Our Home in Kosovo

By Jan Rustemeyer

Sleep is important to most people, even during a trip to Kosovo. The location of one’s bed is as well.

Frankie, Louis, Ella, Shambhavi, Merci and I stay at the house of Enver, our host, guide and friend in Kosovo. It is located in Fushe Kosova, a town close to Kosovo’s capital, Prishtina. When we entered the neighbourhood for the first time, darkness had already arrived, and besides the welcoming howls of Kosovan dogs and the lights of a few cars, we didn’t perceive much

The house is constructed out of different materials, including a nice wooden corner, but this does not mean that the building has a chaotic appearance. On the contrary, when you open the gate and walk towards the door of the house, a certain form of calmness arises, perhaps created by the large garden and the house itself. Although the house has one floor, it is positioned a couple of meters above the ground, which allows you to sit on the doorsteps and look down on the garden.

The front yard is divided in two by the path to the entrance gate. To the left, Enver has made his own farm, where he grows several crops such as onions, tomatoes and huge quantities of corn, in which his children could easily play hide and seek. Closer to the house but still on the left side, two wells produce a water supply, to make sure Enver and his family are not affected by Prishtina’s water systems breakdowns (which have become less common). To the right of the aisle, a large green net announces the presence of the swimming pool, which again Enver built on his own. Nearer to the house we enjoy our extensive breakfasts prepared by Enver’s wife, and in the evenngs, beer and wine at the wooden table. In the backyard, we played a great game of football with Enver and his children, Tea and Tiar, whose dribbles and shots were unstoppable for the aged players from London and Amsterdam.

Besides the calm nature of the place, there is also something extremely cosy about it. This is even more so when we see Enver’s friendly parents, whom we talk to by body language (except for Louis who exchanged a few French words with Enver’s father).

When we walked to the taxi stop at the busy road to Prishtina, we saw graffiti text on one of the walls in the neighbourhood. We asked Enver what it stated. He answered in sorrow that it is written in Serbian and says something about killing Serbs. Later he tells us that Serbs used to live in the neighbourhood as well and that they had to flee.

Personally, I find it hard to imagine how these terrible events have happened in a neighbourhood which seems so friendly and calm now, except for the few howls of dogs during the night. But perhaps, this is a positive thing because it shows that something has changed, and that the people and dogs of the neighbourhood can sleep quietly again.