On May 5, Ibrahim Rugova, to all effect the Albanian president of Kosovo, was allowed to leave Pristina, where he had been held by the Yugoslav authorities since the war began. Rugova and his family flew to Rome in an Italian military plane, and NATO paused airstrikes while he was in transit. Among the first to talk to Rugova was Msgr. Vincenzo Paglia, spiritual leader of the Community of St. Egidio, a group of freelance Catholic diplomats active in trying to negotiate peace settlements around the world. Rugova, who has long been committed to pacifism as a political strategy, knew him well. They had worked together on an agreement with Milosevic last year to allow Albanian students to attend schools in Kosovo for the first time. Paglia's account of the effort to win Rugova's freedom:

We had tried so many times to get a line from Belgrade to Pristina that when I finally heard it actually ringing, on April 6, I could hardly believe it. I could picture it: the old black Bakelite telephone on the little table on the second floor of the house of my old friend, Ibrahim Rugova; his study with the collection of rocks from all over Kosovo. "Comment vas-tu?" I said, because we speak in French. "Finally, I've reached you."

"I'm at home, as usual," Rugova replied, "staring at the fireplace, with the picture of the pope and me over it. But there are no normal days any more. I'm fine. A little tired and I no longer sleep, but I'm well and so is my family." He recalled our first meeting, with the community's founder Andrea Riccardi at St. Egidio's in Rome, with the magnificent 17th-century paintings he was so fond of, and what he called "the biggest banana tree I've ever seen"�a tree that is a memento of the peace agreement we reached on Mozambique at our headquarters in 1992. We spoke about other friends in Kosovo, some of whom had erroneously been reported killed. "But I can't tell you much more," he said. "Communications are so difficult. I'm very worried about my people and their great suffering."

"We are also worried," I told him. "We're here in Belgrade because of this, and we're with you. What would you say if you could leave Kosovo for Rome? Would you be able to make a greater contribution to resolving the situation?"

"Why not?" Rugova said. "I would, if and when the authorities in Belgrade let me leave the country."

The important thing was that Rugova was alive, even if he couldn't express himself openly and didn't have freedom of movement. Back in Rome Mario Marazziti, the St. Egidio community spokesman, made sure that the Italian government and the Vatican knew what we were up to. Italy was giving logistical support and encouragement. But it was all up to us: we had a mandate from no one; only our own resolve. Now came the hard part: the government in Belgrade. The first test came during a bombardment, in the half-deserted restaurant of the Hotel Inter-Continental. At a dinner with one of Milosevic's vice ministers, a fellow Socialist Party member, I repeated, like a mantra: "Rugova is a sincere pacifist. If you want to get out of this, he needs to come to the West, to Rome, for instance. Otherwise, everyone will think you have a pistol pointed at his head." For three days there were feverish encounters like that, until I finally got to see Milan Milutinovic, the president of Serbia. I told him: "You've got to understand that if you keep Rugova here he will be like an unloaded gun in the fight for peace." Milutinovic said he'd study our case.

From April 10 there were contradictory signals. Intermediaries from the Serbs went to see Rugova. His leitmotif was simple: "Serbs and Albanians can and should live together. Albanians must return to Kosovo. You must stop forcing my people out of country. This is our land and we can and must all live here together." Meantime, Rugova appeared on TV with Milosevic in Belgrade, and denounced the NATO bombing campaign. Two weeks later, the Yugoslav Ministry of Information declared they were studying Rugova's release, "if and when he can go to Rome, as requested by the Community of St. Egidio."

Though his situation was dire, Rugova played an important role. He used his time under house arrest to try to go over his talks with Milosevic and understand his thinking. Rugova has paid a price for meeting with Milosevic, but he was looking to the future. "I met Milosevic, and told him that if we want to live on this land we have to get beyond shuttle-diplomacy and speak to each other directly," Rugova said. "I said that ethnic war is not inevitable, that this is a war of armies, not of peoples."

Finally last week the call to Italian Foreign Minister Lamberto Dini came from Belgrade: "Mr. Rugova wants to come to Rome. You can come and get him." He put on his silk scarf�the "Rugova look," sort of Sorbonne-existentialist. Then he flew here with his family and his assistant. The Italian government put him up in the ancient Villa Algardi, where Charles and Diana had once stayed. Now Rugova can once again play his role in leading Kosovo out of war and into peace. His first words in public were, "Thanks to Italy, to Minister Dini, to Prime Minister D'Alema and to my old friend Monsignor Paglia of the Community of St. Egidio�it is thanks to all of them that I am here today."

Tired, poor and suffering, like his people, he is still the Gandhi of the Balkans: "My people can't remain in eternal exile," he said, in his first statement while in freedom. "They have to go back to their own land. Every effort must be made to allow the refugees to go home and repopulate their land. Serb forces must leave Kosovo. Security, for both Serbs and Albanians, must be guaranteed by an international peace force, including some NATO countries and others. All arms must be laid down, on all sides. And that includes the KLA. They are patriots who have shown the necessity of self-defense. But now is the time for politics, and I'm sure even the KLA is a political force which will favor a political solution. The framework will be the Rambouillet agreement, which we signed, and the Serbs did not. It will be hard, but the essentials are clear."

Vincenzo Paglia

 Emergenza Kukes: manca ancora tutto
 Solo a Rusteni si comincia a vivere c'� anche la scuola

KUKES. Proviamo a guardare il mondo da un campo di rifugiati che si chiama scuola Rusteni. E' un campo speciale, siamo al confine tra Albania e Kosovo, al Nord. Dopo il campo della missione Arcobaleno, fuori citt�, dove � rimasta la paura, ma non c'� pi� la fame e si pu� vivere, il campo Rusteni � il quattro stelle dei profughi. Strano a dirsi, ma queste 1.400 persone sdraiate per terra, questi 700 bambini che ridono, piangono, cercano latte che non c'� dal seno delle mamme, stanno meglio che in quasi tutti gli altri campi spontanei. E' il primo campo dove Sant'Egidio garantisce il cibo, dove l'ambulatorio fa 200 visite al giorno, almeno stamattina. Da ieri pomeriggio i ragazzi kosovari fanno un po' di scuola ai ragazzini kosovari con i volontari della comunit�. La si fa per dire: si pu� vivere, c'� futuro. E' stata creata una task force di giovani kosovari che gira insieme ai volontari della comunit� per gli altri campi spontanei, quelli pieni di gente infangata che sta sulle coperte, sdraiata, accampata, assiepata, annidata, sui rimorchi attaccati ai trattori con cui ha raggiunto, dopo quattro o sei giorni di fuga, la frontiera albanese dalle campagne kosovare.E' cos� che si viene a sapere chi non mangia da tre giorni, chi non ha l'acqua anche se in citt� l'acqua ci sta. E' cosi che s'inventa un pronto soccorso itinerante per non far morire di sete, di fame, di polmonite o diarrea. La diarrea � il grande nemico: l'acqua rischia di essere sempre pi� inquinata in una citt� sommersa dalle immondizie e dalle feci. E' cos� che sono stati scoperti quattro casi di meningite, mentre le agenzie umanitarie sembra si stiano concentrando su uno vaccinazione di massa antimorbillo per 200 mila profughi. che ai pi� appare costosa e inutile.Appare addirittura paradossale visto che qui non c'� cibo per tutti e che non sono state portate inoltre medicine di base, il latte per i bambini, le razioni contro la malnutrizione. Ieri pomeriggio � stato avviato un secondo centro di emergenza di Sant'Egidio al campo del deposito delle patate, altre 10 mila persone non raggiunte dalla missione Arcobaleno, mentre l'ambulatorio pediatrico della comunit� ha superato le 500 visite. Non si dorme, si mangia poco, si lotta contro il tempo. Si lotta anche contro la scelta, folle, di cominciare a svuotare Kukes dai profughi cominciando dagli edifici pubblici e non dai campi spontanei che mancano di tutto e anche del tetto.Mentre scriviamo � arrivata la polizia che non sente ragioni e vuole mandare via tutti anche dalla scuola a quattro stelle del campo Rusteni. Arrivano i funzionari dell'Ocse e dell'Achnur che assieme a Sant'Egidio si oppongono alla deportazione. Con altoparlanti, dopo due ore di trattative in cui sembra si riesca a far rimanere le persone a Kukes, all'improvviso scatta l'operazione deportazione: chi pu� se ne va con il trattore e si accampa vicino alla moschea.. Gli altri sono portati nel centro dell'Albania dividendo le famiglie che non hanno il tempo di prepararsi e di prendere accordi. E' una seconda deportazione che si unisce alla prima. I costi umani di questa operazione sono altissimi. Intanto a Kukes la vita continua lo stesso sempre pi� dura.Al cimitero si lavora di lena, nascono dieci bambini al giorno anche se per i bambini non c'� niente. Solo il poco latte e i pochi soccorsi di primo livello portati da Sant'Egidio. La guerra, vista da Kukes dove non funziona neppure il telefono, appare per quello che �: una catena di violenze che si aggiunge all'ingiustizia e alla sofferenza che gi� esistevano. A migliaia non sanno pi� dove stanno i parenti scampati con loro. Migliaia di famiglie hanno perso i contatti e non c'� nemmeno un tentativo di registro. Chi deve aiutare sembra contribuire a questo disordine. A Kukes c'� mezzo mondo, si gioca pure o si sorride anche, ma manca il necessario soprattutto acqua, latte, cibo. Sembra che soprattutto manchi il buon senso.

Mario Marazziti