BELGRADE: Serbs are unlikely to support full recognition of Kosovo as independent in exchange for EU membership, so only a compromise can stop Kosovo’s status from festering for decades in a “frozen conflict,” Serbia’s president warned on Friday.
The European Union has told Serbia it could join the bloc by 2025, provided it carries out reforms at home and resolves its differences with Kosovo, a province which declared independence 10 years ago.
The bloc has not said explicitly what form an agreement between Serbia and Kosovo must take, but Germany’s foreign minister, Sigmar Gabriel, told reporters in Pristina on Wednesday that Serbian “acceptance of Kosovo’s independence” was a condition.
Serbia’s leadership has been seeking a formula it can sell to the public in a referendum. Some commentators have suggested a deal under which Belgrade might stop short of recognizing Kosovo as sovereign, but accept it joining the United Nations, which Serbia’s veto-wielding ally Russia has so far blocked.
Aleksandar Vucic, Serbia’s president, a former Serb nationalist who has changed his views over the past decade to become pro-European, said any decision would have to be put to Serbian voters, many of whom consider Kosovo the cradle of their Orthodox faith.
“The people would decide; if you think that can get a majority, I’m not so sure,” Vucic told Reuters in an interview.
“We have to look at today’s reality and to understand relations in the world and relations in Kosovo and to understand that it (Kosovo) is not ours as we taught ourselves, but neither is it theirs as they try to show it,” he said.
“If there is no compromise we will have a frozen conflict for decades. We should not leave that to our children to deal with.”
Kosovo broke away from Serbia in 1999 when NATO bombed for 11 weeks to halt a wave of killings and expulsions of ethnic Albanian civilians by Serbian security forces waging a two-year counter-insurgency war.
It declared independence in 2008 and has been recognized by more than 100 countries around the world, including the major Western powers. However, five of the EU’s 28 members do not recognize Kosovo as sovereign, complicating the bloc’s ability to take a united stand.
On Tuesday, Kosovo’s president, Hashim Thaci, told Reuters that he expected a deal with Serbia within the year and that it would result in Kosovo’s membership of the United Nations.
In exchange, some of Vucic’s allies, including his foreign and defense ministers, have called for Kosovo to be partitioned, with Serbia taking a northern slice populated by minority Serbs which Kosovo has struggled to integrate. Vucic declined to comment on such calls.
He insisted agreement was possible, but that it would require “political will in Brussels to reach a compromise, rather than continuing to put pressure on Serbia.”
Quoting the Serbian writer Borislav Pekic, Vucic said Serbia should look to the future: “We should not kiss the ground our ancestors walked on, but rather the ground our children will walk on.”
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Serbs won’t back Kosovo recognition for EU seat, president warns
Serbs won’t back Kosovo recognition for EU seat, president warns
Refugee firefighters in Mauritania battle bushfires to give back to the community that took them in
MBERA: The men move in rhythm, swaying in line and beating the ground with spindly tree branches as the sun sets over the barren and hostile Mauritanian desert. The crack of the wood against dry grass lands in unison, a technique perfected by more than a decade of fighting bushfires.
There is no fire today but the men — volunteer firefighters backed by the UN refugee agency — keep on training.
In this region of West Africa, bushfires are deadly. They can break out in the blink of an eye and last for days. The impoverished, vast territory is shared by Mauritanians and more than 250,000 refugees from neighboring Mali, who rely on the scarce vegetation to feed their livestock.
For the refugee firefighters, battling the blazes is a way of giving back to the community that took them in when they fled violence and instability at home in Mali.
Newcomers with an old tradition
Hantam Ag Ahmedou was 11 years old when his family left Mali in 2012 to settle in the Mbera refugee camp in Mauritania, 48 kilometers (30 miles) from the Malian border. Like most refugees and locals, his family are herders and once in Mbera, they saw how quickly bushfires spread and how devastating they can be.
“We said to ourselves: There is this amazing generosity of the host community. These people share with us everything they have,” he told The Associated Press. “We needed to do something to lessen the burden.”
His father started organizing volunteer firefighters, at the time around 200 refugees. The Mauritanians had been fighting bushfires for decades, Ag Ahmedou said, but the Malian refugees brought know-how that gave them an advantage.
“You cannot stop bushfires with water,” Ag Ahmedou said. “That’s impossible, fires sometimes break out a hundred kilometers from the nearest water source.”
Instead they use tree branches, he said, to smother the fire.
“That’s the only way to do it,” he said.
The volunteer ‘brigade’
Since 2018, the firefighters have been under the patronage of the UNHCR. The European Union finances their training and equipment, as well as the clearing of firebreak strips to stop the fires from spreading. The volunteers today count over 360 refugees who work with the region’s authorities and firefighters.
When a bushfire breaks out and the alert comes in, the firefighters jump into their pickup trucks and drive out. Once at the site of a fire, a 20-member team spreads out and starts pounding the ground at the edge of the blaze with acacia branches — a rare tree that has a high resistance to heat.
Usually, three other teams stand by in case the first team needs replacing.
Ag Ahmedou started going out with the firefighters when he was 13, carrying water and food supplies for the men. He helped put out his first fire when he was 18, and has since beaten hundreds of blazes.
He knows how dangerous the task is but he doesn’t let the fear control him.
“Someone has to do it,” he said. “If the fire is not stopped, it can penetrate the refugee camp and the villages, kill animals, kill humans, and devastate the economy of the whole region.”
A climate-vulnerable nation
About 90 percent of Mauritania is covered by the Sahara Desert. Climate change has accelerated desertification and increased the pressure on natural resources, especially water, experts say. The United Nations says tensions between locals and refugees over grazing areas is a key threat to peace.
Tayyar Sukru Cansizoglu, the UNHCR chief in Mauritania, said that with the effects of climate change, even Mauritanians in the area cannot find enough grazing land for their own cows and goats — so a “single bushfire” becomes life-threatening for everyone.
When the first refugees arrived in 2012, authorities cleared a large chunk of land for the Mbera camp, which today has more than 150,000 Malian refugees. Another 150,000 live in villages scattered across the vast territory, sometimes outnumbering the locals 10 to one.
Chejna Abdallah, the mayor of the border town of Fassala, said because of “high pressure on natural resources, especially access to water,” tensions are rising between the locals and the Malians.
Giving back
Abderrahmane Maiga, a 52-year-old member of the “Mbera Fire Brigade,” as the firefighters call themselves, presses soil around a young seedling and carefully pours water at its base.
To make up for the vegetation losses, the firefighters have started setting up tree and plant nurseries across the desert — including acacias. This year, they also planted the first lemon and mango trees.
“It’s only right that we stand up to help people,” Maiga said.
He recalls one of the worst fires he faced in 2014, which dozens of men — both refugees and host community members — spent 48 hours battling. By the time it was over, some of the volunteers had collapsed from exhaustion.
Ag Ahmedou said he was aware of the tensions, especially as violence in Mali intensifies and going back is not an option for most of the refugees.
He said this was the life he was born into — a life in the desert, a life of food scarcity and “degraded land” — and that there is nowhere else for him to go. Fighting for survival is the only option.
“We cannot go to Europe and abandon our home,” he said. “So we have to resist. We have to fight.”
There is no fire today but the men — volunteer firefighters backed by the UN refugee agency — keep on training.
In this region of West Africa, bushfires are deadly. They can break out in the blink of an eye and last for days. The impoverished, vast territory is shared by Mauritanians and more than 250,000 refugees from neighboring Mali, who rely on the scarce vegetation to feed their livestock.
For the refugee firefighters, battling the blazes is a way of giving back to the community that took them in when they fled violence and instability at home in Mali.
Newcomers with an old tradition
Hantam Ag Ahmedou was 11 years old when his family left Mali in 2012 to settle in the Mbera refugee camp in Mauritania, 48 kilometers (30 miles) from the Malian border. Like most refugees and locals, his family are herders and once in Mbera, they saw how quickly bushfires spread and how devastating they can be.
“We said to ourselves: There is this amazing generosity of the host community. These people share with us everything they have,” he told The Associated Press. “We needed to do something to lessen the burden.”
His father started organizing volunteer firefighters, at the time around 200 refugees. The Mauritanians had been fighting bushfires for decades, Ag Ahmedou said, but the Malian refugees brought know-how that gave them an advantage.
“You cannot stop bushfires with water,” Ag Ahmedou said. “That’s impossible, fires sometimes break out a hundred kilometers from the nearest water source.”
Instead they use tree branches, he said, to smother the fire.
“That’s the only way to do it,” he said.
The volunteer ‘brigade’
Since 2018, the firefighters have been under the patronage of the UNHCR. The European Union finances their training and equipment, as well as the clearing of firebreak strips to stop the fires from spreading. The volunteers today count over 360 refugees who work with the region’s authorities and firefighters.
When a bushfire breaks out and the alert comes in, the firefighters jump into their pickup trucks and drive out. Once at the site of a fire, a 20-member team spreads out and starts pounding the ground at the edge of the blaze with acacia branches — a rare tree that has a high resistance to heat.
Usually, three other teams stand by in case the first team needs replacing.
Ag Ahmedou started going out with the firefighters when he was 13, carrying water and food supplies for the men. He helped put out his first fire when he was 18, and has since beaten hundreds of blazes.
He knows how dangerous the task is but he doesn’t let the fear control him.
“Someone has to do it,” he said. “If the fire is not stopped, it can penetrate the refugee camp and the villages, kill animals, kill humans, and devastate the economy of the whole region.”
A climate-vulnerable nation
About 90 percent of Mauritania is covered by the Sahara Desert. Climate change has accelerated desertification and increased the pressure on natural resources, especially water, experts say. The United Nations says tensions between locals and refugees over grazing areas is a key threat to peace.
Tayyar Sukru Cansizoglu, the UNHCR chief in Mauritania, said that with the effects of climate change, even Mauritanians in the area cannot find enough grazing land for their own cows and goats — so a “single bushfire” becomes life-threatening for everyone.
When the first refugees arrived in 2012, authorities cleared a large chunk of land for the Mbera camp, which today has more than 150,000 Malian refugees. Another 150,000 live in villages scattered across the vast territory, sometimes outnumbering the locals 10 to one.
Chejna Abdallah, the mayor of the border town of Fassala, said because of “high pressure on natural resources, especially access to water,” tensions are rising between the locals and the Malians.
Giving back
Abderrahmane Maiga, a 52-year-old member of the “Mbera Fire Brigade,” as the firefighters call themselves, presses soil around a young seedling and carefully pours water at its base.
To make up for the vegetation losses, the firefighters have started setting up tree and plant nurseries across the desert — including acacias. This year, they also planted the first lemon and mango trees.
“It’s only right that we stand up to help people,” Maiga said.
He recalls one of the worst fires he faced in 2014, which dozens of men — both refugees and host community members — spent 48 hours battling. By the time it was over, some of the volunteers had collapsed from exhaustion.
Ag Ahmedou said he was aware of the tensions, especially as violence in Mali intensifies and going back is not an option for most of the refugees.
He said this was the life he was born into — a life in the desert, a life of food scarcity and “degraded land” — and that there is nowhere else for him to go. Fighting for survival is the only option.
“We cannot go to Europe and abandon our home,” he said. “So we have to resist. We have to fight.”
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