Photo by Tone Stojko
When did it all start? When I participated in student demonstrations in the early seventies, in the occupation of Aškerčeva Street. When we used red tape to wrap the trees in front of our college because they had been pruned too much. When I sought refuge at the University headquarters during the demonstrations against the visit of the then French Prime Minister Jacques Chaban-Delmas. And I ran across Congress Square with a baton-wielding policeman right behind me. And when we were reading proofs of the Tribune magazine late at night at the Kazina, even before the censor saw them. And as we were talking about, when I grow up I will be a customs officer at Kolpa. And when I debated with the theater people in the famous coffee shop Kava, while the literary people were in Šumi.
And when, at the beginning of the seventies, we distributed a leaflet that said – as long as the red bourgeois build their villas on the sea, but the workers go to work in Germany, for that long our anthem cannot be Hey Slavs, nor Forward the flag of glory, but only The Internationale…
And on and on, until those days in July 1988 when we protested on Roška cesta.
And then came June 25, 1991, when Slovenia declared its independence. And after the celebration in the basement of Cankar’s home, together with Špela F, I stood behind President Kučan and urged Tone Stojko to take a picture of us. Unfortunately I was never able to get that photo…
And when I wake up the next morning – tanks on the street.
Since I was a member of the Civil protection team at Cankarjev dom at the time, I was suddenly on duty. Twelve hours on the job, twenty-four hours at home. And so for a whole month.
And I attended the famous press conferences led by Jelko Kacin. And, of course, I heard and saw many things that were not made public. When the members of the National Assembly were coming, because they were having a secret meeting. But they were quite loud.
I remember a young Spanish journalist who was abroad for the first time and came to the celebration. Like, she covers social events. The next morning she became a war correspondent.
On the day of the celebration there was nowhere to get what the new coat of arms looks like. We also wanted to show the landmarks of the new country on the printed matter. And somehow I found out that maybe they have it in the National Assembly. And indeed, they had it. I got it for an hour on the reverse. How ‘big’ a secret it was is shown by the fact that there is not even a name on the reverse of who gave it to me.
And when the defense and interior ministers came, albeit civilians, in uniform, belted with revolvers. Like two cowboys.
And when Maja B cut the Minister of Information’s hair in the middle of the night with my scissors.
And I come from duty in the morning. My upstairs neighbor invites me for morning coffee. I have barely sat down, the coffee smells pleasant, when suddenly the air raid alarm sounds. Apparently, YPA planes from the airport in Zadar are in the air. Everyone runs to the shelter. But I get up all furious and say to myself, you will not deprive me of coffee. I slowly drink it and then I also run to the shelter.
And when suddenly in the middle of the night there are no more news about the movements of our army. Matjaž K calls on the radio and they explain to him that they found out that the Yugoslav army is also listening to the radio news.
The president’s bodyguard explains to me how they drove to Zagreb. The president was strapped into the back seat, and the driver took Levstik’s route, over hills and valleys, in the middle of the night, with the lights off. And three cars went at the same time, each in its own direction, to cover the tracks of which car the president was in.
And then there were Brioni.
And then in the middle of the night I hear that the Yugo army is leaving Slovenia. Worth opening a bottle of good wine.
And then, supposedly, democracy came along…
Note.
Unlike some of the people around here, I didn’t get a single official recognition, no plaque, I don’t have a recognized status as a war veteran…
But I don’t care.
All copies of documents reproduced on this page are in my possession. And a few others…