Ethnicity no barrier to Kosovo's cross-border smugglers (Feature)

Kosovska Mitrovica, Kosovo - In Kosovo, the gulf between majority Albanians and minority Serbs is nowhere more visible than in the divided town of Kosovska Mitrovica. But that hasn't stopped the town from being a magnet for criminals of all backgrounds willing to work together for an illicit buck. Kosovska Mitrovica, 50 kilometres north-west of the Kosovo's capital Pristina, is a no-holds-barred frontier town without proper police or courts. It is split in half by the ethnic division that sheared Kosovo away from its Serbian past earlier this year - the part of the town north of the Ibar river is the de-facto capital of the Serb enclave of North Kosovo, which wants no part of the independence the south of Kosovo has claimed for itself. In the political vacuum, however, Albanian and Serbian gangs have, in a way, bridged the divide and work with ease across the Ibar running drugs, people, prostitutes, guns and most recently, fuel. The general population meanwhile stays put in its respective part of Kosovo - the 2 million Albanians in three-quarters of Kosovo south of Ibar, the 40,000 Serbs in and around Mitrovica, in their quarter to the north, along the border with Serbia proper. 'I set a new personal best and drove the car 15 times in from northern Mitrovica,' Albanian Armend boasts to friends in a cafe and calls the next round of drinks for all. 'I spent 150 euros (213 dollars) and raked in 3,000, not bad, eh?' Armend, 34, is just one of a multitude of jobless Kosovars. He has chosen to make a living by smuggling fuel from the Serbia, where he can buy unleaded Serbian-made benzine without taxes for just 50 euro- cents per litre. The border zone between Serbia and Kosovo is off limits to anybody but NATO KFOR peacekeepers, whose job description does not include chasing smugglers. Armand's car, as others coming in to a north-Mitrovica petrol station, is packed to the roof with barrels, canisters and bottles for up to 2,000 litres of fuel. Before selling it to gas stations in southern Mitrovica for 90 euro-cents per litre and making up to 800 euros on one run, he must bribe the police guarding the bridge between the two sections to let him pass. The policeman will look away from a car and forget to wonder what may be inside for 10 euros, Armend says. 'He plucks no less than 150 euros out of thin air each shift,' another smuggler chimes in. 'The 300-euro monthly salary is just a cherry on top.' The Serbian fuel is eventually sold to Kosovo Albanians for 1 euro per litre close to Mitrovica or up to 1.15 euros per litre in Pristina, costing the budget 3 million euros in lost taxes monthly, according to estimates by European Union officials, Drivers in Serbia proper pay 1.34 euros for that same petrol, though now it has dawned on Kosovar smugglers to re-export Serbian fuel back across the boundary and sell it back to Serbs, which may drive the price up for Albanians. The supremo of the fuel trade in northern Mitrovica is a Serb known as 'Zvonko,' whom Armend describes as 'my brother.' Zvonko's blessing is the seal necessary for any deal involving petrol. Despite recounting the 'technical' part of their work, neither Armend nor anybody else in the cafe would say anything about payoffs to political leaders - which, considering the magnitude of the business, must be a given. Last week six customs officials, including one high-ranking executive, were arrested under accusations of allowing organized crime to smuggle fuel across the border with Macedonia - only there it was tankers, not cars, that were being waived through. At the same time, the chief of UN police in Mitrovica was sacked, with a dry explanation that the measure was 'disciplinary,' fueling speculation of a crackdown on the Kosovo 'fuel mafia.' So while hatred and the mistrust continue between Serbs and Albanians, which politicians do little to remove, cross-ethnic 'business' alliances are thriving.