I once wrote a letter to my mother, attempting to express what she has meant to me. Impossible, it was impossible to gather the enormity of her influence on my life in words. She cared for me from the very first time she began to care for herself, while she was still a child. She had done more for me than I could even know to say “thank you,” for. The feeling that it would be impossible to convey something adequately with words alone gives me pause again as I write about my first impressions of Kosovo.
I should say before continuing that I have only spoken with ethnic Albanians and a few Americans about the conflict in Kosovo in recent years. I could not begin to claim that I have taken every perspective into account while writing this post. Having said that, I can’t imagine someone defending the acts of the Serbian military in recent years in this area of the world.
Mitrovica is a city in northern Kosovo, around 40km south of Serbia. Although it is fairly deep in Kosovar territory, many people would say that the Ibar River, which runs through the northern part of the city, is in reality the line which provides demarcation between Serbia and its neighbor to the south. NATO forces keep the peace in Kosovo, and there is a 24 hour contingent of Italian troops stationed on the bridge over the Ibar in Mitrovica. Having a group of armed foreigners on hand is both reassuring and disconcerting, worrisome and a source of relief all at once.
Just across the bridge, in what is legally territory held by Kosovo, fly the flag, banners, and colors Serbia. The bridge has been made impassible to vehicles; a few square yards of stone and earth reinforced with roughly poured concrete have created a barrier on the Serbian side of the structure. The policeman we spoke with on the bridge told us that men with rifles were stationed in the buildings on the Serbian side, ready to open fire on targets they might fancy needed killing. Imagine an injured bull, laying on its side. The bull is bleeding from a sharp protruding object, glistening red in full view. The animal has its eyes open, seething anger and fear in the rhythm of breathing are palpable. Reaching in to remove the foreign object will eventually cause healing, but at first the bull might react too strongly; violently lashing out and ripping open your gut as you try to help it. That is what the bridge over the River Iber feels like. You can see what needs to happen, sense that healing is so very close, but fear puts you in check, and so the city bleeds and bleeds.
albaniacalling 