but nearer this time. It is followed by a prolonged rustling in the undergrowth not far off.

Suddenly it seems so much darker down here.


Monday 10 August 2015

Level Four. Part Four : 'Jemma' By Clair Wright

Seamus keeps his hand in the small of my back, guiding me back along the path. I wish he wouldn’t. I can feel the sweat running down between my shoulder blades, and I’m embarrassed by my sticky, dusty state. In fact, embarrassed is what I’m feeling generally, I realise with a jolt, as we follow Charlie’s back pack bobbing ahead of us. I’m more embarrassed than worried, despite Charlie hinting that something dreadful has happened to Clive. Embarrassed, and angry. How could Clive draw attention to us like this? As if it wasn’t bad enough already. Seamus keeps glancing at me. I keep my eyes firmly ahead, but he’s persistent.

“Jemma, I’m sure Clive’s fine,” he says, panting a little. We are out of the shelter of the trees again, and the sun is piercing hot.  I nod. He has to be alright. The alternatives are too awful. Seamus puts his hand on my shoulder, turning me towards him a little. He drops his voice low.
“You don’t think he’s, well, gone off somewhere, do you?” he glances over his shoulder, but Julie, Pam and Diana are a good twenty metres behind us.
“What do you mean?” I hiss back. I shrug his hand away, feeling my scalp prickle with humiliation.
“Look, I don’t like to pry, but things seem a bit, you know, rocky between you guys. I just wondered…”
“Well don’t!” I snap.  I pick up my pace to get away him.
“If you need to talk….” I hear him call after me. I don’t look back. 

This trip was supposed to be about wilderness, some time away from everything. Now it feels as though I’m in a goldfish bowl. I round a cluster of scrubby trees and find Charlie and Michael, rucksacks at their feet, holding their phones towards the sky.
“Still no signal,” says Charlie. “Bloody foreign networks. Any joy on yours?”
“Nope,” says Michael.  He turns to me. “What network are you with?”
I pull out my phone, but the screen is blank. I stare at it, then remember I forgot to plug it in last night.  I’d barely had the energy to get undressed after another humdinger of a row.

Charlie snorts. “Brilliant! Bloody brilliant! The one person your bloody husband is bound to try and call, and your phone is dead! Bloody brilliant!”
“Go easy, will you?” says Michael, but I can tell he thinks I’m stupid too.
I can feel the tears prickling, and I turn away to get my water bottle out of my rucksack.  Seamus catches us up, crouching next to me.
“Hey! Come on, it’ll be okay.” He looks up at Charlie. “Have you said something to her? Can’t you see she’s upset?”
“Why don’t you make yourself useful, Mr Lover-Boy? Have you got any signal?”

Seamus springs to his feet and lunges at Charlie. Michael grabs his arm.
“For God’s sake! Can we all calm down? Seamus, your phone?” Seamus pulls it from his pocket and shakes his head.  He sits down on a rock, a little way away with his back to us. Diana, Pam and Julie come puffing up the path. Pam and Julie exchange concerned glances when they see me. I pretend to search in my rucksack to avoid eye contact. Diana sinks down and takes long, deep slugs from her water bottle. She sloshes some into her palm and splashes her face.
Charlie calls over. “Don’t waste your water like that! We could be out here for ages yet.” Diana scowls at him.

“How much further do you think we should go?” asks Pam. “How long have we been walking? Ten, fifteen minutes? Shouldn’t we have found them by now?”
Charlie seems to have appointed himself the leader of the group. “You’re assuming they are still close to the trail.  They could have left the route, in which case we might not see them.”
“Then what the hell are we doing?” explodes Diana. “I knew we should have stayed put, like Natasha said. What’s the point of having a guide if you ignore her?”

“Diana’s right,” says Pam.” We could be wandering around in circles for hours at this rate!”
Michael steps forward, palms out in a conciliatory gesture. “Look everyone, we weren’t trying to find Clive and Natasha; we were trying to get a phone signal to call for help. Now, has anyone got a signal?" Everyone shakes their heads.
“We stay together, we press on. We find a phone signal,” Charlie says. Michael nods.
We are close to the ridge now. The hot wind is whipping up dust. It’s stinging my eyes and drying my mouth. I look back the way we’ve come, to the shady trees below us.

“I’m going back,” I blurt out.  “You do what you like, but I’m going back.” I start off back down the trail towards the trees.
“No! Jemma! We should stay together!” calls Julie. I pretend I don’t hear. I need to get away from Charlie’s sneering and Pam and Julie’s silent sympathetic glances.  I need to get away from all of them.

Then I hear hurried steps in the dust. I glance around. It’s Seamus, and behind him, on the ridge, Charlie is laughing. 

Monday 3 August 2015

Level Four: Part Three. 'Diana' by Annabel Howarth

I have to sit down. There is a fallen down log, a little away from the others. I sit there to compose myself. This is hell. It was bad enough when Natasha said we had another one or two hours to go, but now it’s going to be who knows how long? I cannot believe she has just left us all here. 
It’s not just the threat of being shot, stung to death by bees or lost forever sending this feeling of panic through my body, but I cannot bear to be surrounded by these insufferable people for a second longer. 

It’s like I brought James with me. He and his tart are everywhere! I came away to try to take my mind away from thoughts of them and the agony of being separated from my babies. It really is like hell. My last days on earth being tormented by Mr God’s gift to women, everybody’s 'mate', and Charlie chump know-it-all.  But if that’s not enough we also have the mistress, in the guise of the simpering, manipulative Miss Jemma. No wonder Clive went off. Something I should have done years ago. Oh my God. I am rocking. I must stop. They will all think I have gone mad. Get a grip, Diana. 

“Are you okay Diana?” There is a hand on my shoulder.
It’s Pam. “You look really stressed. Would you like some water?”
I look up and I am suddenly aware that my brow is furrowed and my shoulders tensed. She smiles gently at me, and I can’t help but relax for a moment and smile back.
“Thank you. That’s kind,” I say. “I’m just struggling a bit.”
“With the walk?”
“Yes.... and a few other things.”
“Let me help you up.” Pam reaches her hand down and helps me to my feet. She looks across to the rest of the group and I follow her gaze. “Charlie wants us to go after Natasha.”
“What? No friggin’ way!” Pam looks surprised. I am a little shocked myself, by the force in my voice.

I stomp over to the group and jab my finger three times into Charlie’s right shoulder. As he turns round I yell at him, “Who the hell do you think you are?”
He looks shocked and, as recognition crosses his face, he stifles a laugh. Michael sniggers too.
I step back, as I too am startled when I see Charlie’s face. I was half expecting it to be James. Still, I recover myself a little and continue, even though the sick feeling I so well recognise is rising inside me from my stomach into my chest and all the blood is rushing up, flushing my cheeks. 
“Don’t you dare laugh at me. Natasha said to wait here, so we should do as she says.”
“I disagree. We can’t just wait here,” Charlie says.
“You presume to know better than her do you? You...”
“What if something serious has happened, and she can’t get back to us either?”
“What do you mean, serious?” says Jemma.
“All the more reason to stay,” I say.
“I think I have to agree with Diana,” says Julie. “What if we miss them and they come back and we’re not here. It’s the first rule of being found, to stay still.”
“What did you mean, serious?” says Jemma. She is looking quite sick now, like she might faint. I’m even beginning to feel a little sorry for her.
“I’m sure it will be nothing,” says Julie. “They’ll be back soon. It’s only been twenty minutes.”
“Yes, you’re probably right. They’re probably right, Charlie, mate,” Michael says.

Charlie stamps his foot, like a sulky child. “Well you can all stay here then, if you like, but I am going to head back. I can’t risk staying in this spot. I’m allergic to bee stings and I have forgotten my Epi Pen.” He strides determinedly in the direction that Natasha went. Michael, Jemma and Seamus immediately follow. I feel tears prick my eyes and my face is flushed again. 
“Do you even believe that he is allergic to bee stings?” I whisper.
“Heaven knows, love,” says Pam, “but we can’t stay behind. I think it’s best we all stick together.”

I can’t keep the tears back any longer.  I can hardly see through them as Pam and Julie guide me in the same direction as the others.