Ujvarat e Mirushes
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
XV – Ujvarat e Mirushes; Judy; The office is robbed; Regulation begins; Jack’s Macedonian family and making Ajvar; Another wedding; Bombs on UN cars;
XV – Ujvarat e Mirushes; Judy; The office is robbed; Regulation begins; Jack’s Macedonian family and making Ajvar; Another wedding; Bombs on UN cars; Novo Brdo; Making sauerkraut.
Dear Friends and Family,
1.
There is a waterfall in Kosovo. Actually it is a series of falls in a gorge half way between Pristina and Peja or Pristina and Gjakova. I heard about if from several people and decided to go there. All Kosovars know about it but surprisingly few have ever actually gone. The reason is its location. It is a half to three-quarter hour hike up and down hills unless you have a very good and very off road four wheel drive vehicle. I asked directions and made my way. First from a waiter at the Drini Hotel. He was not helpful, but the Americans marveling at my Michigan plates knew the way. They are from Montana and have been here five years.
I found the spot from where I would start. I parked at the restaurant and walked the stone road. At the end, there was a juncture. Up a hill off to the left some Finnish KFOR troops were sitting in the sun next to their four-wheel drive vehicle. I asked which way and the women soldiers pointed to the left. They were the last people I saw until I arrived at the falls. About half way there, I had a choice. I was at that venerable spot where, like Robert Frost, I observed two roads diverge. I suppose I too took the one less traveled by and it indeed made all the difference for it was the wrong road. I realized when I was twenty minutes from the fork and a kilometer from a small village to where the road clearly led. I back tracked and found the correct path; a much worse road, with washouts and ruts down a steep grade. Finally I arrived at the small stream and the path through a wood that ended at the falls. I saw two levels of falls. A young man fishing took my picture. It was worth the trip. I later learned that there are seven levels if one goes further. Some even say twelve levels. Another trip for another day.
On the way out, it was my turn to help the KFOR soldiers. They had driven their vehicle to the edge of the woods and asked where the falls were. I pointed out the way through the woods; the last two hundred meters to Ujvarat e Mirushes; Waterfall at Mirushes. I stopped at the restaurant for a needed beer and a cigar before making the trip back to Pristina.
2.
I found myself in an awkward position having discovered that one of my consultants had mismanaged a project. We had installed ten audio court recording units as a pilot project for Kosovo Courts. There was no plan to work with the secretary/recorders and judges during the pilot. I called on my friend, neighbor and former secretary/recorder Judy. I knew that she was dedicated to her family and particularly her grandchildren, but I also knew that she thrived on adventure if the adventure involved meeting people, especially people in need. As she had in the past, Judy answered my call for help. She agreed to come for eight weeks. She came to help people in need. She never realized that the person in most need was me. As I have said in past chapters, it is always good to have old friends come. It is a connection to home. With Judy it was particularly special. Although I was busy with other aspects of the project, I managed to spend some time with Judy discussing life and life in Kosovo, as we had done so often in the past. Judy can find the positive side of any situation and here was no exception. Her contribution to the project was vital and she left a part of herself here which will be kept and passed in perpetuity by the Kosovars who she was able to work with. The most lasting impact in development work is not from the expertise we have but our personal interaction with local people.
3.
I came into the office one Thursday morning a few weeks ago. Judy had already arrived and was working on her computer. I went to my office and noticed two drawers open which I knew I had closed. I went to Gaz’s office next door. It had been ransacked. We had been robbed. A couple of lap-tops, a couple of digital cameras, an LCD projector, some flat screen monitors, some petty cash and our safe. A two-hundred-plus pound safe. There are several interesting things about the robbery. First of all we have 24 hour security on site. Secondly the entry point cannot be found by viewing the building from the outside, since the upstairs bathroom window – the entry point - opens onto the neighbor’s backyard. They are our cleaning people. Thirdly, it seems highly unlikely that the safe went out the bathroom window; more likely it went out the front door. One of our consultants has renamed our security firm, Black Panther Security, Sleeping Panther Security. I am afraid there is more to this than a sleeping guard. When a person is sporadically paid his 150 euro monthly salary, basic needs can easily overcome resistance to temptation. A relatively small bribe might gain easy access.
We contacted the Kosovo Police Service and the office was virtually closed for half day. The premises were taped off while finger prints were lifted and interviews taken. The guard company has indicated it will pay for the losses, but we wait. There has been an increase in robberies in our neighborhood. Two other USAID projects were robbed within thirty days of our break-in. The office neighbor’s house was robbed two days after us. I noticed the other morning that another attempt was made to rob my house. We are beefing up security.
USAID considers its contractors to be independent from the agency. They have a security person with whom we do not interact. I requested a partners’ (partners are the contractors for USAID) meeting to discuss security issues. The USAID office agreed and the security officer was present. She began by passing out a map of Kosovo with the Peja region in yellow and the Mitrovice region in red. I had just returned from Mitrovice that morning with Rama and the Ford. She explained that any mission personnel (employees of USAID or the US Office) were required to have a bodyguard and armored vehicle to go into the red area at any time and into the yellow area after dark. I questioned why we did not get that information. I was quickly told that mission personnel were treated differently because they are considered to be potential “targets.” I said I was not interested in armored vehicles or bodyguards, but the information that caused the mission to make the determination of need for their personnel might be of value to the partners since we send our staff into these areas everyday. I got a disappointing and defensive response. I had the support of other partners, but we got no help other than an agreement that the security officer would visit our offices or homes to advise us on security measures to take regarding burglaries.
4
Pristina is characterized by several things. An incredible building boom, funded by money sources unapparent; streets lined with kiosks selling everything from fast food to candy to groceries, haircuts, pirated CDs and DVDs; and a complete lack of regulation. The buildings are on any lot on any street and often in areas where there are no streets at all. There is no regard for the type of use, the size of the structure, set-back, permits or codes. The kiosks are set on sidewalks or next to streets wherever there is a spot large enough to set or build one. The kiosks are little one room metal buildings where people barely make a living selling their wares.
Inevitably with progress comes better regulation. In Pristina, this began recently with the removal of the kiosks. The kiosk owners are the point of least resistance. The owners are poor people trying to make a productive livelihood. The kiosks are ugly for sure and they constitute a violation of the law. It is just sad to see that the people with the least power are the first to feel the effects of the rule of law. On a brighter side, there was one large illegal building demolished recently as well. Pristina will look better for the effort Actually, several owners have moved into legitimate locations and several are back on their spot with merchandise spread across tables.
5
Jack is my age, well, a year younger. Jack was a plaintiff’s lawyer with a prominent California law firm when he decided that a change, in addition to the estrangement of his last wife, was in order. Wanting to get into international rule of law work, Jack, like many in his position, lacked the requisite international experience (Catch 22). To resolve this dilemma, he joined the Peace Corps. His first assignment was in Macedonia. Unlike contractors, the Peace Corps arranges an eight week language and cultural immersion program. Jack was assigned to live with a family in Macedonia during the language training period. He has kept contact with them since.
One Sunday Jack asked if I would like to join him on a trip to Macedonia to visit his family and buy ajvar which they made. Ajvar is a paste made of peppers cooked over a low heat for hours. It is very popular in the Balkans. The town where Jack’s friends live is in the heart of Macedonia’s very substantial agricultural area. A small town of farmers.
Farming in this part of the world is largely about forty years behind what we are now accustomed to. There are none of the large four-wheel-drive tractors, but many of the smaller tractors we used to see in our small patchwork fields. I saw a Massey Fergusson and a John Deere, but they are mostly European models. The orchards and plantings are small. There are some substantial greenhouse farms in parts of the country, but mostly the small farms. People live in homes in villages and farm the contiguous farm plots outside the villages. Typically European.
We were greeted warmly and welcomed into the house. Of course we were served a glass of Raki, the brandy type drink served in the Balkan states and mostly made from grapes or plums, but also from pears and other fruits. Every family, especially in the rural areas, makes their own Raki. We wee served this man’s concoction. It was not bad and perfect for a warm autumn day. We sampled some ajvar and plum jam then went to a restaurant where Jack treated everyone to lunch. Jack learned Macedonian well enough to translate roughly what was being said. The discussion turned to peaches. This family grows peaches in that area of Macedonia. I began to tell about the Michigan State University extension farm in South Haven, Michigan, near my home in Michigan, where the Haven varieties of peaches were developed. No more had I said Haven and peaches in the same sentence when the woman began to tick off the varieties, Red Haven, Glohaven, Kalhaven, etc. They grow them in Macedonia.
After lunch Jack wanted to visit another friend in the town. We stopped in front of a small house and walked down the walk. At a table near the back door sat an old man and several cronies. Two got up and left on our arrival. We took their places and one of the women went inside and got two of the small raki glasses and a fresh plate of avar with forks. The old man poured. Jack knew the old man and his younger companion who worked for the municipality. We sipped and talked. The younger man spoke passable English and Jack passable Macedonian. The several women continued cutting egg plant and peppers for the ajvar that they had cooking over a wood fire outside. They claim that the key to good ajvar is the wood fires so the work is generally done outside. In this traditional rural setting, the ajvar making is done by the women while the men do the more important business of drinking raki and talking about the problems of the world. The raki glasses were refilled, the apple tree spread its bountiful limbs over our heads, the late afternoon was still warm, the ajvar cooked in the large covered kettle under the watchful eyes of the women. Jack and I both allowed that life was good even in these austere surroundings.
6
Last year one of our staff attorneys, Agon, got married. So did Enver’s sister. This year I was invited to a wedding of the son of a friend of mine. Hajdayet is a politician and chairman of what we would call the judiciary committee. He was a political prisoner for ten years. During the time of his imprisonment and the years before when he was avoiding detection, he was separated form his family. He has three sons and a daughter. The three older children are grown and they grew mostly while Hajdayet was in prison. His youngest son is thirteen. He and his wife decided to have one more child once Hajdayet got out of prison.
I took Judy to the wedding as Sharon was still in the US. We were seated at a table with several guests who also were in prison. One gentleman introduced a man across from him as one of his former cell mates. The gentleman making the introduction had been in prison for twenty years. Hajdayet belongs to an organization of former political prisoners which has a membership of several thousand. In countries such as this, with extensive histories of despotic regimes, political prisoners are very common. Some offended Tito, some Milosevic, some both.
This wedding was of the middle son. In many ways the receptions here are much like we are used to. Dancing, food and music. This one was more traditional than the others I had been to. The young married couple arrived in traditional dress following a drummer and three flute players. They danced a more traditional dance joined by the parents and other family members. Eventually they retreated to return later in traditional white dress and suit for the groom.
The dance done at weddings in Kosovo is the same dance that is done at Greek weddings and Serbian weddings, and Bosnian weddings, and Croatian weddings, and Macedonian weddings, and so on. When we are exposed to such similarities as this and other similarities such as the drinking of Turkish coffee and the love of ajvar and raki, and many more, it is hard to understand the hatred and on what it can possibly be based. As to be expected, the wedding was a fine time.
7.
The fellow that sat across from us at the wedding was another American. He worked for the UN. He advised us that on that Saturday a bomb – six pounds of dynamite – was found on a UN vehicle. He told us that we should always check for wires hanging from under our cars before we get in and always park in UN secure lots. I told him that as a contractor for USAID, we had no access to UN lots, and that my car had Michigan plates. It took him several seconds to digest the fact that there were non-Kosovar people here who actually do not work for the UN. Finally, he said that I was probably in no danger with US plates on my car, since Americans are loved and are not targets. I was more amused than alarmed by the warning. Threats are always taken seriously, but I am constantly amazed at the chauvinistic attitudes of the UN and even USAID people working here.
8.
The Albanian Kosovars talk often about how Kosovo has been occupied for centuries. In fact they say that the US are the only invaders who do not have intentions of occupying them. There are a couple of ancient sites in Kosovo. One dates to the eighth century BC and another the fourth century BC. Even the Romans occupied Kosovo. Novo Brdo dates to the fourth century BC. It was a mining city and at one point in its history was larger than Paris. Today the town is a wide spot in the road. It represents some of the most remote parts of Kosovo. Getting there is not difficult; there is a sign on the road to Gjilan. The road is good until the turn off to the gravel road that leads to the ruin. This narrow road winds and has several respectable ruts. The ruin itself sits atop a high hill. From the promontory the countryside for miles in any direction can be easily surveyed. No mystery as to the location of this fortress.
KFOR troops from several countries, a group of maybe a dozen soldiers, were picnicking at the site. The site is protected by a sign that admonishes visitors to respect the site and not destroy it. The centuries have both taken a huge toll and at the same time demonstrated the durability of the craftsmen’s work. The portions still standing are awesome in their vastness and design.
On a neighboring hill is the mine. In ancient times it produced gold and silver. Today they hope to extract more lead and zinc, its most abundant minerals. Sasha, our South African friend and head of the mines, said that he had only re-opened the mine days before my visit. Apparently it is several kilometers deep.
Pictures never seem to capture the magnanimity of scenes like the view from the Novo Brdo ruin, but I snapped a few before I wound my way across the countryside to Gjilan and then back to Pristina.
9.
Sasha and Antia invited Al and Mary Lil, Bob and Margie from Canada, and myself to their home to make sauerkraut. Sasha, born and raised in South Africa is of Czech descent. Antia is German. Sasha had the cabbages, the spices, the plastic container, and the paraphernalia for cutting the cabbage. The rest of us brought wine. I also brought some cigars. Unlike the Ajvar making routine, here the men did the work making the kraut while the women sat inside and drank wine and chatted. We also drank wine, as we cut cabbage. Sasha did the honors of stomping the cabbage in the container with his bare feet. We smoked cigars and visited.
The subject of Kosovo’s continuous occupation came up in the conversation. It is Sasha’s contention that the Kosovar Albanians have become so accustomed to being occupied by one power or another that they instinctively develop a dual personality. One shows friendliness to the occupiers as a survival technique. The other, the true side of their personality, is loyal only to family. The Code of Leke Dukagjini having been instilled in them from birth. Sasha does not trust their friendliness. But then, are we Americans seen as occupiers or the first true liberators?
Dinner was cabbage rolls and potatoes. I pondered the discussion. It is so difficult for us to understand the inter-ethnic dynamics of this place and the tribal mentality that has survived the many centuries; the loyalties, and the hatreds. It is incomprehensible to us. We can only accept what is; whatever that is. I no longer try to understand. I accept. I absorb, and I react to what I see and feel only. Even though I do not understand this culture, I hope that I am understood. I try not to present anything complex or subtle. I am what I am and conceal no agendas. I will continue to act with sincerity and offer what I can to assist where I think there is a need. Perhaps all that I do will be accepted and processed in ways that I will neither know nor be able to comprehend. In the end, I will only be certain of what I did, though I may never be able to read the marks left.
Until Next Connection,
Dan
Dear Friends and Family,
1.
There is a waterfall in Kosovo. Actually it is a series of falls in a gorge half way between Pristina and Peja or Pristina and Gjakova. I heard about if from several people and decided to go there. All Kosovars know about it but surprisingly few have ever actually gone. The reason is its location. It is a half to three-quarter hour hike up and down hills unless you have a very good and very off road four wheel drive vehicle. I asked directions and made my way. First from a waiter at the Drini Hotel. He was not helpful, but the Americans marveling at my Michigan plates knew the way. They are from Montana and have been here five years.
I found the spot from where I would start. I parked at the restaurant and walked the stone road. At the end, there was a juncture. Up a hill off to the left some Finnish KFOR troops were sitting in the sun next to their four-wheel drive vehicle. I asked which way and the women soldiers pointed to the left. They were the last people I saw until I arrived at the falls. About half way there, I had a choice. I was at that venerable spot where, like Robert Frost, I observed two roads diverge. I suppose I too took the one less traveled by and it indeed made all the difference for it was the wrong road. I realized when I was twenty minutes from the fork and a kilometer from a small village to where the road clearly led. I back tracked and found the correct path; a much worse road, with washouts and ruts down a steep grade. Finally I arrived at the small stream and the path through a wood that ended at the falls. I saw two levels of falls. A young man fishing took my picture. It was worth the trip. I later learned that there are seven levels if one goes further. Some even say twelve levels. Another trip for another day.
On the way out, it was my turn to help the KFOR soldiers. They had driven their vehicle to the edge of the woods and asked where the falls were. I pointed out the way through the woods; the last two hundred meters to Ujvarat e Mirushes; Waterfall at Mirushes. I stopped at the restaurant for a needed beer and a cigar before making the trip back to Pristina.
2.
I found myself in an awkward position having discovered that one of my consultants had mismanaged a project. We had installed ten audio court recording units as a pilot project for Kosovo Courts. There was no plan to work with the secretary/recorders and judges during the pilot. I called on my friend, neighbor and former secretary/recorder Judy. I knew that she was dedicated to her family and particularly her grandchildren, but I also knew that she thrived on adventure if the adventure involved meeting people, especially people in need. As she had in the past, Judy answered my call for help. She agreed to come for eight weeks. She came to help people in need. She never realized that the person in most need was me. As I have said in past chapters, it is always good to have old friends come. It is a connection to home. With Judy it was particularly special. Although I was busy with other aspects of the project, I managed to spend some time with Judy discussing life and life in Kosovo, as we had done so often in the past. Judy can find the positive side of any situation and here was no exception. Her contribution to the project was vital and she left a part of herself here which will be kept and passed in perpetuity by the Kosovars who she was able to work with. The most lasting impact in development work is not from the expertise we have but our personal interaction with local people.
3.
I came into the office one Thursday morning a few weeks ago. Judy had already arrived and was working on her computer. I went to my office and noticed two drawers open which I knew I had closed. I went to Gaz’s office next door. It had been ransacked. We had been robbed. A couple of lap-tops, a couple of digital cameras, an LCD projector, some flat screen monitors, some petty cash and our safe. A two-hundred-plus pound safe. There are several interesting things about the robbery. First of all we have 24 hour security on site. Secondly the entry point cannot be found by viewing the building from the outside, since the upstairs bathroom window – the entry point - opens onto the neighbor’s backyard. They are our cleaning people. Thirdly, it seems highly unlikely that the safe went out the bathroom window; more likely it went out the front door. One of our consultants has renamed our security firm, Black Panther Security, Sleeping Panther Security. I am afraid there is more to this than a sleeping guard. When a person is sporadically paid his 150 euro monthly salary, basic needs can easily overcome resistance to temptation. A relatively small bribe might gain easy access.
We contacted the Kosovo Police Service and the office was virtually closed for half day. The premises were taped off while finger prints were lifted and interviews taken. The guard company has indicated it will pay for the losses, but we wait. There has been an increase in robberies in our neighborhood. Two other USAID projects were robbed within thirty days of our break-in. The office neighbor’s house was robbed two days after us. I noticed the other morning that another attempt was made to rob my house. We are beefing up security.
USAID considers its contractors to be independent from the agency. They have a security person with whom we do not interact. I requested a partners’ (partners are the contractors for USAID) meeting to discuss security issues. The USAID office agreed and the security officer was present. She began by passing out a map of Kosovo with the Peja region in yellow and the Mitrovice region in red. I had just returned from Mitrovice that morning with Rama and the Ford. She explained that any mission personnel (employees of USAID or the US Office) were required to have a bodyguard and armored vehicle to go into the red area at any time and into the yellow area after dark. I questioned why we did not get that information. I was quickly told that mission personnel were treated differently because they are considered to be potential “targets.” I said I was not interested in armored vehicles or bodyguards, but the information that caused the mission to make the determination of need for their personnel might be of value to the partners since we send our staff into these areas everyday. I got a disappointing and defensive response. I had the support of other partners, but we got no help other than an agreement that the security officer would visit our offices or homes to advise us on security measures to take regarding burglaries.
4
Pristina is characterized by several things. An incredible building boom, funded by money sources unapparent; streets lined with kiosks selling everything from fast food to candy to groceries, haircuts, pirated CDs and DVDs; and a complete lack of regulation. The buildings are on any lot on any street and often in areas where there are no streets at all. There is no regard for the type of use, the size of the structure, set-back, permits or codes. The kiosks are set on sidewalks or next to streets wherever there is a spot large enough to set or build one. The kiosks are little one room metal buildings where people barely make a living selling their wares.
Inevitably with progress comes better regulation. In Pristina, this began recently with the removal of the kiosks. The kiosk owners are the point of least resistance. The owners are poor people trying to make a productive livelihood. The kiosks are ugly for sure and they constitute a violation of the law. It is just sad to see that the people with the least power are the first to feel the effects of the rule of law. On a brighter side, there was one large illegal building demolished recently as well. Pristina will look better for the effort Actually, several owners have moved into legitimate locations and several are back on their spot with merchandise spread across tables.
5
Jack is my age, well, a year younger. Jack was a plaintiff’s lawyer with a prominent California law firm when he decided that a change, in addition to the estrangement of his last wife, was in order. Wanting to get into international rule of law work, Jack, like many in his position, lacked the requisite international experience (Catch 22). To resolve this dilemma, he joined the Peace Corps. His first assignment was in Macedonia. Unlike contractors, the Peace Corps arranges an eight week language and cultural immersion program. Jack was assigned to live with a family in Macedonia during the language training period. He has kept contact with them since.
One Sunday Jack asked if I would like to join him on a trip to Macedonia to visit his family and buy ajvar which they made. Ajvar is a paste made of peppers cooked over a low heat for hours. It is very popular in the Balkans. The town where Jack’s friends live is in the heart of Macedonia’s very substantial agricultural area. A small town of farmers.
Farming in this part of the world is largely about forty years behind what we are now accustomed to. There are none of the large four-wheel-drive tractors, but many of the smaller tractors we used to see in our small patchwork fields. I saw a Massey Fergusson and a John Deere, but they are mostly European models. The orchards and plantings are small. There are some substantial greenhouse farms in parts of the country, but mostly the small farms. People live in homes in villages and farm the contiguous farm plots outside the villages. Typically European.
We were greeted warmly and welcomed into the house. Of course we were served a glass of Raki, the brandy type drink served in the Balkan states and mostly made from grapes or plums, but also from pears and other fruits. Every family, especially in the rural areas, makes their own Raki. We wee served this man’s concoction. It was not bad and perfect for a warm autumn day. We sampled some ajvar and plum jam then went to a restaurant where Jack treated everyone to lunch. Jack learned Macedonian well enough to translate roughly what was being said. The discussion turned to peaches. This family grows peaches in that area of Macedonia. I began to tell about the Michigan State University extension farm in South Haven, Michigan, near my home in Michigan, where the Haven varieties of peaches were developed. No more had I said Haven and peaches in the same sentence when the woman began to tick off the varieties, Red Haven, Glohaven, Kalhaven, etc. They grow them in Macedonia.
After lunch Jack wanted to visit another friend in the town. We stopped in front of a small house and walked down the walk. At a table near the back door sat an old man and several cronies. Two got up and left on our arrival. We took their places and one of the women went inside and got two of the small raki glasses and a fresh plate of avar with forks. The old man poured. Jack knew the old man and his younger companion who worked for the municipality. We sipped and talked. The younger man spoke passable English and Jack passable Macedonian. The several women continued cutting egg plant and peppers for the ajvar that they had cooking over a wood fire outside. They claim that the key to good ajvar is the wood fires so the work is generally done outside. In this traditional rural setting, the ajvar making is done by the women while the men do the more important business of drinking raki and talking about the problems of the world. The raki glasses were refilled, the apple tree spread its bountiful limbs over our heads, the late afternoon was still warm, the ajvar cooked in the large covered kettle under the watchful eyes of the women. Jack and I both allowed that life was good even in these austere surroundings.
6
Last year one of our staff attorneys, Agon, got married. So did Enver’s sister. This year I was invited to a wedding of the son of a friend of mine. Hajdayet is a politician and chairman of what we would call the judiciary committee. He was a political prisoner for ten years. During the time of his imprisonment and the years before when he was avoiding detection, he was separated form his family. He has three sons and a daughter. The three older children are grown and they grew mostly while Hajdayet was in prison. His youngest son is thirteen. He and his wife decided to have one more child once Hajdayet got out of prison.
I took Judy to the wedding as Sharon was still in the US. We were seated at a table with several guests who also were in prison. One gentleman introduced a man across from him as one of his former cell mates. The gentleman making the introduction had been in prison for twenty years. Hajdayet belongs to an organization of former political prisoners which has a membership of several thousand. In countries such as this, with extensive histories of despotic regimes, political prisoners are very common. Some offended Tito, some Milosevic, some both.
This wedding was of the middle son. In many ways the receptions here are much like we are used to. Dancing, food and music. This one was more traditional than the others I had been to. The young married couple arrived in traditional dress following a drummer and three flute players. They danced a more traditional dance joined by the parents and other family members. Eventually they retreated to return later in traditional white dress and suit for the groom.
The dance done at weddings in Kosovo is the same dance that is done at Greek weddings and Serbian weddings, and Bosnian weddings, and Croatian weddings, and Macedonian weddings, and so on. When we are exposed to such similarities as this and other similarities such as the drinking of Turkish coffee and the love of ajvar and raki, and many more, it is hard to understand the hatred and on what it can possibly be based. As to be expected, the wedding was a fine time.
7.
The fellow that sat across from us at the wedding was another American. He worked for the UN. He advised us that on that Saturday a bomb – six pounds of dynamite – was found on a UN vehicle. He told us that we should always check for wires hanging from under our cars before we get in and always park in UN secure lots. I told him that as a contractor for USAID, we had no access to UN lots, and that my car had Michigan plates. It took him several seconds to digest the fact that there were non-Kosovar people here who actually do not work for the UN. Finally, he said that I was probably in no danger with US plates on my car, since Americans are loved and are not targets. I was more amused than alarmed by the warning. Threats are always taken seriously, but I am constantly amazed at the chauvinistic attitudes of the UN and even USAID people working here.
8.
The Albanian Kosovars talk often about how Kosovo has been occupied for centuries. In fact they say that the US are the only invaders who do not have intentions of occupying them. There are a couple of ancient sites in Kosovo. One dates to the eighth century BC and another the fourth century BC. Even the Romans occupied Kosovo. Novo Brdo dates to the fourth century BC. It was a mining city and at one point in its history was larger than Paris. Today the town is a wide spot in the road. It represents some of the most remote parts of Kosovo. Getting there is not difficult; there is a sign on the road to Gjilan. The road is good until the turn off to the gravel road that leads to the ruin. This narrow road winds and has several respectable ruts. The ruin itself sits atop a high hill. From the promontory the countryside for miles in any direction can be easily surveyed. No mystery as to the location of this fortress.
KFOR troops from several countries, a group of maybe a dozen soldiers, were picnicking at the site. The site is protected by a sign that admonishes visitors to respect the site and not destroy it. The centuries have both taken a huge toll and at the same time demonstrated the durability of the craftsmen’s work. The portions still standing are awesome in their vastness and design.
On a neighboring hill is the mine. In ancient times it produced gold and silver. Today they hope to extract more lead and zinc, its most abundant minerals. Sasha, our South African friend and head of the mines, said that he had only re-opened the mine days before my visit. Apparently it is several kilometers deep.
Pictures never seem to capture the magnanimity of scenes like the view from the Novo Brdo ruin, but I snapped a few before I wound my way across the countryside to Gjilan and then back to Pristina.
9.
Sasha and Antia invited Al and Mary Lil, Bob and Margie from Canada, and myself to their home to make sauerkraut. Sasha, born and raised in South Africa is of Czech descent. Antia is German. Sasha had the cabbages, the spices, the plastic container, and the paraphernalia for cutting the cabbage. The rest of us brought wine. I also brought some cigars. Unlike the Ajvar making routine, here the men did the work making the kraut while the women sat inside and drank wine and chatted. We also drank wine, as we cut cabbage. Sasha did the honors of stomping the cabbage in the container with his bare feet. We smoked cigars and visited.
The subject of Kosovo’s continuous occupation came up in the conversation. It is Sasha’s contention that the Kosovar Albanians have become so accustomed to being occupied by one power or another that they instinctively develop a dual personality. One shows friendliness to the occupiers as a survival technique. The other, the true side of their personality, is loyal only to family. The Code of Leke Dukagjini having been instilled in them from birth. Sasha does not trust their friendliness. But then, are we Americans seen as occupiers or the first true liberators?
Dinner was cabbage rolls and potatoes. I pondered the discussion. It is so difficult for us to understand the inter-ethnic dynamics of this place and the tribal mentality that has survived the many centuries; the loyalties, and the hatreds. It is incomprehensible to us. We can only accept what is; whatever that is. I no longer try to understand. I accept. I absorb, and I react to what I see and feel only. Even though I do not understand this culture, I hope that I am understood. I try not to present anything complex or subtle. I am what I am and conceal no agendas. I will continue to act with sincerity and offer what I can to assist where I think there is a need. Perhaps all that I do will be accepted and processed in ways that I will neither know nor be able to comprehend. In the end, I will only be certain of what I did, though I may never be able to read the marks left.
Until Next Connection,
Dan
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