TIRANA, Albania — In early April, the first Jewish Agency for Israel trucks chugged down Albania’s dilapidated, single-lane roads, carrying relief to a dozen isolated camps in the southern Fier and Berat region.
The 50-mile journey took more than four hours. The Israelis knew conditions were poor, but they had no idea of the extent of suffering among the 30,000 refugees there. Refugees were sleeping on plastic sheets. There was no food.
Planeloads of relief from across the world are unloaded each day at Tirana airport. Most of it is distributed by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, which is overwhelmed by the logistics of handling such massive quantities of aid.
Israeli field workers say their group is one of only a few to take on the complicated task of physically distributing supplies. In addition, it is the only relief agency to reach the detached southern camps.
It was during the Passover seder on March 31 that Salai Meridor, Jewish Agency chairman, first pondered a response to the crisis. Two days later, Jewish Agency officials were setting up a hotline for Israeli donations and planning to dispatch a relief team.
On Sunday, April 4, Carl Unger, head of the Eastern European division of the Jewish Agency’s aliyah department, got a telephone call from Shimshon Shoshani, Jewish Agency director general and coordinator of the relief logistics. “I want to send you to Albania,” Shoshani said.
Unger could not resist the challenge. The former Israeli colonel thrived out in the field. He carried out Jewish Agency rescue missions in Chechnya, Georgia, Azerbaijan and Moldova, and coordinated the mass emigration of Russian Jews to Israel via Budapest between 1989 and 1991.
The next day, Unger and his team from the Jewish Agency and Latet, an independent Israeli humanitarian organization, were en route to Tirana. “We were determined to do everything ourselves,” Unger said. “We are not the only people distributing, but what is unique is that every day we phoned Israel to tell them what the refugees need.”
With some $30,000 in cash strapped to their bodies, the team began laying the groundwork for distribution. While the first Israeli planes landed, senior Jewish Agency officials met top Albanian officials, including President Rexhep Mejdani.
The first task for the Israelis was to secure free access to Tirana’s airport. Approval from officials was obtained with the help of small, but effective, “gifts” of chocolates, cigarettes and perfume to junior airport employees.
“We are not shy,” says Unger, explaining why the mission was successful. “If I have to call the Albanian deputy prime minister to get something done, I’ll do it. And if we had to make an offer that they couldn’t refuse, we knew how to do that too.”
Each morning for the next week, the Jewish Agency team boarded three or four trucks at 6 a.m. Halfway through the dangerous countryside — where armed gangs roam — a police escort joined them.
Refugee leaders rewarded the Israelis by crowning them “honorary presidents” of the southern camps. By the time they returned to their Tirana hotel rooms, it was 4 a.m. the next day. After sleeping for two hours, they boarded the trucks again.
The efforts of these Jewish field workers are becoming increasingly important as the number of refugees swells. There are more than 400,000 Kosovar refugees in Albania today, and the country of 3 million expects at least 200,000 more in the coming weeks.
The influx of refugees is further complicating the logistical challenge facing the UNHCR. In addition, the Albanian government is holding back some supplies in storehouses. Some relief workers fear that supplies are being siphoned off to the local black market.
As the war drags on, say field workers, the international media will probably lose interest in yet another prolonged Balkan tragedy.