I think in my blogs I have seemed very optomistic about Kosovo as a country and about the Kosovar culture. If you haven't noticed that, I am. I really love living here, I love the people, and I love the relaxed style of life. As great as it is to live here, some of the politics and the conservative has been getting to me a little bit.
I'm sure all of you readers know me, I can't really imagine that this blog has reached people that didn't follow my facebook link or my e-mails. Since you know me, you know that I grew up in San Francisco, a liberal paradise in the U.S. Living in San Francisco instilled me with a strong sense of equality, whether it be racial, gender, or sexual preference. Living in Kosovo now, I see all sorts of these equalities completely blurred and turned upside down.
Of course, I've talked about the ethnic tension here between Serbians and Albanians. That is kind of obvious.. at least to me. But what might not be as obvious, is the idea of 'diversity' here and what it means. When I think of diversity, I think of every kind of person imaginable living in a single community. It doesn't necessarily have to be harmonious living, but at least different races, socio-economic backgrounds, etc. Diversity can mean a lot of things. Diversity here is something quite different, if it exists at all. There is little to no religious diversity, with almost every Albanian being Muslim (there are a few Catholics here), and almost every Serbian being Orthodox (there are not many Serbians anyways, at least in Pristina). There is no real racial diversity. There are not even any Serbians in Pristina. If you see someone of African American descent, I can tell that every single person on the street notices this person - and stares. And obviously is a foreigner working for NATO or another foreign government agency. I have only seen two Asian people the whole time I've been here. I constantly have the feeling that everyone is staring at me as I walk down the street because they can tell that I am a foreigner and that I am different. I don't mean staring at me in a negative way, but it is that if you do not fit in and do not conform to some sort of mould, then it is noticed... And that makes me feel a bit awkward.
There is, of course, socio-economic diversity, however it is not as apparent in Pristina as it is other places in the country. As I've said in previous posts, the average income is around 150 Euro a month. A lot of people in Pristina make more than that, purely because it is the capital, and because of the foreign presence in the city, which includes NATO, UN Mission in Kosovo, European Union Mission in Kosovo, European Council, USAID, foreign banks like Raffeisen and ProCredit... just to name a few. They employ some locals, however the local employees do earn less than foreigners. Anyways, since most of these organizations are centered in Pristina, it is natural that this city has the highest income. However, it is once you leave the city that you really feel extreme poverty. In Pristina, there are some beggers, Roma children trying to sell you peanuts or beg for money, however there are not as many as I anticipated before I came here. At night at a cafe, it really does not feel as though most people here only make 150-200 Euro a month. Everyone dresses up and looks nice, orders drinks, stays out late.. it simply does not feel like people are struggling to earn money. I am sure that many of these people are in fact struggling, or are unemployed, however they do not act like it. This makes the diversity feel like there is less than it is in reality.
Now, since I am interning for a women's organization, I am sure you are expecting me to be all feminist about gender equality here - and I will not disappoint you! The unemployment rate for women here is higher than it is for men. The figures that my organization told me is that for men it is around 40%, and for women it is 60%. A lot of the inequality and reasoning for this comes from the cultural stereotypes that it is a woman's job to raise the family. Women here get married very young (rewind to when someone told me I will be too old to get married when I am 24), and especially in villages, women stay home and have children, and a lot of them. Women aren't expected, or encouraged, to find jobs and a steady income outside of their household. There are many cases of domestic violence (that will be a separate blog entry), and women simply cannot do anything about it. The divorce rate is incredibly low, and women often do not get custody of their children after a divorce. Things are changing though, and there is a slow progress. Each generation, like everywhere in the world, becomes more "western" (I don't really love this term, but it certainly applies here), and more "modern" in terms of gender relations. Women here, unlike most Muslim countries, do not cover up, instead they readily expose a lot of skin. More and more women are finding work and providing for their families, thanks to organizations like Women for Women. It is only in many traditional families that these old stereotypes are being held firmly in place. Still, in general, the gender divide exists, and is far from equal.. even in simple things, like when a male friend of mine told me that here a women would never break up with a man she is dating, he always breaks up with her, because a woman's goal is to find a husband and does not want to end in a relationship.
Now, what really motivated me to write this blog is what recently happened in Belgrade. Of course Belgrade is not Kosovo, but I think generally the attitudes in the Balkans towards homosexuality is the same. There was supposed to be a gay-pride march in Belgrade, however it was canceled because there were many threats against the gay marchers, and the government felt as though it could not provide security for the participants. You can read about that here: http://www.balkaninsight.com/en/main/analysis/22369/
Someone in Kosovo then told me that Kosovo was more open-minded, and I thought, well is it? It turns out, not really. The same news agency, Balkan Insight, (which I highly recommend if you want to read about the news here in English), printed a story around the same time about homosexuals in Kosovo: http://www.balkaninsight.com/en/main/analysis/22403/
Soon after I read this, by coincidence one of my male friends here told me he is bisexual. He said he was only telling me and several of his friends because I'm an international, so I won't feel have as a conservative of a view as many locals. He said that if he had told his friends that he was actually gay, and not bisexual, then he would be "lost forever" and there would be no hope for him. He said there was almost no way that he could ever find a partner here because there is almost no gay community to speak of out of fear of discrimination or harm. He does not know any openly gay people, and doubts it will change any time soon. He seemed so sad and hopeless when he told me this, I felt awful. But that's just the culture here, and I guess it is the same in most (or all?) Balkan countries. For some reason, I expected something different of Kosovo, from a country that is fighting hard for its independence and claims to be so open-minded. A country with unparalleled foreign presence and people who desperately want some sort of 'change'. It was silly of me though to have such high expectations. Not everyone though is against homosexuals, like I said I have a bisexual friend, and know other people who have said that they don't think there is anything wrong with homosexuality.. however, it seems the general feeling is strongly homophobic and unaccepting.
Of course, despite all of these things, I still love Kosovo. I have to remind myself that Kosovo is a developing country, meaning it only just got its independence (well, to some), and it is still figuring itself out. I don't think there is a real Kosovar identity yet, everyone calls themselves Albanians or Serbians, not Kosovar. These issues don't really seem to be high on their list, or even on anyone's list. Everyone in Kosovo focuses mainly on the political and independence issues; these issues are critical for Kosovo's future as a nation. However, the diversity and equality problems in Kosovo are very important for me, and I felt as though I needed to highlight them. I also wanted to note that as positive as I sound about Kosovo, there are a lot of issues, many that people don't even care to acknowledge.
Showing posts with label abroad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label abroad. Show all posts
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Fushe Kosova
Sorry it's been another two weeks! Time passes by here SO quickly, you would not believe it! I actually only have five weeks left here, I'm already a little sad just thinking about it. I actually have really exciting things to blog about! I will have to take things one step at a time though and only blog about one day first.
Last Friday I met some random travelers, an Italian girl, a Turkish guy, a Finish guy, and a Dutch guy. Friday night was fun, but not important, in fact it could probably be a whole other blog entry! Anyways, the Italian girl, Sarah, and the Turkish guy, Avi, said that on Saturday they were planning on going to a small village outside of Fushe Kosova, which is about 20 minutes outside of Pristina. I thought, well I’m not doing anything tomorrow and I have not really been to a village yet except for the graduation, so I should go. So I went!
We met up the next morning and set out on our journey. One important detail here is that Avi had an accordion with him. I am still not exactly sure why he brought it with him everywhere. All I know is that he played it incessantly; every step of the way we had music in the background and it always lingered in the back of my thoughts. After a while, it got quite annoying to say the least.
So we get off the bus and we have no idea where we are, because we know the village is somewhere outside of the small city of Fushe Kosova, but we do not know where. We look for some food, any kind of food really would have been okay, and we soon found some burek. (I am only adding this so you get a sense of what kind of food I eat here.) I am not sure if I mentioned it before, but Burek is a pastry. It is greasy bread on the outside, and either has white cheese or meat on the inside. I usually choose the cheese option; I am not a huge fan of mystery meat. Sarah and Avi decide that they first want to go to the train station because Sarah has this romantic idea of taking the train somewhere the next day. I try to tell her that the trains here anything but romantic and nice, but she insists. We make our way to the station, and it is nearly empty except for a couple of old men sitting at the train station coffee shop talking. This scene is completely typical in Kosova – there are always old men sitting around drinking coffee.
We went outside near the tracks and saw this ten year old girl sitting there by herself. She had really short hair, like a boy cut, which is a little unusual here for girls. Her clothes were a little dirty and you could tell by looking at her that she is Roma and not Albanian. Avi makes it his mission to befriend this little girl and starts talking to her. Obviously she does not speak English, so I laughed at him for his effort. I go over and say ‘My name is Ashley, what’s yours?’ in Albanian, but she just stared at me blankly. It was either because of my horrid accent or because she was too shy, I am still not sure what was the cause. We tried and tried to communicate with her, but she would not say anything at all. She finally took Sarah’s hand and led us somewhere, so we decided to follow.
We walked across the train tracks, and suddenly see a village. The houses look like they are straight out of Borat and there is garbage coating the street. We walk for a while and we realize we’re now lost and do not know where we are, great. Suddenly we see this horse-drawn carriage/trolley coming towards us. I kind of laughed at first, because although it is something so typical to see in villages here, the initial sight of it is always a little surprising. The horse was carrying two men, and the cart behind the horse had piles of old metal wire, plastic containers, and a computer screen monitor with a huge crack through it. The men stopped to try to talk to us. We soon realized that everyone we saw would immediately come and see us because they had no idea what foreigners would ever be doing in their village. I think they were more interested in us than we were in them.
A woman then emerged from one of the little houses and started talking extremely quickly. We all had a confused look on our faces, and then she laughed. We tried to speak to her in every language possible, and then decided what would be best would be a mixture of English, German, and Albanian. Well, it sort of worked. She said her husband was collecting trash all day, and would sell it in a market for 5 Euro. She then invited us inside for coffee.
We walked past the door and her garden was filled with trash. Not necessarily trash like your average daily trash, but junk: old toys, a random shoe, big pieces of metal, things that most people would throw away and never think about again. On the right there was a big faucet where water would normally come out, but Sofia (the woman), said “Ska ouji” (I have no idea how to spell this), which means ‘no water’ in Albanian. We had to take off our shoes before entering her house, which is customary here. I am always hesitant when I do this at people’s houses because I’m afraid of either people stealing my shoes or getting weird fungus on my feet. Anyways, it is important to be polite, so I did it. The downfall of this courteous custom is that the inside of many people’s houses smell like feet and it was no different here.
Sofia led us into a room, and it was nearly empty. There were just cushions on the floor and some weird flowers dangling from the ceiling. In the corner there was a TV from the 80’s, and I am pretty sure it didn’t work. I actually have some pictures posted on my website, so maybe it is better to look there. Sofia generously offered us a Red-Bull copy-cat drink called ‘Red Dog’ or something, and it tasted much like red bull. Her rules of hospitality made her keep offering us more, and we kept drinking it to be polite. So the tree of us drank a 2 Liter bottle of energy drink. I realized I really had to stop because we were unlikely to find a bathroom for the rest of the day.
Sofia then asked if she could try to play Avi’s accordion. Then after playing some music, she decided she wanted to teach Sarah and I how to dance, so then Avi played music while a seriously bad attempt at Albanian folk dancing ensued. We settled back down after realizing our attempts at dancing were futile and the conversation turned a little more serious. Sofia talked of her Bulgarian descent, and how she had to immigrate to Kosovo because she did not have legal documents. As Ashkali in Bulgaria, she said she was not considered a real citizen. The war in Kosovo enabled her to come here and become one of the many forgotten minorities. After the war, she said that Kosovo gave documents to all of the minorities, so it was easy for her to obtain documentation for herself and her children. So we talked about a lot with Sofia, but we wanted to go meet even more people, so we politely told her that it was time for us to continue on.
We left her house and thanked her again, and as soon as we left her house, a group of kids came running towards us. They were mostly from around 5-12 years old. They expected us to speak Albanian for some reason, and kept talking, even though I repeatedly said “I don’t speak Albanian” in Albanian. It turns out, being able to say you don’t speak a language really only means that since you can say a couple words, you obviously can say much more. We wandered along the dirt road with a growing number of kids at our heels, and we came upon a little mini-market. The owner came out, and he was a little old-ish man, missing a couple fingers from each hand. We was really friendly though and his English was the best we encountered so far, meaning he could hold a little bit of a conversation, and he asked us if we would take pictures with him in front of his store, as if we were some kind of celebrities. By this time, there were many thirty kids surrounding us, and some of them were teenage boys who knew a little bit of English, but found the situation so hilarious they would only say a couple of words, like asking for our e-mail addresses.
The owner of the store then invited us back to his house for a couple of drinks. We accepted, of course! We walked to his house, which was by far the nicest house in the neighborhood. The first distinction is that it was a real house, and the garbage in front was replaced with beautiful flowers and a nice lawn. I also saw running water out of a fountain. This was a dramatic contrast to Sofia’s house, however it was only a ten-fifteen minute walk away. The man’s very old mother came out to greet us, she was very sweet and nice looking but could not speak any English. The man’s 18 year old son then came out, and he spoke some English since he was at university. Another big difference of this family was education: Sofia’s kids could not afford school, but this man’s kids were all in college. He then offered us some kind of RC Cola, and we sat down on a real couch. They had a big flat screen TV and it was playing the movie “Chasing Liberty” with Mandy Moore – it was so random! The man then started talking to us about what being Ashkali was like; he said Ashkali originally came from Persia over a hundred years ago, but I heard from many people different stories about their origins. In fact, it is hard to trace the exact descent of many Ashkali. He said this small village actually had 5,000 people in it, and there used to be more but during the war many Ashkali left. The conversation we had was interesting, but they were more reserved and less vivacious than Sofia. After a little while, we decided to leave and thanked them.
As soon as we left their house, the scores of kids soon crowded us again. This time, I took out my camera to take a picture. I still cannot decide whether this was a mistake or not, because as soon as I took one picture, each kid individually wanted their own picture taken. They started pushing each other out of the way and fighting over who I would take a picture of next. They were all quite cute though, and I think meeting us was possibly the most exciting thing that has ever happened to them. One girl in particular liked me and walked next to me the whole time and held my hand. I even got her e-mail address and I’ve been meaning to e-mail her the pictures I took. She was so amazed and confused when she saw my eyebrow piercing. Soon they all gathered around and pointed at my eyebrow and touched the piercing then winced at the idea of how painful it must have been to get it pierced. Honestly, it really did not hurt very much, and it was so long ago I do not really remember how it felt. Not that many people in Kosovo in general have piercings though, especially facial piercings, so this was probably the first time little kids in a village ever saw it, and boy were they confused.
The kids followed us for the next hour or so until we found our way back to the train station. I probably took over one hundred pictures of them, but only put some online. It was really cute meeting all of them, and showed me how people who have so little can be so appreciative and generous with what they do have to offer. It was really interesting going into Ashkali homes and seeing the diversity and different situations each of them find themselves in.
I think there is a lot more I can say about this day trip, but I already wrote enough, and congratulations to you if you made it this far! I will hopefully write more sometime soon about my other exciting stories!
Last Friday I met some random travelers, an Italian girl, a Turkish guy, a Finish guy, and a Dutch guy. Friday night was fun, but not important, in fact it could probably be a whole other blog entry! Anyways, the Italian girl, Sarah, and the Turkish guy, Avi, said that on Saturday they were planning on going to a small village outside of Fushe Kosova, which is about 20 minutes outside of Pristina. I thought, well I’m not doing anything tomorrow and I have not really been to a village yet except for the graduation, so I should go. So I went!
We met up the next morning and set out on our journey. One important detail here is that Avi had an accordion with him. I am still not exactly sure why he brought it with him everywhere. All I know is that he played it incessantly; every step of the way we had music in the background and it always lingered in the back of my thoughts. After a while, it got quite annoying to say the least.
So we get off the bus and we have no idea where we are, because we know the village is somewhere outside of the small city of Fushe Kosova, but we do not know where. We look for some food, any kind of food really would have been okay, and we soon found some burek. (I am only adding this so you get a sense of what kind of food I eat here.) I am not sure if I mentioned it before, but Burek is a pastry. It is greasy bread on the outside, and either has white cheese or meat on the inside. I usually choose the cheese option; I am not a huge fan of mystery meat. Sarah and Avi decide that they first want to go to the train station because Sarah has this romantic idea of taking the train somewhere the next day. I try to tell her that the trains here anything but romantic and nice, but she insists. We make our way to the station, and it is nearly empty except for a couple of old men sitting at the train station coffee shop talking. This scene is completely typical in Kosova – there are always old men sitting around drinking coffee.
We went outside near the tracks and saw this ten year old girl sitting there by herself. She had really short hair, like a boy cut, which is a little unusual here for girls. Her clothes were a little dirty and you could tell by looking at her that she is Roma and not Albanian. Avi makes it his mission to befriend this little girl and starts talking to her. Obviously she does not speak English, so I laughed at him for his effort. I go over and say ‘My name is Ashley, what’s yours?’ in Albanian, but she just stared at me blankly. It was either because of my horrid accent or because she was too shy, I am still not sure what was the cause. We tried and tried to communicate with her, but she would not say anything at all. She finally took Sarah’s hand and led us somewhere, so we decided to follow.
We walked across the train tracks, and suddenly see a village. The houses look like they are straight out of Borat and there is garbage coating the street. We walk for a while and we realize we’re now lost and do not know where we are, great. Suddenly we see this horse-drawn carriage/trolley coming towards us. I kind of laughed at first, because although it is something so typical to see in villages here, the initial sight of it is always a little surprising. The horse was carrying two men, and the cart behind the horse had piles of old metal wire, plastic containers, and a computer screen monitor with a huge crack through it. The men stopped to try to talk to us. We soon realized that everyone we saw would immediately come and see us because they had no idea what foreigners would ever be doing in their village. I think they were more interested in us than we were in them.
A woman then emerged from one of the little houses and started talking extremely quickly. We all had a confused look on our faces, and then she laughed. We tried to speak to her in every language possible, and then decided what would be best would be a mixture of English, German, and Albanian. Well, it sort of worked. She said her husband was collecting trash all day, and would sell it in a market for 5 Euro. She then invited us inside for coffee.
We walked past the door and her garden was filled with trash. Not necessarily trash like your average daily trash, but junk: old toys, a random shoe, big pieces of metal, things that most people would throw away and never think about again. On the right there was a big faucet where water would normally come out, but Sofia (the woman), said “Ska ouji” (I have no idea how to spell this), which means ‘no water’ in Albanian. We had to take off our shoes before entering her house, which is customary here. I am always hesitant when I do this at people’s houses because I’m afraid of either people stealing my shoes or getting weird fungus on my feet. Anyways, it is important to be polite, so I did it. The downfall of this courteous custom is that the inside of many people’s houses smell like feet and it was no different here.
Sofia led us into a room, and it was nearly empty. There were just cushions on the floor and some weird flowers dangling from the ceiling. In the corner there was a TV from the 80’s, and I am pretty sure it didn’t work. I actually have some pictures posted on my website, so maybe it is better to look there. Sofia generously offered us a Red-Bull copy-cat drink called ‘Red Dog’ or something, and it tasted much like red bull. Her rules of hospitality made her keep offering us more, and we kept drinking it to be polite. So the tree of us drank a 2 Liter bottle of energy drink. I realized I really had to stop because we were unlikely to find a bathroom for the rest of the day.
Sofia then asked if she could try to play Avi’s accordion. Then after playing some music, she decided she wanted to teach Sarah and I how to dance, so then Avi played music while a seriously bad attempt at Albanian folk dancing ensued. We settled back down after realizing our attempts at dancing were futile and the conversation turned a little more serious. Sofia talked of her Bulgarian descent, and how she had to immigrate to Kosovo because she did not have legal documents. As Ashkali in Bulgaria, she said she was not considered a real citizen. The war in Kosovo enabled her to come here and become one of the many forgotten minorities. After the war, she said that Kosovo gave documents to all of the minorities, so it was easy for her to obtain documentation for herself and her children. So we talked about a lot with Sofia, but we wanted to go meet even more people, so we politely told her that it was time for us to continue on.
We left her house and thanked her again, and as soon as we left her house, a group of kids came running towards us. They were mostly from around 5-12 years old. They expected us to speak Albanian for some reason, and kept talking, even though I repeatedly said “I don’t speak Albanian” in Albanian. It turns out, being able to say you don’t speak a language really only means that since you can say a couple words, you obviously can say much more. We wandered along the dirt road with a growing number of kids at our heels, and we came upon a little mini-market. The owner came out, and he was a little old-ish man, missing a couple fingers from each hand. We was really friendly though and his English was the best we encountered so far, meaning he could hold a little bit of a conversation, and he asked us if we would take pictures with him in front of his store, as if we were some kind of celebrities. By this time, there were many thirty kids surrounding us, and some of them were teenage boys who knew a little bit of English, but found the situation so hilarious they would only say a couple of words, like asking for our e-mail addresses.
The owner of the store then invited us back to his house for a couple of drinks. We accepted, of course! We walked to his house, which was by far the nicest house in the neighborhood. The first distinction is that it was a real house, and the garbage in front was replaced with beautiful flowers and a nice lawn. I also saw running water out of a fountain. This was a dramatic contrast to Sofia’s house, however it was only a ten-fifteen minute walk away. The man’s very old mother came out to greet us, she was very sweet and nice looking but could not speak any English. The man’s 18 year old son then came out, and he spoke some English since he was at university. Another big difference of this family was education: Sofia’s kids could not afford school, but this man’s kids were all in college. He then offered us some kind of RC Cola, and we sat down on a real couch. They had a big flat screen TV and it was playing the movie “Chasing Liberty” with Mandy Moore – it was so random! The man then started talking to us about what being Ashkali was like; he said Ashkali originally came from Persia over a hundred years ago, but I heard from many people different stories about their origins. In fact, it is hard to trace the exact descent of many Ashkali. He said this small village actually had 5,000 people in it, and there used to be more but during the war many Ashkali left. The conversation we had was interesting, but they were more reserved and less vivacious than Sofia. After a little while, we decided to leave and thanked them.
As soon as we left their house, the scores of kids soon crowded us again. This time, I took out my camera to take a picture. I still cannot decide whether this was a mistake or not, because as soon as I took one picture, each kid individually wanted their own picture taken. They started pushing each other out of the way and fighting over who I would take a picture of next. They were all quite cute though, and I think meeting us was possibly the most exciting thing that has ever happened to them. One girl in particular liked me and walked next to me the whole time and held my hand. I even got her e-mail address and I’ve been meaning to e-mail her the pictures I took. She was so amazed and confused when she saw my eyebrow piercing. Soon they all gathered around and pointed at my eyebrow and touched the piercing then winced at the idea of how painful it must have been to get it pierced. Honestly, it really did not hurt very much, and it was so long ago I do not really remember how it felt. Not that many people in Kosovo in general have piercings though, especially facial piercings, so this was probably the first time little kids in a village ever saw it, and boy were they confused.
The kids followed us for the next hour or so until we found our way back to the train station. I probably took over one hundred pictures of them, but only put some online. It was really cute meeting all of them, and showed me how people who have so little can be so appreciative and generous with what they do have to offer. It was really interesting going into Ashkali homes and seeing the diversity and different situations each of them find themselves in.
I think there is a lot more I can say about this day trip, but I already wrote enough, and congratulations to you if you made it this far! I will hopefully write more sometime soon about my other exciting stories!
Friday, August 14, 2009
Boom Boom! Bil Klinton!
It's easy to sit in the U.S. and think that every country hates you, there are tons of reasons why: Iraq, globalization, cultural imperalism, George Bush... so sometimes I forget that there are places that still really love the U.S., and that sometimes, the things that we think are evil, like war, can actually make another country love us.
The first time I encountered pro-Americanism (which is actually an understatement!) in Kosovo was my first night. I was at this nice traditional Albanian restaurant and I said something in English to the waiter, and he responded with, "AMERICA???" and at first I thought he was going to say something negative, so I wearily said yes, then he shot back, "I LOVE AMERICA!" and he continued on for ten minutes about how every year he applies for the green card lottery in hopes of moving to the U.S. From this moment on, things just got better and better for me as an American here in Kosovo.
Nearly every time I say I am from the U.S. people look at me in a different, but better way. Eyes light up and people get excited! Almost everyone responds with a story about knowing someone in the U.S., or how they have been there, how they love NYC.. and most often about how much they adore Bil Klinton. Maybe you notice my spelling, which is no mistake at all, but is how his name is written here. There is even a Bil Klinton Avenue which is the main street leading into the city from the airport. My first night I was driving down it and looked up to see a huge three story tall photo of Bil Klinton staring down at me -- they have him plastered on buildings so everyone can see him! It's crazy.
In case you don't know why everyone loves Bil Klinton (I don't blame you, it involves a little history lesson), was that Kosovo was a part of Serbia, and Kosovars were very oppressed. Many people did not go to school because the official language was serbian and you were not allowed to speak Albanian (which most people speak here.) Kosovo has two main ethnicities: Kosovar-Albanians and Kosovar-Serbs. There are some minorities such as Roma, Ashkali, and Egyptians, but they do not make up a large part of the population, so when you talk about Kosovo, you talk about Albanians versus Serbians. Anyways, the Kosovo War ended in 1999 when NATO, led by BIL KLINTON (!!!!) bombed Belgrade until Serbia withdrew its military forces from Kosovo. During the war, thousands of people fled Kosovo to neighboring countries or other European countries (you see hundreds of cars here from Germany and Sweden and Switzerland - all refugees), and many people that stayed here died or lived in very poor conditions. Everyone here has a war story, whether it is about fleeing, nearby buildings getting bombed, having to walk by serbian tanks so they don't get bombed for months, or knowing someone who disappeared... Well all of this ended because of the famous Bil Klinton and because of the bombing of Belgrade.
My favorite Bil Klinton story so far happened just last weekend. I was with a Dutch guy named Just and we went to see the oldest Mosque here, which is currently under renovation. There is a sign outside of it in Albanian which says 'do not enter' but we entered anyways and pretended we didn't know what it said. Outside of the mosque there is a large water fountain with seats by it, with water constantly flowing, and little metal cups tied to the fountain. We saw an old man sitting there wearing a traditional Albanian wool cap. He turned around when he saw us and motioned for us to come over there. He filled up one of the cups with water and kept giving it to Just to drink. He would drink it, and then the old man would fill it up again and it would just keep going. I think maybe it's only for men because I wasn't offered any water. So this old man really doesn't speak any english, but he tries to ask us where we are from and somehow we understand, so Just first answeres Holland, and the guy is a little excited about that and smiles. Then I say "United States" and he goes "AHHH AMEERICA!!!!!" and starts speaking really quickly. I have no idea what he was saying, but I'm sure it's good. Then in the middle of his speech I hear him say "BOOM BOOM! Bil Klinton! BOOM! AMERICA!!" So this was his way of talking about how Bil Klinton bombed Belgrade and that's why he loves the US... at least my interpretation of what he was saying. This man was so nice though and brought us into the mosque, where him and a couple other guys proceeded to laugh because I was in the mosque. One of them spoke english and told me women weren't usually allowed in unless they went to the balcony, but because it was under construction I could go inside. The old man kept on asking me questions about the US, using one of these other men as a translator of sorts, and about where in the US I'm from, etc.. he was super excited.
Anyways, it's great to be in a country that actually likes where you are from. It's a huge change for me. It isn't like everyone hates Americans all across the world, that would be a huge simplification of anti-American sentiment, but I really haven't met anyone here who doesn't love the US. In most Albanian eyes, the US gave them their freedom. We were one of the first countries that recognized Kosovo as an independent nation, and we helped them get there by bombing Serbia. If you know me, you know I am a huge pacifist, I've been to anti-war protests, I strongly disagree with violence... but being here has changed my views a little. NATO's actions allowed Kosovo to become independent and people here truly appreciate that. Going to Serbia, you obviously get another side of the story, and I'm not ignorant to that - I've been to Serbia, met Serbians, and talked with them about the war. I was told that when the US recognized Kosovo as a country, some people vandalized the McDonalds in Belgrade and broke into it, as of course McDonalds represents the US and everything we stand for! (HAHA!)
The moral of this story is that even if you don't know it, you have some support. There are a lot of people here really grateful for our country and our politics. In one of the cities there is even a George Bush street! (Maybe their enthusiasm is a little too much about the US). I hope that people know that far away, in a little country that some people still haven't really heard of, there are people dreaming of coming to the US, and many people still consider you lucky to live there.
The first time I encountered pro-Americanism (which is actually an understatement!) in Kosovo was my first night. I was at this nice traditional Albanian restaurant and I said something in English to the waiter, and he responded with, "AMERICA???" and at first I thought he was going to say something negative, so I wearily said yes, then he shot back, "I LOVE AMERICA!" and he continued on for ten minutes about how every year he applies for the green card lottery in hopes of moving to the U.S. From this moment on, things just got better and better for me as an American here in Kosovo.
Nearly every time I say I am from the U.S. people look at me in a different, but better way. Eyes light up and people get excited! Almost everyone responds with a story about knowing someone in the U.S., or how they have been there, how they love NYC.. and most often about how much they adore Bil Klinton. Maybe you notice my spelling, which is no mistake at all, but is how his name is written here. There is even a Bil Klinton Avenue which is the main street leading into the city from the airport. My first night I was driving down it and looked up to see a huge three story tall photo of Bil Klinton staring down at me -- they have him plastered on buildings so everyone can see him! It's crazy.
In case you don't know why everyone loves Bil Klinton (I don't blame you, it involves a little history lesson), was that Kosovo was a part of Serbia, and Kosovars were very oppressed. Many people did not go to school because the official language was serbian and you were not allowed to speak Albanian (which most people speak here.) Kosovo has two main ethnicities: Kosovar-Albanians and Kosovar-Serbs. There are some minorities such as Roma, Ashkali, and Egyptians, but they do not make up a large part of the population, so when you talk about Kosovo, you talk about Albanians versus Serbians. Anyways, the Kosovo War ended in 1999 when NATO, led by BIL KLINTON (!!!!) bombed Belgrade until Serbia withdrew its military forces from Kosovo. During the war, thousands of people fled Kosovo to neighboring countries or other European countries (you see hundreds of cars here from Germany and Sweden and Switzerland - all refugees), and many people that stayed here died or lived in very poor conditions. Everyone here has a war story, whether it is about fleeing, nearby buildings getting bombed, having to walk by serbian tanks so they don't get bombed for months, or knowing someone who disappeared... Well all of this ended because of the famous Bil Klinton and because of the bombing of Belgrade.
My favorite Bil Klinton story so far happened just last weekend. I was with a Dutch guy named Just and we went to see the oldest Mosque here, which is currently under renovation. There is a sign outside of it in Albanian which says 'do not enter' but we entered anyways and pretended we didn't know what it said. Outside of the mosque there is a large water fountain with seats by it, with water constantly flowing, and little metal cups tied to the fountain. We saw an old man sitting there wearing a traditional Albanian wool cap. He turned around when he saw us and motioned for us to come over there. He filled up one of the cups with water and kept giving it to Just to drink. He would drink it, and then the old man would fill it up again and it would just keep going. I think maybe it's only for men because I wasn't offered any water. So this old man really doesn't speak any english, but he tries to ask us where we are from and somehow we understand, so Just first answeres Holland, and the guy is a little excited about that and smiles. Then I say "United States" and he goes "AHHH AMEERICA!!!!!" and starts speaking really quickly. I have no idea what he was saying, but I'm sure it's good. Then in the middle of his speech I hear him say "BOOM BOOM! Bil Klinton! BOOM! AMERICA!!" So this was his way of talking about how Bil Klinton bombed Belgrade and that's why he loves the US... at least my interpretation of what he was saying. This man was so nice though and brought us into the mosque, where him and a couple other guys proceeded to laugh because I was in the mosque. One of them spoke english and told me women weren't usually allowed in unless they went to the balcony, but because it was under construction I could go inside. The old man kept on asking me questions about the US, using one of these other men as a translator of sorts, and about where in the US I'm from, etc.. he was super excited.
Anyways, it's great to be in a country that actually likes where you are from. It's a huge change for me. It isn't like everyone hates Americans all across the world, that would be a huge simplification of anti-American sentiment, but I really haven't met anyone here who doesn't love the US. In most Albanian eyes, the US gave them their freedom. We were one of the first countries that recognized Kosovo as an independent nation, and we helped them get there by bombing Serbia. If you know me, you know I am a huge pacifist, I've been to anti-war protests, I strongly disagree with violence... but being here has changed my views a little. NATO's actions allowed Kosovo to become independent and people here truly appreciate that. Going to Serbia, you obviously get another side of the story, and I'm not ignorant to that - I've been to Serbia, met Serbians, and talked with them about the war. I was told that when the US recognized Kosovo as a country, some people vandalized the McDonalds in Belgrade and broke into it, as of course McDonalds represents the US and everything we stand for! (HAHA!)
The moral of this story is that even if you don't know it, you have some support. There are a lot of people here really grateful for our country and our politics. In one of the cities there is even a George Bush street! (Maybe their enthusiasm is a little too much about the US). I hope that people know that far away, in a little country that some people still haven't really heard of, there are people dreaming of coming to the US, and many people still consider you lucky to live there.
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