by Gianmarco Pisa, Mediatori di Pace (Napoli)
[translation by Monique Hélène Mizrahi]
Kosovo is a land of conflict -- far too often referred to as the "black hole" of Europe. I am here in the north of the country for one month, from June 21st to July 21st , as a "Mediator of Peace" with the non-governmental organization "Association for the Peace ONLUS". Our organization strives for constructive transformation of conflict zones. My adventure began with an exploration: from the southeast to the northeast, from the southern border with Macedonia to Kosovka Mitrovica in northern Kosovo, the designated headquarters for my sojourn here. Everyone in my convoy has been forced to immediately reanalyze their own concept of reality. Myself included.
Conflicts are not between individuals acting for revenge or hate who take up arms to achieve epic revenge by bloodying their own homeland. Rather, conflicts are between groups of people -- social forces pushed by political motives and economic interests, charged with passionate ideologies of nationalist fervor or religious fundamentalism. Kosovo represents a frontier of this "permanent global war", as the Peace Movement calls it. It represents the new universe of ethno-political wars, complex because it is undefined and not perceivable elsewhere in the world. One can only explore original solutions.
Acting for Independence
The Balkan region is a theater of a unique war, a war in the heart of Europe right at our back door, a war in a land of spectacular nature and rolling green hills, potentially rich and inhabited. Kosovo is so close to my country Italy and yet so hidden from view. A small sea separates us Italians from Kosovars yet we share centuries of historic ties. I have my country on my mind today and feel a profound level of responsibility to the Kosovar people. This is my main reason for being in Kosovo on this solidarity mission, to develop our international potential for peace. My presence is part of a major mission to effectuate a structural transformation and a social, civil reassembling in the region. Many international solidarity movements are here searching for an a way to find an avenue for integration amongst people living on this land.
The land is dotted with deep valleys of hope for those living in Mitrovica, the local partners with whom I am sharing everything: emotions, time, goals, and living space. They are extraordinary people, wise from years of needing to be protagonists in the transformation of their homeland. Their hope and ambition is profound despite the unforgettable pain they have suffered and the desperate measures they have needed to take to survive. They've seen all aspects of war: violations, destroyed houses, and villages set aflame. One Kosovar man described how Serb paramilitaries held a pistol to his father’s temple and stole his belongings – as he sat in the corner of his room helpless. The war of yesterday is evident through symbols of the fanaticism of the war of today -- of Albanese Independent Terrorists burning random enclaves while not missing a prayer from the minaret high above the rooftops of the Muslim-inhabited areas of Kosovo.
One must walk firmly on the ground with two lead feet here. The victims of yesterday have become the executioners of today. The motivation of the conflict is entirely overlapping: Albanian ultra-nationals wanting their Kosovar independence to fulfill their dreams of a “Grand Albania” while the Serbs claim Kosovo as part of the National Serb Sovereignty. As each side insists on keeping their own bonfire lit, new tensions continue to be kindled.
Prizren: holy to hellish
Yesterday, Sunday July 2nd, I followed an ancient echo to the southern border near Albania and visited the city of Prizren, gem of the Kosovo that was. Prizren is considered the heart of the Serbian national identity, a place held onto tightly, especially since the devastating takeover by the Ottoman Turks in 1389. So much pain is experienced in the name of archaic symbols of identity: the central mosque, the Orthodox basilica, and the Roman Catholic church, each with their own unique history and significance for those to whom it is holy. The landmarks and villages have changed hands again and again.
Prizren reminds me of Mitrovica as a major river splits both cities, physically and symbolically. Both cities show signs of devastation and pain in the crumbling foundation of the homes and in the hearts of the people. Minarets and mosques are everywhere, including a plethora of parabolic antennas used for satellite reception for those anxious to get their word out. Unfortunately, many of these antennas are set up by the inefficient local politicians themselves, who are acting for their own private interest.
Prizren is home to three major religious places of prayer, one situated an arm’s length from the next, signs of a multi-ethnic, cosmopolitan identity which has been lost and is very slowly being rebuilt. The precious Orthodox basilica of Prizren was devastated and destroyed – nearly entirely – from the extremist Albanian nationals. Just a few days ago, they came back to reclaim their full sovereignty and for modification of the UN resolution 1244 – the one that consented an international presence in Kosovo and sanctioned the region into a Serbian sovereignty. However the road is long and windy. Yesterday, on the way back from Prizren, we received news of three bombs exploding in Pristina, the provincial capital of Kosovo, near the headquarters of the UNMIK (United Nations Mission in Kosovo) and the OSCE (Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe).
Sitting on the rubble by the Bridge
This morning in Mitrovica, I returned to the bridge to gaze into the Ibar river, searching for inspiration, searching for answers, searching yet again for a solution to untie the violent knot of ethnicities and different beliefs. I explore the depths of my educated Western mind, searching for a Kosovar untangling without violence. By now, I’ve lost count of all the friends and colleagues that have needed to admit how many difficulties there are, especially since March 17th when so many hopes and dreams were lost. That spring 2004, just as it was seeming Kosovo was improving and moving towards the future, a pogrom was ignited and sacred Orthodox churches were decimated, on the scale of the Chinese invading Tibet in 1950 when they burned numerous Tibetan Buddhist monasteries. Two days of destruction, 30 Orthodox churches destroyed. On March 17, 2004, muslims tore crosses of the top of orthodox churches with their bare hands as the crowds below church cheered wildly.
Young Peace
Today in the city, people don’t kill each other or shoot in vain. We are here working with children in a project of education about peace and sharing inseparable values, which are what this symbolic, fantastic universe of ours revolves around. Around the fairytales.
We read the most recent reports from the international think tanks which propose the idea of a regional European sovereignty for Kosovo, in the context of a future integration of the whole Balkan area while maintaining the integrity of the Federation of Serbia and Montenegro, the remains of the Yugoslavia that was. But from the minaret, already for the second time today, the muezzin calls for all faithful to come pray while on the other side of the bridge the tricolor Serbian flag gawks in the wind.
It seems to calls us – or perhaps it just cries aloud a longing for resolution – long overdue.
Mitrovica, Sunday, July 3rd, 2005
[editor’s note: The root of the word “Kosovo” comes from the Slavic word “kos”, meaning blackbird. As Paul sang on the White Album, “Blackbird fly, blackbird fly -- you were only waiting for this moment to arrive, you were only waiting for this moment to be free."]