By Laloue Vigié
A week has already passed by since our return from Kosovo, and I find myself unexpectedly a bit nostalgic for its atmosphere. I miss the food, the warm streets of Pristina, and the Balkan lakes. Looking back at the pictures taken during the trip, one particular image stands out—the serene Gazivoda Lake on the border between Kosovo and Serbia.
My group and I worked on a project which was all about diving into Kosovo's music scene to see how it plays a role in either uniting or dividing the community. We decided to create a film documentary, capturing footage around the country and researching the music scene and its impact. One of the main goals was to collect a wide range of opinions on whether music is helping to foster a national Kosovar identity or if it's actually reinforcing separate Albanian or Serbian sentiments. Looking back at our journey, the most difficult aspect of our project was conducting street interviews. We faced several hurdles, such as reluctance from people to be filmed, difficulties in communication due to language barriers, and often, an inability to engage deeply on historically sensitive topics. Sometimes, the answers we received were simply too shallow and missing depth. This highlighted the complexities of gathering authentic profound perspectives in a post-conflict society. It’s one thing to chat about music, but when you start touching on its ties to national identity or historical grievances, things can get tricky, especially with the language barrier in the mix. Plus, not everyone's comfortable being filmed, so we had to navigate some on-the-spot declines and try to keep the camera rolling without being intrusive.
A meeting that has changed me undoubtedly is the one with the Kosovo Women's Network. The presenter was a remarkably passionate and inspiring woman, bold and direct in her approach, which made the session particularly impactful. This meeting resonated with me because the cause—gender-based violence—is one that moves me profoundly. Having written about similar topics in various courses, such as the case of women under the rule of Boko Haram in Nigeria for "Religion, Violence and Secularism" and employing a gendered, intersectional approach to child soldiering in "Advanced Research Writing," I felt a strong interest to the topic discussed. This organization is so impressive with all the work they have done so far--not to mention that I got to ask a couple of questions which were all answered in extensive detail.
Participating in the Peace Lab course has changed me in several ways. Personally, I've developed a deeper cultural sensitivity and empathy towards diverse communities, particularly in understanding the complex dynamics of post-conflict societies like Kosovo. Academically, the hands-on fieldwork and interactions with various NGOs and local leaders have enhanced my critical thinking skills and provided me with practical insights into the real-world applications of peacebuilding theories.
I think that my worldview changed in two main aspects. Firstly in terms of how I envision international organizations such as the EU or the United Nations: I feel like I had a very biased and naïve perspective about such organizations, thinking that most of all they do is for the best and is done in the best way possible. This trip really highlighted some cracks and issues within such organizations that I had not really envisioned before Peace Lab.
The second aspect that changed for me was the fact that you can take action and help people or communities even if you don’t have much to start with. You just have to start it and things will naturally follow. (Before the trip I used to think you needed to be someone with power and influence, settled or experienced, in order to take practical action.) Now I know better.
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