Jo Negociata Vetevendosje!
Friday, September 16, 2005
XIV – A promise kept, a visit to a court, a winery and a long lunch; I turn older; Montenegro and Croatia; Crumbling infrastructure and cows; Jo Negoc
XIV – A promise kept, a visit to a court, a winery and a long lunch; I turn older; Montenegro and Croatia; Crumbling infrastructure and cows; Jo Negociata Vetevendosje
1
The president of the Municipal Court in Rahovec promised to invite Ken the USAID Mission Director, The president of the Supreme Court and myself to his court. He also promised a visit to the winery and a big lunch. He made good his promise and we were all to meet at the Municipal court in Rahovec. Whenever the Mission director goes anywhere there is an entourage and someone has to be responsible for the “program,” the “someone” being a USAID contractor, in this case our project. I had a couple of our staff members contact the judge and make a pre-trip foray to Rahovec to work out details and the judge’s agenda. Lunch, though hosted by the judge, would be on our project.
There was an appropriate assemblage at the court on that morning; the president of the Rahovec Municipal Court – the host, the Mayor, several other judges of the court, and the President of the District Court of Prisren, the Rahovec Municipal court being in the Prizren District. The President of the Supreme Court brought two of his colleagues and Ken had his driver, interpreter and four staff people. I had my two advance people, Enver and Agon.
In the judge’s office the Mayor gave a few welcoming remarks as did the judge. Ken gave a thank you speech and we all got up and took a quick tour of the court. From the court we went to the Ravovec winery. The winery is one of the largest in the region if not all of Europe. The tour was limited to a visit to the wine cellar and some tasting as an employee described the winery and the plans for its privatization. It is still a publicly owned enterprise (one of the former socially owned properties being gradually taken over by private investors.) We received boxed gift bottles as we left.
Then came lunch. Appetizers of dried meats and peppers stuffed with cheese and various local cheeses and huge plates of salads. There was toasting with the finest locally produced nectars. There were a few more speeches. Then the meat began to arrive. Veal platters with vegetables and potatoes, and finally huge plates of lamb were placed from one end of the long table to the other.
There is a tradition in this part of the world. Lamb is a meal of choice for these events and the head, stripped of skin and well roasted as the other pieces, is always placed in front of the guest of honor. At an appropriate time, the guest of honor breaks the head open with his hands and has the honor of eating the first of the delectable morsels therein. There are only two selections from the inside of the head; brains and eyes. Ken was a trooper. Placing thumbs on the insides of the neck hole and fingertips on the top of the cranium, he broke the cooked skull into two halves. He quickly forked out an appropriate piece of brain. Not wanting me to feel left out he insisted that I take the second taste. Fortunately the nectars had flowed freely until that time making it easier to not offend the host. It is also fortunate that the size of the portion is of little consequence, it is the act of partaking that is important.
The meal lasted over two hours. No one was going to work for the balance of the afternoon and we had over an hour drive back to Pristina. For Ken and I, it was more than a good will mission, it was a cultural event.
2
My birthday is the twenty-seventh of July. Fatmir, our new accountant, shares the same birthday. The staff prepared a small party for the afternoon. They had a cake and drinks and I received a book loosely called the Albanian Code. It is the Code of Leke Dukagjini. In Albania the code was passed down verbally over the centuries and was reduced to writing about a hundred years ago or less. I was told that virtually every Albanian home has a copy. Even though it is considered archaic and is said to no longer be followed, it explains much of why things are what they are here. For example, it says “There is no fine for an offense to honor. An offense to honor is never forgiven.” And “An offense to honor is not paid for with property, but by the spilling of blood or by a magnanimous pardon.” In the rural villages especially, blood feuds remain a significant problem. The hatred between Serbs and Albanians is similarly better understood upon reading the ”code”. From the perspective of many Kosovar Albanians, the actions of the Serbs that resulted in the injury or death of loved ones are something that is unforgivable. Even one of our lawyers, Edita, talked recently about her former primary school classmates who she knew were either killed or are still missing; their pictures are attached to the fence outside the government building in downtown Pristina. She struggles to find a reason why they died. She struggles to find a reason why she survived. She has a more enlightened view on the subject than is expressed in the Albanian Code, but even her view falls short of forgiveness.
As Americans we see the world differently. On the one hand it is difficult for us to understand the feelings of the Albanian Kosovars. Except for 9-11 we have not experienced anything like what they went through. We did fight a number of wars and I have often pointed out that we are now good friends of the Germans, the Japanese and now even the Vietnamese. That approach was not very effective with Nick, my former landlord. Gaz, Nick and I were having a coffee recently and discussing the issue of putting the hatred behind and moving forward. Gaz is all in favor of this approach. Nick said it cannot be simply ignored and put behind. I told the story of the Kosovo Assemblyman with whom I had dinner a couple of months ago. He offered that Kosovo needed to put the hatred behind and move forward. He expressed that the war resulted in neighbors now hating one another simply because of ethnicity. I reminded the assemblyman that he had been a political prisoner. He said that he had been such for ten years, but that it wasn’t his Serb neighbors and friends in Kosovo who did that to him. Nick was still not ready to abandon his view.
I tried a different approach. I said that we forgive for ourselves not for our enemies. By forgiving and putting it back, we are mentally and indeed physically healthier. Ongoing hatred festers within us and we suffer for it. Nick left that morning coffee still disagreeing and offering to discuss it further on another day. Late that afternoon, I received a call from Nick. He said that he had thought about it all day and that he now agreed that I was right. Even though we move forward by inches, we are grateful that the movement is forward nonetheless.
3
Sharon and I took a well deserved and long overdue vacation. We went with Ken and Viviana. We each drove our own cars and crossed the border of Kosovo at Peja into Montenegro. Montenegro is the last of the former Yugoslav republics to remain aligned with Serbia. On the maps, Kosovo is still a part of Serbia and officially has not been separated. Whether it is ever removed will be determined as a result of the “status talks” that are ongoing. Montenegro will have a referendum vote in March to decide if they will remain with Serbia or become a separate state. Polling indicates that about sixty percent of the Montenegrins favor independence.
Peja lies at the foot of the mountains and the border crossing is at the end of a long series of hairpin turns and switchbacks. There are panoramic views of Kosovo spreading across the valley below. As we climbed, we could see hamlets and quilted patches of crops as they glittered and baked far below under the hot July sun. We turned our back to the panorama and found the Kosovo border station ahead of us.
The Montenegrin border station is about five miles form the Kosovo station. From there, we spent the next several hours winding our way through craggy mountains, around bends and turns, through tunnels and over bridges spanning deep gorges. The mountainsides were spotted with tile-roofed houses and we slowed through small outlying villages. Mostly green with trees, the mountains would suddenly be broken, leaving sheer slate-gray cliffs, then, steering around a sharp turn, the mountains rolled green again. The drive was breathtaking and exhilarating. The beauty unequalled anywhere.
Finally we came down into a more flat area and the Montenegrin capital of Podgorica. We stopped for a late lunch then on to the sea. The road from Podgorica quickly rose up into the mountains again and the same terrain we had been driving until we finally, suddenly, were overlooking the Adriatic Sea. As I looked over the harbor town below, I regretted for a moment that the project proposal on which I had been included two years earlier was not successful. We wound down to Budva on the coast. In Montenegro, the mountains end in the sea. Then, following the shore, we headed north toward the Croatian border until we reached our hotel in Bijela, half hour south of the border.
The hotel is owned by the Montenegrin government and profits go to assist the orphanage that is immediately next door. The hotel is small, eleven rooms in total. The facilities were clean and modern. The service, some of which was provided by the older residents of the orphanage, was excellent. The orphanage has one hundred children, divided equally between older and younger, including a number of infants.
Next day we spent back up the road in the city of Budva at the resort/monastery island of Saint Stephan. There is an admission charge then twenty-eight euros (thirty-five US dollars) for the eight soft drinks we thirstily consumed. On the Adriatic coast, merchants are acutely aware of the attraction of its beauty and their short season.
We checked out of the hotel next morning and proceeded to Croatia and the walled city of Dubrovnik. Our hotel was moderately priced and adequate in the circumstances. We were in the height of the season and the prices of hotels so reflected.
Inside the main gate of the city, the famous marble street stretches to the back gate at the harbor. Turning right at the church we walked to the far corner of the city to another church bearing the scars of the war of the 1990’s. The Serbs did not spare the historically significant city. Most of the damage has been repaired. Roofs were meticulously rebuilt. All damage that could be was restored to its primeval beauty. The pock marks from the strafing that the church experienced are difficult to repair and are now a lasting reminder of the violence that occurred so recently in the ancient city’s past.
We spent the following day on a boat visiting three islands along Croatia’s Dalmatian coast. The next day was spent on the beach. In the morning we left for the Montenegrin city of Kotor.
Situated at the very end of the long narrow Bay of Kotor, the walled city is tucked beneath a steep mountain. The wall of the city extends up the side of the mountain for several hundred meters. Kotor was one of a very few places in the region that the Ottomans never conquered. A quick look at the city tells that story. Ken and I climbed the steps along the wall to the fortress on top of the mountain. The city and bay lay far below. An enemy can be seen coming for miles. It is an impressive and impregnable place. The actual walled city has all the charm and less the number of tourists of Dubrovnik. We stayed at a small hotel inside the walls. We ate a nice meal at an outdoor café. The waiter was from Belgrade. Monetnegro will have a referendum in March to determine if they stay with Serbia or become independent. Serbia has apparently agreed to abide by the vote. The waiter came to visit the area on vacation and met a girl. The same story all over the world. We told him we were form Kosovo. He said that Kosovo would never be a part of Serbia again, it was gone for good. And the Serbs from Kosovo who took refuge in Serbia after the war on 1999, he said, would not move back.
When questioned about the upcoming referendum, he said that Montenegrins and Serbs were basically the same. To myself I questioned that conclusion. We were told that sixty percent of the citizens currently support independence.
The ethnic tensions were ever apparent. The Montenegrin coastal city of Ulchin is the resort town of choice for most Kosovar Albanians. The young waiter was talking about all the towns along the coast. When he referred to Ulchin, he said it was also a beautiful city, but it was too much like Kosovo. We took that to mean, too many Albanians.
The trip home was uneventful and as awesome as the trip over. I was struck by the fact that a place with such beauty could have such a long history of violence and hatred. I added it to the list of inconsistencies I have experienced in this corner of the world.
4
One weekend morning I heard what sounded like a flowing mountain stream outside our house. Upon inspection, I saw that the street beside the house had become a virtual gurgling river of water. It flowed down the hill and across the street below. On the way, it splashed and churned over potholes, making what looked like mini rapids. It was a lot of water. I followed the river to its source. From the side of a hill above the parking lot of the Engineering Faculty across from the house, a large stream of water flowed, carrying mud onto the parking lot and cascading water down our street. A broken water main.
By Kosovo standards, this leak was repaired immediately, well, within two days. There is a broken main on “San Francisco” Street that flowed for weeks, maybe months. Then there are the man holes that crumble beneath the steel covers resulting in potholes that will surely swallow your tire if not the whole car. The infrastructure here dates to the socialist days and, in addition to its age, is of poor quality. Crumbling steps, broken sidewalks, potholed streets, and so it goes. As I said in an earlier chapter, people keep one eye on the ground at all times.
No more had the river stopped than the cows came. Two cows wandering the streets eating grass, weeds and garbage, and not a herdsman to be found. They passed our house fairly quickly. I have learned not to be surprised here.
5
Status talks will begin soon in earnest. These are the talks between the Serbs and the Kosovars to determine the status of Kosovo. The Kosovars want independence and the Serbs want Kosovo to remain a province of Serbia. The “contact group”, the United Sates, Germany, France, England and Russia, want a peaceful resolution very soon. Talk is of a European protectorate of some sort that will make neither side happy and guarantee that NATO’s KFOR troops will remain for a long time to come. The stenciled signs painted on walls and buildings read, “Jo negociata” “Vetevendosje!” Loosely translated this means, “no negotiation, self determination.” It remains to be seen how prevalent this sentiment is, and how determined those who propose it are to make it a reality. As the UN makes its plans to leave, things again become more … interesting.
Until next connection,
Dan
1
The president of the Municipal Court in Rahovec promised to invite Ken the USAID Mission Director, The president of the Supreme Court and myself to his court. He also promised a visit to the winery and a big lunch. He made good his promise and we were all to meet at the Municipal court in Rahovec. Whenever the Mission director goes anywhere there is an entourage and someone has to be responsible for the “program,” the “someone” being a USAID contractor, in this case our project. I had a couple of our staff members contact the judge and make a pre-trip foray to Rahovec to work out details and the judge’s agenda. Lunch, though hosted by the judge, would be on our project.
There was an appropriate assemblage at the court on that morning; the president of the Rahovec Municipal Court – the host, the Mayor, several other judges of the court, and the President of the District Court of Prisren, the Rahovec Municipal court being in the Prizren District. The President of the Supreme Court brought two of his colleagues and Ken had his driver, interpreter and four staff people. I had my two advance people, Enver and Agon.
In the judge’s office the Mayor gave a few welcoming remarks as did the judge. Ken gave a thank you speech and we all got up and took a quick tour of the court. From the court we went to the Ravovec winery. The winery is one of the largest in the region if not all of Europe. The tour was limited to a visit to the wine cellar and some tasting as an employee described the winery and the plans for its privatization. It is still a publicly owned enterprise (one of the former socially owned properties being gradually taken over by private investors.) We received boxed gift bottles as we left.
Then came lunch. Appetizers of dried meats and peppers stuffed with cheese and various local cheeses and huge plates of salads. There was toasting with the finest locally produced nectars. There were a few more speeches. Then the meat began to arrive. Veal platters with vegetables and potatoes, and finally huge plates of lamb were placed from one end of the long table to the other.
There is a tradition in this part of the world. Lamb is a meal of choice for these events and the head, stripped of skin and well roasted as the other pieces, is always placed in front of the guest of honor. At an appropriate time, the guest of honor breaks the head open with his hands and has the honor of eating the first of the delectable morsels therein. There are only two selections from the inside of the head; brains and eyes. Ken was a trooper. Placing thumbs on the insides of the neck hole and fingertips on the top of the cranium, he broke the cooked skull into two halves. He quickly forked out an appropriate piece of brain. Not wanting me to feel left out he insisted that I take the second taste. Fortunately the nectars had flowed freely until that time making it easier to not offend the host. It is also fortunate that the size of the portion is of little consequence, it is the act of partaking that is important.
The meal lasted over two hours. No one was going to work for the balance of the afternoon and we had over an hour drive back to Pristina. For Ken and I, it was more than a good will mission, it was a cultural event.
2
My birthday is the twenty-seventh of July. Fatmir, our new accountant, shares the same birthday. The staff prepared a small party for the afternoon. They had a cake and drinks and I received a book loosely called the Albanian Code. It is the Code of Leke Dukagjini. In Albania the code was passed down verbally over the centuries and was reduced to writing about a hundred years ago or less. I was told that virtually every Albanian home has a copy. Even though it is considered archaic and is said to no longer be followed, it explains much of why things are what they are here. For example, it says “There is no fine for an offense to honor. An offense to honor is never forgiven.” And “An offense to honor is not paid for with property, but by the spilling of blood or by a magnanimous pardon.” In the rural villages especially, blood feuds remain a significant problem. The hatred between Serbs and Albanians is similarly better understood upon reading the ”code”. From the perspective of many Kosovar Albanians, the actions of the Serbs that resulted in the injury or death of loved ones are something that is unforgivable. Even one of our lawyers, Edita, talked recently about her former primary school classmates who she knew were either killed or are still missing; their pictures are attached to the fence outside the government building in downtown Pristina. She struggles to find a reason why they died. She struggles to find a reason why she survived. She has a more enlightened view on the subject than is expressed in the Albanian Code, but even her view falls short of forgiveness.
As Americans we see the world differently. On the one hand it is difficult for us to understand the feelings of the Albanian Kosovars. Except for 9-11 we have not experienced anything like what they went through. We did fight a number of wars and I have often pointed out that we are now good friends of the Germans, the Japanese and now even the Vietnamese. That approach was not very effective with Nick, my former landlord. Gaz, Nick and I were having a coffee recently and discussing the issue of putting the hatred behind and moving forward. Gaz is all in favor of this approach. Nick said it cannot be simply ignored and put behind. I told the story of the Kosovo Assemblyman with whom I had dinner a couple of months ago. He offered that Kosovo needed to put the hatred behind and move forward. He expressed that the war resulted in neighbors now hating one another simply because of ethnicity. I reminded the assemblyman that he had been a political prisoner. He said that he had been such for ten years, but that it wasn’t his Serb neighbors and friends in Kosovo who did that to him. Nick was still not ready to abandon his view.
I tried a different approach. I said that we forgive for ourselves not for our enemies. By forgiving and putting it back, we are mentally and indeed physically healthier. Ongoing hatred festers within us and we suffer for it. Nick left that morning coffee still disagreeing and offering to discuss it further on another day. Late that afternoon, I received a call from Nick. He said that he had thought about it all day and that he now agreed that I was right. Even though we move forward by inches, we are grateful that the movement is forward nonetheless.
3
Sharon and I took a well deserved and long overdue vacation. We went with Ken and Viviana. We each drove our own cars and crossed the border of Kosovo at Peja into Montenegro. Montenegro is the last of the former Yugoslav republics to remain aligned with Serbia. On the maps, Kosovo is still a part of Serbia and officially has not been separated. Whether it is ever removed will be determined as a result of the “status talks” that are ongoing. Montenegro will have a referendum vote in March to decide if they will remain with Serbia or become a separate state. Polling indicates that about sixty percent of the Montenegrins favor independence.
Peja lies at the foot of the mountains and the border crossing is at the end of a long series of hairpin turns and switchbacks. There are panoramic views of Kosovo spreading across the valley below. As we climbed, we could see hamlets and quilted patches of crops as they glittered and baked far below under the hot July sun. We turned our back to the panorama and found the Kosovo border station ahead of us.
The Montenegrin border station is about five miles form the Kosovo station. From there, we spent the next several hours winding our way through craggy mountains, around bends and turns, through tunnels and over bridges spanning deep gorges. The mountainsides were spotted with tile-roofed houses and we slowed through small outlying villages. Mostly green with trees, the mountains would suddenly be broken, leaving sheer slate-gray cliffs, then, steering around a sharp turn, the mountains rolled green again. The drive was breathtaking and exhilarating. The beauty unequalled anywhere.
Finally we came down into a more flat area and the Montenegrin capital of Podgorica. We stopped for a late lunch then on to the sea. The road from Podgorica quickly rose up into the mountains again and the same terrain we had been driving until we finally, suddenly, were overlooking the Adriatic Sea. As I looked over the harbor town below, I regretted for a moment that the project proposal on which I had been included two years earlier was not successful. We wound down to Budva on the coast. In Montenegro, the mountains end in the sea. Then, following the shore, we headed north toward the Croatian border until we reached our hotel in Bijela, half hour south of the border.
The hotel is owned by the Montenegrin government and profits go to assist the orphanage that is immediately next door. The hotel is small, eleven rooms in total. The facilities were clean and modern. The service, some of which was provided by the older residents of the orphanage, was excellent. The orphanage has one hundred children, divided equally between older and younger, including a number of infants.
Next day we spent back up the road in the city of Budva at the resort/monastery island of Saint Stephan. There is an admission charge then twenty-eight euros (thirty-five US dollars) for the eight soft drinks we thirstily consumed. On the Adriatic coast, merchants are acutely aware of the attraction of its beauty and their short season.
We checked out of the hotel next morning and proceeded to Croatia and the walled city of Dubrovnik. Our hotel was moderately priced and adequate in the circumstances. We were in the height of the season and the prices of hotels so reflected.
Inside the main gate of the city, the famous marble street stretches to the back gate at the harbor. Turning right at the church we walked to the far corner of the city to another church bearing the scars of the war of the 1990’s. The Serbs did not spare the historically significant city. Most of the damage has been repaired. Roofs were meticulously rebuilt. All damage that could be was restored to its primeval beauty. The pock marks from the strafing that the church experienced are difficult to repair and are now a lasting reminder of the violence that occurred so recently in the ancient city’s past.
We spent the following day on a boat visiting three islands along Croatia’s Dalmatian coast. The next day was spent on the beach. In the morning we left for the Montenegrin city of Kotor.
Situated at the very end of the long narrow Bay of Kotor, the walled city is tucked beneath a steep mountain. The wall of the city extends up the side of the mountain for several hundred meters. Kotor was one of a very few places in the region that the Ottomans never conquered. A quick look at the city tells that story. Ken and I climbed the steps along the wall to the fortress on top of the mountain. The city and bay lay far below. An enemy can be seen coming for miles. It is an impressive and impregnable place. The actual walled city has all the charm and less the number of tourists of Dubrovnik. We stayed at a small hotel inside the walls. We ate a nice meal at an outdoor café. The waiter was from Belgrade. Monetnegro will have a referendum in March to determine if they stay with Serbia or become independent. Serbia has apparently agreed to abide by the vote. The waiter came to visit the area on vacation and met a girl. The same story all over the world. We told him we were form Kosovo. He said that Kosovo would never be a part of Serbia again, it was gone for good. And the Serbs from Kosovo who took refuge in Serbia after the war on 1999, he said, would not move back.
When questioned about the upcoming referendum, he said that Montenegrins and Serbs were basically the same. To myself I questioned that conclusion. We were told that sixty percent of the citizens currently support independence.
The ethnic tensions were ever apparent. The Montenegrin coastal city of Ulchin is the resort town of choice for most Kosovar Albanians. The young waiter was talking about all the towns along the coast. When he referred to Ulchin, he said it was also a beautiful city, but it was too much like Kosovo. We took that to mean, too many Albanians.
The trip home was uneventful and as awesome as the trip over. I was struck by the fact that a place with such beauty could have such a long history of violence and hatred. I added it to the list of inconsistencies I have experienced in this corner of the world.
4
One weekend morning I heard what sounded like a flowing mountain stream outside our house. Upon inspection, I saw that the street beside the house had become a virtual gurgling river of water. It flowed down the hill and across the street below. On the way, it splashed and churned over potholes, making what looked like mini rapids. It was a lot of water. I followed the river to its source. From the side of a hill above the parking lot of the Engineering Faculty across from the house, a large stream of water flowed, carrying mud onto the parking lot and cascading water down our street. A broken water main.
By Kosovo standards, this leak was repaired immediately, well, within two days. There is a broken main on “San Francisco” Street that flowed for weeks, maybe months. Then there are the man holes that crumble beneath the steel covers resulting in potholes that will surely swallow your tire if not the whole car. The infrastructure here dates to the socialist days and, in addition to its age, is of poor quality. Crumbling steps, broken sidewalks, potholed streets, and so it goes. As I said in an earlier chapter, people keep one eye on the ground at all times.
No more had the river stopped than the cows came. Two cows wandering the streets eating grass, weeds and garbage, and not a herdsman to be found. They passed our house fairly quickly. I have learned not to be surprised here.
5
Status talks will begin soon in earnest. These are the talks between the Serbs and the Kosovars to determine the status of Kosovo. The Kosovars want independence and the Serbs want Kosovo to remain a province of Serbia. The “contact group”, the United Sates, Germany, France, England and Russia, want a peaceful resolution very soon. Talk is of a European protectorate of some sort that will make neither side happy and guarantee that NATO’s KFOR troops will remain for a long time to come. The stenciled signs painted on walls and buildings read, “Jo negociata” “Vetevendosje!” Loosely translated this means, “no negotiation, self determination.” It remains to be seen how prevalent this sentiment is, and how determined those who propose it are to make it a reality. As the UN makes its plans to leave, things again become more … interesting.
Until next connection,
Dan
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
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