Resilience Amidst Adversity: A Journey of Survival and Hope

How did it all begin for you, and how did you fall into this world?

As a kid, I was always happy. As the only child of parents who faced infertility and struggled for employment, I witnessed their determination and activism for human rights. My father, a compassionate doctor, inspired me deeply with his selfless dedication to helping others, despite the challenges. At 17, I aspired to follow in his footsteps. However, the looming war cast doubts on my dreams of attending university. Despite this, I realized my true calling was to assist others, even in the face of adversity. As conflict-ravaged our town, I found strength in my father’s words, embracing my role in making a difference. Though my path diverged from traditional academia, I discovered fulfillment in serving others. My journey is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Through compassion and determination, we can find purpose and meaning, even amidst life’s greatest challenges.

How do such grim scenarios, reminiscent of scenes from movies where individuals face execution or entire communities confront mass hangings, come to pass?

You find yourself at home, the tranquility shattered as the doors are violently kicked in by the army or whoever they may be. You’re swiftly rounded up and loaded into a car, destination unknown, but dread hangs heavy in the air. Standing amidst your family, the knock at the door heralds the arrival of the grim procession. The entire village is being methodically swept through by the army, leaving no corner untouched. As they move through the aisles of homes, starting from the highest points and working their way down, the sense of impending doom grows palpable. Your village, nestled amidst mountains, is encircled by the advancing forces. With each step, you join a throng of fellow villagers, a sea of humanity shuffling towards an uncertain fate. Women, children, the elderly—all swept up in the tide of terror, their cries piercing the air. Amid the chaos, your father’s determination to reach your uncle’s house becomes a lifeline of hope. Joined by relatives, you navigate the crowded streets, every step a testament to the collective will to survive. Finally reaching the safety of your uncle’s home, the brief respite offers little solace. With the army looming behind, you march onwards, the distance seeming insignificant amidst the overwhelming sense of dread. At this moment, the stark reality of being herded towards an unknown fate sinks in—a community united in fear, uncertain of what lies ahead, but resolute in their determination to endure.

How were you feeling at that moment? What thoughts were racing through your mind? It must have felt like the end was imminent.

At that moment, I was still young and naive, gripped by fear yet unable to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation. The echoing sounds, the palpable sense of impending doom—it all created an atmosphere of surreal dread that’s difficult to articulate. As we reached the crest of the mountain, the fear among us was tangible. Some cried, others prayed, while children screamed in terror. Amidst the chaos, my uncle whispered something to my father, prompting him to take action. Despite the grim circumstances, my father’s resolve remained steadfast as he sought to negotiate with the army. It was a desperate gambit fueled by my uncle’s wealth and influence, a testament to his character and the profound impact he had on our community. Even now, his actions are remembered with gratitude, a reminder of the heroism that emerged amidst the darkness of those days.

What did he do?

My uncle, with his wealth and bravado, confronted the soldiers, offering them a deal to spare our town in exchange for a ransom. Despite initial skepticism, the soldiers relented, and my mother joined in retrieving the hidden wealth. Hours passed anxiously until they returned, their success a relief amidst the uncertainty. Though my uncle had hidden some wealth, the sight of countless holes in the garden served as a stark reminder of the peril we narrowly avoided. Yet, their return brought immense joy and reunion, a testament to our resilience in the face of danger.

Did everyone make it out alive? Were there no casualties?

That fateful night spared our predominantly Muslim town from any fatalities. However, as the situation grew increasingly dire, my father’s urgency propelled me to seek refuge across the Kosovo border. Reluctantly, I embarked on a perilous journey through the rugged mountains, unsure of what lay ahead. Alone and weary, I eventually reached Kosovo’s capital, Pristina, and sought solace in a nearby bar. Stepping into the unfamiliar establishment, filled with uniformed personnel from various nations, I felt a mix of trepidation and desperation. In need of water and guidance, I mustered the courage to approach the strangers, hoping for assistance. Yet, uncertainty clouded my mind as I grappled with the fear of the unknown. Thankfully, the unexpected kindness of two American UN police officers, Peter and Brian, provided a glimmer of hope in my darkest hour. Their offer of shelter in their apartment offered a much-needed respite from the chaos, forging a bond that would endure beyond the turmoil of those tumultuous times.

How long did you stay with them?

Amidst the chaos, I found refuge with Peter and Brian for over a month. They graciously sheltered me until tensions eased in Serbia, despite the risks they faced for harboring me. Our time together forged a deep bond, akin to family, as we navigated the uncertainty of those tumultuous days. Peter, a father missing his children in Florida, and Brian, who grew fond of me despite not having kids of his own, welcomed me into their lives with open arms. Despite the dangers, they chose to protect me, risking their safety and positions within the UN. During my stay, we shared countless moments, attending evening events with other UN personnel and forming friendships across nationalities. Their care and protection provided a semblance of normalcy amidst the turmoil. However, one careless moment shattered the fragile peace. Neglecting their instructions to remain indoors during their duty hours, I ventured outside to run a few errands. It was a routine excursion that turned into a nightmare. As I stepped outside, I was swiftly abducted and thrown into a van by unknown assailants. Blindfolded and disoriented, I found myself at the mercy of ruthless captors who branded me a spy and subjected me to unspeakable horrors. The trauma of that night haunts me to this day. But amidst the darkness, a glimmer of hope emerged when a desperate plea inadvertently halted the assault. The realization of my virginity spared me from further violation, a small mercy in an otherwise harrowing ordeal. Yet, the nightmare was far from over. Forced into captivity, I endured relentless grooming and manipulation at the hands of my captors, a harrowing experience that left me shattered and scarred. In the face of such brutality, I clung to the hope of survival, determined to reclaim the life that had been stolen from me. But the road ahead would be fraught with peril, testing my resilience in ways I could never have imagined.

In this situation, are you alone with this woman, or are you part of a larger group of kidnapped girls?

In this scenario, it was just me alone; all the other girls had already been sent to the markets for sex trafficking. This operation wasn’t confined to Kosovo but extended to Albania, where victims became virtually untraceable. Their plan involved exploiting victims for sex and harvesting their organs. Once used, the victims were deemed valueless and their organs were taken. The operations were conducted without anesthesia, as reported by various sources. Additionally, there’s an account from someone involved in the surgeries, who thought they were legitimate. However, upon escaping, they provided an interview detailing the horrific truth.

Could you clarify who were the individuals who abducted you and took you? Were they figures of authority, such as the army or police, or were they simply local gangsters?

In their claims, they asserted to have served in the Kosovo army during the war within that limited timeframe. While I could identify them by name in my book, I opted not to, as I strive to promote peace and positivity. However, many within the community regarded them not as army veterans, but rather as intimidating figures akin to gangsters, instilling fear among the populace. Consequently, those aligned with them may perceive them as heroes, while others remain unaware of their true actions. When I eventually managed to escape their clutches, they revealed that I was the sole witness, implying that they had eliminated any others.

Let’s revisit where we left off. You mentioned being groomed, which is a difficult topic to broach, but can you elaborate on what grooming involves?

There would be different scenarios,for example.  they would make me watch them doing sexual acts. They would force me to witness them doing sexual acts.. Despite my reluctance, the threat of a gun pressed against my head left me with no choice but to watch. I had to watch while I was crying and being sick at the same time. I’d never seen anything like that, but that’s still something I could digest.  There were times when they brought inconscious girls into the apartment.  And, for the purpose of teaching me, they got raped. And it’s like a gang raped.  And I was forced to sit there and watch as these girls were raped, unable to intervene. It was heartbreaking.

And how long did this go on for?

I stayed with them for about a month or six weeks, roughly, until they deemed me ready to proceed.

Were the living conditions during this time akin to those of a hostage house or something similar?

Surprisingly, the apartment I was held in was right in the heart of Pristina, centrally located. I wasn’t concealed or hidden away; once they began grooming me, they took me out with them everywhere they went. Despite people noticing us together, it didn’t seem to bother anyone. Most of our outings were for lunch or other errands, but I was almost always by their side. If I happened to be alone, there were usually guards nearby. The layout of the apartment was simple: a bathroom and kitchen on the right as you entered, a bedroom straight ahead, and a living room to the left. It was a one-bedroom space, with three of us often squeezed into the bed. It felt uncomfortable, with him and his mistress occupying one side, leaving me cramped near the cabinet. The apartment itself was decent, well-kept, and surprisingly not rundown. It had a sturdy wooden door, almost like a prison door, suggesting either a strong defense against intruders or an effective barrier to escape.

I understand they took you out in public, but while inside the apartment, were you ever left unsupervised? Were there times when you were alone in a room, or was there always someone watching you, or at least nearby?

So, there was always someone present. I was never left alone. And as the weeks passed, my mental state deteriorated. I witnessed so much, and it took a toll on me. I struggled to sleep, given the circumstances of sharing a bed with three people. Moreover, I felt disgusted by everything happening around me, and a strong sense of homesickness overwhelmed me. All I wanted was to escape, to run away from it all.

At that point, were thoughts of death or a desire to die ever present? 

Death didn’t cross my mind. My primary focus was on escaping from the situation. The thought of seeing my mom and dad again kept me going. I couldn’t accept the idea that I might end up in the market as they claimed. Instead, I kept envisioning being reunited with my parents. That was the battle I was fighting in my head.

Had you experienced sexual assault yourself at that point, or were they saving you from direct involvement, just making you witness what was happening?

So they saved me. And finally, the day came to cross from Kosovo to Albania. It was quite an interesting day. We approached the nearest town that bordered Albania on the other side. I’ve detailed it all in the book. The boss arranged to spend the night in that particular town. So there we were, just the two of us, the boss and I, in this unfamiliar apartment. He opened a bottle of wine and insisted I join him. Despite my refusal, he persisted, trying to be charming. Then he said something that made my blood run cold. He told me he had developed feelings for me and proposed a deal. He said that if I spent the night with him, he would make all my troubles disappear and ensure I was safely shipped to my destination in Albania the next day. His words were repulsive, and I was terrified. He led me to the bedroom and pressured me relentlessly. I refused, feeling sickened by the thought. Eventually, he satisfied himself while I lay curled up, naked and repulsed. Afterward, he blamed me for his actions, claiming he wouldn’t have to ship me away if I had just given myself to him. It was a horrifying experience, being asked to surrender myself to such a monstrous individual. But please, tell me, how could I have given in to such a demand?

Given that you were aware of what was inevitably going to occur, why didn’t you comply? If you were aware that refusal would result in being sold off regardless, and the outcome was uncertain, what prevented you from doing so?

Even if I had said yes, it would have meant I willingly chose to endure sexual assault by my kidnappers. Looking back now, it’s strange to realize I still had some level of agency in that situation. But in the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to agree, because regardless of the outcome, I didn’t want any part of being associated with him. I knew what he and his accomplices were capable of, and I would have preferred death over either outcome. So I made the decision not to give him the satisfaction of having any control over me. It’s hard to explain, but there was no better outcome for me either way—it was all against my will. I just hoped to buy myself some more time before the next ordeal. It might sound strange, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to say yes to him.

So, you resisted giving him what he wanted. What happened next? Did he proceed to sell you off?

So, the next morning, we got up, very angry, and got into the car. The gang members were there, and I sat at the back of the car again, with two guys on each side holding guns to my ribs. He, the boss, sat in the front as the driver. After being stopped at the border, tensions rose among the gang members. Back at their base, the boss became enraged and ordered one of his men to rape and kill me. In a desperate moment, I pleaded for a chance to pray, and miraculously, the young man agreed. As I prayed, he left the room, inadvertently leaving behind the keys and the gun. Seizing the opportunity, I made a daring escape, racing down the stairs and onto the main road. Just as I screamed for help, a police officer arrived and intervened, saving my life. Shots were fired, but the officer shielded me from harm and called for backup. I was surrounded by law enforcement officers, and after providing a detailed account of my ordeal, I was reunited with Peter and Brian, the two Americans who had been looking out for me. Despite the joy of reunion, Brian’s guilt was palpable, serving as a reminder of the trauma we had endured. Eventually, the police escorted me back to where I had crossed into Kosovo, and from there, I made my way back to my parents. It was a moment of relief and disbelief as I shared my harrowing journey with them, grateful to be alive and back in their arms.

So, you returned to your parents, and they were completely unaware of what had transpired. I was going to inquire about that regardless, but what was the first thing you shared with them once you arrived? Did you immediately tell them what had happened?

Upon my return, my parents were in a panic, wondering why I had suddenly appeared. I tried to explain that I had a harrowing experience in Kosovo, but there was little time for details. Then, soldiers arrived, and despite my parents’ pleas, they took me away.

During the war in Yugoslavia, the Serbian government recruited various individuals, including criminals, to bolster their forces. These same soldiers were the ones who took me from my parents. As we arrived at an abandoned building, I realized this was not a regular army base. Bright lights blinded me as I faced interrogation, enduring physical abuse that left me severely injured.

I was subjected to brutal treatment, including being threatened with a cattle branding tool. Despite my injuries, I was thrown into a small, windowless room, where I spent six months in solitary confinement. The conditions were horrific, and I endured immense psychological distress during that time.

Was it in a location still near to where your home was?

Indeed, it was an abandoned building, seemingly repurposed for such grim activities. Reflecting on my time spent in that cramped, dim space, it felt as though I had embarked on a journey of lifetime lessons.

 Why were they keeping you? 

I was nothing but a pawn in their twisted game. There was no semblance of espionage, just sheer brutality. That first encounter with rape shattered me, leaving me heartbroken and lost. As days turned into endless nights in solitary confinement, I withered away, longing for release from this nightmare. Yet, amidst the darkness, I hold onto the belief in the inherent goodness of people, transcending borders and divisions. Despite the horrors I endured, my love and admiration for both Serbians and Kosovars remain unwavering. I know that the actions of a few do not define the many. The story of my friend from Singapore, who escaped the horrors of Bosnia, echoes the tragic reality of wartime coercion. Forced to commit unspeakable acts against his will, he, like countless others, was a victim of manipulation by those in power. It’s a stark reminder that civilians never sought war; it was imposed upon them by the greed and ambition of a select few.

Returning to your time in captivity, could you share how you eventually gained your freedom?

The six months were a profound experience for me. Initially filled with resentment and hate, I mirrored their hostility until I realized it was consuming me. Despite the suffering, I refused to let them strip me of my humanity. Instead, I chose empathy, even pity, recognizing their own twisted reality. I clung to my sense of kindness, refusing to let them break my spirit or sanity.

I never thought I’d escape. It felt like an impenetrable fortress. Yet strangely, I found a sense of calmness amidst the chaos. I no longer worried if my parents knew. They knew I was taken, and that brought me a strange peace. Unlike in Kosovo, where I feared they’d think I abandoned them, this time, I accepted whatever fate awaited me. Then, my dad, unbeknownst to me, embarked on a relentless search. After six agonizing months, he managed to locate me with the help of a sympathetic police officer. Seeing him at the door was surreal. I was so weak, barely able to walk, infected wounds festering. When he spoke Albanian, it was a lifeline. He covered me, shielding me from the blinding light of freedom. As we drove home, I couldn’t bear to look at the lights. I asked if my mom was dead, a morbid thought born of desperation. Reassured of her safety, I drifted into an uneasy sleep in the backseat. Arriving home, my mom’s tears spoke volumes. She bathed me tenderly while my dad tended to my wounds. Their care was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the torment I endured. Lying in my mom’s lap, I finally felt a semblance of peace, a respite from the nightmare. But as night fell, reality hit. It was time to leave. Exhausted and broken, I bid my final farewell, clinging to my mom in a tight embrace, the last vestige of a shattered innocence.

It was a covert operation orchestrated by my dad and the Serbian police officer. They arranged for a truck still engaged in import-export activities to whisk me away to safety. Under the cover of darkness, my dad escorted me to the waiting truck, parked just a short distance from our home in the countryside. I bid my tearful farewell to my mom, knowing it might be our last embrace.

As I boarded the truck, my senses were on high alert, wary of yet another unfamiliar man in my midst. But I trusted my dad’s judgment, clinging to his scent as a final memory of our time together. With a heavy heart, I surrendered to the unknown, resigned to whatever fate awaited me.

During the journey, I remained hidden in the confines of the truck, shielded from view. Stops were made for restroom breaks and meals, but I remained oblivious to our whereabouts, trusting in the driver to deliver me to safety. It wasn’t until we arrived in the UK that I emerged from hiding, grateful to have escaped the horrors of my captivity.

How much did your dad  offer the man for your freedom?

I’ll ask my dad about that. Whenever I bring it up, it’s like hitting a wall. I want to share their story too, but they’re reluctant to discuss it. They’ve been through so much; it’s like they’re living but not really. Thankfully, they’re still in Serbia. After five long years, we were finally reunited. The government here has been kind; they said my parents are always welcome to join me since I’m their only child. However, they chose to stay, not wanting to burden me. It wasn’t until five years later that we finally embraced each other again. I flew to Macedonia to meet them, already a British citizen by then. I couldn’t bear to go back before obtaining that status, just to be safe.

Despite having obtained British citizenship, did you still harbor fears about returning there, fearing the possibility of being kidnapped again?

Yes. When I first returned, around 2006 or 2007, I had already been a British citizen for about five to six years. I asked my dad to find out if anyone in the police department could check if I was on the wanted list. He approached one of his best friends, a Serbian named Chika, affectionately known as Uncle Pekka. Thankfully, he confirmed that I wasn’t on the wanted list because my abduction was carried out by a wartime army, whose members had returned to prison. Although I was listed in Kosovo for having been kidnapped, the fact that this incident wasn’t officially recorded allowed me to return without fear of repercussions.

And you still go back now? 

Yes, with a lot of struggle.. It’s not something I enjoy. I often have trouble sleeping and experience nightmares when I visit. However, I go to see my parents. What’s made it somewhat easier now is that I’ve shared my story with my cousins and others who disappeared during the war or joined different armies. Knowing that they’re aware of my experiences makes me feel protected in a way, especially since I don’t have siblings and can feel vulnerable as a woman when I’m not traveling with my husband. So, despite the challenges, having them know my story provides me with some sense of security.

For how long have you been married? After enduring such a traumatic experience and losing your innocence, when were you able to consider being in a relationship with a man?

Since 2008, I’ve managed not to harbor fear or hatred towards anyone. Initially, I felt uncomfortable being with anyone, uncertain of my desires. Becoming a personal trainer was a turning point; fitness helped me manage my emotions, and I wanted to help others experience the same benefits. One day, while working at a gym in Leicester Square, I met my husband. Despite my trust issues, he approached our relationship with patience and understanding. He didn’t rush anything, earning my trust slowly. When we became intimate for the first time, I approached it as if it were my first time, wanting to be vulnerable and relaxed with him. Furthermore, I deeply admire and appreciate the qualities of the male gender, despite my experiences. The same gender that broke my trust in humanity is the same gender that helped me regain it. I’ve been open with my children about my experiences, making them more compassionate and understanding individuals. It’s important to educate children about the existence of evil while teaching them how to identify and combat it, as well as how to treat others with respect and empathy.

How do you view your story in terms of perspective? Some might dwell on the negative aspects and let depression take over, but you seem to embrace a positive outlook. Can you tell me more about how you maintain this “glass half full” perspective and approach life with a sense of optimism and determination?

Life offers us choices, regardless of the challenges we face—whether it’s domestic violence, injustice, or racism. We can opt to remain victims or embrace survival and growth. Every setback is a lesson, not punishment. It’s about recognizing both the good and bad in people and situations, and making choices that empower us. Starting the day positively, replacing self-criticism with affirmations, and surrounding ourselves with positivity sets the tone for success. We can’t control how others treat us, but we can control our responses and our journey towards making a difference in the world.