In the late 90’s I got to take part in what at the time was the latest military escapade in Eastern Europe, the KFOR peacekeeping mission to Kosovo. My elements from my detachment went in the first wave, and I personally crossed the border within the first few days.
For the first several weeks it was a special kind of chaos, the likes of which I have never experienced at any other point in my life. Three quarters of my detachment had just re-classed from other MOSs, which meant even basic tasks were brand new. Nobody in my detachment spoke any of the local languages. For a brief period I was the translator because I had spent nine months in a country with one language in common, and I owned a Serbo-Croat/English dictionary. I would communicate with a local by a combination of taking turns flipping through my book to point at words, charades, and interpretive dance.
Real interpreters were in short supply and units deemed more critical got first dibs. None of these people, at this point, were local speakers, mostly college kids from Albanian families, and the odd older person from another part of Europe. In order to create loudspeaker broadcasts to assist the local population we would have to beg or bribe other unit’s interpreters into helping us out.
One of the earliest loudspeaker campaigns was “The Fighting in Kosovo is Over”. The title pretty much gives you the gist of it, and it was followed by details about refugees returning home, and how to try and get help from NATO. After about three weeks of driving all over the country playing this we finally got interpreters of our own.
The first day that we went out with our new team mates, we drove out to a small town. I set up the loudspeaker on the roof of our hummer, and we drove through the main drag, our message of hope blaring away. I felt a tug on my leg. The new guy was giving me a worried look.
“Excuse me sir? This recording…I do not think it says what you think it says.”
You see, when different places speak the same language, local dialects and slang tends to develop. Frequently a word might technically mean one thing, but commonly be used another way. Like, bitch, literally, or peruse. A college student from the States who learned Albanian from his immigrant parents, grandparents, or even a classroom didn’t have much of a chance to pick a lot of that up.
And that was how I spent nearly a month driving around Eastern Europe loudly announcing to everybody that “The Fucking in Kosovo is over.”