To begin the story of the visit to Belgrade I have to start with the concert we held in order to raise money for the Yugoslavian trip.

On the evening before the concert I received a phone call from my friend Andy, who told me that the main artist for the evening, a great blues musician named Chris Smither, was about to return to the United States as his mother was seriously ill and he wanted to be with her during her last hours.

I sat there dumbstruck. We had sold 360 tickets (of 375). How could we have a concert without our main act? The telephone seemed never to stop ringing between Andy and myself.

I then received a phone call from one of friend asking me to reserve some tickets and I explained what was going on. She provided a completely different perspective on the situation and prompted me to call Dana Gillespie, who had performed in a concert we organised the previous Autumn. This was a good idea. I called Dana and asked her if she could step in, which she could not, but suggested a couple of names I might try. The first was a well established blues musician called Dave Peabody who started his side of the conversation with the words "I don't do charity gigs". Within two minutes he was asking me how he could get to Bath, where he could stay etc. and he agreed to fill the gap. It was agreed that he would probably catch the same train as Chris Smither's accompanying artist, Peter Mulvey (if you ever get the chance, see him), arriving at about 5.30 or, at worst, drive down by about 6.30.

The day was saved.

At 5.30 Andy went to the station to collect the musicians and returned with only one, Peter Mulvey. Dave was probably on a later train or driving, but no problem I had given him Andy's mobile phone number so he could call whenever he needed to. Time was not marching on and no sign of him and no message either, which led to a conversation between Andy and I about telephone numbers at which time I discovered that Andy no longer had the same number!

By 7.00 I was becoming very agitated. As I introduced the first act I admitted to the audience that I was a little concerned about Dave Peabody not turning up, but we would see what happened. During the first act I paced up and down outside wanting this man to arrive, unable to talk, grunting when asked a civil question. After a short time one of our friends came out from the theatre and told me that he had just arrived through the other door.

The concert went ahead, was a great success and raised the £2,000 we had hoped for. So ten days later I found myself on a plane to Belgrade, from a cool English Spring day to 30¡C in a few short hours. I was met by Ljiljana Zunic and Phillip, the latter being my de facto interpreter for the first day.

Yugoslavia

We drove to Ljiljana's apartment on the top floor of a city block and enjoyed a meal on her roof terrace which, to Westerners reading this, bears little or no relation to what we would be used to. The person in whose home I was to stay, Marina, arrived during the early evening and we left for her, which she shared with her mother, apartment later.

I have to paint a few pictures here for those of us who are not used to countries which came under the influence of the former Soviet Union, and I am not doing this to belittle Yugoslavia or any other similar country, but to try and help you to understand a little more about such places.

If you arrived in Britain from anywhere and went to a bank with traveller's cheques you would expect them to be changed. With a sum of £2,000 an eyebrow or two might be raised but it would be done. However, the problem in many countries is does the bank have enough currency to actually manage this? Certainly not many do in Belgrade and, in fact, one bank we went into was awaiting a delivery of money that morning and didn't have any at all until after lunch!

We went to the bank to change money but discovered that they only changed cash, not traveller's cheques, but suggested another bank we could visit. We walked to that bank and was stopped on the door by an armed, plain clothes, security guard. He wouldn't let me in because I was wearing shorts, and was astonished that I would be allowed into a bank in England dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. We continued our search for a bank to change TC's and found one that would allow me to change 25% of my total.

We returned to Marina's and after a few phone calls discovered a bank that would change TC's and had cash. We left immediately and successfully changed the remaining money.

Procedures with money are, as you may have gathered, not the same as ours and paying in and withdrawing large sums of money is not straightforward. With this is mind, together with the 'wholesaler' from which much of the foodstuff was to be purchased needing three days notice, we would not be able to just buy all the food and distribute it, that would be done after I left, but in the meantime we could buy some fruit and other items and visit the recipients of this future bounty.

The next day nine of us gathered at the local market and we split up to purchase items which we would give to our first port of call a soup kitchen for 180 people who are among the poorest in Belgrade. We ended up buying cherries and sugar. We completely cleared out the stock of one woman's cherries, buying about 35 kg (about 77 pounds) and she quickly became very fond of me when she realised that it was due to the money brought from England which made this possible (in fact, over the coming days I think I became one of the best known and most revered people ever to visit the market!). There is quite a sugar shortage in Belgrade and we were very fortunate to find a large enough quantity to take to the kitchen.

We arrived at the soup kitchen where people arrive and collect soup, bread and, now, their cherries and sugar. It is a sad sight to watch a young seven or eight year old girl arrive with five containers, for herself and four other members of her family for whom she cares. What ever happened to childhood?

Later that same day we visited a family where the husband is blind. The conditions the family lived in were extremely poor. I have visited many countries and this was among the worst I have seen. The husband was blinded while he worked with his father twenty years ago and had been married for eight years. His wife loves him deeply, this is obvious, and it is little wonder as you hear his quiet voice tell his story. Their six year old boy enters the family grouping periodically breaking off from his play. The three of them together echoes love all around. The two rooms they live in, they have recently claimed the extra room when a neighbour moved out, have flaking plaster on walls and ceilings, holes are covered by material. The outside toilet, used by the many families in the building signals its whereabouts when the breeze stiffens. To reach it they have to negotiate their way across broken paving slabs and stony ground. Recently, one of their other neighbours has decided that he needs more room so, despite being residents for eight years, he is pushing for them to be evicted. They would have nowhere to go. The mother ekes out a supplement to the £10 per month they receive from the State because of his blindness by collecting paper and other rubbish which she then sells. She receives £1 for each 100 kg (220 pounds) of paper she collects. The group leave the food and other necessities they have bought and we leave. I wish I had the courage to give them the meagre local currency I have in my pocket.

The next day is a day for children. In the morning we visit a home for children with mild learning difficulties whose parents cannot cope with them. A mixed group of boys and girls delight at the cherries, (another victory for the Englishman) biscuits and sweets which are carried up the hill by the gallant brothers Phillip and Stefan, no one has a car we can use today. They all seem quite happy carrying off their booty to share under the tree.

The Director explains that some children have met there, fallen in love, married and raised children. Their artwork decorates his office and he proudly states how they have five or six different handicraft classes to try and give the children some future. Someone has told the boys my name and how to say thank you. "David, David", they cry, running towards me, "thank you very much. Goodbye". We leave with me making promises to collect clothes and shoes, two items which they have trouble finding, and I will bring them down in the van later in the year. I want to bring them love, joy, happiness and a better world, and somehow I know I will fail. I think of the young girl who reminds me of my own youngest daughter, and I wonder whether her father thinks of her?

Later in the day we visit another residential home where some refugee children are also present. This home is for orphans and children with learning difficulties, at present there are 96. This is a good home with a caring Director who is not satisfied with the work he is able to do. Six group members work here funded by an Italian aid agency. Others work as volunteers. Despite the pleasant surroundings children abscond for the pleasures which exist outside their four walls and the Director tells how he needs money to repair the building. There are three children in a room and workshops in ballet, history, art etc. This is a place where you can build a future and Ljiljana promises an amount of food when the money is released for which he is very grateful.

Here is Yugoslavia there is much work to do. This small group of people berate themselves for the things they cannot do, yet most of them have little or no money, food, clothes, but they manage to send things to their brothers and sisters in other parts of the country where things are worse. Could we learn from this example?

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Croatia

Of course there was Vukovar.

It was in Vukovar that Helena had lived. One day, before the war had really got under way, her two uncles had come to visit. The telephone rang and it was a neighbour asking if he would go outside to help. He had been asked before and so immediately agreed. As he went outside where the neighbour was waiting, he was shot dead. His brother, hearing the sound of the gunshot, rushed outside. He was also shot dead. Helena and her mother held each other in fear that they would be next. This is not a unique story, and not isolated to Serbian shooting Croatian. This is the former Yugoslavia.

Vukovar was the town where the Croatians made their stand against the oncoming Serbian army. Why Vukovar was chosen nobody knows, but it was, and it still bears the deep scars of the battle that raged.

The town is still largely in ruins. As a young boy I frequently looked at Second World War encyclopaedias, and now pictures I had seen as I leafed through the pages sprung to mind, as I recalled the devastation I had imagined - only now it was real. Fortunately, unlike my factual books, there were no bodies lying prone on the ground to complete the gruesome spectacle.

What there were, scattered here and there, were the 'star burst' imprint of a mortar which had exploded, the heat so intense that the tarmac would melt on impact for the shell to leave its fingerprint for all to see much later. Also within the town you would see cordoned off areas where land mines were still to be found. Indeed, as we entered Vukovar signs bearing the 'skull and crossbones' were to be seen placed at the side of the road to warn people not to wander past or else the land mine may claim another victim. However, nature, quick to take advantage of Man's absence, had reclaimed the previously tilled soil and beautiful wild flowers could be seen towering above the weeds and tall grasses.

Prior to the war Vukovar had a population of 45,000, with two major factories employing the bulk of the work force. Now the population is down to 12,000 with little enthusiasm for others to return. What is the point in returning to a town where there is no work, and little prospect of any?

We went into the Red Cross office and listened to the manager explaining how the town was slowly being rebuilt, too slowly. Money from the U.N. and the European Union was being used to demolish and rebuild. Everyone who had lived here previously and whose home was too devastated to live is being given 'x' amount of space for themselves and their family. Some people have already repaired their houses, some barely enough to make them habitable. Picture the old couple living in a patched up building amid dozens which have been destroyed. Most houses have small trees and bushes growing where sofas and beds once stood.

The Red Cross manager said that even when people were rehoused they had no furniture. I thought for a moment. Just before I left hadn't I been told that a friend had a warehouse full of tables, chairs, sofas and wardrobes waiting for new homes? I made a mental note to follow this up.

I walked out of the office across to the edge of the River Danube which was flowing past. Barely a month ago I had stood in Belgrade watching the River Danube flowing past. Then I stood with my Yugoslavian brothers and sisters as we try to help those in need. Now I stand with my Croatian brothers and sisters as we try to help those in need.

Seeing Vukovar was putting into perspective the reason why so many people are living in refugee camps around Zagreb. This was useful lesson for me.

We visited ten refugee camps on this visit, 'we' being two members of the 'Wherever The Need', a van belonging to I.C.M.A. and nine students from Portsmouth University in three vans. Between us we carried about 7.5 tonnes of aid, a mixture of food packs, feminine hygiene packs, cosmetic packs, toys. clothes and assorted items to make people's lives a little easier.

The students, although several were finishing University on their return to England, were a marvellous bunch who were experiencing things which were having profound effects on their view on life. In fact, since we have returned I have had phone calls from several of them asking to join us on our visit in October. "We have ideas for fund raising, people with money, interest from new people and some vans", seems to be the general cry.

We hear from one young girl, struggling to get herself though college, that she works part-time to buy herself things like toilet paper and washing up liquid. She tells us the things we bring are so important to them, but most important is that you keep coming back. You give us so much by your presence, by your caring. She fights back the tears as she tries to explain just how difficult it is to survive at a refugee camp.

We visit the SOS children's village at Lekenik. This is one of over 300 children's villages which have been built in thirty years around the world. Six children, all orphans, live in a house with a 'mother' and her assistant 'auntie'. There are fifteen houses on this particular site, a community hall and sports field, on which an England eleven play a Croatian eleven at soccer (7-5 to the English!). The children go to the village school with all the other children, and the people in the village have the use of the facilities within the orphanage compound.

A group of young people have arrived with us to sing for the children in the village. Then the children sing a hesitant song in return. Then people are dancing in a circle holding hands. Everyone is laughing. Everyone is pleased they are here. Can there be anything better than this?

The SOS organisation would like to build a kindergarten in Vukovar. Is this something we can participate in as well? A house for the blind in Belgrade, a kindergarten in Vukovar?

We went to see Father Bradica in Lasinja and the progress he is making on the church which is being rebuilt. He is putting an Human Values programme into practice. It is agreed that the church needs a garden and volunteers are found immediately to join a convoy next Spring to help create a large garden behind the church.

We also visited the hospital at Gornje Bistra where the patients are severely handicapped. I found this a great shock on my first visit but this time I was ready for the challenge. Holding the hand of a young girl whose limbs seem to defy logic as they twist this way and that, coaxing a small smile from her as she looks at this stranger who has appeared out of nowhere with such a lot of other people.

Some of the students are visibly shocked by what they see, yet they take a deep breath and start smiling and hugging. We take a group of children into the play area and they bask in the sunshine, enjoying the freedom of the outdoors. This is no place to be, twenty three hours in your bed. One of the older patients in a wheelchair finds himself in a wheelchair race with one of the students. He laughed (Where there is sadness let me bring Your joy). I have a great picture. (On our home page)

Another trip over. Another hard journey. Even more a feeling of fulfilment, but there is so much to do. Back to Croatia in August. Croatia and Bosnia in October when the students want to go back. How will we fit in another visit to Yugoslavia?

The funny thing is the weather wasn't all that good, yet every time we arrived at a camp the sun would come out and we could unload the goods without getting wet. I wonder who arranged that?

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