October 2010: Kosovo

Dear Friends,

After the last report from central Serbia, your pilgrims spent a quiet night in a small monastery and then began cycling south. The road was quiet and the surroundings beautiful. The noise, traffic and hectic pace in and around Belgrade seemed far away indeed.

When we arrived at the boundary to Kosovo, we first had to pass through a Serbian checkpoint. A bit farther down the road we came to an international checkpoint. It was manned by Serbs in Kosovo police uniform and international forces in combat gear with flak vests. The European border guards who checked us were very friendly. They did not see a lot of people on bicycle there, but we were not the first. They told us that travel in Kosovo is, essentially, safe for Americans. However, they said that we should beware of the Serbian areas, as they could be dangerous. In fact, they said that for our safety, we should not stop or speak to any one until we crossed the Ibar River and passed from the Serbian to the Albanian area. Apparently they were either super athletes, or had never pedaled a fully loaded bicycle any great distance. In any event, they said that if we had to stop, we should flag down either a EU-Lex or KFor vehicle, and the driver could direct us to a safe hotel. (Note: EU-Lex is an international corps of police officers, border guards and judicial officials from the European Union. KFor is a military force under NATO command, but including contingents from non-NATO countries like Switzerland.) They also told us that Camp Bondsteel, in the southwest of Kosovo, is the largest US base in the region, and that we might get help there in an emergency.

We thanked them for their advice and concern, and continued cycling south, along the Ibar. As we passed through a number of towns and villages, it became clear that, we were in a deprived area. The houses and cars were in a poor state of repair. Many cars had no license plates. The shops had very little food in them. Much of the time there was no electricity, so lights, cash registers and refrigerators were usually off. The people seemed very wary and reserved at first. However, when we spoke to them in the little bit of Serbian we had learned, they became friendly. When traveling through the areas of central Serbia that were hard hit by the NATO bombing in 1999, we were often asked where we come from. We quickly learned first to say that we are Greek Orthodox, and then to add that we are Americans. This approach continued to work well. There was no sign of the hostility that the border guards had warned us about.

Before going on, a little background history might be helpful here. These are some things we learned while traveling in Serbia that we found useful in making sense of what we experienced. Kosovo is considered the spiritual heart of Serbia. It was full of beautiful and ancient Orthodox monasteries. The Serbian nation, in a sense, began at the battle of Kosovo Polje, when various noblemen united under Count Lazarus (later Saint Lazarus) to fight against the invading Ottomans. They were greatly outnumbered. Perhaps some of the trouble in this region began with Count Milosh. In order to weaken the invaders, he pretended to surrender. When led to the Sultan to offer his submission, he unchivalrously pulled out his sword and murdered the Ottoman leader. The battle was furious, there were heavy casualties on both sides, and Lazarus was killed. However, although the Ottomans could claim a victory, they were so weakened that their invasion of Europe was brought to a standstill for a long time.

The immediate stage for the present conflict seems to have been set during the Second World War. Albania was occupied by the Axis powers, Serbia sided with the Allied powers. The former had taken control of Kosovo and expelled many Serbs. When the communists under Tito took power after the war, they prevented Serb refugees from returning to Kosovo.

In the late 1990's, as the old Yugoslavia was coming apart, ethnic troubles in Kosovo escalated. Irregular military and paramilitary groups of Albanians and Serbs fought each other and terrorized the civilian population. Smaller ethnic minorities, such as Gypsies and Croats were also targets of violence. We met an international expert who had spent nearly seven years in ex-Yugoslavia investigating allegations of war crimes and interviewing victims and witnesses. He told us that in his experience, and that of his colleagues, there were roughly an equal number of war crimes committed by Serbs and by Albanians. However, he said there were virtually no cases of Serb violence again other Serbs, while there were numerous cases of terror against uncooperative Albanians by Albanian paramilitaries.

In 1999, US President Clinton ordered the air attack on Serbia. As is well known, many civilians lost their lives in that attack. Less well known is that the industrial and economic base of Serbia was virtually destroyed. Also, because refineries, chemical plants and mines were targeted, and (apparently) radioactive munitions were used, the environmental effects of the attack were significant. Soon afterward, KFor forces, the EU-Lex and the United Nations moved into Kosovo and de facto govern the territory.

In 2004, there was an increase in the unrest in Kosovo. Three Albanian children had drowned while swimming. A rumor (apparently unsubstantiated) went around that Serbs had chased them into the water. There were attacks—some of them well orchestrated--by mobs on unarmed Serbs. One Albanian man drove his car into a group of Serbian children, killing one. Serbian children were shot while swimming in a stream. Monks and nuns were murdered, some brutally. Many Serbs were forced to move north of the Ibar, or to leave Kosovo all together. Many ancient churches and monasteries were destroyed. Sadly, most of these temples were under the protection of KFor troops. We met a number of nuns and monks who told us that the soldiers had taken them away from their monasteries by force, telling them that their mission was to "protect lives, not property." The churches were left unprotected and were destroyed. Some appeared to have been expertly demolished with high power explosives. A UN worker we met confirmed this suspicion.

Even after having traveled to forty-five countries, Kosovo made a strange impression. We had been in many countries that were member-nations of NATO, the EU, or both. But here we were in a land (albeit, not recognized as a country by many governments) created and run by NATO by and the EU. It was a bit like something out of a futuristic movie. Armed foreign soldiers moved about. There were large, expensive cars with tinted windows and EU or UN license plates on the streets. The official currency is the Euro. Businesses and banks from many foreign investors can be seen in the bigger cities. Many of them fly the flags of their homelands over their property. Yet, there are few jobs and virtually no exports. Family members working abroad, gifts or loans from EU-member countries, the transport of illegal drugs and weapons, and human trafficking, support the economy. And although most people are friendly and helpful, there is a constant, unmistakable sense of tension and danger in the air. As can be imagined, every one we met had a story of loss and suffering to tell about themselves and their loved ones.

The Albanian population is relatively young. Most young adults we met were studying: primarily business, computer-technology or foreign languages. Very few could find jobs. They seemed to be surrounded by American or American-style culture: loud music, violent or lewd movies, and a desire for big expensive cars and electronic goods. On the other hand, these influences—thus far—seemed not to have gone in too deeply: they were open, friendly, optimistic and very family-oriented. When we told them that we are American, the typical response was: "America: good country. Bill Clinton: very good man." In Pristina, the capital, we saw the famous statue of Clinton as well as a large copy of the Statue of Liberty in New York. We were very touched by the friendliness and kind hospitality we received.

The Serbian population, in contrast, was mostly elderly. They, too, had little work. Many—especially the women—did not dare to walk outside of their enclaves, even in daylight. There had been many kidnappings on the roads, and the fate of the victims was often gruesome. Most Serbs had fled. Those who remained seemed to be getting very little of the foreign aid pouring into the country. Many Serbian villages had been destroyed. We spent one of our last nights in a temporary shelter with a man and his elderly mother in such a village. The bombed school and broken houses made it quite eerie, although he told us that things are quite safe now. However, here and elsewhere we heard that, tragically, only those villages survived which did not allow any Albanians to buy houses in them.

Yet here, too, the hospitality was warm and generous. We stayed with a family in a Serbian enclave for a couple of days, had many deep conversations and shared many joys and sorrows. At one point, we became aware that they had bought food on credit at the local shop because they had run out of money. We tried, gingerly, to offer them some money, but they refused it in no uncertain terms. Before leaving, however, I hid some money in the kitchen, without saying anything. Some weeks later, we got an email from our newfound friends saying that we had caused them great trouble. They found the hidden money and quickly deduced how it got there. They felt that they could not keep it for themselves, so they took it to a nearby monastery as a gift. However, the abbot told them that it would be a sin for him to take money from people who travel as pilgrims without a home. He said they had to take the money elsewhere, perhaps to some one in dire need. "Now see what trouble you have caused us!" they wrote. We learned an important lesson from this episode, not only about the depth of true holy hospitality, but also about tact and taking care not to "rob others of their treasure in heaven".

As we left Kosovo and headed towards Macedonia, we were full of many impressions and feelings: the horror of the memories and effects of the war; the almost surreal, disquieting nature of the current "peace"; the goodness we had met in Serb and Albanian alike, and the tragedy that, whatever the causes, the ancient, wisdom-filled Serbian culture and the young, vibrant Albanian culture would not be able to meet here for a long time to come. Perhaps we shed more tears here than on any portion of our journey so far.

We also thanked God for our meetings with so many individuals--living in conditions that are hard for most Westerners to imagine—who chose love over hate, truth over mass-propaganda, and hope over despair. We hold them gratefully in our prayers, along with every one else who has supported us materially and spiritually on this pilgrimage.

p.s. For an insider's view of the working of international organizations in Kosovo, look at the article on this link: http://www.juliagorin.com/wordpress/?p=2103