Where to begin—life’s been non-stop lately. Autumn is officially here and while the month began grey and cool it’s now southern California like—mostly sunny and in the 80s. I’ve begun my recruiting season with a lot of preparation here in Skopje and a visit to southern Serbia last week. With two colleagues, an American from our Belgrade office and a Kosovar from our Priština office, we met in one of the most southern Serbian towns, Vranje. A town of 55,000 (according to my Lonely Planet), it’s just a half hour over the border from Macedonia and in the Preševo Valley. Its proximity means its dialect its distinctly mixed—predominantly Serbian but with some Macedonian similarities, and famous as a result. Apparently it was used in several films to create a distinct flavor for the characters way of speaking. A “southern accent”, if you will.
The town was cute though—on an incline as it led to a castle and small mountains beyond, but sophisticated enough. Further, its location lends to a diverse lot on the streets. Despite it being inhabited by mostly Serbs, there are several towns and areas around that are in fact predominantly ethnic Albanian. We had several students come to our exams from these areas, but I also heard Albanian spoken on the streets and in the bus. The town of Bujanovac just south is particularly Albanian—all the signs I saw as I went through were in the language, as is the town of Preševo itself. The area, unfortunately, is also well known regionally for conflict between the Yugoslav security forces and Albanian population. Atrocities occurred here and around that are still being resolved, including news this week of two Albanian-American brothers who were killed by Serb forces and dumped in mass graves in 1999, and that those accused were acquitted for it in trial. On a lighter note, I’ll return to Vranje in a few weeks for a few more days and hope to have a closer look around. Next week though I’ll be in Albania for the entire week—in Fier and Tirana. More on that later.
Here in Macedonia, I’ve enjoyed the shift to the autumn season. With more pleasant and hospitable weather, people are out and in neighborhoods, towns, villages, making “zimnici”—jarred winter goods. These include jams, vegetables, and most famous of all, ajvar. Ajvar is a condiment made from roasted red peppers and eggplant, which is then peeled, chopped, and stewed for hours. The process is arduous but the result a delight, and I was fortunate enough to take part in it with my in-laws. As I mentioned that day on Facebook, it was 60 kilograms (130+ pounds) of peppers that we roasted, which was quite time consuming. Stewing and jarring didn’t come until day two, but what’s most glorious in addition to the smell in the air is the cleaning of the pot with a loaf of bread at the end!
Politically, I wanted to mention an interested and overdue change that’s come about this week—the Macedonian government will change the seal of the country. As can be seen, the seal was created in 1946 for a Yugoslav Macedonia and reflects a socialist and agrarian tradition. While the latter may still be the case, the red star will be removed and the imagery may change as well. This makes sense, in my opinion, as Yugoslavia is a country long gone, and Macedonia should (and has already in other ways) re-brand itself for a new era.
Last but not least, I want to build on this agricultural note to mention the grape harvest and changes in the life of grape growers here. As my in-laws live in the wine region and have small vineyards themselves, we spend much time there. The “Grozdober”, or grape picking festival, was thus not to be missed! It is actually a relatively recent affair, but includes parades of schools children, farmers, motorcycles and more, as well as concerts and plenty of barbecue, beer, and wine in the streets and parks of downtown Kavadarci—the “capital” of the Tikveš wine region.
What’s most interesting about Tikveš though, and which I intend to do PhD research in, are the changes that have occurred then since the fall of socialism. Although the country has had relatively significant foreign direct investment (FDI) in recent years with its “Invest in Macedonia” campaign, the privatization of formerly state owned enterprises, entrepreneurship, and increased tourism, the post-socialist transition has created a much greater disparity between rich and poor than existed before. Macedonia’s significant grape and wine industry has not been left aside. Privatization and a changing economy have meant both investment by foreign and domestic interests, and a split between the business-oriented class that benefits from the new economic order and the traditional, land-oriented farmers. In the grape industry, with prices falling along with government subsidies annually, grape collectors and wineries are profiting and growers suffering.
Whereas during the socialist Yugoslav era there were only a handful of public grape collectors (vizbi) and wineries in Macedonia, there are now dozens. With a drive for increased wine-tourism and production, the quality and variety of grapes and wines has improved. Unfortunately, what have not changed for the better are the quantities of grapes produced and the lot of the growers. Unlike in the past when grape growers were paid a guaranteed price for their grapes, they have more recently been left at the whim of wine producers and the market. Although it could be argued that this may be necessary in order to improve grape and wine production, grape growers, their families, and surrounding communities whose lives depend on the vineyards have been marginalized by the shift from a subsidized system to a less regulated, “free market” one. Such as in other countries where protesting farmers can wreak havoc (the dairy protests in Western Europe this week come to mind), there are political ramifications as well: Just this year grape growers have demanded 30% higher prices for their grapes (which is small given the incredibly low price of grapes—approximately $.15/kg), protested, attacked some businessmen affiliated with the Tikveš winery, threatened to leave their grapes unpicked, and some have even abandoned their vineyards and migrated to Italy to work for significantly higher wages (try 2,000 euros a month compared with 200-300 euros in Macedonia).
Combined with increasing prices for food, commodities, and utilities in the country, rural communities feel unable to buy what is deemed necessary to maintain a modern standard of living, and are being forced to change their customs and lifestyles as a result. While the marketplace may be to blame for this, the reluctance or uncertainty of grape growers to change is another aspect to take into consideration; growers seem slow to realize that they must change. Forming strong agribusiness associations, which exist in Greece and other EU countries, would likely improve their lot (though perhaps cause greater protests!). Such associations allow growers to collectively make purchases, lobby for their greater good, and embark on the expansion of their business endeavors. Yet many growers in Tikveš remain too uncertain and perhaps distrusting of each other, and unaware as to how they should go about taking such action. I’m indeed interested in examining further not only how the livelihoods and identity of grape growers in Tikveš are in constant flux as a result of changing economy and competitiveness in the grape and wine industry, but what factors contribute to their inability to better protect themselves and their industry, given how vital it is to the Macedonian economy. One should look beyond economics and the marketplace to the myriad factors that compose the changes occurring in Macedonia as a result of privatization and free market development, as they are in fact a complex web of culture, patronage, and politics.
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