The Coal Mines

Last weekend a group of us went for what some of the group optimistically called "hiking" but which for me was more of a "wet country walk". It reminded me so much of damp trudges through autumnal Irish fields that it was positively comforting despite the cold and mud. This walking/hiking experience however only served to illustrate in vivid detail the stark contrast in circumstances between those dewy Irish fields and their Kosovar equivalent. Never before had it occurred to me how clean, how orderly, regulated and wholesome those Irish fields are, the clean air and uncontaminated produce we enjoy, the regulated agriculture and industry. 

Despite the simple beauty of the Kosovar countryside this time of year - vivid autumn colours, rolling fields and peaceful country homes - the pollution and mining we saw were both stark and startling. We drove past the infamous Obilić power station, powered by dirty coal, pumping out dense steady cloaks of black and brown smoke 24 hours a day. The heavy clouds from the power plants are distinct enough to be seen clearly from almost anywhere surrounding Pristina no matter the weather. To give some idea of the scale of environmental pollution I'm talking about here, one of the complex's two generators apparently produces 2.5 tonnes of dust per hour, or over 100,000 per year - 74 times the European standard. And those are the statistics made available publicly by Kosovo's Ministry for the Environment, which may have an interest in downplaying its figures.

I cannot imagine the health problems and contamination for the local communities living near the plant. This and this are both examples of haunting photographs that make clear how close the chimneys lie to the villages, football fields, schools and houses. Dust and smog from the plant linger over the whole of Pristina, clearly visible when driving downhill into the city on the Skopje road or from the Dragodan hills. I have lived before in cities where complaining about dust, smoke and air quality was a favourite hobby of the internationals (Kampala's red dust and Bosnian woodsmoke being highlights, even London coming in for criticism) but it not once before did it really bother me other than in an abstract sense (shouldn't we all be concerned about these things?). Here however, is a different matter. I find my skin has changed completely in the months since I've arrived; I've had problems of dryness, irritation and spots that I've never had before. Meanwhile the dust is physically and visibly present in the inches accumulating on my balcony and windowsills. During the summer when I spent a lot of time on the balcony, I found that I could clean everything down with soap and water in the morning, only to be able to run my finger through visible streaks of dust by afternoon. What it must be like in the shadow of the plant itself is another matter entirely. I shudder to think of the human impact. 

On our hike, after walking a kilometre or two through the fields we came to the site of what to date is the biggest excavation ever carried out in search of the remains of victims of war crimes. The Kosovo police and EULEX have been undertaking a dig on site for over a year in search for the remains of several Kosovo Serbs, allegedly victims of the Kosovo Liberation Army during the 1999 war. I leave it unsaid how sensitive and political such a search is and must be. I simply don't feel qualified to try to discuss the implications of such a search in terms of local politics and legal system, and certainly don't feel this is the forum to do so.  And for the record I'd like to note that I only heard this background information in a very informal context. To date, nothing at all has been found at the site, while locals claim that no remains were brought there during the conflict. Meanwhile a police watch is kept on site to ensure that no one either takes away or indeed adds remains to the site. And in the meantime, they keep digging, into a coal mine over 25 metres deep. 

It was the first time I'd ever been anywhere near an excavation site like this, and it didn't look anything like I expected it to - no forensics, no archeologists, no men in sterile white overalls working under a marquis tent. Presumably all of that will start if and when they find something. The sheer size of the site must severely complicate excavation work because any failure to find remains can be countered with the argument that they simply haven't explored all of the mine yet. And in the meantime, vast amounts of coal being removed from the mine in the process are being left to the side for locals, so at least there is one minor benefit to the whole process. 

My favourite kind of excavator at the entrance to the site. What are the chances! 

The dig site - the white chair on the bottom right of the mine give an idea of the scale of the site 

Further on, however, was a sight which still managed to startle, even after viewing a war crimes investigation. Several holes in the ground, twenty metres deep, rough, haphazard and hewn by hand, these were informal coal mines. In the bottom of these holes, without power, light or air, two or three men dig coal by hand with shovels and picks. This is hauled to the surface in metal cages on ropes and pulleys made by hand from branches of trees, powered without electricity or an engine. For this, the men make about ten Euro per day, on a good day. A bad day will be when they hit a seam of rock or poor-grade coal, which is worth little to nothing for sale. In other words, a bad day involves no less work, effort or labour - it simply goes unrewarded. And quite often it will be necessary to remove the poor-grade rock or shale in order to get to better coal underneath, so that the men do not have the choice of avoiding bad patches in the mine. 

Its hard to get an idea of the size of the mine, but it was approx. 30m deep. Open to the elements, ground and rainwater was collecting at the bottom. 

Mind the step... 

Inspecting the baskets used to haul coal to service, while a hardier soul than I heads down the mine

Did I mention the mud? 

Quite honestly, this was one of the most bleak chunks of reality I think I've ever witnessed. The primitive nature of the mine and the equipment used needed to be seen to be believed. We were only 15 miles from a European capital city. No regulation, no oversight, the concept of helath and safety something laughable from another world. The 20-30m deep mines don't have so much as a fence or a railing around them to prevent anyone from falling in. I didn't go down myself, because I was too afraid to use the ladders - handmade from the branches of trees, twisted and uneven, wobbling under the wind and rain and stretching across open depths of the mine below. Because of the rain and exposure (it was pouring by the time we got there) they were damp and slimy, and looked too slippery to make me overcome my nervousness. But those of the group, braver than I, who did go down passed some money to the miners and later expressed their shock at the darkness, dust and dank below. The harshness of the working conditions, the physical brutality of the labour.

Its entirely possible that I shouldn't be so shocked or dismayed - in a country with so little formal industry, natural resources or formal employment opportunities, this at least is a cottage industry which provides these men and their families with a chance for self-sufficiency, an income and potential future opportunities. Maybe. Or maybe not. If one of the men had an accident, you couldn't even bring an ambulance anywhere near the mine due to lack of road and the deep, sucking mud. Not to mention pay for the healthcare anyway. What kind of quality of life do whole families have, subsisting on ten Euro a day?

This was Kosovo, laying bare what lies behind the decrepit, shuttered or decaying industrial plants, the cafés and kebab shops of Pristina, the sights lying out of sight and inaccessible to the international community's jeeps whizzing past on the main road several kilometers away.