Excitement and exhaustion

(By Okke Lucassen)

If there is one thing I can recommend you if you’re travelling to Kosovo it’s this: Don’t get excited. 

I mean…. Get excited, because it’s an amazing, beautiful place with very friendly people and delicious food. 

But don’t get as super damn excited as I have been for the last 7 days, jumping around, listening to Balkan-influenced electro music such as Goran Bregovich and Shantel, eating Serbian inspired food with your Serbian friend, watching documentaries on the history of Yugoslavia, checking out every single website of the organisations that you are going to attend, already getting mesmerised by the beauty of the places you will visit and the succulent looking food you will eat. Don’t do any of that… Why not? Because I did, and I have been super damn pumped for this trip for over a week now, and last night I could not sleep whilst contemplating all the inspiring things I will see, eat, and do. This morning we all got up around 7 to finish packing by putting our toothbrush in our toiletry bag after using said toothbrush to commit to dental care for the last time on Dutch soil for the next 10 days. 

At 8:26 the taxi arrives and the lovely but somewhat tired group of Chiara, Olafs, Dirk Jan, Michael, Sophia and I are on our way. Even though we are the first ones to arrive at the meeting point 5 minutes before the agreed time (9:00) at Schiphol, the other 15 members including our lovely professor Anne and her husband Eric converge with the group in the next 15 minutes. Fast forward through a smooth check in at Schiphol and we are on flight 1952 TK (Turkish Airlines) This is not just any flight, this plane is big and I mean BIG. You know those usual planes you take when you go on a holiday with three rows on either side of the plane? Yeah no, this one has three on the left, three on the right, 4 in the middle and it is loooooong!

Whilst everyone is chatting excitedly about the trip, it hits me. I am tired. I have been pumped for this trip for 7 days and now I am too tired to be excited about it. I scroll through the availability of movies on the screen that is engineered into the seat in front of me and find that the selection of movies is surprisingly varied and recent. I am tired, but my senses are heightened as I was foolish enough to drink some coffee at Schiphol airport. When we arrive at Istanbul airport, we have 2 hours to kill before we board the plane at 19:00 local time (18:00 Amsterdam time). Sleeping is not really an option, as we are not expecting a meal for the hour and 40 minutes long flight from Istanbul to Prishtina and our bellies must be filled. We eat some local Turkish sweet pastry made with apple that sates some of our hunger, though we had expected the dough delicacy to be savoury as was indicated by the sign that was above it. Boarding was supposed to start around 18:00 so we as the rule-abiding students we are, queue up to start boarding. Except…. 

There is no one there…. As time goes by I am slowly losing my mind as the tiredness keeps hitting me harder and harder. My fellow students make me more and more aware as I continue to sing classic cliche songs such as over the rainbow, and, I believe I can fly. 

With the final boarding of 19:00 and the delayed departure of the plane, I fall start to get drowsy. 

I think it is time for me to finally catch some sleep my dear friends. Until next time!

I do believe we can fly. 

Day 1: Ready or not

(By Sophia Bensch)

I'm feeling lucky. My name is Sophia, a student at Amsterdam University College. One of the students, lucky enough to be heading on a 10-day trip to Kosovo, starting tomorrow. The group of us have been spending the past week learning about kosovo's far and near history in preparation for talking to locals about the current state of their country. 

In that sense, one could say we are prepared and ready. But I think I speak for most of us when I say that being there and experiencing it first hand still seems far away. We have all been very busy with our studies in the past weeks, some of us even finishing their bachelor's thesis only days ago. After the exam yesterday, talking to each other, it started to become a little more real. We were discussing projects in the field, last minute shopping for guest gifts and what to take with us. 

I'm not sure what to expect from the upcoming trip, but somehow I have the feeling that once we are there, we will forget about all the things we have been busy with at home and happily throw ourselves into this new (for most) and exciting context. We can learn with all our senses instead of just from a book. I'm particularly looking forward to listening to people's personal stories and embracing the culture with local foods.Having few specific expectations, I hope to soak up our surroundings with open ears and eyes.

Now we should all get some rest before the long day of travelling ahead of us. You will hear more from our travel and our first impressions in the coming days. 

This moment theirs

Taken in Prishtina, Kosovo

Thank you for joining us!

And so it begins again. A little over a year later, AUC students head for Kosovo. This time though, it’s not a private pilot trip, but a real class! Many thanks to AUC former dean, Marijk van der Wende; acting dean, Ramon Puras; and head of Social Sciences, Sennay Ghebreab, for creating this new class (and its budget!) in record time. We are Peace Lab—a qualitative research fieldwork methods class, where theory meets practice. And the 21 students who signed up have spent the last week taking a crash course in Balkan history—no easy feat!

I’m watching them now, as they take the exam on the Friday before we fly on Sunday. We have learned so much this week, and heard a Serbian voice and Bosnian voice from among our own rich AUC community (thanks Semra and Jovana!). So now we all know the significance of the numbers 1244 and 1369.

I feel such excitement. I find myself wondering if the smiles of the people I met last year will fill me with hope again. Hope for not just Kosovo, and her young Europeans, but hope for all who struggle to cobble together a future in a post-conflict area.

Those of you new to this blog might be wondering, who am I? Anne de Graaf, the instructor of Peace Lab. I also teach Violence and Conflict; Human Rights and Human Security; and International Relations Theory and Practice. All stuff you can argue til late at night about. I was born in San Francisco, but have lived most of my adult life in my adopted homeland, The Netherlands. My Dutch husband Erik will be coming with me and the students. I still owe him a black leather jacket for his status as bodyguard/bouncer during the trip.

As some of you know, this last year I’ve been researching and working with a group of Native American tribes. (Yeah, in all my spare time I wrote a paper for a conference and the academic powers that be seemed to like it.) Why? Because these tribes' governance model moves away from victimization and into the realm of prioritizing youth, education, and land buy-back. They are all about cooperation, rather than compensation. I’ll be spending part of the summer on their “Rez” in eastern Oregon. And I’m beginning to understand that wise leadership is so key to the fate of marginalized groups. It is perhaps, even more important to the rise and fall of societies than issues such as corruption.

This is relevant because during our class this week, we discussed what happens when a society remains stuck in victimisation. And what happened (to Germany, for example) when wise leaders pulled the society in the uncertain direction of wrestling with the unanswerable questions, such as guilt being visited upon the next generations.

What I sensed in Kosovo last year, was a mix of deep courage and deep despair. Between 7-17 June, we will be trying to understand this dilemma, as well as others, such as how the disconnect between the rhetoric and reality might actually link to other issues. We will be hearing voices, opening a listening space, asking open-ended questions about dreams and the future, education, and integration.

The students stay with Kosovar-Albanian families, but we will also spend two days in North Mitrovice, a Serb enclave. We have a list of 20 organizations we will be visiting, everything from an NGO that works with Roma, Egyptian and Ashkalia people, to the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs.

One of the assignments is to work on projects: something non-academic that can be given back to an organization or group of people in Kosovo, and something that involves qualitative research methods. I think it’s called impact. Already I’m hearing such exciting ideas. This afternoon, after the exam, we practice interview techniques: what is NOT being said? And the need for self-effacing humour.

In the days to come, this blog will blossom with entries from each of the students— so please subscribe and follow us, to read the students’ voices. In my experience, a trip like this is a game changer. It becomes a before-and-after moment for young people who realize what they want to do during the next stage of their lives, as the field of peace and conflict opens up for them, in terms of meaning and understanding.

On the first day of class, last Monday, I asked them all what their expectations were for the trip. Then they asked me what I was looking forward to. I’m looking forward to seeing our Bardha and Enver again (guides, translators, family, and welcome team extraordinaire!). I’m looking forward to the evening meals when I look up and down a long table. . . .

I hear voices laugh and ask

While faces listen and nod

The clink of cutlery

Watched eyes bright with

A growing understanding of the world

Reflected candlelight

Blinking on wine glasses
This moment theirs

The ultimate experience

I have been coming to do research in Kosovo for several years now. My academic interests evolve around terrorism, identity and radicalisation. Quite frankly: radicals are my thing and when it comes to being radical Kosovo is a nonpareil. Think about it – the fierce fight for independence, the courage to change a geopolitical status quo, the refusal to yield… Kosovo is a real treasure when it comes to deepening understanding and broadening horizons. In fact, every time I arrive in Kosovo I don’t feel like a researcher, but rather like a kid in a candy shop.

OK, my friends tell me, but why bringing students with you? Why do you bother at all? What compels you to make your life difficult and trouble yourself with a group of youngsters who don’t know a thing about this place when you could do the research on your own?

Well, my answer is, easy things are easy but the challenging ones are those which are worth the time. Also, talking about radicals, fieldtrip is an ultimate radical teaching experience and since I consider myself to be a teacher by vocation I would never miss such opportunity!

Why do I claim that fieldtrips constitute radical teaching? There are several reasons, I shall talk about those three which are the most important for me. I’m sure you can easily expand this list even further.

Firstly, remember the commandments drummed into you by your tutors and instructors. What is the first one? Do your readings! Of course! And the more, the better. Readings provide you with the factual foundation, offer the background factors, and – last but not least – introduce you to the main theories and debates pertaining to the given issue. These three things are absolutely indispensable for teaching: data, context and perspectives. In the classroom you don’t have to do your readings, in the field you must know them, otherwise you’ll be lost. Resolution 1244, Athisaari Plan, Albin Kurti’s political vision – all these are your tools for survival. Out there, knowledge is not a choice any more, it becomes a necessity.

Secondly, in the classroom you have a chance to opt out. You don’t have to participate, you don’t have to be active, you can just passively let the class go by. You can sit quietly and let the others speak and engage. Fieldtrip, on the other hand, excludes the passivity and avoidance is not on the menu! The things you see, notice and observe, the phenomena you experience, the conversations and debates you participate in – the exposure is total and unforgettable. Guess what, you won’t have to revise for exams. In a sense, fieldtrip is an exam on its own.

Finally, and that’s my favourite part, fieldwork is all about translating the theories into practices. The theories is something you read and learn about, alternatively it’s something you hear about from people when X says something while Y argues that things are different. Fieldwork provides you with the reality check. And so, you might hear the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs Petrit Selimi telling you that Kosovo has the most advanced legislation in the whole Balkans when it comes to minorities, but at the same time you have the possibility to visit the Roma, Ashkali and Egyptians’ neighbourhood in Fushë Kosova and see that law and daily praxis don’t add up. You can study human rights and know everything about the right to adequate housing or the right to water, but somehow it is different to talk about it in the class and altogether different to be deprived of shower after 10pm.

During the fieldtrip you compare and contrast. You start asking questions. You start saying “yes, but” and coming up with your own ideas and opinions. In short, you fulfil every teacher’s dreams. Simultaneously, all this is not forced but comes as naturally as breathing. And for these reasons I do believe fieldtrips to be the ultimate radical teaching experience. For these reasons I cannot wait for another fieldtrip with you. 

I’m ready when you are! Shall we?

Talk football, talk IR

Let me start by introducing myself: I am Martijn Gerritsen, an 18-year-old AUC student, probably (as you can never be too sure about these kinds of things) majoring in Environmental Economics & Policy and International Relations.

When Anne told us about the trip to Kosovo she had organized, I was – to be honest – not so sure what to think of it. Kosovo. All I knew from this country was, basically, part of distant stories I had read or encountered somewhere, sometime. To me, Kosovo was a part of former Yugoslavia, known for its disputes and conflicts over its borders, its people, and its authority; I could possibly have distilled all that from a newspaper article dealing with one of the issues in the country. To me, Kosovo was also this dark-yellow spot, less than half the size of the Netherlands, on the world map on my room’s wall; a more tangible conceptualization. To me, above all, Kosovo was a ‘fairly blank spot’, an unknown and hard-to-imagine place – but not for long.

Some of the most intriguing thoughts that have colored my view of Kosovo during our week-long trip can be identified in the following short story from Salih Zogiani’s Albanian Anecdotes (2011), the book that each of us received as a present from Anne and Erik:

“Rifat Kukaj had a son that was getting married. Before the wedding-goers went to take the bride they decided not to take along the Albanian flag as customary as the Serb police would ill-treat them. When the wedding-goers reached the bride’s house they asked Rifat:
- Where is the flag?
- What flag? – Rifat asks.
- The national flag, - the bride’s father says.
- Well – Rifat said – my son is being married, not the entire nation, - Rifat Kukaj replied.”

-          79. MY SON IS BEING MARRIED, NOT MY NATION (p. 80)

First of all, this anecdote touches upon an age-old wedding tradition, which we have been lucky enough to witness ourselves during our visit to the Roma, Askhali, and Egyptian communities in Fushë Kosova: that of the bride being ‘taken away’ by a group of wedding-goers, accompanied by traditional music, singing, and dancing. Personally, the fact that I have been able to see – and predominantly hear – a ritual as such,  makes me kind of proud. Proud in the sense that I have been able to ‘partake’ – passively, but still – in a practice that has been there for years and years, allowing me to, shortly, become part of the cultural tradition of a minority group in the Kosovar society. Who would have thought this could have overcome me beforehand? I would certainly not.

Secondly, Rifat Kukaj’s story exemplifies how troublesome the current relationships between Albanians and Serbians can still be; an “ill-treatment” as a result of the displaying of either an Albanian or a Serbian flag is not at all unthinkable in some contemporary cases. This quite shocking realization came to me after having heard stories of and having seen Mitrovica’s barricaded bridge, which blocks the way, and, in some way, creates a ‘wall’ between the Serbian north and the Albanian Kosovar south of the city. It seems unreal to me that a teacher at the International Business College is afraid to cross this bridge from north to south on her own, and, hence, prefers to go together with her students. It also seems unreal to me that in a generation as young as my own, some Albanians and some Serbians need to communicate with each other in English, unable to understand the other sufficiently well to set up a dialogue in either of their native languages. It seems, to me, equally hard to understand how there can be so little empathy for each other’s grievances at times. I would not have thought to learn such upsetting stories as I did in Mitrovica – its bridge is still far from being crossed.

This situation is also reflected in Kukaj’s anecdote: the entire Kosovar nation is not – and, effectively, cannot be – married. From what I have seen and from what I have learned during our stay in Kosovo, it is extremely difficult, and maybe even impossible, to unite Kosovo’s ethnic groups under a single Kosovar identity or framework. Key to this understanding are, in my opinion, two notions that were righteously put forward by Lulzin Peci, founder and senior fellow of the Kosovar Institute for Policy Research and Development (KIPRED). The first is that “ethnicities have to understand diversity of belonging”; the second is the realization that “people make history”. If groups of people are able to reflect on their own diversity with respect to other groups, this inherently implies that they, at least partly, understand these other groups. And, I think, mutual understanding of each other’s good and bad qualities serves as the foundation upon which a sustainable and peaceful relationship can be built. In addition to that, I have come to believe that the people involved in ongoing conflicts or issues, such as in Mitrovica, for example, will have to come to realize that it is people who make history. From this, it follows that it is also people only that can influence the history that is being made; through their acts and deeds of today one is able to ‘change’ history. If awareness of this notion can be promoted amongst the arguing people, we will come closer – if not halfway, already – to crossing the bridge.

Teamphoto with the players from O.F.K. As.
Thanks for the photo, Lisa Maza!

Most significantly, however, is that I have seen people actually crossing the bridge and coming closer to their neighbors during this trip. In particular these stories have attended me to the great prospective there is for the people of Kosovo. To clarify this, I would like to share with you the story of the futsal team which I encountered during the Albanian festivities in Tupalle, Serbia, on May 1: O.F.K. As, based in Bujanovac, Serbia. Although this team plays in a Serbian futsal league, the majority of the players are Albanian.  Interestingly, however, as I played along with them for some time, I noticed that there were no tensions to be felt between these guys at all: they were friends. For me personally, being able to see such true comradeship between Albanians and Serbians, where mutual respect is paid to each other’s culture, language, and tradition, was by far the greatest part of this trip. Who would have thought I would be able to be part of this kind of relationship, too, after the devastating stories of Mitrovica’s divide? I would have hoped for it, for sure, but did I also think of it, for real? What I certainly do know now is that we, people, are able to take care of our own history, and, more importantly, that we are able to build – and cross – bridges.

I am grateful for the great opportunities this trip to Kosovo has offered me, and I would like to wholeheartedly thank our ‘teachers’ Anne, Monika, and Erik, our guides Bardha and Enver (who also was an incredible host, by the way), and all of the other students for their contribution to our ‘bridge-building’. Faleminderit shumë! You all have been amazing ‘engineers’, each in your own way!

PS: I have noticed that talking football to some guys can bring you closer to matters you have been looking for than you would have dared to think. So my advice would be: if appropriate - talk football, talk IR.

What a trip!

Dear Friends, Të nderuar miq, драги пријатељи,

This is Erik de Graaf here. I am married to Anne. She is the person guilty of arranging this trip. I was invited to come along and I gladly participated. All throughout this academic year, I have got to know the students through the eyes of Anne, or more specifically, through the warm effect they have on her. I was happy to have a first-hand opportunity to get to know some of them personally.

I was supposed to add some weight to the group. That much I achieved. And to show some muscle if needed. I sort of became the muscle-man, who happens to come from Scheveningen too.

The main thing I am taking home with me from this trip is the realization, no rather amazement, of how 19 students and some organizers grew into a tight, committed and caring group. And as a collective, we were able to share and experience all of the flavours of Kosovo. All of the colours of its rainbow. We were torn apart by some of the hopelessness, surprised by some of the initiatives and frustrated by some of the stubbornness. We were taken by its kindness, grateful for its friendships and thankful for its openness. We sought each other out to process all of it. And particularly during the last magical evening, we were able to share some of our individual experiences and feelings. It gave some closure to an emotional week full of contradicting views and opposing camps. We all sort of felt like we had become part of this community. Perhaps by now we all are Newborn Kosovars.  

But when I woke up at home on Saturday, I realized I was even more confused than before I left. Some IR instructors may see this as evidence of a successful trip, but I think that most of us grew to feel so close to Kosovo, that it hurt a little, if not a lot. A sense of helplessness came over me, for there seemed to be little I could do. A good illustration was our brief meeting with students from North Mitrovica. The meeting was so short, that I felt we left there without having been able to convince the students of what may be considered the right attitude in working towards a sustainable peace for the region. However, reality forces me to accept that even if we had spent the whole week there, the outcome would most likely have been the same.

But in the mixture of experiences, some of us were lucky to get a flavour of how Serbs and Albanians can live together in some sort of harmony, even play for the same football team, and share music, dance and culture. How they are learning each other’s languages. And how they are building friendships across the divide. A taste of how it is possible to live together and respect one another. Some of them said they would not forgive, they would not forget, but they would move on. A bit along the lines John F. Kennedy paraphrased regarding the East-West differences in 1963: 

So, let us not be blind to our differences. But let us also direct attention to our common interests and to the means by which those differences can be resolved. And if we cannot end now our differences, at least we can help make the world safe for diversity. For, in the final analysis, our most basic common link is that we all inhabit this small planet. We all breathe the same air. We all cherish our children’s future. And we are all mortal.

I am grateful to the students for welcoming me and making me feel part of the group. Now I actually have come to realize why Anne enjoys teaching at AUC so much.

Faleminderit from Marijn

The Truth of Kosovo

Let me introduce myself: my name is Marijn Mado, I am eighteen years old and still quite confused about what to study at AUC. This trip to Kosovo has been most amazing in any way and I would like to share the parts that particularly overwhelmed me.

Even though I already had felt some sort of shock at the sight of a burnt Serb church in Prizren on our first day, the first time it really hit me was a day later. Elizabeth from The Ideas Partnership told us that close to the place we would visit that day, Fushë Kosova, was the railroad where in the 1990s Serbs had deported Albanians in trains. While the Western world feared that some awful genocide was about to take place, the Serbs dumped the Albanians “unharmed” at the border of Macedonia. On the way to Fushë Kosova we passed a railroad and I wondered out loud whether this would have been the place of the deportation. Unexpectedly, the cab driver answered me and told me his family had been deported too. He was there when the soldiers came into his house in Pristina and told them they had five minutes to pack their backs. The soldiers deported them across the borders and burnt many houses, including those of the cab driver and his neighbors. Too soon, we arrived at Fushë Kosova and I got out of the cab and lost sight of the cab driver. For a full couple of minutes my head was spinning with the thought of the cabdriver, and how a mere history story had just become a shuddering reality.

Next, we took a look at Fushë Kosova itself, which includes the residences of the gypsy-like minorities Roma, Ashkalian and Egyptians. As we walked through the mud, houses in bad repair and piles of garbage, I realized that I had never been in a place that resembles slums more accurately. Small children walked around in the mud all day, and I was devastated imagining one growing up in these houses. I doubted whether a kid twice as intelligent as the average AUC student would ever make it to university under these circumstances. Fortunately, we also took a look at the brilliant initiative of The Ideas Partnership established in Fushë Kosova. The project provides not only education for the children, but also enables them to spend some time in a clean and colorful place every day.

Another initiative that inspired me was initiated by Kosovo Women’s Network. After the Kosovar war in 1999 the Women’s Network immediately hired a Serbian interpreter, even though they had only Albanian employees. This idea was implemented to make space for Serbians who might want to join later on. Indeed, only a year after the war Serbians joined their network.

Besides, I would also like to use this opportunity to thank my host family once more as well as our teachers Anne, Erik and Monika and our local guides Bardha and Enver for the great way they took care of us, their openness and expertise, and of course the laughter and gezelligheid. At some point, one representative of an organization we visited called you accidently our mentors rather than teachers. I think you all can be righteously called our mentors, for you have guided us and listened to us diligently. Next, I would like to thank my fellow-student for their bright questions, sharing this experience and the great fun! Last, I owe my thanks to all the Kosovars that have given us a warm welcome and unconditional hospitality. Faleminderit! After this week, I cannot but agree to Anne’s kind words to the Deputy Minister, “We all feel a bit Kosovar now.”

At last, all the people we encountered provide for a variety of different perspectives.

-       OHCHR: “We continue the dialogue with Serbia to normalize the situation.”
-       Opposition party Vetëvendosje: “It is unacceptable that the government of Kosovo is negotiating with Serbia, our enemy. Kosovar Albanians should claim their own self-determination, for we paid for this by blood.”
-       Serbian students of North-Mitrovica: “Albanians could just now cross the bridge and slaughter us anytime.”
-       A local: “I am very grateful for the KLA fighters that fought for the freedom of Albanians. If they had not done so, I would not be alive.”
-       Deputy Minister: “The declaration of independence in 2008 was not to liberate Albanians, but to protect human rights.”
-       Kosovo 2.0: “Human rights are not vertical. We cannot prioritize reconciliation over gender issues, as we need to talk about various issues.”
-       UNMIK: “Nothing equals peace. Peace is better than whatever is not peace.”
-       Serbian guide: “Serbs are afraid to cross the bridge leading to South-Mitrovica.”
-       Vetëvendosje: “Serbians are way better off in Kosovo than Albanians in Serbia.”
-       Serbian students of North-Mitrovica: “We don’t see Kosovo as a state at all.”
-       Vetëvendosje: “We cannot just create an identity and say: this is your identity just like that. Identity is created historically.”
-       Deputy Minister: “While the nation building is finished in other countries, we are privileged to shape our own country. We feel part of history as we are doing things for the first time.”
-       And the pictures of the missing people on Pristina’s grand square.

This trip has been very confusing. For me, qualitative fieldwork research is acquiring uncertain pieces of an immensely complicated puzzle. Everyone tells you something different, which is not uncommonly contradicting with previous statements, and it is difficult to grasp the structure of what is really going on.

The truth of Kosovo – you think you found it, but you really haven’t.

And we keep on searching.