# Kultura > Letërsia shqiptare > Krijime në gjuhë të huaja >  You Have Five Minutes to Leave!

## Mjellma

We switched off the TV when we heard knocking at the door. When my friend opened the door, we saw two tall policemen! They had long black beards, black clothes, big scary red eyes, and weapons in hand. Knives were strapped at their waists and their left arms carried badges with Serbian writing. Their appearance was so frightful to all of us! The policemen spoke only a few words. In Serbian language they said, You have five minutes to leave your apartment. If you don't leave you will not be alive any more."
      Panic!! What can someone do and take in five minutes? Where could we go? We couldn'tt go home anymore. My friend chose to go to Montenegro. She had some friends there. I didn't know what to do! Go with my friend in Montenegro? Go to another part of town to hide? My family was in my home town so I would lose all contact with them! I chose to go to Macedonia. I still don't know why. Maybe God called me to take that road! 
     I quickly grabbed one small bag and ran to the street. There was a little money and my postage stamp collection. I was by myself. I didn't own a car. I had to find somebody who did! I asked couple of people, but they didn'tt have room for an extra passenger. Amazingly, I found one of my cousins who had lived near me in my home town. He explained, "We are three adults and three kids! But, you can come with us." I got in the car as it started running. 
    So many people were in the street. On one corner a policeman was beating a young man. I saw blood from his nose run down the length of his body. Police stopped anyone with new cars and forced them out of the cars into the street. The police were stealing cars! Both sides of the road had walking women. The handicapped tried to push their own wheel chairs. Tired children cried! Old people plead for help. I never dreamt I would see the new holocaust of middle Europe with my own eyes!
     A massive line of cars headed toward the border of Macedonia. Police stopped us in the streets. They demanded identification documents  intending to keep them, not just to establish identities. Then they demanded money for us to continue our trip. Of course everybody gave some money, me too - this saved our lives and the lives of the children. Every village we passed had burned houses and abandoned animals in the street. I was sure I was looking at a Hitchcock movie, not really believing that this was the most critical day of my life! How did my life get to be so out of my own control? I couldn't think about the future; I just wanted to live! 
   I grew up in very small quiet town in Kosova. Everybody knew everybody. Like me, the majority were ethnic Albanian. There were a couple of Serbian families, but we had lived together peacefully! Even though I am a small woman from a small town, I had always dared to dream big! I attended the University of Belgrade completing coursework in special education, but it was always my dream to get an American masters degree. Two years after finishing my degree, I traveled to Prishtina, 27 km away from my town, to learn English.
     Milosevic became the leader of Serbia at the time I was in Belgrade as student. He first started trying to eliminate all non-Serbian people in Slovenia, then Croatia, then Bosnia and finally Herzegovina. His ethnic cleansing of Kosovo began slowly in 1991.
     First, Albanian children of Kosova no longer had the right to study in their own language. Then he took our only television station. Serbs were hired to replace the Albanians who were forced from their jobs. Most of my peers from school left for Germany, Switzerland, and Austria looking for better lives. 
The worst ethnic cleansing began in 1998. Milosevics forces began killing men from the villages in my native central Kosova. In September of 1998, Milosevic and Richard Holbrook, U.S. ambassador to the United Nations made a pact that seemed to minimize our plight. February 1999 had one of the worst massacres. Thirty-two villagers in Recak were killed! Most were very old. Their heads were cut off. Some of the victims were shot in the back at very close range.
    America and the United Nations tried to negotiate peace. They used sanctions for a couple of months but with no results. It seemed Milosevic only understood the language of weapons! NATO began attacking Serbian bases on March 24. 
   On March 31, 1999 I was in the capital of Prishtina working for a British organization called OXFAM. I felt a world away from my family! That morning I had a wonderful dream of flying to America! It was so pleasant - so real, but upon opening my eyes the nightmare of my reality returned. I was living in a war! Alone in Prishtina, my situation there was getting worse each day! I worried about my family living in a part of Kosovo where there was so much killing!
   I was living with a friend, her two children, and three other people in an apartment. Looking from the window, I saw a nice sunny day  a good to take a walk and play outside with my friends kids. However, we were unsure of what the next minute might bring outside the safety of the apartment walls. The need of milk for the children eventually outweighed our need for safety, though. My friend and I went outside to join the long mandatory food line. While waiting we couldnt talk, fearing our speech might allow others around us to discover our Albanian ethnicity. If uncovered, we knew we would not receive the milk and bread that was the expected reward for only Serbian line-standers. All markets were now in the hands of the Serbs!
    Our eyes heard more talking than our ears! The silence was talking! So many of my people had already left town! Our hour of waiting in line earned us only one liter of milk and one loaf of bread, but we felt lucky to get that. We returned home safely. We fed the children, but the adults had the smallest of breakfasts - just enough so our stomachs werent completely empty! We tried to distract our grumbling bellies by turning on the television to watch the news.
   That was when the policemen arrived at our door. Control of my life was no longer mine. My big dreams of this morning had vanished into the smallest hopes of just living! 
    It was 4:00 p.m. as the seemingly-still line of cars approached the Macedonian border. Still in a state of disbelief, I looked at the village we were passing. So many houses were burned down. I could hear the call of cows pleading for somebody to come and take their milk but nobody was there to help. In a grassy meadow a lone horse and her baby were eating together, not understanding what was going on. In the mountains I could see a little snow looking deceivingly fresh and clean.
   Suddenly a tremendous boom sounded! Everyone turned their heads to see what had happened. The horse that was eating a couple minutes before was now just couple of pieces of burning meat. The horse had stepped on a land mine. 
   Its colt ran away as fast as it could, and we knew there were mines everywhere around us! We became very fearful of walking no matter how slow the line of cars was! We decided to stay in the car and not move! No bathroom stops  no stretch breaks for the children!
   Four oclock in the afternoon, in March, in the mountains - it was getting cold! I looked to the blue sky and tried to ask God, Where is my family? How is my old dad? How is my mum? Does she have her medicine? How is my sweetheart, Rinas? How are my two angels Rina and Deniz? I had so many questions without answer.
   My stomach was empty, but there was no food to make it full! I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but there was no chance  no peace. Outside, police were beating somebody again. I could hear the beating go on and on. The police were mad because of the NATO planes that were flying overhead. They were beating a man while asking with screaming voices, You asked for  NATO, now you have it. Call NATO for help. Where is your Clinton now? Why is he not coming to help you? 
      After 13 tortured hours of waiting near the border, we crossed into Macedonia. I am so grateful to the Albanian community of people who had prepared bread and some Sprite for new refugees. It tasted better than any bread I had ever eaten! 
   My cousin drove deeper into Macedonia to visit an Albanian family there. I felt that I should be near the border so I might be able to get information from my family. My cousins wanted to stay in the village where we had stopped, so I rode a bus back to Stakovec, the first camp near the border. A humanitarian agency gave me a bed and told me to sleep with another family. I had never seen them before in my life! It was hard to sleep in that tent, but I was safe!
    This was the end of my longest day, but not the end of my adventure. Life in the camp was hard, but after one week I started to work again for OXFAM again like I did before my flight. I found my family in Macedonia after 6 weeks of searching. Miraculously, all of them were alive, but we lost everything of material value in Kosova. With the help of an international migration organization my family decided to start a new life in the United States. All 14 of us came to Nashville, not even knowing where Nashville was. I am glad our pilot knew, though.
     Here we work to forget our past and our terrible memories of war. We found here what we were looking for  love from many sources, the right to work and to study, and nobody will ever again beat us or kill us just because we are Albanian! March 31, 1999 was a day of nightmare, but in the years since then the reality-nightmare from the end of that day has been transformed into a realization of the dream I had experienced at the beginning of that day. Was it just instinct or God who called me to Macedonia during my five minutes of decision time? I may never know, but that choice made my dreams of attending school in America come true!


P.s Ky tregim eshte ngjarje e vertet,dita kur une e lash Kosoven !

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## drini_në_TR

Eshtë shumë e bukur Mjellma! :)

Mynyra sesi e ke shkruar dhe shtjelluar ka dalë shumë bukur. Nuk e di sesí thuhen në shqip, por duket qartë "setting" në fillim të tregimit, "climax" në pesë minutçin që pate për të vendosur, dhe "resolution" me fjalinë e fundit të tregimit. 

Duket që ke mësuar shumë në shkollën amerikane :). 

Thonë se po të jesh i/e sinqertë në zemër dhe në vetvete, një Zot që ndodhet atje apo diku, dëgjon, dhe nëse vërtetë dëshira që ke është diçka e nevojshme, ta plotësonë atë. 

Motrës së madhe Mjellma :)
Drini.

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## Kukes_girl

Me pelqeu dhe mua.
Urime

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## *~Rexhina~*

Edhe mua me pelqe shume. 
Te pershendes Mjellma

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## Esperanca

wow histori shume e bukur
What doesn't kill u makes u stronger

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## Enola

Shkrim i mire por mendoj se duhet patjeter te kesh versionin shqip:)

dhimbja shqiptare duhet shprehur shqip

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## Mjellma

Une nuk jam shkrimtare as qe do behem ndonjiher por ja kisha obligim per klasen time te Anglishtes te shkruaj nje moment qe ndryshoj jeten time.Ashtu duke menduar vendos te shkruaj per luften edhe pse shume rrall flas edhe shkruaj per luften!
Ndonje here shof endrra por mundohem me c'do kush ate pjese te hidhur te jetes sime ta harroj.

Pajtohem se ky shkrim duhet te jete ne gjuhen shqip edhe do te mundohem qe ta perkthej ne te ardhmen.Por edhe popujt tjere duhet te din se c'ka ka ndodh ne Kosove,bota do te harron masakren ne Kosove por ne jemi ata qe duhet ti perkujtojm!

Drini vllaqko im :)
Studenti_blu,Kukes_girl,Ana18,Esperanca,Enola ju falem nderit per kohen edhe kujdesin qe ja kushtuar keti tregim.

Tregimi eshte notu me nje note bukur te lart edhe kam marre sygjerime per ta botu ndojkund por ai eshte vendim qe do ta marre ne te ardhmen.

Me respekt
Mjellma

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## Shiu

Mjellmë,

Më ktheve edhe njëherë në kohërat kur ne të gjithë, në një mënyrë apo tjetër, kemi kaluar nëpër tmerrin e dhunës serbe. Më vie mirë që ato ngjarje përjetësohen nëpër shkrime të këtilla, më vie mirë edhe që shkrimet e këtilla u prezentohen të huajve. E kaluara nuk ben te harrohet...

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## deep_blue

Une hiq kot!
Po pres me mire ta shijoj ne gjuhen shqipe.
Te ne piten e hane  me  dore  Mjellma.shpresoj qe edhe ti  e han ashtu.

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## Dita

E dashur Mjellme,

ke bere shume mire qe detyren e ke shkruar per Kosoven e qe e ke sjelle per nje publik me te gjere ne forum, akoma dhe me mire. Historia e dhimbshme te luftes se Kosoves, perjetimet e gjithsecilit eshte mire te shkruhen e te mbeten te dokumentuara ne kujtesen e popullit tone, ne forme dokumentash historike, librash apo edhe filmash. 
(Ne kete kohe kur ne rend te dites jane bisedimet direkte me Serbine per zgjidhjen e ceshtjes se Kosoves, keto kujtesa duhet te mbushin gazeta, revista e media. Duhet kujtuar lufta e duhet menduar se per cka do te ish ne gjendje gjithsecili, nese rezultati i bisedimeve do te nxirrte dicka tjeter dhe jo pavaresine e Kosoves.)

Nese te jepet mundesia ta botosh ne anglisht ne ndonje reviste amerikane, botoje.

Ne shkrim permend edhe marrjen me vete ne ate dite te albumit me pullat postare, gje per te cilen me ke treguar edhe me pare. Kam nje lutje per ty. A eshte e mundur qe pjese te ketij albumi te na i sjellesh te fotografuara tek albumi i fotografive. Aty ka nje teme mbi filateline.

Ju uroj qe familjarisht tju ece mbare ne Amerike e qe ti mbas shkolles te vendosesh ne Prishtine.

Te fala!
Dita

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## Ullmar Qvick

Motra ime Mjellma: 
Duke qenë se e kisha lexuar tregimin tënd para botimit në Forum, vetëm tani e kërkova këtu për të lexuar komentet e miqve. Besoj se fjalët e ngrohta do të të frymëzojnë të shkruash më shumë.... Tregimi na prek në zemër, dhe vërtet këto rrëfime nga vendi i ngjarjes janë me një vlerë të posacme, shumë herë krijojnë emocione më të forta se raportet e gazetarëve apo shkrimtarëve profesional... 
Kam përkthyer edhe botuar një rrëfim tjetër nga Drenica e luftës, rrëfimin në formën e ditarit të së rejës Ardita Beqiri "Ditari i zemrës sime". Libri u botua këtu në Suedi në të dy gjuhët, suedisht dhe shqip. Në këtë libër tregohen shumë histori rrënqethëse për barbarizmat dhe tragjeditë e luftës. Rrëfime të tilla mund të na bëjmë të kuptojmë vuajtjet e popullit shqiptar të Kosovës, ne të lumturit që jetojnë në paqe dhe begati. 
Shpresoj, Mjellma, se tregimi yt do të këtë përhapje të gjerë. E meriton!
Vëllaqko Ullmar në Suedi
"Na bashkoi filatelia dhe simpatia thjesht njerëzore"

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## Mjellma

Shiu mik c'do shqiptar/e nga Kosova ka tregimin e vet nga ajo rruge  e tmerrit.Shkrimi im ka nje pasqyrim te nje rruge qe nuk ka pas humbje!

Si do te duket udhpershkrimi i atyre motrave duke kaluar neper malet e thepisura te Kukesit ?

Si do te dukej tregimi i atyre nenave ,motrave ,femijeve qe para syve i humben me te dashurit e tyre ?

Si do te dukej tregimi i asaj voglushes 11 veqare e cila u perdhunuar nga kater polic Serb ?

Me siguri tregimet e tyre do jen shume e shume te tmerrshme se sa tregimi i imi.

E di se duhet te jetojm me Serbet por te falim kurren e kurres edhe keto tregime duhen gjithemon te jen prezent ne gazetat tona edhe ato te huaja sepse ka ende shume tregimi te pa treguara edhe te pashkruara!
Shiu te fala nga kontineti tjeter.

Deep_blue kam premtu se do e perkthej vetem pak kohe sepse jam e zen shume me shkolle edhe pune.Pa dyshim se edhe une e ha piten me dore!
Me respekt per juve deep_blue

E dashura Dita,
Neve ne Kosove shkau na mohoj te drejten e shkolles keshtu qe mbetem te gjymet sa i preket lapsit,eshte obligim kombtar  i neve qe kemi pak dite shkolle te mundojme te fitojm luften medile ne kete kohe shume te vendimtare neper te cilen Kosova po kalon!
Tregimi im eshte nje pike uj ne nje Oqean por eshte nje pike...

Do te mundohem te botoj ne ndonje revist Amerikane edhe pse me duhet edhe ca plotesim ti bej ne tregim.

Disa nga pullat postale (jan 3000)  do te mundohem ti skenoj edhe do ti postoj ne ate teme por me duhet se pari te ballafaqohem pak me dhimbjen ,disa nga pullat postale i kam nga i ndjeri Babe,i cili kur vizitonte ndonje shtet me sillke pulla postale, e dinte se pullat per mua jan dhurata me e kendeshme!
Te perqafi me malli Ditushe !

Vlla im Ullmar,
Kritikat e pare per tregimin tim kam marre nga ti.
Nuk di nuk kam fjal qe mund te shkruaj per TY te pershkruaj shpirtin e bardh qe ke.
U ktheva nga Kosova me dhimbje por letrat e tua elektronike ma lehtesuan dhimbjen duke me bere shume me te fort!
Filatelia na bashkoj por edhe a jan motivet e pullave postale ato qe perhapin vetem dashuri!
Me shume respekt per ty
Motrushi jot
Mjellma

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## glaukus 001

Tregim i dhimbshem por te pakten ne fund u bashkove me gjithe familjen dhe tani ke filluar nje jete te re. 
Ndoshta ajo tragjedi ishte nje shtyse per te rigjetur veten duke t'i dhene jetes edhe nje drejtim e kuptim me te thelle per te gezuar cdo moment e per te bere dicka te mire ne te ardhmen ...
Me terhoqi edhe fakti se nuk ke aspak fryme urrejtese a mallkuese per ato qe ndodhen.
Te pershendes per bukurine shpirterore dhe gjithe te mirat ne token e mundesive :)

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## Mjellma

Galukus,

Te falem nderit per kohen edhe rreshtat qe ja ke kushtu tregimit!

Koha sheron plaget thojn...

Po me mungojn shkresat tua te mrekullushme!

Te pershndet
Shpendushi i qetesis :)

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## Fiori

M'u rrengjeth mishi...

Nuk di c'te them! Nuk ka vend per bukur apo shume bukur, pasi me shume se shkrim letrar pjesa me lart eshte dokument qe te ngjall frike, pasiguri dhe ne fund te jep shprese, se e mira gjithmone mbizoteron!

Para pak vitesh kam pare ne Chicago nje filem gjysem dokumentar mbi dy ushtare/ose gazetare (nuk me kujtohet mire) amerikane te cilet kishin mbetur ne Kosove dhe po mundoheshin te komunikonin me forcat e tyre per te kaluar kufirin dhe per tu larguar. Gjate gjithe historise se tyre ne filem tregohen tmerret e luftes atje dhe deri sot e kesaj dite nuk kam per te harruar ndjesine qe kam patur gjate atij filmi, nuk e di cfare do kisha bere nq se une do te gjendesha ne nje situate te tille.

Per fat te keq nuk ja mbaj mend titullin filmit, por ne kete rast do ishte ilustrim i shkelqyer per pjesen e shkruar me lart!

Mund te them se e keqja s'ka fund, ndaj ndoshta duhet te gezohemi qe ka mbaruar me kaq dhe ju tani jeni te gjithe mire!


Pershendetje 

Fiori

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## Mjellma

E nderuara Fiori,
Me te vertet eshte veshtir te jesh vete ne luft,mbesin trauma tere jeten edhe pse mundohesh ti shlyn ato prap kthen edhe te shqetesojn shpirtin edhe mendjen.

Kan kaluar dikund 4 vite e gjysem nga lufta ne Kosove ,kur kam fillu me shkru kete tregim kam qen e befasuar se si truri im i kishte te ruajtura te gjitha edhe detalet me te vogla nga ajo rruge...edhe pse jam mundu ti harroj por nuk i kisha harruar...

Te falem nderit per rreshtat.


Me respekt

Mjellma

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## Boemi

Mjellmes 

Kur je edhe vetë  pjesë e kësaj tregjedije ,të lexosh diq të tillë, disi pa bindjen tënde të bën të migrosh shpirtërisht , disi edhe unë u shkëputa nga koha.

Edhe pse dukej si ishit para një përballje të përjetshme,  ju megjithatë u ngritët mbi të gjithë, dhe filluat përsëri . Edhe pas tmerrit disi keni ruajtur ngrohtësin , dhe më duket se i buzëqeshni jetës dhe e kapni buzëqeshjen e saj , gjë që gjithsesi ju bën të veqantë.

Si duket edhe qielli i perspektives suaj ka nje komunikim te mire me detin tuaj shpirtëror.

Suksese Mjellma

Nga bota virtuale,
miku juaj,
boemi


Të kaluarën nuk mund ta pushtosh , as mund ta ndreqësh, edhe nëse i del për zot, është e domosdoshme ta mbash parasysh, duhet pohuar se ne jemi njëherazi zotërit dhe skllevërit e saj.
								                                       Alain Bosquet

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## gezo

ME  RENQETHI TE  GJITHE  TRUPIN  TREGIMI  JOT E  DASHUR  MJELMA.TE  UROJ  SUKSESE  NE  JETE,TU  REALIZOFSHIN  ENDRRAT QE  KE.
ME  RESPEKT  NJE  BASHKOMBAS  I  YTY NGA  SHQIPERIA.

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## Mjellma

Jeta ime nga nje here i perngjajn mitologjis se Fenixit,sikur ate edhe mua nga nje here jeta me ben pluhur por sikur AI une prap ngritem edhe vazhdoj aty ku kam mbete!

Sa i perkete buzeqeshjes me kthyet tek nje kujtim i kendeshme  para 4 vitive isha duke punuar ne nje resturant ne airport te Nashvillit, kam marre nje kompliment te veqant ne ate kohe nga nje kalimtar rasti i cili me tha citoj" I wish I can have your smile".

Si duket une edhe vdekjen do e pres me buzeqeshje!

Ne keto caste kur po ju shkruaj po buzeqeshi fajtor eshte burimi i Drinit te Bardh. AI burim po ngjall ne mua diq te mrekullushme... AI burim eshte me i mrekullushem se mrekullia.

Ju falem nderit per rreshtat e juaj te art...

Me shume dashuri
Mjellma

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## Mjellma

Ju falem nderit per kohen qe ja keni kushtu tregimit tim.
Shpresoj se do ngritem ne piadestalen qe e ja kam vendos vetes,jeta me ka mesuar te "luftoj" per ate qe dua !

Gezo respekti eshte reciprok 

Ju pershndes 
Mjellma

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