From the Edge of Europe

This is Serbia

2008-02-26T22:14:00.004+01:00

Well the party is over and Kosova is returning to work and normal life. Independence has gone well here but there have been serious demonstrations in Serbian areas and in Serbia, including the violent demolition of two Kosovo – Serbia border posts. For me these recent events have brought back to mind some of the themes of the war in 1998 which led to today’s independence.

In 1998 I worked with a colleague, Faton Mikullovc, whose brother, Jeton, is a famous cartoonist who provides a daily satirical cartoon in Kosova’s leading newspaper. Now, after one memorable day working in an area of destroyed villages and witnessing some Serbian police walking away from a burning village with a fuel canister in hand I suggested an idea for a cartoon for Faton to give to his brother. The idea was this; in those times in Kosova it was quiet common to see Serbian nationalist slogans and symbols daubed on the side of houses, especially after a village had been looted and burned, a common one being, in Cyrillic text, “This is Serbia”. My idea was to depict two slobbish Serbian police languishing against the side of a smouldering house, with “This is Serbia” graffiti on the wall behind. One officer turns to his colleague and asks “Branko, if this is Serbia why are we burning it?!”. During the course of the war few Albanian towns or villages escaped this kind of systematic destruction at the hands of the police or paramilitaries. The Serbian police committed a huge crime; in England if someone burned down your house you would immediately call the police, the irony is that in Kosova in 1998 the police would be already on the crime scene, petrol can and matches in hand!

For me it was the most striking of images, one which goes to the heart of the matter, and raises the most obvious question. Everywhere “This is Serbia”, everywhere the Serbian authorities destroying “Serbia”. If it was Serbia, why were they systematically burning it down? Now ten years later the Serbian anti-Kosova independence protestors are proclaiming a new but familiar slogan “Kosovo is Serbia”. Now why, for even one second, should the happily independent citizens of Kosova invite the same Serbian authorities back? Even the sight of Serbian police in Prishtina would be enough to bring back ripples of fear to most people living here that experienced the war. This is what international politicians mean when they say Serbia has lost the moral right to govern Kosova.

And the sad thing is that Serbia, on a collective level, does not appear to be changing. Unfortunately the Serbian state media has hidden, or does not want to tell, what the Serbian police did in Kosova (nor indeed in any other place in ex- Yugoslavia). The public have not been given the facts and not been allowed to deal with what the Serbian state did in their name. Thus there is no opportunity for collective reflection, remorse and, ultimately, reconciliation. It seems to me that Serbia is in the state of wounded pride and reactionary chauvinism that Germany was after World War One and we know from history where that led Europe in the 1930s. Serbia needs to go through the stage of collective remorse and awakening that Germany went through after 1945; only then will Serbia be mature enough to join the family of European nations. This is Serbia.

Republic of Kosova

2008-02-17T20:10:00.001+01:00

Well finally here it is, we are now living in the independent Republic of Kosova.

Today at 12.22 am our son completed his first orbit of the Sun on his new found vehicle, Planet Earth, and at 15.40 pm the Kosova Prime Minister declared independence. All day the streets of Prishtina have thronged with people waving flags, letting off fireworks (yes, from the middle of the crowds!) or just walking around smiling and happy. And there has been some shooting – “happy shooting” as its called here – when shots are fired up into the sky in celebration. Its chaos really but that’s the Balkan way of having a party, even on days like today when the temperature has not topped minus six all day.

Our son of course has been oblivious to all this. He has had a bunch of small children around and got very tired playing and toddling around after little ones and adults alike. We, the adults, are now very tired…its been a funny old day. We live right in the centre of Prishtina and historic events have been happening all around us whilst we held one-year olds party. We all go to bed tonight the same people that woke this morning even though we now live in Europe’s newest country.

A Long Road

2008-02-16T23:16:00.002+01:00

It is nearly ten years since I came to Kosova for the first time in August 1998, during the war of liberation. I have seen life under the Serbian regime; people living as refugees in their own country, whole families living under plastic sheeting in make shift camps in the forests, houses burning and whole villages destroyed, school teachers defending their homes against tanks with rifles. I have been evacuated from here just days before the NATO aerial bombing campaign knowing friends were left behind. Whilst working in the refugee camps in Macedonia I have shared some of the suffering of thousands forced to leave Kosova. I have witnessed the Serbian generals meet NATO generals in Macedonia in June 1999 to surrender Kosova to NATO. Stood watching with crowds of refugee men, women and children, as an endless column of the British Army vehicles enters Kosova and, along with everyone else, including the soldiers, cried tears of joy at the sight. I have worked to repair damaged homes and worked with people rebuilding their damaged lives. Helped build institutions of a new state and step by step seen a country rebuild itself. And been proud and honoured to have played a small part.

So it has surely been a long road to independence. Tomorrow will come another land mark in Kosova’s history when Prime Minister Thaqi makes the long awaited declaration. The streets are adorned with flags and already there is a sense of celebration, of a party waiting to happen. People here deserve to enjoy it so lets hope its a peaceful one.

So our little son knew what he was doing when he was born three days later than expected; his own big struggle for independence will now for always be celebrated on Kosova independence day. And right now one of Enita’s elderly aunts, Fatmire, is seriously ill and not expected to live too much longer. I hope no one alive here today, who will have waited so long for this, dies before they know their country is, for the first time in its history, just that - a country.

"A New Country is Born"

2008-02-15T16:49:00.004+01:00

Last night Enita and I went out for Valentine's Day dinner to a near-by restuarant and found ourselves sat at the next table to Hashim Thaqi, the Kosovo Prime Minister, and man of the hour in Europe at the moment. He seemed quite relaxed for a man who will, it is expected, very soon make the announcement that Europe has a new country. The expected date for the declaration of independence is Sunday 17th February. Preparations continue here although no one really knows what will happen with any certainty. Posters are going up around the city saying "A New Country is Born".

Let us pray for a peaceful pain-free birth and that on Sunday morning Europe's new son has a smile on its face, like our son did one year ago to the day!

A Tough Task

2008-02-15T16:11:00.002+01:00

One of my tasks here is to chair the Boards of three regional water companies. On Wednesday this week I had a Board meeting of one of these water companies. On the agenda was the review of the Managing Director’s contract which comes up for renewal once a year. This year change was obviously in the air in Kosova since my fellow Board members voted unanimously not to renew his contract. This means, as Chairman, the duty falls to me to inform the Managing Director of, what would be to him, the very bad news. He has been working for the water company for thirty four years.

Now it seems to me that despite the difficulty of this situation there is a choice involved; to do this tough job with some kindness or not. And there is a choice in the response; to receive the decision with acceptance and dignity or not. If the former is done the latter often follows. And this reminded me of someone I worked with some years ago when I was young manager in the construction industry. For a couple of years I worked with an elderly site foreman called Peter who at first meeting seemed a soft gentle Irishman, and indeed he was. But he was the only person I have ever met who did not hesitate to dismiss a lazy or incompetent worker, which sadly needs to be done from time to time, and do it in such a way the fired employee would, and I have witnessed this, actually thank him afterwards. He left no bitterness in executing tough decisions that many people shy away from. Often this kind of action is not done out of fear or done with a kind of gung ho approach that leaves a lot of bad feeling. I learned a bit, I think, from Peter that if done with honesty and equanimity then firing someone can be done without ill feeling and in a way that does not produce anger.

But it still is not easy and one of the hardest things to do in working life. This occasion was no exception; I like the Managing Director and have known him for a number of years now, he is a man of quiet dignity, a real gentlemen, and it was no surprise that his response to the news was received in a way in keeping with his character. I felt sad to have to tell him but I believe it is for the best, the water company in question was going no where fast and an improved water company may benefit many people.

Local Hero

2008-02-12T20:38:00.000+01:00

Today I had a meeting with the mayor of Skenderaj, a small town in the central area of Kosova and a town long associated with the origins of the Kosova Liberation Army (KLA). Adem Jashari, a hero of Kosova’s war in 1998-99 who was killed by Serbian forces in March 1998, hails from a village near Skenderaj. So it was interesting to me that for no apparent reason the meeting, in the mayor’s private office, was attended by Adem Jashari’s brother. A proud man with a traditional and very mighty handlebar moustache (noticeably stained yellow in the middle from too many cigarettes, which he smoked from a long plastic cigarette holder, presumably to stop the moustache catching fire) and wearing an Albanian plis (a traditional white hat, shaped a bit like half an egg) complete with a smart business suit and tie. What was strange was that as far as I know he holds no position in the mayor’s office and was there simply due to his status as a member of the heroic Jashari family. We talked for a while about water supply issues and then, of course, about independence. Two things struck me…first of all neither of these two public figures of Kosova life knew any more than I did about when the big day would be (but the 17th is still favourite) and second how concerned they were that the events would be peaceful and that all citizens of Kosova, Albanian and Serbian, would benefit. I came away feeling more optimistic that all would go well, kismet.

The Inevitable Day...

2008-02-10T20:28:00.000+01:00

Like the huge meteor cruising towards Planet Earth in the Hollywood blockbuster movie "Independence Day" such a day is slowly moving through time and space to Kosova. I doubt it will have such Earth shattering consequences but the whole thing now appears similarly inevitable and completely unstoppable. Boris Tadic won the Serbian election and, being the good guy in the eyes of Europe, has delayed the inevitable day whilst a few more discussions go on but he has not and cannot stop it. Here the news is now completely mono-topical; there are non-stop discussions about preparations, for instance the Kosova Philamonic Orchestra needs to be readied, a flag needs to be chosen, celebrations planned.

The most talked about day for all this happening is now the 17th February, which happens to be our son's first Birthday. I am still not sure that it will be such a good idea that for the rest of his life he is inflicited with sharing his birthday with Kosova's historic independence day.

Coffee and Cigarettes

2008-01-31T20:48:00.000+01:00

Today I had three long meetings with various staff and consultants of the Hidrodrini Regional Water Company in the city of Peja to the west of the country. Much business here takes place over coffee and in cafes. Two of these meetings were thus today, so a working day can sometimes seem like one long session in a cafe. And usually smoky cafes at that. This place is years away from the type of smoking ban that England now has, and even if they had one no one would take any notice. Apparently at least eighty percent of the population smoke and, as I understand, twenty-five percent of the population are children so that's a remarkable number of smokers. But when you spend your day in smoky cafes its not hard to believe. Kosovo has a reputation for serving the best coffees outside Italy; coffee is taken small and strong. Long meetings require several coffees although they should be sipped slowly over at least half-an-hour, people new to the culture I notice often gulp them down in less than a few minutes. Perhaps unsurprisingly some of the most constructive discussions and decisions end up being made after several macchiato and often the most protracted discussions in a formal meeting setting are resolved quickly once adjourned to a nearby café. A meeting where parties fall out, sometimes seriously, can end with an invitation for coffee and then, if accepted, all differences are soon forgotten, sometimes settled. You know you are in trouble if the invitation is refused, this means there is no more wish remain on speaking terms despite differences, then its time to call it a day.

Inependence: today the campaigning Serbian prime minister, Boris Tadic visted Kosova with a heavily armed escort. He declared that Serbia would never accept any kind of independence for Kosova. Hasim Thaci, the Kosova provisional Prime Minister, on the other hand declared that this would be the last time a Serbian prime minister would be conducting an election campaign on Kosovan soil. They should have coffee together.

In Favour of Darkness...

2008-01-30T19:51:00.001+01:00

In writing this blog I do not mean to make life here sound miserable and full of adversity, rather in some respects I like to illustrate that many of the amenities we take for granted in developed Europe are not to be assumed here. Each day the Kosova power company, lovingly known as KEK, publishes a supply schedule of what we can expect each day. The country is divided into categorised supply zones A, B and C depending on the level of customer payment (which is averaging about 50% at present so only 1 in 2 households actually pay for their electricity), A are the best payers and C the worst. Zone A gets a 24 hour supply on a good day and zone C typically 3 hours with and 3 without electricity, or worse. Hard luck if you pay your bills regularly and live in a C zone.

Well yesterday I noticed the schedule explained like this: Zone A 6:0 (meaning 6 hours with and zero hours without electricity in every 6 hour period) in favour of light, zone B, 4:2 in favour of light, zone C 1:5 in favour of darkness. Our house in Brezovica is in zone C so I found this both ironic and amusing, we are now officially "in favour of darkness".

Independence latest: now expected next week if Boris Tadic loses the Serbian presidential election this Sunday, if he wins then we may have to wait until March.

A weekend without water

2008-01-28T21:58:00.000+01:00

This last weekend was our first visit to the Brezovica house in nearly six weeks, only to find on arrival the water pipe to our house had frozen so no water. After considerable investigation it seems a neighbour of ours has done some rough landscaping around his house and lowered the ground levels resulting in the water pipe being nearer, too near, the surface and consequently frozen in a rock hard layer of permafrost. Well permanent that is until the spring thaw. So much for global warming. The weekend was hard work and made harder by the, not unusual, fact that we also had more or less no electricity all weekend (yet another power plant failure). Keeping a generator fueled, two wood stoves fired up and bringing water up by bucket from the river makes for a hard and rustic kind of existence. We couldn't drink the river water since it could be polluted so another neighbour, the only ones in residence that weekend, kindly filled some containers for us. On the Sunday morning they left to go back to Prishtina and when we called to refill the bottles we were disappointed to find them gone. Wondering from where we would be able to obtain water we then noticed three large plastic bottles of water left for us near the door. A simple act of thoughfulness that made world seem just a little kinder that day.

Independence up-date: it seems that next Monday, straight after the Serbian presidential elections the Kosova government will at least announce a date when they will declare independence. The waiting draws to a close.

A New Year, a new country?

2008-01-24T11:22:00.000+01:00

It is a long time since my last posting; with having a small son and a sometimes difficult job something had to give and the blogging has been negleted. However, with the new year comes some new resolve and since quite probably this will be the year that Kosova will declare independence I would like to record what how this goes and how it affects us (not too much I hope).

A few up-dates on some things in earlier postings:

Independence is still the number one topic of conversation here. It seems that now it is a question of when and not if there will be a declaration of independence. My own view is that the politicians should get on and do this sooner rather than later so that this area of the Balkans can move on.

Kosova is still short of water; the situation has improved since the amazingly hot dry summer last year. Prishtina's reservoirs are fuller but not much more than half full. With current resources the city will get through next summer but only just.

So now, on this crisp, cold, dry January day life is going on much as normal but change is in the air and expected by everyone. The latest date being talked about in the cafes for the great declaration is 4th Febraury, but some speculate it will be later. Apparently it was announced in the papers that the government have started to prepare letters to send to the world's governments requesting recognition of Kosova as an independent state. A visitor from Serbia yesterday told me that this is the main if not only topic of conversation in Belgrade now. She offered the view that whilst most politicians in Serbia talk of never allowing Kosova to split from Serbia quietly they know it is lost. Lets hope these events unfold as peacefully as possible.

On Television

2007-08-02T20:21:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I was invited and duly went to the studios of TV21, a Kosova TV channel, to participate in a TV programme about the state of Kosova's water supplies. The show turned out to be a bit like BBC2's Newsnight (not aired live and fortunately without the infamous Jeremy Paxman). Sat at a table under the glow of the spotlights with two other guests we each explained and expressed our differing views on the plight of the less well supplied areas of Kosova and the current drought in particular.

The show will be broadcast tonight at 10.30. I thought it went quite well despite getting some probing and testing questions to answer; not easy on the spur of the moment in a setting where you cannot afford to get in a muddle - it was all done in one take in front of a small audience. I appreciate all the more how difficult it is for politicians to do this. Now I am faced with the opportunity to watch myself. Ahhhh! Why is this such a difficult prospect to face? I presently have much more nervous anticipation than I did entering the studio yesterday. This is not the first time I've been on TV and I have not as yet managed to watch myself. I don't think its some sort of vanity but whatever it is it induces a cringe factor in me similar to the ones I had when I hid behind the sofa as young child watching the scary Dr Who (am I that scary!). Right now its 9.30, an hour to go, and I am telling myself that I need an early night and I should not stay up to watch. But that is the cowards way out. I am going to have to look at myself....

The Source of Information

2007-07-02T18:54:00.000+01:00

This last Friday, as I do every two to three weeks, I made a visit to Burim’s for a haircut. This is a smoky little glass fronted shop in a side street in the centre of Prishtina sandwiched between taller buildings put up in the post war building boom. I have been going there since I first worked in Prishtina in 1998 so I have acquired the status of a regular, at least an honorary one as even this period is not nearly as long as some of the more hardy regulars. Burim’s is a typical men’s barber shop as found all over the world; regular hair cuts and cut-throat razor shaves are their standard fair. Turkish coffees and tea drunk from little glasses on silver sauces are served from the next door café if required. This is a barbers shop of the more traditional kind, Burim’s is not what you would call a hairdressers and you would certainly not use the more androgynous epithet of hairstylists and it is definitely not unisex. This is entirely a place for men. And the haircuts or shaves are of entirely secondary importance to the real social function that Burim’s serves. Prishtina is still a city where no local information is on the internet nor are there Yellow Pages. If you want to know the best price for bricks, the best person to repair a Volkswagaen or where to buy a piece of land you come to somewhere like Burim’s. Conversation is decidedly masculine; car talk is popular, the prices of things are frequently discussed at length, the occasional raunchy joke is told. Passers-by drop in to join the conversation or ask if anyone knows anything about something. Politics and the situation of Kosova is the fall back conversation when all matters to do with supply and demand have been dealt with.

Over the years I have grown to appreciate Burim’s and indeed Burim, who I count as a friend, he has helped out on many occasion finding us some one who will repair this or make that. Even taking time away from cutting hair to drive me across town to some difficult to find workshop or business premise. This is how business at a low level gets done in Prishtina and I guess in many other less developed places. And it makes me wonder about the benefits of development; the personal interaction that takes place, the opportunity for one person to help another, are all lost with modern information systems. Burim, who is well educated and speaks good English, took the business over from his father some years ago, I hope it will still be functioning in another 20 years although I expect by then it will be complete with an internet terminal for customers to use whilst waiting. Incidentally “Burim” in Albanian means the Source; very appropriate I think.

A Problem or an Emergency?

2007-06-28T21:02:00.000+01:00

Well today, coincidentally after yesterday's posting, I was called (note; with just five hours notice) to a meeting in the Kosova Government's Ministry of Environment to discuss action to address the "alarming situation with water supply". The meeting was attended by persons from the Civil Emergency Response Unit. The meeting wasn't very constructive except that it does demonstate that water, at long last, is going up the political agenda. Most of the particpants were not well informed and kept referring to "the emergency". Kosova still has enough water for 2007 so it is not an emergency...yet...and I tried to make it clear that a serious problem could develop for next year if there is a dry winter again but we should not yet be speaking of an emergency provided action is taken now. I am not sure the message got across as the Minister concluded the meeting asking for an emergency action plan to be in place by next Tuesday! Such is life.

Its still hot and dry here, in many urban areas if you are unfortunate to live above, say, the third floor or on a hill high water demand results in low pressure in the system and no water at these upper levels. So life is hard if you have to lug buckets up several flights from your lower neighbours. It passes as normal life here in summer.

Hot, Hot, Hot

2007-06-27T19:59:00.000+01:00

I see on the news that Britain is suffering from a deluge of rain, consequent floods and colder than normal weather whilst we here in Kosova, and most of the Balkan peninsular, are sweltering in near 40 degree temperatures. At the moment this heat is combined with searing hot dry southerly winds that can only be coming up from Africa. Someone said to me the other day these were the dog days of summer; to me it seems too early for the dog days, spring is not long over and July not yet begun. Never-the-less this uneven distribution of rainfall is beginning to cause problems here. In the water company here in Prishtina we have already put in place some stringent water restrictions in parts of the city in order to conserve supplies. If we do not have a wet snowy winter there is a real danger that the city could be completely without water next summer. Not wishing to sound like a doom-monger, these days I have been explaining this to everyone I meet but so far the general response is “it will rain – ‘Ishalla’ ”. But what if it doesn’t; there is bound to be a first time that there are two consecutive very dry winters. How will 600,000 people survive in this bustling crowded dusty city next year with no water? There are water supply projects that could be started now that would alleviate a crisis situation should it occur but they need money and they need to be started now.

I plan to keep trying to get the ear of those who can do something. There is a small cultural difference to overcome; here people rarely plan ahead. It is noticeable, for example, that no one ever organises and invites participants to meetings, parties and other social events more than 3, often less, days in advance. Even the National Theatre only advertises its performances on the day before the event! People generally don’t keep appointment diaries. Next year’s water supply, well that’s hard to imagine, let alone worry about. It will rain…Ishalla…trust in god.

Independence, Independence, Independence

2007-06-26T21:39:00.000+01:00

After some months away from posting (due to getting used to strenuous childcare duties) it is time to start up again and make some more regular entries. Important times are coming to Kosova and, if for no other reason, it would be good to record a few observations.

There is only one word that is discussed by everyone every day here and that is independence. It pervades everything now…life will be better with independence, the roads will be fixed, the electricity won’t be cut so often. It is the solution to everything. And a great screen for Kosova’s politicians to hide behind. Want to get elected? Vote for me! I’m for independence! Do I have any other plans for our wonderful independent state? No, independence is enough, it will fix all our other problems, so don’t worry friend, sit in the café, smoke a cigarette, take a coffee or two and, really, don’t worry because independence is coming!

Or is it? It seems Kosova’s future, the one every one is talking about is dependent on global political deals involving mainly Russia, a sometime friend of Serbia. So far the noises coming out of Russia are not promising; but Kosova’s citizens have been more or less promised independence for so many years now that if it doesn’t happen now, as a result of current negotiations, it is obvious to anyone there is going to be trouble. What kind and how bad no one can tell but it will happen. Kosova has a young population. Every year another generation leave school with little hope of a good job…energetic angry young men without a future and a worthy cause to fight for, add a few AK47s and that’s the recipe for trouble that we have here.

For me, like most of the rest of the residents of Kosova, I would like to see independence arrive sooner rather than later. But I am not so optimistic about the future…it will not fix the roads, we will still suffer frequent power cuts but at least the politician's empty policies will be exposed and they will have to start talking about something other, about the reality of the place we live, about what needs fixing and, maybe, the people will start demanding a better state. Independence is all fine and good but it won't be worth a dime if it does not deliver a better quality of living.

Back in the Balkans Again

2007-03-28T20:53:00.000+01:00

We are all safely back in the Balkans; there is a traditional song about returning here;

"Oh we're back in the Balkans again,
Back to the joy and the pain–
What if it burns or it blows or it snows?
We're back to the Balkans again.
Back, where to-morrow the quick may be dead,
With a hole in his heart or a ball in his head–
Back, where the passions are rapid and red–
Oh, we're back to the Balkans again! "
SONG OF THE BALKAN PENINSULA.

This somehow says a lot about how I feel about this topsy-turvy part of the world. I always want to break out in song and sing it as we land at Prishtina airport...I imagine travellers of old in their horse-drawn carts singing this as they rattled and rolled up one of the many precarious, bandit ridden mountain passes going up ever deeper into High Albania and beyond, deeper into this troubled land.

This song is taken from the preface of a book written by an extraordinary woman who is famous in these parts but little known in her native England - Edith Durham - here she has streets named after her. Shortly after the start of the 20th century, already in her 50's and seeking adventure and escape from polite English society she set off to the Albanian lands. She stayed for some years and wrote "High Albania" - the whole book is fascinating and fully readable online at:
http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/durham/albania/albania.html

I recommend, if you have time, to at least read chapter one for a feel of where she travelled; a woman alone in a dangerous land. Eventually her knowledge on this part of the world came to be valued and she was called upon by the Foreign Office for advice when the Otterman empire disolved and the Balkan wars started. She was always a champion of the Albanian cause at a time when few others in western Europe understood the area; alas much of her advice seems to have been ignored, Albanian lands were divided and shared amongst the various neighbouring allies of the Great Powers and now we have the trouble we have today. The consequenses of these ill-advised foreign policy decisions still reverberate here one-hundred years later, a lesson today's politicians would do well to note.

Departure

2007-01-25T22:56:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow I will fly back to London and then northwards to Edinburgh by overnight train to join Enita and our soon-to-be-born child (due 14 February). I have missed them both these last two weeks, although I will be sad to leave Kosova - even with all its intrinsic difficulties. I must admit to feeling both a little nervous and unsettled about departing. But when the wings start to flap one must fly.

Journeys always awaken an excited sense of anticipation in me. Particularly train journeys. Just being in a train station is enough to provoke these feelings. I love the feeling of connection that the tracks evoke; a net of steel rails connecting all those cities, all those people.

No more Kosova Diary for a while - there is, accoding to the news, a possibility that it may become an independent country whilst I am away so I'll miss some interesting developments.

Perhaps I’ll start a baby coming into this world blog.

Mitrovica

2007-01-23T22:32:00.000+01:00

Today I went to the city of Mitrovica in the north of Kosova. Mitrovica is an ethnically divided city, it wasn’t before the war but now Albanian people live on the south side of the river and Serbian on the north. I met a new colleague there today and we got talking. This is the story she told, which is a typical Mitrovica story.

Her house is in the north of the city, she is Albanian and had managed to live there with her family in the now almost entirely Serbian area for five years after the war. Eventually in March 2004 after some persistent violence, including grenade attacks, she told her father, who had built the family home and did not want to leave, that the home and its belongings could be replaced but not the lives of her two young children. They left everything behind and went to the south.

Since then she has returned to see the family home, accompanied by two police officers. She found it occupied by three Serbian families. They told her…“do not bother us, do not come here”, but “this is my home” she told them….“this is Serbia now and you cannot live here, forget this place” they ordered. The police do nothing for fear of ethnic violence. She has not been back and now lives in a rented house on the south side.

In connection with this she went on to tell me that recently her ex-husband has been putting pressure on her and the children to return to him (they are divorced). Recently she heard her thirteen year-old son, who it seems is tough for his years, tell his father…“father why are you bothering us, to us you are like Serbia is to Kosova, you had us once and lost us, now leave us to live in peace”. The possibility of independence for Kosova is on every ones mind these days, sometimes too much it would seem.

We need a Rain Dance?

2007-01-22T19:16:00.000+01:00

Like much of Europe the Balkans is having a very prolonged warm dry spell. Indeed winter has failed to arrive. There is some snow on the mountain tops from about 1700 metres to the summits. Normally at this time of year in Kosova there is over 2 metres depth of snow high up, now there is just a thin covering. Since I am in charge of the water supply companies here this is starting to ring alarm bells! Late last week I met with the Managing Director of the Prishtina Water Company and we agreed that it would be prudent to make plans for a continued dry winter and hot summer. Since then he has appeared on local TV to urge restraint in water use and there are now some cuts in supply during the early hours of the morning. It is not next summer we are worried about but the consequences of a dry winter next year. The summer is normally dry and hot so heavy winter snowfall is an essential lifeline. So next summer we will be, literally, running on reserve. If there is another long dry winter at the end of next year there will be no reserve for summer 2008. This will be a major problem with no obvious solution.
There is much in the news recently about man-made climate change. I wonder a lot about this. The irony is that last winter we had record snowfalls and overflowing reservoirs. The full reservoir above was photographed in May last year, during the snowmelt period, overflowing for the first time since it was constructed.

Perhaps we really are just in the hands of the gods and all we need is a rain dance! Either that or some new large reservoirs to store some more water in.

A Lion Heart

2007-01-21T22:47:00.000+01:00

King Richard the First of England was also commonly known as the Lion Heart on account of his bravery, sense of knighthood and chivalry. In the present age knights are not so obvious and are usually not kings nor others of import. Recently I met up with an old friend of mine from the war. His story needs to be told.

To fully understand Luan’s story first it is necessary to tell the story of how his father died. On 24th August 1998, at the height of the fighting between the Albanian “Kosova Liberation Army” and the Serbian military, Luan’s father was taken from a bus he was travelling on back from Slovenija (where he was working at the time) to Kosova . He never returned home; harassment, arbitrary arrest and beatings from Serbian police and paramilitaries were not uncommon throughout the 1990’s for Albanians returning to Kosova through Serbia. He was taken to prison for suspicion of helping the KLA. Luan made a difficult visit to see his father in the prison in Serbia in December 1998. This was the last time they met.

I met Luan for the first time on 28th May 1999, unbeknown to either us this was, coincidentally, the day his father died. Sometime earlier his father had been transferred to a prison in Kosova. After surviving the execution of many of his fellow prisoners by his Serb captors the prison was bombed by NATO on 22nd May 1999. His legs were badly injured and he was taken to Prishtina hospital. On 27th May 1999 surgeons tried to save him by amputating both his legs; he didn’t survive the surgery and died the next day. The same day Luan left his student lodgings in Prishtina to escape a worsening situation. He fled to neighbouring Macedonia and arrived at the tent that served as my office on the water supply plant at Brazda refugee camp. On route to Macedonia he had been badly beaten by the Serbian police and all his documents confiscated and destroyed before his eyes. Meanwhile, again unbeknown to Luan, his mother, two brothers and sister had also fled Kosova, on foot to Albania, after their house was burned down by the Serbian police.

So, not knowing what else to do he came tired and injured to my tent because someone told him there might be the chance of a job there. This in itself is unusual, few new entrants at the camp would have looked for something to do on day one. There was something about Luan, you could see he had a good heart, so even though we already had enough water supply operatives he got a job. Luan proved very quickly to be one of our best employees and very soon took on quite a lot of responsibility for the operation of the water supply. He didn’t dwell on his lost family back in Kosova and simply got on with life in the camp. We became friends quickly - in war time that’s what happens.

The war ended on 12th June 1999. About two weeks later I left the camp and my other colleagues there and went back to work in Kosova. On my first day’s work I was, coincidentally, asked to go to Luan’s home town since it was reported the water supply was not functioning. Before returning to Prishtina I thought to ask after his family, with whom I know he had had no contact. My colleague and I stopped in the town's busy main street and asked the nearest person if they knew Luan ……. “Luan ……!” the young man answered “I’m his brother”. Amazing. Another coincidence. He took us to his burned family home where his mother and the rest of the family were living in the garage of their burned out house. I told them Luan was safe and well and working in Macedonia, they were so pleased to know he was alive. That night I managed to contact Luan on the satellite phone in Macedonia and tell him his mother and family were safe and well. Being in a position to give such good news is a great honour. His father’s whereabouts still remained unknown but they feared the worst. They did not find out his full story until a couple of years later.

What make’s Luan’s story so special, since many people who lived through the war here have similarly tragic tales to tell, is Luan’s reaction. In the immediate aftermath of the war revenge attacks forced most Serbian people out of their homes. Their property was often burned. A couple of years later Luan, who had, it would seem, much reason for hatred or at least bitterness, took a job with an organisation rebuilding Serbian homes and returning Serbian families to Kosova, his daily work took him to meet potential returnees to discuss plans. I know him well enough to know that he never felt anger at what happened to his father, his family and least of all himself. He once told me he understood that the Serbian families he helped had suffered as he and his friends had, that it felt good to help. This kind of equanimity is very rare. It takes a big and brave heart to do what Luan did. Luan means lion in Albanian; a true Lion Heart.

Signs of Bears

2007-01-14T21:47:00.000+01:00

Some of the most beautiful walks I know are in the forests and mountains above our house in Brezovica. Today I followed a steep and strenuous route up through the forest to a high shoulder where I like to sit and take in the view. I never see anyone else walking in these woods, walking for walking’s sake is not really done here. Woodcutters can be found in the autumn from the buzz of their chain saws and shepherds in the summer from the clang of cowbells, but walkers almost never. Today I was alone with silence, white snow, grey trees, blue sky.

In recent months I have been deliberately looking out for signs of bears. They do live near here; I have often come across their tracks in the mud or snow and, of course, the occasional bear excrement. On two previous occasions I have seen bears in the Sharr Mountains, although some kilometres from our house. The first time was too close for comfort. Enita and I were somewhat off the beaten track in dense forest (i.e. bear territory, although we didn‘t know it at the time) when we came unexpectedly across a large brown bear who growled fiercely at us. We turned and headed back the way we had come, a little shocked, but the bear didn’t follow. I guess it was more scared of us than we of it. The second time at a further distance I had the pleasure of seeing a mother and several cubs; when they saw me they turned and soon disappeared. That these magnificent animals still live wild in the forests of Europe is a small miracle, especially considering the dense population, unregulated hunting and the wars in former Yugoslavia. It is a privilege to see them in their natural wild habitat since their population is surely shrinking.

Very sadly in Prishtina there are at least two restaurants that I know of who keep bears in cages in their gardens as a customer attraction. As far as I see they are not well cared for and the cages are too small. Any cage is too small. To see them hurts. The world is undoubtedly lessened by their captivity and I have fantasies about going at night on some kind of commando mission to free them into the wild. Bears are large but I do not believe that, even when walking alone in the forests, they are to be feared; it is man's fear that hunts them and puts them in cages. Here is a link to a photo of the european brown bear - in the wild.

The Mail Arrives

2007-01-06T14:20:00.000+01:00

The postman came today. This is a rare event here, we get perhaps no more than six items of mail a year sent to our apartment. He rang the bell (also not so likely an event since the power is as much off as on these days) and left a package from Britain on the doorstep like an offering at an altar. It is an event to get something and really appreciated. I shouted “falaminderit” (thank you) down the stairwell to the by now disappeared postman. He returned with a “s’ka përse” (literally; “there isn’t why” but better translated as “it was nothing”). I would have liked to have seen his face and shaken his hand in gratitude for this event and for persevering with a service that is not really used very much. There are some practical reasons for this; firstly I don’t think people really trust the post although I have not knowingly lost or failed to receive anything, I have a feeling that there are in fact a lot of good honest people running the service who probably hark back to the good old times of Yugoslavia when they were an integral part of a functioning state that appreciated their role. Secondly the street names are not properly established. There are street names, almost all recently renamed after various little known Albanian heroes of various conflicts. Of course, before 1999 the streets were named after various little known Serbian heroes. In fact since I have lived in Prishtina I believe our street has been renamed at least three times as a result of war and political change. I can only assume the postman has intimate knowledge of who lives where based on family name. Third and finally post from abroad is not so easy to send since Kosovo is not, as yet, an independent country. Kosova (the Albanian spelling, Kosovo in Serbian) does not appear on standard drop-down country lists on computer forms. So computer generated mail - like magazine subscriptions for instance - is by default addressed to Serbia, which, de facto, is a different country. It is like sending a letter to Dublin via an address in London, not very practical. Still the mail does get here eventually, but only just and when it does it is always appreciated.

Coffee-time Stories

2007-01-05T20:14:00.000+01:00

Back at work today it was a quiet day; things haven’t really restarted after the winter holiday period so there was time to sit and talk. With two colleagues this morning our talk soon came around to tales from “the War” (in this country referring to “the War” means 1998/99, not World War II as is often the case elsewhere, our timescape of great events is different here). Anyway over Turkish coffee we swapped stories from the war like a small group of veterans; I was living in Kosova at that time and also have my share to tell. What is interesting is that almost everybody here has a unique story to tell. War brings chaos to ordinary living and like a fierce gale touches the lives of all in its path. These stories are out-of-the-ordinary and run quietly beneath the surface of almost everyone. I think it is important that they are given voice, although they are not always easily told. Often they come out with trembling emotion; for example today one of my colleagues retold how in March 1999 in her home town of Gjakova the houses of Albanian citizens, hers included, were systematically looted and burned by the Serbian military in such a way that the terrified occupants had nowhere to go but to collect in one area of the city centre. What scared her most was that to her this outrageous act happened without warning but appeared to be executed in accordance with a premeditated plan. Whilst in the midst of this she told of seeing a young Serbian soldier (from Vojvodina) she saw crying at what the army had forced him to participate in and trying to help as best he could. These stories often show that war is not always as black and white as it is portrayed in the media; what people often remember most are these small moments of compassion, the simple acts of kindness, that seem to appear frequently amongst tales involving cruelty and suffering.

From my own experience in the Kosova war (which may or may not be representative of other wars, I don’t know) it brings out not only the worst but, often less noticed, the best in people. I used to hear my grandparents, who lived through WWII, tell how “the War” was the best years of their lives and I never really understood what they meant before being in Kosova in 1998. Of course for those who meet with tragedy this is clearly not the case but for those who live to tell the tale war often provides a greater sense of purpose that was previously lacking, it provides the opportunity for great and good deeds. Rather than destroy ones faith in the intrinsic goodness of humanity war can bring this goodness out…but this is often hidden in the fog of war.

Away to the Hills

2006-12-28T09:13:00.000+01:00

Today Enita and I (and our soon-to-be-child of course; only 7 weeks to go now, all being well) have packed an inordinate amount of bags and things and are setting off for Brezovica for a one week stay in the mountains. Joining us will be my sister and her two sons who fly into Skopje this afternoon. The boys plan to go snowboarding, or at least they did, but like the rest of Europe the Sharr Mountains have so far only received a thin layer of snow - not enough for winter sports. Lets hope for snow in thick white layers but the forecast doesn't look promising. Winter sports aside the real problems will come next summer since Kosova very much relies on the storage of snow in winter to provide water to the lakes and rivers through the hot dry summer. The required amount is just not there yet.

This will be the longest we have stayed in the house in Brezovica since we reconstructed it. We have no TV, internet, CD players and such like and, as anyone who read my earlier blog will know, rarely any electricity. And probably no functioning ski resort. So a week ahead with seemingly not much to do but keep the wood stove burning and rest a while. Perhaps a welcome quiet retreat in the mountains? Lets see.

Faraway from Christmas

2006-12-25T23:58:00.000+01:00

I grew up in England with a long unbroken sequence of happy, traditional Christmas days to remember, for which I am extremely grateful. In Kosova there is no Christmas to speak of, this being a country that generally celebrates the Islamic calendar. Here there is no tradition of present giving and receiving, card sending, getting together with family…and all the other things that collectively create the experience of Christmas, at least the traditional English one. There are however some rather tacky attempts at various Christmas traditions, badly dressed Santas in shops and such like, but these only serve to make what is missing more obvious. For me it is difficult to let go of the feelings engendered by those childhood Christmases and this has been true today. I have lived nearly six of the last eight years away from Britain and do not usually feel homesick but today, Christmas day, I miss England, family, friends and all that is Christmas.

Being away from where I grew up, in a foreign land, has often led me to ask the question; where is home? I have a life here in Kosova, family and friends here and have enjoyed many wonderful times and experiences. But is it home? Is for that matter England home? There is an enormous sense of longing that comes with these questions, a longing to know where home is, to be home. But I suspect this longing is something much deeper; that even if tomorrow I was to go and live in the exact same street where I spent most of my childhood I would feel no more, or no less, at home than I feel here, in this far-off place that doesn’t have Christmas (and that is a loaded phrase…far-off from where?). It seems to me that home in its true meaning, and I am probably stating the obvious here, is not a physical place at all but a state of mind, a deep contentment that in fact can be found anywhere if we chose to look. It is where we stand right now. Early this Christmas morning I went for a walk near our house in Brezovica, and in this place without Christmas, I had a sense of this in the peaceful beauty of a crisp snow white morning frozen in stillness. This is hard to capture in words - maybe the picture below speaks more.

Indeed it is true, as is oft said, that “home is where the heart is“…but the heart can be at home wherever we are.

Just a Little Tremor

2006-12-22T22:34:00.000+01:00

At exactly 8.08 pm tonight there was an earthquake here. Actually I wouldn’t have immediately said that this is what happened but Enita has a greater sensitivity to these things than me (this is not the first time this has happened near Prishtina , in fact the last tremor was only about three weeks ago). She was taking a rest and felt the bed wobble from side to side. At the same time I was in the living room watching the Simpsons on TV when the metal pendant handles on some cupboard doors started rattling for about ten seconds without any obvious reason. Just a little tremor. Enita came into the living room and we looked at each other and realised what it was. Immediately there is a sense of fear and some moments when you wonder what to do - carry on doing what you’re doing or what? Run out into the open? Hide under the kitchen table? If so for how long? Is it going to be just that one little tremor? Probably, but who knows. Or is it the harbinger of something bigger? We are helpless in the face of these questions but somehow carrying on watching the TV does not seem quite the correct response to the movement of the Earth. But its cold outside so we have stayed in the flat, it’s the easiest thing to do. Anyway our neighbours have not run outside; probably they didn’t notice. But the sense of being unsettled remains with an anxious feeling in the pit of the stomach.
I look around the flat and everything seems so safe, so permanent. This little tremor is certainly a reminder that the seemingly solid ground beneath us is not immovable. That occasionally big devastating earthquakes do happen, without warning. That nothing is quite as permanent as we would like to believe, even though there will, I am sure, be yet another episode of the Simpsons.

Paying for Electricity

2006-12-22T22:26:00.000+01:00

Earlier today I set out on a mission. To pay a bill for two hundred euros for electricity for our Brezovica house to the Kosova power company, otherwise known as KEK. Since we live in Prishtina you would not think that too much of a task, it’s a big city, the head office of KEK is located here. Here’s what happened. First to the local customer office near our flat; a short queue then “Sorry we don’t take bank cards“ (I had no cash). So to the nearest cash machine - its displaying an “out of service” message. So not wishing to give up, on to another cash dispenser quite a long walk away. Also “out of service“; clearly not my day today. By now I am half way to the head office of KEK so I make it my next destination. Surely they will take bank cards. I queue for a while, service is painfully slow and patience is needed. There are fifteen potential payment booths and only one is manned. There is a sign “Pay by Bank Card”. That’s encouraging. But no! They are not accepted, the sign is apparently “old”. Banking progress is clearly in reverse here. But my bill says I can pay at a bank, any bank. Next I try two; in the first I queue for twenty minutes, more patience, eventually I arrive at the front but, alas, the person who deals with bank giro payments is “off-sick, sorry sir”. To the second bank; a computer problem and no success, the giro payment data is not accepted. Another idea; I can take cash and return to the KEK main office. So I return with cash in pocket to another queue but confident now that this will finally be settled after one hour and a lot of walking. My bill is scrutinised, they are unable to accept my payment. I must go to the KEK office in another city nearer to Brezovica, here at head office they don’t have my account details on their database. Now I am getting cross and pointlessly argue that there must be a way, any way, by which they can “please” accept my payment. There is none. I leave, beaten by the system. On my way home I pass again the local customer office and have an idea they will accept my payment since as far as I see they don‘t have a computer, so no database. It will be my last attempt and in I go. The one and only cashier is eating his lunch and tells me to wait. I wait. He turns his back to continue eating. I wait some more. He eats some more. My patience snaps, “See you another time. Goodbye!” and out I go. He looked surprised that I wouldn’t wait. He didn’t have the kind of day I had.

An epilogue: less than half an hour after returning home there’s a three hour power cut. Why? Because KEK cannot afford to supply electricity for twenty-four hours because people aren’t paying their electricity bills. Such are things in Kosova.

A Visit to the Post Office

2006-12-21T20:57:00.000+01:00

Often friends ask me how is life in Prishtina…in some respects its not so different from Britain but there are times you realise this is a long way from home. Today I made a visit to the local post office to post my Christmas cards (a bit late I know but better late than never). There is a small sub branch near my office. Its run by one elderly gentleman who chain smokes non-stop so entering is, I imagine, a bit like entering a smokers lung, never-the-less he’s a friendly fellow and clearly doesn’t have much to do. People here don’t use the post office much - its only for mail and not many people send letters - so normally the postmaster (rather a grand title but I can’t really say shopkeeper) is alone. Today was no exception. I had about twenty cards to send; we counted them at least three times, first in Albanian, then in English - same amount in both languages. He weighed them all twice - there were some in the higher weight to price category and some in the lower. There was much confusion about which, so we countered them again - by category. Some were to Scotland; “Is that in America”, “No", I said, "The United Kingdom”, he didn’t seem to understand, “Its in England” I told, not of course correctly but it did the trick. “Ah, so its not outside Europe” he confirmed and I agreed. We reweighed and agreed the price. A card to Hong Kong - “is that in America?”, “No” I confirmed, “but its outside Europe” I said, getting the hang of the tariff system by now. More weighing, more checking of charts and tables and a new price is established for this one. Two cigarettes later and much use of the calculator and we had established and agreed a total price. Now the hard work began - no letter was leaving Kosova for less than 60 cents and we only had 20 cent stamps - large ones with a picture of a cow on - that’s a minimum of three per letter plus a “by Air Mail“ sticker. Hong Kong needed nine; that’s a lot of licking. We shared the task. There were only just enough stamps in stock. A good job there was no queue of irate customers behind us like there inevitably is in England. Somewhat dehydrated we completed the task in the time it took for two more cigarettes. He took the pile, checked them again and sorted out my bill and change. We had started this process more or less strangers - we shook hands and, I felt, parted as friends whilst wishing each other happy new year festivities. As I exited to cold fresh air I wondered now about the onward journey of my newly departed cards and what the rest of their story would be. This is how connections are sometimes made in this world.