Jotten' in the Balkans

Grog Blog: Out of the Balkans

2010-02-05T15:44:00.004+01:00

Grog seems an apt term through which to describe my life these days. Imperial pints aside, I taught a book last week on aboriginal Australia (‘At Home in the World’ by Prof. M. Jackson) which unfortunately, discusses somewhat the aboriginal propensity to drink ‘grog’. But given the word’s use in colloquial English, or its association with grogginess, I reckon it well suits an entry mid-winter in the UK. For I’m three weeks into the term and have hardly seen the sun, let alone the light of day. Has been unusually wintry (cold and even snowy) till this week, in fact. The sun did show its face at the lunch hour, but this being England, an hour later a downpour falls as I write.

While I’m here in Canterbury to do doctoral research for my fieldwork in Macedonia, I am admittedly no longer in the Balkans. The feeling I have about that is mixed, and I think busyness and grogginess have kept such thoughts at bay. Yet when I open my eyes, particularly when in town, I see a very different world. The UK is a fast paced and individualistic society, where people are cordial but not nearly so hospitable as in Macedonia and around. Life here is characterized by that barbarian consumerism, though maybe due to the economy (quite sluggish still) not quite as bad as in the US.

Yet being away from both and now settling for the time being here, I ponder through my readings and experience that from where I came. Teaching and studying Anthropology, and particularly Southern Mediterranean/Middle Eastern culture, I see associations with the Balkans that align it culturally with the latter, not Western Europe. No doubt, as we’ve discussed in seminars, culture is fluid and subject to economic and political circumstances, but the overriding theme of our readings (so far largely on gender in Lebanon and Egypt) is that of honor codes, shame, kinship, and patriarchy. In one fascinating piece on an Arab community in Lebanon, we read about the reproduction and transferral of patriarchy through brother-sister relationships. As opposed to the vertical, father-daughter transferral of such traditions, this piece showed how valued brothers were to their sisters, despite what Western eyes would see as misogynistic behaviour. Brothers harass their sisters about their dress and appearance, sometimes physically. Yet parents don’t oppose, nor do the sisters in this case. They are being conditioned to be the female representatives of the family, to protect the family’s honor. At the same time, their brothers are being conditioned to be the dominant males. Thus sisters in fact have leverage given the role to which they’re being conditioned.

This week we read several pieces concerning veiling, which was eye opening. Veiling is dependent upon country and culture, but also economics. One piece we read in fact laid out the history of veiling in 20th century Egypt. In the 1920s, veiling was seen as indicative of conservatism and sexism, and an independent (of the government, such as in Turkey or Iran) women’s movement sprang forth that sought to unveil women and release them from their isolated, shrouded lives. Although this was more of an upper class movement, with lower classes quite busy, content or just used to the veil, the growing middle class lent the movement to it, and unveiling became quite popular. However, as this piece and another discuss, with growing Western influence and a changing economy, the latter half of the 20th century actually saw veiling grow in popularity again. Relevant to contemporary bans on veiling in W. Europe, the first piece stated that this was to be honorable, as the veil shows dignity and devotion to husband and home, as well as to alleviate any concerns of the former that working women might behave immodestly. In another piece though, the Women’s Mosque Movement (WMM) is discussed, and how piety (‘salat’) as habitus has resurfaced, to counter the ‘folklorification’ of Islam and wearing of the veil simply as cultural custom. Indeed, as opposed to just being an aspect of the cultural realm, devout women of the WMM contend that it should be of the heart and habit.

All in all, the readings are informative and as I mentioned, relevant to the diverse and conservative countries of the Balkans. Although my research veers elsewhere (see my blog from September 2009), being an Anthropologist is absorbing all about humanity and processing it through lived experience. Thus I consider these groggy days to be an interlude to the research and understanding yet to come.

Bulgaria

2009-12-18T22:19:00.005+01:00

The snow fell lightly but accumulation was evident on the elevated border of Macedonia and Bulgaria last weekend. Up out of the valleys and heading toward the higher climes of western Bulgaria, the roads were icy and snow half of foot thick sat on pine tree branches. It was my first time seeing snow this season. We wound down into the country through no highway of any kind, but a meandering road that after a couple of hours had us in the suburbs of the capital, Sofia. I hadn’t actually been to Sofia in five years, so going back was exhilarating for me. I recall my first allowed exit out of Macedonia as a PCV with five friends in 2003. We came to Sofia and were, after isolation in small villages and towns for six months, thrilled to see a grand city. Not to mention the Dunkin Donuts, KFC, Pizza Hut…I was back on a couple of occasions after that, the last being New Year’s Eve 2004.

Entering Sofia on a wintry Saturday night by bus I saw the lights of the city on and people about. The large communist built apartment blocks looked more friendly than usual and I was admittedly pleased to see a “Makedonska Skara (Grill)” with the Sun of Vergina as we made our way to the center. Having had a nearly five hour bus ride and upon checking into my hotel, I went for a much needed stroll. In restaurants and bars there was a bustle, but the streets were serene in the center and I wandered around the government buildings, admiring and comparing them to Skopje. Seeing the “Narodno Sobranie”, administrative, and court buildings, one truly feels they’re in a capital city. These buildings pre-date communism, so they have a character unseen in Skopje, which lost most of its pre-SFRY architecture in the great earthquake of 1963. Though it was never such a big city as Sofia to begin with.

Hearing the Bulgarian tongue though reminds me of the Slavic linguistic continuum that is SE Europe. I understand a decent deal, in fact, because I was a PCV in eastern Macedonia, on the border with Bulgaria, and where the dialect sounds much more like what’s spoken in Sofia than Skopje. “Moga” instead of “moze”, “dobre” instead of “dobro”, “tuh-ka” instead of “ta-ka”, “vonka” instead of “nadvor”. It also all reminds me how relevant politics are to demarcating borders, political & cultural. For while people in E. Macedonia may speak similar to Bulgarians, I never heard anyone there claim to be Bulgarian. Although some may have been a century ago, strong assimilation efforts by both Soviet-led Bulgaria and Yugoslav Macedonia sought to separate these peoples and give them a new national identity.

Yet that legacy lives on. As my colleague and I made our way to Plovdiv earlier this week, we had plenty of time in the car to talk. We were speaking about the name issue in Macedonia, which as I’ve written about, is big and ongoing news. With the EU giving the country the yellow light to begin accession talks, they’ll only get the green once they settle the name dispute with Greece. My take has always been that Macedonia has the right to call itself whatever it wants—they’re entitled to self-determination. History may be another story, but the present is what should matter most. Yet I gathered from the conversation last night that Bulgarians have a different take on things, and while maybe not siding with the Greeks, have ongoing issues of their own with Macedonia. Although the latter a century back was more of a geographical region inhabited by people who called themselves Bulgarians, Serbs, and so on (though that's not to say there was no sense of Macedonian identity), Yugoslav nationalism created the Macedonian ethnicity that characterizes the country today. Many Macedonians may have in recent years gotten Bulgarian passports for the advantages they offer, but I reckon few would say they’re actually Bulgarian. Regardless, while it’s been an obvious ploy to get Macedonians back on the Bulgarian side, I never heard the Bulgarian take on it until this week. And what I heard was that it’s hypocrisy for people to take the passports but not call themselves Bulgarian—which is exactly what the Bulgarian government wants to see, I’m sure.

We also broached on the topic of the famous “Macedonian revolutionary” Goce Delchev (I lived as a Peace Corps volunteer in a town re-named after him—Delchevo). What I learned though was that he’s not seen as Macedonian here, but a Bulgarian who fought against the Turks to liberate these South Slavic lands. (A Greek in Thessaloniki told me the same in a quarrel I had many years ago at the “Museum of Macedonia” there). Indeed, Delchev was from the Pirin part of Macedonia in SW Bulgaria, and while he was initially entombed in Sofia after his death, his body was moved in 1946 to Skopje to help Tito foster the Macedonian national identity.

Yet the fact of the matter is that Bulgaria does have some issues with Macedonia, though some fair points. As far as the former, they pretty much consider the Macedonian language to be Bulgarian (and given that I can converse in the two lends credence to their similarity, though I again attest to the region begin better characterised as a continuum than just two languages), and that they amusingly comment that any differences in Macedonian are the result of Serbian or “dialekt”. There does seems to be a continual joking about this and other geographical aspects of the region though that really makes me realize that Macedonia is seen in very different eyes here than in say, Serbia. For in Serbia, they may have lorded over Macedonia for most of the 20th century, but the language is quite different and Macedonians tend to be looked down upon as poorer, agricultural folk. Bulgarians seem to have this proprietary notion of the language though. Nonetheless, the customs and character of Macedonians is much more in line with Serbs than Bulgarians, likely as a legacy of Yugoslavia. I’m indeed fascinated by the behavior I’ve witnessed this week. Bulgarians are just far more to themselves—less talkative and gregarious, and more serious. We had one teacher just walk into the room we were using for interviews today and sit down, saying she had work to do. We tried to explain to her what we were doing, but it fell on deaf ears. Only the director’s order dislodged her. Others have been friendly, but not nearly so much as in Macedonia and the former Yugoslavia.

It is perhaps, as one professor at IU (Randall Baker) who’s a Bulgarophile said, a country characterized by a Cassandrian attitude—that the world can’t possibly get any worse, and the next day will likely be worse than today. But this means people live life to its fullest and seek out opportunities in any way they can. Indeed, Bulgarians seem opportunistic and successful at home and abroad, with large diasporas in the UK, Spain, Germany, and US. Yet whether any of these people intend to return, as in the Western Balkans, I’m not sure. The country’s population is shrinking and remittances from the diaspora less, as I understand. Is it all the legacy of Soviet, Todor Zhivkov led Communism I wonder? Something certainly sets Bulgaria and Bulgarians apart.

That said, I’ve been on the road all week, and I spent three nights in Plovdiv in an over-heated room. Although the days are short I also try to enjoy, and managed to stroll through (and get lost in) the old town a couple of times. Built on a ridge of three hills, it’s been inhabited or used for millennia. Today it is a preserved area with homes built during the Bulgarian national revival period. A century back, this period was perhaps a backlash to the centuries of Ottoman rule that were violently overthrown with the great help of Russia (the Russian-Turkish War, it’s called). There are several churches and monuments throughout the country that commemorate this, the largest being Aleksandar Nevski in Sofia. Point being: Bulgaria has been supported by Russia for quite some time, and this may help to differentiate it.

To note, Plovdiv’s old town houses were really lovely. Hanging over the streets, with 2nd and 3rd floors larger than the 1st at street-level, they’re only seen in Macedonia in Ohrid and some old neighborhoods of smaller towns. But none there with so much color, design, and character as those in Plovdiv. The center of town was also a lively place, with the long pedestrian zone—its shops, stands, and cafes. After eyeing the Belgian waffle and crepe stands, I found a “Nemski” (German) one that sold bratwurst—a rare treat in this part of the world. I had two and a Beck’s, and sat at the outdoor table to watch to the world go by. Young couples in bumper cars 30 feet away, and teens crossing the plaza, probably on their way home from the 2nd shift at the local high school, entertained me. But the conversation I struck up was with the woman working in the bratwurst stand. Her mother was born in the Macedonian city of Gevgelija, and she took me as a Macedonian. So it goes.

We had the day off to travel though yesterday, needing time and rest to make our way to where we are now, in Ruse. Ruse is the 5th largest city in the country, an hour south of Bucharest, Romania, and sitting on the Danube—a historical trade center and the most European city in Bulgaria, I’m told. However, the winter weather that hit north-eastern Europe this week has made its way here—it’s now cold, windy, and snowy. Yet the drive yesterday yielded some further insight for me into this country. For Bulgaria to me is what I hope to see Macedonia be in 10-15 years. It is more modern, cleaner, wealthier, and the people seem more independent in their gestures, thinking, speaking. I don’t think I would ever experience the conversation I had yesterday here in Macedonia, whereby our driver—a big middle-aged Bulgarian chap—pulled out his mobile phone over coffee to show us a picture of a cat he’d wanted to adopt. Unusual, but sincere. Further, students we interview express much more independent activities and thinking—karate, acting, music, drawing, poetry, mountain climbing.

Therefore, Bulgaria fascinates me because it is similar to Macedonia in language and how people look, but very different otherwise. But no doubt having been under Soviet rule, having had no visa regime since 1997, no post-communist conflict, and being a member of the EU for two years now, has set it apart but ahead. For Macedonia will be liberated from it’s Schengen visa regime only tomorrow—a huge day no doubt—and is only entertained by the prospect of NATO and EU entry in coming years. Indeed, being here makes me realize how Macedonia lags behind, and seems stifled by ethnic and nationalist factors that can't be extinguished. Although I return to Skopje tomorrow, I hope to certainly return here in the future, and to see then a Bulgaria that has meshed again with Macedonia, and for the betterment of both.

Kosovo

2009-11-27T22:22:00.003+01:00

I unfortunately don’t get to see as much as I’d like when I travel. In fact, except for students’ faces, dinner and a walk nearby, and my hotel room, I see very little. That said, I’m not a passive traveler sitting around each place I go to. In fact, my job at this stage is to interview candidates for our exchange programs in the US. The great thing about this is that they’re an interesting representational sample of each place and region I go to, and there have been a few notable trends in each of the towns I’ve interviewed in. To stipulate, we generally try to get a feel for our candidates’ interests and perceptions, tolerance and curiosity. However, we don’t ask about racial or religious preferences. Further, we ask whether their parents support their participation.

So what have been the trends? In the town of Vranje, Serbia, several students seemed overly interested in hip-hop and black America. Many said they would like to see blacks and get to know them. In another Serbian town, students spoke of the major intolerance of their country—the hooliganism, intolerance, and resulting violence. (Related xenophobia even led to a French football fan being dragged out of a café in the middle of the day in Belgrade a few weeks back and beaten to death.) Lastly, in Serbia, several students said their parents were divorced. This is quite unusual in this part of the world (though less so in cities), but I was in an unusual part of the region—the mixed Bosniak-Serb town of Novi Pazar. From what I’ve gathered, students’ parents were married before or at the start of the Balkan conflicts (1992-95) there, and as a legacy of Yugoslavia (many people having taken on a “Yugoslav” national identity) and pre-ethno-nationalist political rhetoric. Unfortunately, the war between Serbia and Bosnia tore people apart. Old prejudices were resurrected (or fabricated?) and relationships with friends, neighbors, spouses became subject to political, religious and ethnic disputes. Who’s Christian/Muslim, Serbian/Bosnian? Tragically, likely other family members in this strong kinship-based society pulled couples apart, and thus their children (our student candidates, born between 1993-95) suffer the burden of life without one of their parents at home.

Even worse though is the situation for some where I was this past week. In Prishtina and Prizren, Kosovo, I heard at least half a dozen (if not more) students say they’d lost their fathers. While we never ask why, I spoke to my colleague and driver there, both who said that it was the stress of society, and perhaps more so the 1999 conflict and its aftermath that have made life very tough in Kosovo. Indeed, most of these young deaths are cancer, brought on by stress as a result of unemployment, vices (primarily nicotine, alcohol, and caffeine in this part of the world), a lack of exercise, and the resulting feeling of no integrity, no doubt. I do hope and believe that this next generation who we’re interviewing will change things though. With Euro-Atlantic integration, visa free travel, better education, and stamping out corruption, I think the Western Balkans will see better opportunities for its people.

Kosovo was incredibly interesting overall. Not recognized by Serbia, entering the country from Serbia meant there was no official border or passport examination. As I’d been there before but never for more than half a day, staying five days allowed me to pick up a bit more of the language, and to get a feel for things. For example, my nice hotel in the capital, Prishtina hosted several European bureaucrats. Over breakfast and dinner I was able to see and hear them work on what are myriad projects and measures being taken in what is a very conflicted yet recently independent little country. Indeed, Kosovo only got its independence last year, having been under the auspices of the UN and NATO since 1999. However, the country’s independence is contentious, to say the least. It violated the 1999 UN treaty with Serbia that ended the conflict, which said that Serbia’s territorial integrity shall not be violated. Kosovo, being a former province of Serbia, is thus seen by Serbia and other governments as having declared independence illegally. For the record, I don’t support this notion. Kosovo is 90% ethnic Albanian and moreover, could never be governed by Belgrade again. Yet it matters because next week begins the trial in the UN’s International Court of Justice which seeks to challenge Kosovo’s independence. Serbia has of course made the case, but as an Economist article this week discusses, not only do Serbia’s allies (primarily Russia) have concern about the independence of Kosovo and the precedent it has set, but other countries with separatist minorities are reluctant to see the case condoned. They fear it may incite such minorities with territorial ambitions in their country to push a little harder.

Something else I only saw in Prishtina was the loudly pronounced anti-establishment movement. I say anti-establishment, because the movement, Vetëvendosje (‘Self-determination’) is opposed to a continued international presence but also the government that cooperates with them. I frequently saw graffiti illustrating this, and riots this year which caused material damage to UN vehicles and buildings were incited by Vetëvendosje. Given a EU security force that was established in cooperation with Serbia, they see this as violating their autonomy. I thus saw a good deal of anti-EULEX propaganda.

But Prishtina has actually thrived from the international presence. A decade of international peacekeepers, bureaucrats, and their money has created a layer of society that wouldn’t have existed otherwise—a clear upper class. I heard about nice houses and neighborhoods, but what I clearly saw were the nice hotels, restaurants, and bars that cater to the elite. They are, admittedly, a treat to visit given the lack of such diversity elsewhere in the region. “Culinary cosmopolitanism,” as my travel guide said. Yet I can see why there’s resentment—bureaucrats earning daily what an average person earns monthly is a bit disturbing, particularly when the work they’re doing is not seen as beneficial to the country.

Beyond all this, Prishtina lacks historical character, though is set nicely in a valley and creeping up over hills. Fortunately, the rest of my trip was had in Prizren. Just over the mountains from NW Macedonia, it felt a world away. A Serbian town in medieval times, Prizren thrived under the Ottoman Empire as a trading center. When it became predominantly Albanian, I’m not sure, but the combination of its religious and cultural history, not to mention the setting and architecture, makes it a gem in this part of the world. To briefly elaborate, the town is in a hilly, not yet mountainous area. But built on an incline along a freshwater, mountain like river, it has centuries old Orthodox churches and Islamic mosques. Further, there’s the “carsija,” a Turkish word used in most cities in the region to describe the old market part of town. Right in the center along the river, the carsija has 19th and early 20th century structures housing excellent restaurants and shops. Right near the city library where we were working was an excellent sweet shop with more kinds of baklava than I’d ever seen! (I was only able to try a couple of kinds…)

Beyond its lengthy history, Prizren is famous for hosting the “League of Prizren” in 1878. The League was a coming together of Albanian intellectuals at the time, who attempted to lay out an Albanian state from the provinces of the then disintegrating Ottoman Empire. In the end they were unsuccessful, but the building and its museum are a reminder of this event and source of pride for Albanians.

Unfortunately, Prizren was subject to a great deal of vandalism in March 2004 during significant rioting and conflict throughout Kosovo. Nearly three dozen people died in the country, though none in Prizren. But the town’s Orthodox churches and monasteries suffered greatly. One up above the town near the fortress looks intact from below, but an image from above shows quite the contrary. Unfortunately, several churches bore this fate, and are now barb-wired off and not used. Not to mention the Serbs who lived there previously have all but left.

Yet as I returned to Skopje the other night, we drove through what is a Serb enclave in southern Kosovo (most Serbs live in the north of the country). I’d heard positively about the area before, as its natural beauty is splendid and the ski area there is an example of Serbs and Albanians living cooperatively. Yet a Ukrainian KFOR (NATO military) contingency in the middle of the village was a reminder of the delicate peace and safety that exists in the country. Indeed, if five years after the first peace (1999) there was such rioting and killing as there was in 2004, it seems a possibility that with Serbia bullying the country, another five years later it could happen again.

Sandzak & Le Salad Macedoine

2009-11-13T10:07:00.003+01:00

Oh, how time is flying! Am on the road this week working quite intensely, but wanted to post from my current location in Novi Pazar in southwest Serbia, just north of Kosovo. I came via Uzice, a town three hours away in the Zlatibor region. The town itself was nothing impressive, but the Zlatibor area is one of rolling hills, pastures and forests, resting atop a bed of limestone. Picturesque and pleasant to the eye, it reminded me greatly of the Ohio River Valley and southern Indiana. My colleague and I were fortunate to stay in an acquaintance’s weekend house, which was isolated and provided fresh air, not to mention an escape from the swine flu epidemic that was hitting that town hard (two deaths there, unfortunately). We were interviewing our candidates in the local high school, but no one else was there—schools are closed all week throughout the country.

But we came to Novi Pazar in the Sandzak region a few days ago and have been quite busy, but of course I’ve had a look around. Novi Pazar is, along with Novi Sad and northern Serbia’s Vojvodina region (an area mixed with Serbs, Hungarians, Germans, and others), the most multicultural and diverse part of Serbia. It has retained its Ottoman character and is predominantly Muslim. Active Mosques abound, and most of the Muslims are Bosniaks (Slavs who converted to Islam), though there are apparently still Turkish and Albanian minorities, also Muslims. Though it’s hard to say about the former—they’ve mixed in well over the last century (and before) and while I’ve seen plenty of Turkish surnames, the students all say they speak Serbian/Bosnian at home. Regardless, my colleague is actually from here, and his opinion is that this town’s diversity and chaos creates some of the most eccentric people in Serbia. Based on his character and others I’ve met so far, I might have to agree!

I hope to see one of the famous monasteries in the coming days, but that might be tough given my schedule. However, I want to post a blog below that I wrote up last week but just never got put up. It is…

Le Salad Macedoine

Upon departing from the Skopje bus station recently, I sat down in my seat and looked at the departure signs in front of my bus and the one next to us. My bus’ final destination was Belgrade, capital of Serbia, and the one next to me was Pristina, capital of Kosovo. I thought to myself “how ironic…only in Macedonia.” This is because while the “battle of Kosovo” may have originally occurred in 1389, over 600 years later it continues in a different fashion. Indeed, just a decade ago (1999) the Serbian military under Slobodan Milosevic occupied Kosovo and retaliated to an intense US led NATO attack. While Milosevic’s policies were oppressive at best and violently genocidal at worst (though genocide is a delicate word and I’m reluctant to use it), it was the NATO attack—which was the first US attack on a European city/country since WWII—that greatly escalated the conflict; it made it a war. The small country of Macedonia, right next door to both, was affected in another way—250,000 refugees poured into the country from Kosovo. They came because Macedonia was called upon to open its borders and let them in, and because there’s a significant Albanian minority right here in Macedonia.

I won’t continue with the history of that conflict, but to say that Macedonia is unique because of its strong Albanian minority (who became stronger after being emboldened from 1999-2001) and multiculturalism overall, and as my experience in Serbia recently showed me, perhaps more at odds with their previous bedfellows than before. This is because Macedonia is now a bi-national state, with the Albanian minority wielding much greater influence than ten years ago. For example, Macedonia settled a border dispute and recognized Kosovo’s independence two weeks back. It was wise and progressive, in my opinion, but it infuriated Serbia. Their foreign minister, Vuk Jeremic (a Harvard Kennedy School alum to note), threatened to rescind their support for Macedonia, as well as their ambassador in Skopje.

To add to the distance at which Macedonia puts itself from Serbia, the name dispute with Greece not only provokes the Greeks, but some Serbs as well. I testify to this after speaking to some Serbian students last week. To stipulate, Serbs are generally close with Greece. In regards to Macedonia, in the early and late 20th century, they conspired to divide it, and did in some ways-the Kingdom of and then SFR Yugoslavia occupied/possessed Vardar Macedonia from the 1930s to the 1990s, and Greece took Aegean Macedonia and made it what is most of northern Greece today. Anyhow, more recently, post-SFRY, even Slobodan Milosevic’s son was known to have suggested dividing Macedonia again, having apparently been annoyed with having an extra border between his own country and Greece.

But what I discussed with some Serbian students was their opinion that Macedonia is fabricating its history and should come to terms with the reality that they are a rather mixed lot, and certainly not the descendants of Alexander the Great. To some extent they have a fair point—it really is an absurd and irredentist notion that modern Macedonians, after millennia of invading tribes and groups, primarily the Slavs, are anything like the ancient peoples of pre-Christian Macedon. Yet identity is fluid and no one should be able to tell another who they are. This may seem logical and/or irrelevant, but here in Macedonia it’s at the fore of the country’s slow accession into NATO and the EU. That is (and which I’ve discussed before), Greece blocked Macedonia joining NATO in April 2008 because they dispute the country’s name, calling it FYROM and demanding it change. International mediators have tried unsuccessfully to persuade the two countries to find a resolution, but neither side has compromised. Hilary Clinton may get involved, sources say. Regardless, Macedonia is the underdog and has less leverage. But that’s not to say they don’t have an incentive—the EU just gave the country a green light to begin EU accession talks, but with the implicit stipulation that they shore things up with the Greeks. As one guy on the news half joked, they thus need to decide whether they’ll give their “arm or their head” for their future.

The ruling government has thus thought to put it to a referendum, yet some ethnic Albanian politicians have not only threatened to boycott that, but go it alone in joining the EU and NATO. Although this isn’t possible—only nations, not groups of people within them—can join such organizations, it’s caused quite a stir. Regardless, I think the entire situation, not to mention the upcoming visa liberalization which will allow Macedonian citizens to travel freely in the EU Schengen countries, has made some in the country realize that perhaps they need to swallow their pride and say to heck with it! Joining the EU is huge for little Macedonia, as it gives them even greater autonomy and once they’re in they have myriad opportunities within other EU countries for education, travel, and business. Indeed, a market of 450 million is far larger than their current trade partners (mostly neighboring countries) tally up to.

Anyhow, the Balkans are nowhere near short of action these days, and I’m majorly on the road in coming weeks. Currently en route to Uzice and Novi Pazar, Serbia, then off to Kosovo, Macedonia, and wrapping up the testing and interviewing season in Bulgaria just before Christmas. More on down the road!

In the land of the double headed eagle, and Mercedes Benz

2009-10-02T22:50:00.002+02:00

Have spent this week conducting testing in Albania, the country just west of Macedonia. While close geographically and in some ways culturally, Albania is a slightly more "western" country than Macedonia, I'd actually wager to say. High mountains separate the countries, but once one is over those the land is quite different. Albania is largely flat from what I've seen, a country at a lower altitude and thus with a warmer, more Mediterranean climate. It's coast is the Adriatic, but with the country extending quite far south--just across from Greece's Corfu--it is rather ClubMed!

But it's more than the seaside, it's also the fact that Albanians have used the sea and their close proximity to Italy for most of the last century (and before) to migrate there for work or a new life. There is in fact an Albanian speaking minority in Italy, the Arbereshe. They are the result of centuries of immigration to southern Italy, but since the 1930s when Mussolini occupied Albania to the present, the country has looked to Italy for its western influence. And it shows.

I've learned this week that far more people than I imagined speak Italian here, and several of the students who I tested have been to Italy (saw their visas in their passports). Italian food and style are everywhere. The capital, Tirana, particularly espouses this. Its grand palm tree lined boulevards and Italian architecture make one wonder whether they're still in the Balkans. There are excellent cafes, restaurants, bakeries; and people just seem more stylish.

The phenomenal thing about Albania is that 25 years ago it was an isolated, communist country of half-starved people who were forced to abandon religion for the sake of worshiping their insane despotic leader, Enver Hoxha. Hoxha was particularly interesting because of his apparent paranoia. He didn't want to be a part of Yugoslavia (no surprise), but had close ties with Soviet Russia for some time. He then broke off those relations and established strong relations with China. Chinese women were brought here, and students could study Chinese (just as they did Russian for quite a while--nearly every post-WWII generation individual I've met this week has said they spoke Russian, having studied it in school.) Anyhow, all well that he had such relations, but he wasn't very good at maintaining them, and from what a colleague here told me, he had a propensity for killing off his ministers and political acquaintances periodically and imprisoning anyone else deemed a threat or spy (including some of those Chinese he'd brought over when times were good). He didn't want anyone getting too close to him, or threatening his power. Further, he feared invasion so built thousands of these little concrete bunkers throughout the country. When one crosses the border from Macedonia, for example, they line the road in the mountains above.

What's really interesting today is that even though Hoxha died (a rich man) in 1985, his wife is still alive and lives here in Tirana. Further, their stolen wealth has made them one of the richest families in Albania, owning businesses and land. Apparently they even put the current prime minister into power, Sali Berisha. (He's been here before though--was the first "democratically elected" president after the fall of communism, then got back into power in 2005 as PM. Sounds very Putin like, in fact...)

So what's really fascinating about this country? It's gone from an isolated authoritarian regime where most everything was produced here (and that was little--many people were nearly starving, waiting hours daily for bread, milk, rice) to this quite well to do land of fancy looking people, clothes, and cars. Speaking of the cars, it is, as one person I met this week said--"where Mercedes come to die". These are mostly stolen from W. Europe (one will be hard pressed to find many dealerships around), but I'd seriously say that 50% of the cars on the road are Mercedes. And there are A LOT of cars on the road (traffic's a nightmare!)

I think what's really interesting is how and why this explosion of development has occurred. It seems that (and what was explained to me) the isolation of communism and Hoxha resulted in this hyper development due to people seeking out all the things they'd been deprived of for decades. They thus went from abject poverty to a rather decent standard of living, but in so doing abandoned for some time many things that were Albanian. Seeing several western, non-Albanian names this week with our students (Jack, Jessica, Robert, Maria Kay, etc), my colleague told me how people just wanted to have something new. She said she felt bad for the generation born after 1991, because their identity was and is in severe flux. How they live compared to their parents and grandparents...it can't even be compared. With a market flooded with goods from around the world, people traveling as well (albeit with still quite a visa regime), and major summer tourism these days, the country is another world compared to the Balkan hinterland is was just a decade or two ago.

For better or for worse, I depart tomorrow. Back east to Skopje for testing there in a week's time. This trip though has made me excited for my visits to Bulgaria and Bosnia. I don't have much time to be a tourist, but by just being in a country, hearing and using the language, and having conversations with some locals, you can pick up a good feel for how things are.

Southern Serbia, Ajvar, Grozdober & the Grape Harvest

2009-09-25T15:34:00.006+02:00

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.

Back in the Yugosphere

2009-09-04T15:57:00.002+02:00

I recently read an Economist article about the thriving “Yugosphere” of trade—commerce minus the ethno-nationalism. Money does make the world go round, but whether post-Yugoslav business has gotten so good as to put aside the 1990s and before, I’m reluctant to believe. Regardless, I like the term and notions of spheres. For unlike the square cut states of the US (admittedly not all) and our predisposition to like things boxy, the notion of overlapping circles of people, society, influence, are much more applicable to the real world. Well, here in the Balkans at least.

Back in Macedonia this last week after nearly a month away, I’ve again felt refreshingly foreign. Having been elsewhere in Europe and home in the US, I’ve been contrasting things again in a “bi-cultural” manner. Primarily, (and stealing another term, though one from an anthro course long ago), it’s the “social life of things” (Appadurai, for anyone who knows him) here that really puts life in contrast to that in the US.

Now don’t get me wrong—people are friendly in the Midwest where I’m from, but the extent to which we socialize and perceive our time as ours is in fact quite different. For example, a large family lunch my wife and I went to when we were visiting Indiana a few weeks ago included a couple of aunts and uncles and some of their kids (all adults though). However, unlike in Macedonia where a family lunch of that nature—a reunion, or just at the weekend—will last hours, if not all afternoon into the evening, my cousins all departed with an hour of arriving, having other things to do (two admittedly have children who they needed to attend to apparently). Yet lunch only then lasted another hour, and things wrapped up—the eating, and moreso, the several concurrent conversations occurring at once. And this is another difference between here and home—in the US we all want to be engaged in conversation, whereas here, unless it’s a very large group, people often sit around listening to one person speak at a time, or a conversation that’s passed off as it changes. “Macedonia, Timeless…”

Thus the social life of things in a general sense is quite different. Even last weekend we spent with my wife’s family at their weekend house, and when her parents departed the evening before us, some neighbors came over and insisted that for us “not to be alone” we should come over to their place. We had to say no a few times for them to back off, as it’s really not a part of Macedonian culture to be on ones own, even a young couple. And independently? Most Peace Corps volunteers here know the feeling of going through culture shock while living with a host family during training and wanting to just be alone, to read or write or think or sleep(!) But it just doesn’t work like that—when you’re awake you should be with other people. It’s not written as such, but that’s largely how it is. It honestly makes me wonder when people have time to reflect. I think the notion of reflection is thus somewhat of a cultural phenomenon. I couldn’t say how many cultures value it, but it seems to be a characteristic of an individualistic society, and thus in the US we tend to consider it a value that we learn and grow from. Americans don’t want unsolicited advice, we want to figure things out for ourselves.

In Macedonia? Society and cultural customs are far more complex. Children are given much more freedom in some regards, but they’re quickly indoctrinated into the family and very much raised by it. These are somewhat of generalizations, but overall, while in the US we consider ourselves to raise our children, they are actually very much raised through their education, extracurricular activities, and things they’re exposed to through extreme exposure to various media. Whereas I’ve always thought “I must return to the US to raise my kids (for the educational system),” I’ve met Macedonians who’d lived abroad and returned here for the opposite reason once their children reached school-age—they want their children around their family and culture (to heck with the school system!) This is without a doubt a reflection of the economic system in which the two countries I write about live under—one is wealthy and one much less so, but it’s also cross-cultural. What is available for consumption in Macedonia pales in comparison to the US, and the notion that good education will always lead to success is not highly considered here, particularly post-socialist and perhaps more among the Albanian minority (who were largely excluded from the benefits of the socialist machine). Less educated (institutionally), their financial success today is evidence of this. But to make my point: it's not all materialism here (or hasn't been in recent decades), and thus I'd wager to say that the family unit and the culture from it is deemed more valuable than in the US, where we cherish the notion of the nuclear family, but have much less of it overall and expect the system and society to be a large part of our lives. Within them is where we live, work, spend, buy...

Yet speaking of the “things” aspect of Appadurai’s statement, it was his economic anthropological work assessing cultural values of commodities that led him to write his book titled as such. His research explored how in one South Pacific island culture TVs were seen as prestigious items, even when there was no electricity to power them. Plastic bags were less prestigious but nonetheless seen as foreign and used in various ways for practical and material purposes.

To this end, while Macedonia is an industrialized country, their poor economy would make one think that consumption and goods might play less of a role in their lifestyle. They admittedly buy fewer new items (does anyone buy more than Americans?), but something that’s long fascinated me here is the prestige associated with commodities, particularly technology. Anyone who knows Mediterranean culture knows that image is an important aspect of peoples’ lives, but Macedonians have several customs associated with products and purchases that seem unusual to Americans at first.

In particular is style over practicality, such as in dressing certain ways and showing off by purchasing expensive items (from new phones to cars) when one truly doesn’t have the money to do so. Their commodities may be being used, but for their intended purpose? What does a barely employed guy need with a Blackberry or iPhone? This happens stateside, but perhaps because of our development of such technology and the technology gap, I would say Americans understand the functionality of the technology and use it as such—sms, email, internet, etc.—and much more frequently.

Technology aside (though I’m always fascinated with our use of it, despite my personal technological ineptitude!), also on my mind recently has been work ethic and moreso behavior within the workplace. As we see when growing up, many Americans work long hours, often being absent from home for at least nine if not ten, eleven, twelve hours a day, merely for their job. In addition to the lengthy workdays, we have a pressure filled work environment where “if there’s time to lean, there’s time to clean [house].” The movie Office Space summed it up well—the busy-ness, bureacracy, and rather beguiling way we’re convinced to work long days (money, but also "team" effort, corporate spirit, "flare"...). Not to mention, it’s a job and without it one's life can be purposeless.

But here, things are very different. A job is valued as something to have which provides income, but once it’s gotten people tend to take it easy. Not to say there are no hard working individuals here, but there’s much more an attitude of “we’ll get the work done when it’s time…in the meantime, let’s drink coffee and shoot the breeze.” And team spirit? Not much. A work environment, in my experience, is more pleasure filled and laidback, but perhaps lacking in advancement—the work may get done, but if everything’s at the last minute there’s not much time to make corrections or revisions. (Perhaps that’s just the writing instructor in me, but this happened today at work…) A lack of incentives to work hard (eg, moving up the "ladder") though is certainly a factor...

Well, must wrap up this note, but wanted to try to post given the swift disappearance of the month of August. A fantastic wedding in Italy, then a visit home, and return via Kyiv kept me quite busy. My job though, with American Councils, will put me on the road a good deal in the coming months, as I travel to Serbia, Albania, Bulgaria, and Bosnia, in addition to throughout Macedonia, repeatedly, so hopefully I’ll have more fodder to share. Thanks for reading and happy Labor Day (and on September 8, Macedonian Independence Day!)

The Galichnik Wedding & Kriva River Valley

2009-07-17T17:27:00.014+02:00

It being a summer of weddings, my own and others, in a travel-blog style I want to elaborate on some of the more interesting things I’ve seen this past week. Trying to avoid sitting around Skopje these hot summer days, particularly given that the city’s relatively dead with high travel season in effect, I’m making sure to skip town come Fridays and even during the week some. Today we’re off for a long weekend with family and friends on the Tikvesh Lake and in the Baba Mountains at Pelister National Park.

Last weekend though we went to a traditional event that I’ve long heard about but always missed. It’s the re-creation of a traditional Macedonian wedding, specifically from the Western Macedonian “Mijachki” region. As each region has its own traditions regarding clothing styles, food and dance, in tribal fashion the “Mijachki” people, known as Mijaks, attempt to maintain their identity through preserving and presenting their customs and culture. Thus in the high altitude village of Galichnik up in the Bistra Mountains, the people there have preserved their wedding tradition in a celebration performed every year on St. Peter’s day.

A growing but still relatively small and undeveloped tourist event, the Galichnik Wedding (“Galichka Svadba”) is a legitimate orchestration of how a traditional wedding might have been up to the mid-20th century. It is legitimate because the bride and groom are real, having been selected via lottery for the honor (though the process of selection, requires that one of the wedding party have Galichnik ancestry), and they wear traditional costumes and partake in some ceremonial traditions long gone.

Beginning on Saturday evening, there are a series of events done at the bride’s and groom’s homes, as well as in the center of the village. They include decorating a flag, firing a rifle, welcoming the musicians, a variety of dances, and the taking of the bride from her house by the groomsmen. Of particular note, the wedding tradition includes:

Riding horses, a practice otherwise quite rare in Macedonia due to, as I understand, Ottoman restrictions on Christians riding any dromedaries (horses, donkeys, etc) for several centuries;

The very traditional and complex “bride’s” (‘nevestinskoto’) and “difficult” (‘teshkoto’) dances, done by female and male groups, respectively. They are a combination of balance, synchronization, and very slow and fast footwork.

The groomsmen and his party then go marching with torches to the bride’s house to take her to the village center for a ceremonial cleansing at the fountain and a dance.

The evening then ends with dancing by all participants in the wedding (several dozen at this event), as they prepare for the last night before the official ceremony.

Sunday’s events began early (9:30am) and lasted several hours. The events, much less visible than Saturday’s events (which were mostly in the village center), included going to the cemetery in order to invite dead relatives to the wedding; inviting the godfather by the groom and his party; shaving the groom in the center; going after the bride by marriage brokers—groomsmen and family; welcoming the bride by the groom’s mother and family; the ceremony in the church; and more dancing in the center by the male and female groups first, then the entire wedding party.
I want elaborate fully as I don’t completely understand, but of particular note, the shaving of the groom is done to separate the groom from his boyhood, and thus from his mother and father.

When the marriage brokers go for the bride, one has run ahead of the others to prepare the family for their arrival, while the others walk behind the groomsmen upon horses.

When the bride is welcomed in the center, she is helped off the horse she was escorted on, but then briefly placed in a horse’s bridle, a symbol that she’s been taken and will be obedient to her husband. She then receives a sieve, cake and goblet of wine from the groom’s mother and is turned around three times.

The church ceremony is not visible to the audience, but the young couple is reportedly splashed with basil water for cleansing. Upon returning to the center, the bride then fills her water jugs and leads a dance.

Altogether, the ceremony lasts several hours and, while changed by the nature of it being a planned tourist event, is a remarkable look at old Macedonian traditions.

Another fantastic experience from this past week was venturing out with a friend and archaeology Fulbright scholar for a little wandering through the Kriva River valley. Within a 20 mile radius there are several spectacular sites that date back millennia. Only one has become a popular tourist site, whereas the others are still under excavation and/or isolated enough that they have not gotten the attention they deserve.

The first place we visited was the more well know ancient observatory and settlement known as Kokino (for the village nearby). Up at over a thousand meters (3,000+ feet) it is a natural rock formation that was used for centuries by Neolithic peoples. They lived near it and used it ceremonially, carving niches in the rock that made it a very accurate observatory.

Another site we went to was the continuously excavated 4-5th century defense settlement near the village of Konjuh. Dating from the reign of Justinian (co-incidentally born not far away near Skopje), it has been under excavation by local and US archaeologists since the late 1990s. Like many of the rock formations in the area (more to come), the fortress atop the hill was carved by human hands and labor into the rock, though no doubt structures were built on top of the rock rooms still visible. Ironically, it was likely built to thwart off the invading tribes, mostly Slavs.

The next site we wandered off to is the less known Neolithic site called Cacev Kamen, or “Cacev’s Stone.” It is obscure because of its being coveted by one archaeologist who has rather wild theories about it. But when we went there it was certainly the most fascinating place we had seen.

My friend Seth was able to give me some idea of how it *might* have been used (according to said archaeologist), but it’s rock rooms—with flat floors and walls, basins, steps and ladders carved out of the stone make one truly wonder what these early people were doing on this rocky outcrop. Surrounded by fertile fields and valley, why would they have taken such time to mould this giant stone? There are far more questions than answers, but the valley has an eerie feel to it. (Adding to this are the natural rock “Kuklica,” or ‘dolls’ nearby. Although we didn’t make it to them on Tuesday, they are a sandy stone worn down into human and animal shapes.)

Our last stop for the day was one of the more unusual towns in Macedonia. Where a Peace Corps friend of mine was stationed many years ago, the medieval feeling town of Kratovo was named as such because it is in fact built into a volcanic rock crater. It is surrounded by mines and under Ottoman and Yugoslav reign relatively prospered from these. It also hosts several interesting Ottoman bridges and towers. We dined there in a restaurant built below one of these towers and atop one of the medieval tunnels in town. It’s now a wine cellar, but testament to the town’s besieged past.

A Bear Got Married

2009-06-26T17:04:00.009+02:00

Even though several fortnights have passed since last I wrote, it’s not been for nothing to say rather than for lack of time. I could’ve shared more about my travels and visitors—to Tirana, Prishtina, Belgrade, Halkidiki, and friends from Finland, England, and the US here—but the end of the academic year, and our guests and wedding have swallowed up a couple months of my life! But not to my chagrin; there’s a local proverb said when it’s raining and the sun is out here, which has been the case often this week—“a bear is getting married” (‘mechka se mazi’). More on that momentarily, as a bear indeed got married...

So where to begin? The Balkans live on, and I do too within them. Summer is here and for weeks I got more sun than I needed. A guys getaway of sorts, two friends and I climbed the 3rd highest peak in the country, “Thessaloniki’s Head” (‘Solunska Glava’), and had a blast doing so. We took a train to a small village, a taxi to a smaller one, and then hiked from there to a mountain hut. The next day we did the three hour ascent from the hut, and albeit getting toasted by the sun, had perfect weather and fantastic views along the way.

It’s been a stormy week though this week, which has been cathartic as I try to relax post-wedding and gear up for some summer hobbies and travels. I’ll be local for the next month or so (though with a few adventurous getaways planned), and we’ll then head to Italy for a friend’s wedding and on to the states thereafter. News though is that I’ll return to Europe via Kiev, Ukraine, as I must attend a training there for a position I’ve taken with American Councils. I’ll be their recruiter for the southern Balkan region, so will travel extensively in Albania, Kosovo, Macedonia, Bulgaria, and southern Serbia, from September till December. It’s then off to Canterbury, Kent to commence with my doctoral research after that.

So, despite guests and such adventures having passed or being planned, the big event of the month was my wife’s and my “svadba”—wedding. We were technically already married, but we wanted to have a celebration of it, as most people do, and living locally naturally decided to do it here. Now, I had been to weddings in Macedonia before and had seen the extent to which they're quite different from those in the US. There is no rehearsal dinner, no father walking down the aisle and giving away the bride, no speeches, no buffet dinners, no bad DJ and cheesy dancing, and no time limit. For the most part, it’s quite the contrary, and being fully involved in one made me see all the traditions of my wife’s town, region (Kavadarci, Tikvesh), and the country in general.

Briefly, the wedding events started the evening before the day on which it actually took place. Known as the “bungur,” it was a three or so hour visit by close friends and relatives. The wedding then began for us by late morning the next day, when those same folks returned to the house, along with a group of local musicians, to liven things up as I prepared to take my bride and whisk her away from her family and off to the reception. This began noon-ish, with guests arriving at the reception at 1pm. We were late for it, but got there at quarter after to greet them and welcome others. With appetizers, drinks, non-stop dancing, dinner, and cake, the event then lasted until nearly 8pm.

Yet underneath the festivities lay several long standing and interesting local customs and traditions. To begin, the wedding party is slightly different than in Midwestern America. The main stars of the wedding and sitting at the head table with the bride and groom, include the parents, a best man (“dever”—usually the groom’s brother, other male relative or a close friend), the bride’s best woman (“starosvatica”), siblings, and godparents (“kumovi”). Who chooses these though is gender specific. Whereas the groom chooses the “dever” and “kumovi”, the bride chooses her “starosvatica.” Further, the “starosvatica” is usually accompanied by her husband, who is the “starosvat.” We were this at the wedding of our “starosvatovi” in 2003, thus it was now their turn to reciprocate. Altogether, they play a large role in the wedding preparation and celebration, and receive gifts from the bride and groom for their presence.

The “kumovi,” or godparents, have the most predominant role though. It is an honor to be asked to be godparents, but once that privilege is bestowed upon a couple they are bound to traditions of leadership and what I’d consider power at the wedding. When we asked the couple we did (my Peace Corps training home-stay family), by tradition we brought them sweets and alcohol (in our case, red wine and chocolate covered baklava). However, upon their acceptance they then demanded to pay for several things. One was the wedding cake, as well as the bride’s shoes and material for her dress. Although Irena had already bought both and their cost was beyond that of what our godparents could pay, they went ahead and purchased the latter and gave them as gifts at the Friday evening “bungur.” They then gave us other gifts, and we were bound to respect them and make them feel as godparents should.

Further, the godparents’ role is traditionally one that becomes kin-like, if it was not already. I have always been considered one of theirs, having lived and been reared (in Macedonia) in their village house for several months back in 2002-03. But we should now consider them all the closer, and they should have a right to name our first child. Although our relationship won’t proceed in this fashion due to my opposition, they generally will suggest three names for the parents to choose from. I know many people who were named in this fashion…

But back to the wedding—the “bungur,” or pre-wedding party, was a grand occasion, with one particular custom a large part of it. This was the making, breaking, and distribution of “pogacha,” a traditional bread. We gave this honor to my 17 year-old sister, who was visiting for the wedding, and it went something like this: a small, foot tall table was setup in the living room of the house, upon which my sister was to make the dough for the bread. Surrounded by women and children (though my dad and I couldn’t miss it), she was to mix and knead the flour, oil, water, eggs, and sugar with her hands. All the while, the women sang traditional songs and dabbed my sister’s face with flour, jokingly but customarily to keep her from sweating. A little boy, our nephew, then placed a coin in the dough. The bread was thus placed in a pan and baked, and my sister led a dance in the yard. However, upon being baked came the occasion that associates this tradition with the bride and groom. A towel was placed over our nephew’s head, and the foot in diameter, steaming hot round bread was then broken over his head; one side for the groom’s family, one side for the bride’s. Whoever got the coin (my side) is to have good fortune. Further, however, this tradition—breaking the bread over a young boy’s head—is done to ensure that our first child is a boy. The bread was then broken up and distributed to guests before their departure.

The next day, relatives came early to the house to help prepare for the other guests and groom’s party who were to arrive. Although me and mine slept in the house, we distanced ourselves from the bride, her mother, aunts, and friends, and awaited the arrival of the wedding band. Meeting them on the street at noon, the event began with a flurry of traditional folk songs on brass and clarinet. Although this lasted longer than it should have due to my bride not being ready, we danced and entered the house to greet the other guests already there, eat some and listen to the music.

I, the groom, though was to begin the process of getting my bride from her chambers. This proceeded as such: upon being made aware that she was ready, party and all with myself in the lead and bride’s shoes in hand, went down the hallway to her room. The door was closed though, with her brother guarding it, so I had to pay him for the right to take his sister. (I paid off our nephew as well, asking him if I could take his aunt!) Upon entering the room, I bowed down upon one knee and placed my bride’s foot in her shoe. Customarily, and with the women saying “oh, there’re too big, put some money in,” I then stuffed some cash in the toe of the shoe to win their approval and slip her foot more comfortably in. (*Note, the shoes in fact fit quite well, and I was able to remove that cash and place it back in my pocket before it fell out!)

We then headed to the street for a few dances before we were to ride with the “starosvatici” to the reception. We did so in a decorated car parade, with horns blaring as we made our way the couple of miles through town.

This was the major aspect of the wedding that embodied customs different than our own, as upon arrival at the reception and greeting the guests, we then danced and danced and danced. Indeed, the dancing begins immediately and goes for hours, until the meal is served, but then continues until the guests have departed. Regarding the dances and songs, they are generally stories and requested by members of the wedding party and other guests, and there is even acting in them, such as when several men come to the aid of a supposedly sick man laying on the ground. While the tempo changes, the dance, called the “oro,” is as round as the word sounds, and people hold hands and slowly make rings of dancing guests who are able to casually rotate around the room, gaze at each other, and enjoy the affair.

Altogether, with 160 or so guests, our wedding was small by Macedonian standards, as my side was largely absent. Weddings here often have 300-400 guests, and some up to 600-700. It is a southern European tradition (as well as in the Near East) to have such large communal weddings, but they are a celebration that are deemed to be worthy of the presence of all friends and family.

A few other interesting customs that follow the wedding are the continuous bringing of cakes to the family (I think we have five in the freezer) and the drinking of warm brandy (“topla rakija”) the next day. As family and guests once again visit the house and bestow their congratulations, it is also a time when traditionally, and some families still in fact practice this, the sheets of the newlyweds should be hung outside the house to show that the marriage has been consummated. Being a modern couple, however, I took a bottle of ketchup, gave a squirt, rubbed it into the sheets, and presented it to the family. While laughing, my lovely mother-in-law shamefully jumped up to grab it, then ran out of the room to throw it in the wash!

The Grass is Always Greener...

2009-05-01T21:30:00.004+02:00

I prepare to go to Belgrade for the weekend as it lightning and thunders outside. It’s been a stormy week in more ways than with the weather, as I've had a nasty Spring cold and swine flu's causing a scare. Maybe it’s just been one of those weeks, but I’ve been doing a bit of thinking about home. I can get easily frustrated in Skopje because of the selfish nature of people in this city (such as in many others of course, which is why I'm more of small town boy!) and sometimes allow it to take more of my energy than it should. For example, a lawyer who has his office in our building left a pile of office docs and newspapers outside the front door of our building, when the dumpster’s just 50 feet away. I wrote a note in Macedonian and put it on top of the pile saying “please throw me away!” It was cast aside, I put it back. Cast aside, I’ve put it back. So it goes. It’s such occasions as that though combined with the insane driving, attitude, and pollution of this city that make me long for home. The Hoosier state—a clean place full of hospitable Midwesterners who drive (sometimes unbelievably) slow…Then again, the grass is always greener on the other side.

For I’ve also been reading Richard Rodriguez’s “Brown” recently. It’s a complex free train of thought text on his life as a Latino American and the browning of America through Latinos, blacks, Indians, and moreover, the juxtaposed “white” culture of mainstream America. It’s poignant, provocative, and sometimes offensive, but he makes you think. The thesis is not so much that America has different races but that we have different cultures, and we must behave differently within them. This though is a culture itself, and he writes of our culture: “…we live in a nation whose every other impulse is theatrical, but whose every other impulse is to insist upon “authenticity.”

I would agree. To break it down, Rodriquez is writing about the dual lives that most Americans live. That is, we are expected to be a certain way in school and on the job, but certainly not casual. I was reprimanded last summer when I napped on my break in the company’s lounge, as if napping was out of character, wasn’t allowed. I remember laughing about it, but it’s part of our nation’s conservativeness and Puritanical roots, no doubt, that makes how we act and enjoy life very different from Macedonia.

For the pleasures of life here are many, and people perhaps over indulge in those. Not to put it in religious terms, but it’s easy to be a glutton here—good food and an idle lifestyle is what you see everywhere. People, such as my students of all ages, always claim to be too busy with this or that to do what I ask of them. Yet with adults at least, it is pretty much assured that if you call someone and ask to go for a coffee or drink you’ll be able to make that happen. (On a sidenote and somewhat ironically, however, actually scheduling a time and place ahead of time is nearly impossible. On several occasions I’ve said “ok, meet me here in an hour” and my friend will respond “just call me when you get to the plaza and we’ll figure it out.” And when I thought I’d scheduled a coffee once, after waiting a half hour I called my friend to ask where he was and discovered that he was waiting for me to call him, “just to make sure I was coming.” If I was known for not showing up this would be one thing, but that’s not my character. I show up on time when I schedule things!)

Anyhow, back to my thoughts on life here. It’s as one diplomat I was speaking to recently said to me “it’s as if people here are stuck in the ‘60s, aren’t thinking at all about tomorrow, and are milking what they’ve got for everything it’s worth.” Maybe a bit harsh, but in contrast to the industrious, Midwestern urban America that I grew up in, life and people’s perceptions of what they can do to improve their own and others around them stands in stark contrast to the US. It’s not just that there’s a sense of helplessness and apathy here sometimes, but it’s that people don’t seem to care for anything other than themselves and their families. This is a trait of S. European cultures, to have very strong kinship networks, but the lack of concern for others and for public space and health can be really shocking. It’s just unheard of to see people organize a group for a good cause.

I try to piece together why this might be, and I must admit that there’s some blame to be given to the Turks and then Yugoslav rule. While the latter is far more revered and fondly remembered (not that hardly anyone today could remember the Ottoman empire), both were regimes that imposed rather than fostered rule of law and citizenship. Certainly the economic situation here and a provincial attitude contribute as well, but no matter how long I live here I’ll nonetheless never quite get used to it. Hopefully a weekend away will help cast such thoughts aside.

Happy May Day!

TGI(G)F

2009-04-17T13:14:00.003+02:00

I’ve been way to busy lately to blog, but “Thank God it’s (Good) Friday.” At least for Orthodox Christians. Indeed, today marks the beginning of the Easter weekend here in Macedonia and throughout the Orthodox Christian world. Personally, it’s a much needed break from my teaching, particularly as Monday’s my busiest day and I usually spend half the weekend preparing for it.

Naturally, I’ve been doing plenty of Easter activities this week with my younger language students, something one can do in an all-Macedonian school, where being Christian is just part of the culture and thus assumed. I’ve been sharing what I perceive to be American and my family’s traditions, such as what we eat, Easter egg hunts (which they don’t have here), and dyeing eggs. However, I’ve also spoken to some adult students and friends to gain a better understanding of the rules and rites of this time of the year, and have been interested to hear a few things in particular.

For one, dyeing eggs should only be done on the Thursday or Saturday before Easter, and must be done before sunrise. Thus many of my students yesterday told me how their mothers arose at 4am to dye eggs. Further, the color of the eggs may run the gamut, but it will primarily be a dark red, representing the blood of Christ. The eggs are decorative until Sunday, when everyone takes one in hand and breaks it over another person’s egg. Of the two eggs clashing, the one with that which doesn’t break is brought good luck and fortune. (Several egg salads and sandwiches follow, of course!) Further, young children should have a red egg in the bath with them on Easter, as it’s believed to bring health and prosperity.

I’ve asked several students what a traditional Easter lunch is, and this is something that’s not dictated by any rite necessarily. Some said they would eat pork or chicken or lamb, the latter being the traditional Easter meal in previous times. However, only a small minority of students said they would eat lamb, though one was rather looking forward to slaughtering a lamb in her family’s village!

One unique thing about the period before Easter (“Post”—our Lent) is that those who practice here will fast (“posti”). Well, I haven’t quite determined if fasting is exactly what it is, as they restrict their diet by not eating oil, meat, and eggs, for example, but they do still eat. And they may do this for 40, 14, or 7 days. It seems that the idea of Lent is thus a bit different, as instead of giving up something for 40 days they have options of for how long and what it is they give up (though it is usually one if not more of the aforementioned; and in the sandwich shops & bakeries recently there has been the option of bean sandwiches...)

What occurs in churches here is another ballgame as well. Whereas Orthodox view the role of the church/temple differently (see below) and don’t attend church in the same fashion as most church-goers in the US, this weekend is a time when many will gather in mass for ceremonies. These are today, tomorrow evening before midnight, and Sunday’s Easter mass. However, the notion of a priest addressing his parishioners and giving a spoken Easter mass is less likely to be seen than the priest chanting and swinging an incense holder while the former stand in quiet contemplation (hesychasm). As in the US, on Easter the priest will say “Hristos voskrese”—‘Christ is risen’. However, in Macedonia people will actually greet each other in and outside of church on Easter saying this, to which one should reply: “Navistina voskrese”—‘Indeed he has risen’. One last rite I heard of is that those attending midnight mass tomorrow evening will enter the church and crawl under a decorated table, which is to represent the grave/tomb of Christ (And interestingly, in some towns people will then go in droves to the local cemetery to light candles for their deceased loved ones.)

Anyhow, it’s a fascinatingly more complex array of traditions than most Americans have, and I would now like to share what I wrote to my family last year after attending an Easter mass at a Serbian Orthodox Church in Indianapolis. Having had more time on my hands then, I did some research into the history of the Orthodox and Catholic churches and wrote about the former specifically.

“Historically, the [Orthodox] Church was the earliest form of Christianity. Its saints were apostles and disciples of Christ who spread his message of goodwill towards mankind. The religion slowly spread into Europe, the Near East, and N. Africa in the first millenium AD with the growth/affluence of the Byzantine and Roman Empires. Until 1054 the Church was a unified hierarchy of councils and patriarchates, with major seats in cities such as Rome, Constantinople (modern Istanbul), Antioch, Jerusalem, and Alexandria (Egypt).

In 1054, however, the Great Schism occurred and Christianity branched for the first time. Rome split from these ecumenical councils and declared itself autonomous, having papal supremacy, and thus all powerful. Crusades ordained by the Pope, particularly the 4th (which was the insanely bloody sacking of Constantinople [today’s Istanbul] by French and Italian Catholics pillaging and plundering Orthodox Christians in 1204) cemented the schism.

The Roman Catholic Church was therefore established in the west (and dominates in W. Europe), and the Orthodox Church in the east. Since then, Catholicism has spread to represent half of the world's Christian population (ie, there are approximately one billion Catholics), whereas Orthodoxy is in a distant second place behind it (as there are approximately 150 million Orthodox Christians).

What is fascinating to me is that the Orthodox church is not a church with a strong political voice, such as the Vatican. The head of the Church is not an all powerful figure with “papal infallibility” like the Catholic Pope (this is in fact explicitly rejected by the Orthodox Church), but a spiritual and administrative leader. And thus the traditions of the Church are left very much as I experienced them yesterday, and which I did on several occasions in Macedonia: they are seance like in the monotone chanting, singing, and incense burning of the priest, and the followers are present to share in the hesychasm—the meditative closing off of the outside world in order to allow the introspective, hermit-like self-analysis that includes digesting the original message of Christianity: that being selfless is always better than being selfish.

Thus the brief voiced message of the priest at the end of the introspective, hour long ceremony yesterday was that we as a human race are in a critical time, with war and hatred being perpetuated, people starving and dying of disease, and globalization destroying our planet. There was little talk of "God" or of morals, an afterlife or missionizing, and the anti-globalization message is very much in line with modern liberal thinkers such as Howard Zinn (he has actually has a new book out on this).

Therefore, the joy of Orthodoxy is the joy of celebrating humanity and equality; appreciating all life & nature, friends and family. To them Christ is a symbol of that positiveness that humans *can* embody and act on. This is what I wanted to share, and what I hope you will better understand in differentiating (as they do in the rest of the Judeo-Christian world) the difference between Protestant Christians/Lutherans, Catholics, and Orthodox Christians.”

СРЕКЕН ВЕЛИГДЕН!—Sreken Veligden!—Happy Easter!

The other Macedonians?

2009-03-27T14:07:00.000+01:00

Macedonia has a “timeless” history—the region is mentioned in the bible, was the birthplace of Alexander the Great, and has been invaded and occupied for centuries over. No surprise then that it’s rather difficult to pinpoint one’s ancestors here. Look around and there are people with blue, green, brown, dark eyes; blonde, red, brown, black hair; white, yellow, brown skin. While most Macedonians are S. European in their appearance, my point is not to categorize them but, on the contrary, to set them free from any purported ethnic constraints! This isn’t really up to me though, but where I want to go with this is down the path of united historical appreciation.

Ok, to break that down, I’m talking about looking at the region and, if there’s appreciation for particular historical figures, to put them in the category of SE European, or Balkan, rather than ascribing them to an ethnic group. Let me first describe what incites me to do this. Mention “hero” in this country and generally you’ll hear the names of the revolutionaries who overthrew the Ottomans as the true heroes of Macedonian history. Everyone knows their names—Goce Delchev, Pitu Guli, Jane Sandanski, Dame Gruev, Nikola Karev—and the amazing things they did in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. But who brought these heroes to the forefront of “hero-dom”? No doubt they deserve credit for their brave actions, but it was the Socialist Yugoslav government who, in forging a Macedonian identity after WWII, helped make these individuals as famous as they are. The national anthem (“Denes nad Makedonija”—‘Today over Macedonia’ ), written in 1943, somewhat oddly uses their names in the chorus. And the most famous of these revolutionaries, Goce Delchev (for which the town where I worked as a Peace Corps volunteer, Delchevo, was re-named), was brought from his tomb in Sofia to Skopje and reburied in official ceremony here in 1946.

But these guys only lived and did what they did a little over a century ago. Balkan history and prominent figures extend far back before that, and some have even come after. The latter include Mother Theresa, who was born in Skopje and who, admittedly, has just recently gotten more credit for her Macedonian origins. Where there was for many years only a statue of her in the center of Skopje, there has just recently been built a memorial home—a stylish three-level structure with a museum and small church atop. It’s lacking in information in general, and then in English, but it’s a good start.

Another hero being recognized is the late Toshe Proeski, a pop-star cum symbol of Balkan unity who was killed in October 2007 in a car crash. He was cherished not just for his music, but for the humanitarian causes he supported and the way he brought people from the region together through his music and character. A statue is to be erected in his honor, but the location is still to be decided—in his hometown (Krushevo) or here in Skopje on the main square? I’ll head to his hometown this weekend, so should get a better idea of the sentiment there, but it’s great to see a non-militant, apolitical hero in this country. For this is another fascination of mine with all countries—how heroes are determined, propped up, and thus engrained in social memory. Making Toshe a hero is a good start down the path of establishing a true hero in post-socialist Macedonia, for, according to my students who I asked this week (this topics been on the mind), there have not been any others.

But jump back a couple millennia and there are two contenders for Macedonian herodom—Alexander the Great and the less known Emperor Justinian. The former is already a well know figure the world over and particularly here, and the current government has gone on a crusade to make today’s Macedonians the pure descendants of Alexander. They’ve done so to annoy the Greeks, who claim Alexander as theirs (and more rightly so, though he wasn’t actually Greek either, but a pre-Slavic Macedonian of Illyrian decent). The main airport and highway here have been renamed in his honor, and talk of erecting a statue of him is indeed being seriously considered.

Emperor Justinian, however, is never mentioned in the public light. There are no claims to him, despite his birthplace being just outside of Skopje in a village once called Tauresia (under the Roman Empire). Where exactly this is today is a bit uncertain, but given his legacy as a Byzantine ruler who established the Justinian Code—the rule of law that the Western legal system is founded on—and his accomplishments as emperor, he deserves more fame. During his reign Istanbul (then Constantinople) was the seat of Eastern Orthodox Christianity, and he oversaw the construction of the largest Christian church of the time—the Hagia Sophia—an amazing structure that stands to this day, despite its modification into a mosque under Turkish Ottoman rule.

My thinking on these and no doubt many other individuals from the region is that they deserve more attention. But Macedonia is somewhat unique post-socialism—there hasn’t been much of an attempt to revise the particular history that Tito and members of the communist party imposed on the country. Communist monuments still stand throughout the city and country, I’ve never heard anyone talk of taking them down nor of doubting their legitimacy, and on a political note, there’s been little talk of lustration here. It’s as if everything fell apart but no one really thought to ask why, to pick up the pieces, and reconstruct their country, society, history, identity. This may no doubt counter some of the hard work and changes that have come about in the last 18 years of Macedonia’s independence, but there’s a strange satisfaction with the status quo here. If things don’t change with the country’s visa regime and people don’t get out to see what’s happening elsewhere in Europe and the world, this country may just become more of a time capsule than it already is.

политика

2009-03-20T10:03:00.001+01:00

Timeliness and efficiency aren’t the strongest characteristics of Macedonian society, so it’s an interesting phenomenon to see the political campaign in full swing, for it’s some of the best marketing in action and all ticking down to election day—March 22nd. Indeed, with the campaign ending this evening at midnight and elections only 48 hours away, I’ve admittedly become interested in what seems to be a complex battle for not just the presidency but mayoral positions across the country.

Things really got rolling last weekend, when candidates hit the road or headed to the local square to pitch their platforms. On Sunday evening here in Skopje the ruling party did just that on the central square, followed by a huge fireworks display that we watched from our balcony a mile away. I even saw a van driving around the neighborhood covered with posters and loudspeakers blaring about the candidate. But it was being in my wife’s hometown, Kavadarci, for the weekend and knowing a candidate running for mayor that I took the opportunity to go and listen to what he had to say. He has good goals for the town and region (a large municipality bordering Greece with major potential for wine tourism), and I actually believe he is a good guy (and certainly better than the incumbent, who’s being indicted for corruption and should end up in court).

But it was the hullabaloo of the whole ordeal that tickled me, as it wasn’t much different than in the US. Swap patriotic American songs for Macedonian ones and put local players on the stage to precede the candidate and build up the momentum, and things were really “democratic” seeming. And no irony intended there, for the elections on Sunday will be monitored by several hundred domestic and international observers and are likely to be free and fair overall. (I tried to get in on the action, but having no affiliation with any international organization these days, I’m not privy to monitoring!)

The really interesting thing about the Macedonian political system though is that it’s actually incredibly fluid, always changing, and thus much more dynamic than that in the US. I got my first taste of this in 2006, when I interned at the US embassy here and monitored that year’s parliamentary elections. I saw then that it wasn’t just the outcome of the election that mattered—the person who got the most votes—but how strong a party’s win and thus parliamentary representation was. While a new prime minister came to power that year (and his party, VMRO-DPMNE, is expected to do well this weekend), it was after the elections (for several months, in fact) that political party coalition-building was occurring. This is not unique to Macedonia by any means, but what is was the ethnic factor of the coalition. With Macedonia having a bi-national character to its government (after the power sharing peace accord from the 2001 ethnic conflict), it was the four main parties—two Macedonian and two ethnic Albanian—dueling it out in a most unusual political fashion. For VMRO-DPMNE ended up forming a coalition with the Albanian party who did not win the majority of ethnic Albanian votes (DUI), and this infuriated the party that did, so much that there were threats of a call to arms. Who would be fighting who, I’m not exactly sure, but the situation kept observers on their toes and helped illustrate the contentious nature that the country must work with.

While last year’s parliamentary elections were actually marred by minor violence, which raised red flags on the international (particularly US, EU, and NATO) scene, this year’s have been peaceful thus far and likely will not be so divisive. This is not because ethnic issues have changed but because, as I’ve stated, these are not parliamentary elections. Instead of voting for a candidate/party who’ll vie for power and represent them in Skopje, and being intimidated at the polls to do so, people are voting for local representation—people they very well might know.

But regarding the fluidity and constant flux of the political scene here, a number of new parties continue to spawn off of others, and this has actually led to the support by all ethnicities of Albanian politician, Imer Selmani. Selmani broke off from a major Albanian party (PDSH) last year and created the New Democracy party. Although he’s Albanian, it’s his non-ethnic character and mixed ancestry (his grandmother was Macedonian), as well as his platform and oration skills that have some dubbing him the Barack Obama of Macedonia. (There had even been another popular individual, a Macedonian Turk [Srgjan Kerim], who had wanted to run and had public support, but didn’t play his cards right with the parties so had no takers.)

But back to Selmani—I was watching on the A1 TV station a couple nights ago an interesting bit about him and his popularity in my old Peace Corps training town, Negotino. A purely ethnic Macedonian town (not far from Kavadarci) in the south-central part of the country, the news station had gotten word that one parishioner who liked Selmani had asked the local priest if it was a sin to vote for a Muslim. The priest said no, yet word of this got out and sparked a dialogue between A1 reporters and “Negotinci” on the street. The reporters asked people their opinion on this matter, and whether they liked Selmani’s to-the-point, non-ethnic related goals. The outcome? Many people laughed at the former and said they were interested in Selmani as a candidate and may even vote for him; a local fan club has even been formed. This is strong support for a candidate of another ethnic & religious group in a country where violent ethnic conflict was only eight years ago and ethno-nationalism arrests people to this day.

The unfortunate thing is that Selmani is from and was mayor of the municipality in which I teach in on the far west end of Skopje (Saraj), and Macedonian citizens of Skopje continually lament that the aesthetically pleasing area (it’s a recreation area, with a restaurant and monastery on a lake and canyon) has become an Albanian stronghold. When I tell Macedonians I teach in Saraj they ask me skeptically and critically about Albanians there, and comment about their being criminals. Just yesterday while getting my haircut such a conversation occurred, turning the mood a little sour—the barber had offered me coffee and brandy previously—when I commented that it wasn’t an issue for me and shouldn’t be for anyone; it’s an old village and still a great place to visit for fresh air. Not to mention, most of the students at the university there are Macedonian.

Anyhow, one other presidential candidate worth commenting on is the formerly alleged Macedonian war criminal, Ljube Boškoski, who led a rather brutal attack on the citizens of an ethnic Albanian village in 2001. The village of Ljuboten was shelled and innocent civilians killed in the pointless attack, but being an act of war Boškoski was acquitted of the crime and returned to Skopje last year from the ICTY in the Hague. What he’s decided to do, though with no chance of winning, is run for president. There’s little else that needs stating on this matter, for he doesn’t deserve and won’t receive the support of the population to hold such an office, but it’s an all too common thing that war criminal-types take up politics. Makes me wonder about many politicians seeking office to solely gain more power and feed their egos.

Regardless of the outcome, the elections will be another chapter in Macedonia’s democratic development. Fortunately, the country may have its divisions but it is united overall in its goal to demolish the harsh visa regime imposed on all its citizens, to clear its name issue with Greece, to join NATO and the EU, and to allow the good life and prosperity to flourish. As I think people here do in fact have much more in common than they’re sometimes willing to say, I for one hope these things will come to pass.

A link to the video of Selmani and Negotino (in Macedonian)
http://www.a1.com.mk/video-home.asp?VideoID=588

Baklava

2009-03-06T13:36:00.000+01:00

I think often of my blog, sitting alone out there in cyberspace, but since taking up a teaching position at a university here, have let it be. My adventures and thoughts continue though, as the fodder festers with the springtime warmth. From the lands of the Albanians to Southern Macedonia, to the happenings right here in Skopje, there has been much ado in this little country and region.

Fortunately, March is here. I always give a sigh of relief when this month arrives, for it is an irreversible symbol of the spring and summer to come (and we can forget about what follows until September!). As in the US, spring in Macedonia can be tumultuous and finicky, the warm sun shining one day and a cold rain falling the next. I even recall a cold June day here once where I felt inclined to use our sauna (ah, those were the days of State Department accommodation!)

But as the days grow longer I am only afforded more opportunities to explore, to come out of my cocoon. I see the basil in the window growing in a fury, little seedlings competing for room in the pot, and I think I shall compete soon enough with the creatures in the mountains to cross the rugged terrain. I yearn to float the rivers, to climb the peaks, to descend into the valleys! A “Macedonian Solitaire” of sorts. But that’s not yet; assured warmth is still to come.

In the meantime, this week is the beginning of the presidential election campaign—yes, it is official and only lasts three weeks—and billboards and banners collage the streets and overpasses. They are general elections though, so municipal as well and thus more significant than perhaps the electing of a new president. For, in the country’s 84 municipalities there is a large sense of autonomy and the election of a new mayor means a swift change of administrative positions, not only within the municipal offices but in schools and other government run institutions.

“Free and fair” elections and security in such times are a natural concern, however, and in order to stymie past bad habits such as ballot stuffing and intimidation, several hundred domestic and international election monitors will be present at voting stations on March 22, election day. Indeed, OSCE (The Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe) vehicles have been seen shooting around Skopje in greater numbers recently, their international passengers preparing for the worst. Having monitored the last major elections in July 2006, I can attest that deleterious activities do persist and hinder the country’s image and EU ambitions, but that there’s no chance of any major incidents here.

Thus, the elections aren’t really what I wanted to write about, because there are so many candidates and so few worth considering, and things won’t really change much anyhow. Most want access to power not in order to truly lead, but to gain for themselves and their friends. That said, at the national level there are some laws and changes being implemented that are noteworthy—the prohibition of free plastic bags (and thus a fee for them if you’re unprepared) and a variety of measures meant to symbolize integration with EU standards.

I think the amazing thing a foreign observer might notice here is how law abiding people in a lawless land can be. Understanding the existence of laws comes to the fore in a country where people are generally friendly, but so self sufficient and used to one new boss after another that they tend to disregard much of what’s said to them by the state. Being used to authoritarian rule though, when that state “walks the walk” peoples’ ears perk up. That is, when the state enforces its laws and punishes offenders, people pay attention. The game they make of it though means that instead of a constant expectation that people will follow and uphold laws, they instead only respect them when someone forces them to. Anti-smoking laws? Only when state inspectors come around. Littering, spitting, paying taxes? Slim chance that anyone’s actually going to be caught and fined!

Seriously, social customs carry the heavier burden in life here. There seems little more powerful than family—the father figures, siblings, cousins, and no doubt mothers and grandmothers, friends of the family, and shame. It seems that any problem, uncertainty, doubt in one’s life is brought to their attention in order to seek some sort of consolation, advice, criticism, justification. That is, answers provided may be bereft of actually assisting, they might even be severely critical and make one feel ashamed, but they might also help the one asking to feel better about what they seek to figure out or make amends for.

Anyhow, speaking of forgiveness, one thing I wanted to write about was this past Sunday, as it was the holiday known as “Prochka.” Prochka is actually roughly translated into “Forgiveness Day.” It is a day when you might get a text message from that pesky colleague who always smokes when you’re around even if he knows how much it bothers you, or from a friend who wronged you and seeks forgiveness. There are many reasons to seek forgiveness, and a holiday existing for this reason is a perfect time to ponder and seek such redemption. Of my students who I asked about their observation of Prochka, they all said that they sought forgiveness from their friends and family.

Another aspect of the holiday is the consumption of baklava. How it’s associated I’m not entirely sure, but the production of the syrupy, nut-filled, filo-dough pastry is only done in mass on Prochka. Given that Prochka is a religious holiday on the Orthodox calendar, marking the beginning of the pre-Easter fast, perhaps the indulgence in baklava before this in a Fat Tuesday, “going out with a bang” kind of event. Regardless, for the next seven weeks, until Orthodox Easter (April 20), Orthodox Christian believers must abide by a restricted diet. Therefore, this week seems to have symbolized the commencement of not only a new month, but a religious period, new season, and time of the year. (And for this author, with my 30th birthday on Monday, it began a new year and decade!)

Yet, in “jottin” style, I want to shift gears yet again and ponder the greater picture of what’s happening in the world, which will no doubt affect Macedonia in time. How it will do so remains to be seen, and given Macedonia’s limited wealth and thus minimal connections to the global financial markets, hopefully there won’t be any severe repercussions here; a counter to the notion of “the more you have, the more you have to lose.” But I fear things will trickle down, and that the financial crisis will be a “Greater Depression” for E. Europe and the Balkans. Already, the countries to the north that grew at breakneck pace in the last decade are falling fast. Their average growth slid to 3.2 percent last year, from 5.4 percent in 2007. And it’s forecast to fall more. Currencies have plummeted in value, with Poland’s slumping 48 percent against the euro, Hungary’s 30 percent, and the Czech Republic’s 21 percent (NY Times, February 24, 2009). In two countries, Latvia and Iceland (the latter not in E. Europe), the governments have collapsed!

What this means for euro-zone E. Europe is severe. It’s not only financial, it’s political. When countries cannot pay off debts and afford to import goods because their currencies have little value, they cut spending and reduce public services. And when companies close up shop because of declining sales and lay off workers, things can get violent. There have already been protests on the streets of most large (and some small) European cities in recent months, and with conflicting geo-political interests involved (such as Russia vs. the West, NATO member countries, and military bases in E. Europe), the potential for conflict flares up in peoples’ psyches.

I don’t think things will go the way they did in the 1930s, when the faltering of European Banks contributed to the Great Depression and Hitler rose to power on the backs of defeated (WWI), hungry, and poor Germans. But history does have a tendency to repeat itself, and without paying close attention to the past while observing the present economic and political situation, we could catch ourselves gasping at things gone awry.

St. Valentine & St. Trifun--a suitable couple

2009-02-13T23:42:00.000+01:00

We all know that tomorrow brings hearts, chocolates, red roses & wine, poems, and fancy dinners to light up our late winter sorrows, but here in Macedonia there's another reason to celebrate--St. Trifun.

Another saint who was martyred during Roman times (though there were actually a couple of St. Valentines), St. Trifun's day is a name/feast day for those bearing his name (such as the mayor of Skopje--Trifun Kostovski). But as I've mentioned before, there are hundreds of such saints' days, so that's not what's so interesting about it. The interesting and funny thing is that, in this country of significant wine production, St. Trifun is considered the patron saint of the vineyards, and his day is a celebration and beginning of the new grape-growing season. Perhaps it's just another excuse to drink, and how this association came about I can't seem to figure out (despite inquiring).

Known as a healer in the 3rd century AD, he was from Phrygia in what is today western Turkey. Rumor has it that his healing powers were so great that, as a teenager, he was summoned by the Roman emperor Gordan to heal his ailing daughter. He did so successfully, but not long thereafter he was forced to renounce Christianity under the rule of Emperor Decius. He refused, and was tortured and murdered for it.

How his name day came to be celebrated is not too difficult to gather, given the millenia's old ties of Anatolia with the Balkans (from Alexander the Great to the Ottoman Empire), but what's even more interesting here is the possibility that Trifun's ancestors were from Macedonia and around to begin with. I don't seek to be irredentist by any means here, but only to state that, according to Herodotus, the Phrygians originally lived in the Southern Balkans and migrated to western Turkey as Trojan allies under the protection of Troy. The Phrygian language survived centuries of invasions, lasting till the 6th century when it gave way to Greek.

Regardless of the history, this holiday of St. Trifun is making me wonder whether his name and people haven't been around all along, one ingredient in the melting pot of Macedonia. Given the millenia of wine making here, perhaps during warmer eras (and the region is known to have been previously warmer and more arid, with more of a desert and savvanah climate), February 14 was just the right time to start working the land again.

These days, despite the more Mediterranean climate in the south of the country, it might be a bit early to expect life from the soil when snow is still falling (as it was today), but the ritual and celebrations exist. What are they? Tomorrow morning in churches in the Tikves wine region believers will gather to see the priest prune the first vine. Thereafter it is divvied up and passed along to spread good fortune in life and vineyards. Some priests and parishioners continue on to the vineyards themselves, pouring wine onto the soil and drinking it as well. Workers will begin clearing the vines from last year--cutting and burning them--but not before the jubiliation and possible inebriation has its way.

For on St. Trifun's day, people offer grape brandy and wine freely and they celebrate life and the new season to come with a feast. Therefore, what better holiday to pair with St. Valentine's than a day of imbibing wine and brandy? I can't think of one.

On mumps and medicine

2009-02-06T16:45:00.000+01:00

Perhaps it's due to my family's involvement with public health medicine or maybe it's just a wise thing to stay tuned into, but regardless, public health is a great interest of mine. Unfortunately, it's probably because I'm sick far more often here in Macedonia than in the US, and thus I've always pondered and fretted about my and other people's health here. When I was a Peace Corps volunteer I used to regularly clean a greenish-white sludge out of my PC distributed water distillation system. While I drank the water that came from it, I always worried what I was drinking when I was at school, in a cafe, or someone's home. Things are no different here in Skopje, and as a result I spend $20/month buying spring water from the mountains in 6 liter jugs that I pick up at the grocery near my school. I consider lugging those things up four flights of stairs well worth it.

The unfortunate thing is that a lack of general concern and action over public infrastructure and health characterize this country. We sporadically hear about the increasing number of miscarriages, cancer, infections in hospitals, and less severe situations, but little is done to investigate them.

Fortunately, there are people interested in changing this, and I've begun working with them at an organization here in Skopje. Unfortunately, two incidents in just as many weeks are at the fore of my mind in reminding me of the acute situation in Macedonia that could result in disease transmission at best, and a major epidemic at worst.

The two events I'm referring to are my own illness last week, how and where I was treated, and the outbreak of mumps in high schools throughout the country this week.

Personally, I fell ill last week with a vicious stomach virus. I lost an incredible amount of bodily fluids and thus went to the state hospital here for medical attention. Not only was I mis-diagnosed (the doctor wanted me to get an x-ray for possible bronchitis) but I was attemptedly ripped-off (but fled before paying!) for being American, and frightened that I might have picked up something else in the waiting room of the clinic. For it was filled to capacity with ill people who were waiting and waiting for attention. Perhaps they all got what they needed, using their government issued pink slips to cover their medical needs (it is still a nationalized medical system here), but I'd gather that some did not. That I do not know.

What I do know is that my brother-in-law, who is an oral surgeon resident at the hospital, informed me that the disposal of medical instruments--primarily needles and syringes--is totally out of line with health regulations. Used and infected bandages, needles and the like are mixed together, and while some are kept isolated and destroyed in a secure location, others are merely put in the dumpsters for stray dogs and cats to go through. Stray animal management (and lack of it) is a whole other story in itself, but unfortunately these creatures can act as agents of transmission--vectors--to their and our species' populations. I also know that in my wife's hometown all medical supplies are thrown in with the town garbage, driven 5km outside of town (but upwind from it) and burned. Yes, rubber gloves, syringes, plastic bottles and bags, and all other refuse are pushed daily into a giant furnace, their smoke then floating over the town and into the valley below.

But back to my illness, I suppose I shouldn't bite the hand that fed (or in this case, healed) me, as I was fortunate to be able to head to that small town's hospital for immediate treatment last week--getting an IV put in to rehydrate myself. I recovered after many days of weakness, taking an antibiotic (though having had a virus, I don't know if it was so wise for me to have been given such a medication...), and on a lighter note--the doctor insisting that I just drink herb tea. Lots of it, hot or cold! Oh yes, and I had to eat dry crackers dipped in said tea as well. An odd and rather unpleasant combination...

Unfortunately (I'm using this word a lot, I know), what's occurred this week in Macedonia, a European country, is more indicative of corruption and a serious lack of effective healthcare policy at the national level: there has been a mump's outbreak. Right, you're thinking "Mumps? Don't we get vaccinated for that when we're tiny tots? What the heck is it anyway??" Well, yes, we do get vaccinated and they should be here as well. Unfortunately, from 1990-94 (and that's for the current outbreak's age range) they didn't and thus this week in high schools across the country hundreds of cases of the highly contagious, greatly unpleasant illness have arisen. Teens necks have swollen and all they can do is suffer from the pain and hope it recedes soon, as there is no real cure for mumps.

Fortunately, mumps doesn't kill, but it can cause permanent damage (particularly to males' reproductive systems). What's worse is that the government is now on a mission to vaccinate all students again, so that the evening news is filled with images of public health workers injecting students with vaccines. Anyone who knows a thing about biology, vaccines, and the human body, however, might know that this could be a potentially catastrophic remedy. Injecting a vaccine--which is a deactivated version of an infectious virus--into someone's body where a live virus may be harbored but still dormant, can potentially activate the latter and lead to infection. Mumps epidemic is one thing, but what if it was a virulent flu, measles, or other virus? Would the government act the same way?

One thing I do know that further illustrates the government's image vs. reality is that they have touted their implementing the administration of the HPV vaccine for teenage girls. Realistically though, they only purchased a few thousand of these vaccines for a female teenage population of tens of thousands, and thus the vaccine is not as available as it might seem. The organization with whom I work has raised this issue, and my brother-in-law has confirmed that only the connected can get the HPV vaccine.

It is just a shame that the country's and region's public health is being compromised by greedy and selfish individuals who seek to profit at the expense of other people's health. Maybe this week's outbreak and other such issues will be brought forth in next month's presidential and municipal elections, and act as a catalyst for change, but I'm not optimistic.

Bansko, Bulgaria: A Makedon-ski-town

2009-01-16T16:42:00.000+01:00

I recently returned from a week in my favorite mountain “town” in the Balkans—Bansko, Bulgaria. The town has only become that recently, however, as even six years ago upon my first visit it was much more of an old-world village. This still exists, and is charming because of the village’s old architecture and wonderfully quaint and cozy tavern-restaurants (“mehani”). Narrow cobblestone lanes wind around the center, with old style homes, mehani, and inns creating a sense of what the region was like before communism took hold.

However, another equally driving force—capitalism—has reshaped the village in recent years, as there’s been an investment boom in the tourism industry there. At the base of the Pirin Mountains (which are some of the tallest in Europe), the skiing is excellent in the winter and a variety of activities are available in the summer. Therefore, what began with Brits buying and investing has shifted to the Russians and Greeks (though no doubt Bulgarians and EU funds have handsomely contributed as well). Altogether, they dominate the village turned ski-town, and their money has allowed for the construction of a major ski center, literally 100 (if not more) new hotels and apartment buildings, and thus at least a doubling in size of what was only recently a mountain village.

The village and neighboring ones are reaping great benefits from this industry, and the region is still charming and a wonderful place to visit. But from a historical perspective, Bansko is even more fascinating, because it is very much a part of Macedonia. It became so long before Bulgaria existed, when the ancient Macedonians (led by Philip II and his son Alexander the Great) conquered the region and beyond in the 4th century BC. “Makedonija,” the local name of the region, means “highlands” in Greek. Yet it wasn’t perhaps until the 10th century and after that the area became uniquely Macedonian, as centuries of invading tribes and political demarcation created a stronger sense of regional identity. That said, it wasn’t so much that Macedonia independently created this identity, but that Bulgaria, under the rule of Tsar (Czar) Simeon the Great, entered its Golden Age and spread southwest. Macedonia thus became a very important part of the Bulgarian kingdom, as Bulgarian and South Slavic writing, schools, and monasteries were funded, supported, and built in what is today the Republic of Macedonia.

Indeed, the gem of this country, the town and lake Ohrid (in the southwest), was the center of Bulgarian Orthodox culture. While Bulgaria came under Byzantine rule in the 11th & 12th centuries and was divided, Macedonia became a unique political and geographical territory that existed until a century ago with the end of WWI and breakup of the Ottoman Empire. The area included today’s Republic of Macedonia, but was double in size, as southwestern Bulgaria (what is known today as Pirin Macedonia) and northern Greece (Aegean Macedonia) were also a clear and large part of this greater “Makedonija.” A fierce national movement had developed by that point though, through the political and sometimes terrorist organization, the “Internal Macedonian Revolutionary Organization (IMRO),” and neighboring countries were vying for power over the mixed region.

Some scholars would no doubt have an encyclopedia of words to say about my simplification of the history above, but what is clear is that greater Macedonian identity existed up until the 1950s when communist authorities in Bulgaria at first supported it, then ferociously sought to destroy it. A result of changing ideals and politics in Moscow, evidence of this are post-WWII census figures showing that nearly 188,000 people in the Pirin region of Bulgaria claimed that they were “Macedonian” in 1956, whereas by the 1992 census the significantly smaller number of 10,803 claimed such ethnicity. Even fewer—5,071—claimed to be Macedonian in the 2001 census.

In Yugoslavia, Macedonian identity was of course supported, in order to create a stronger sense of nationhood. Yet at the same time, the many people here claiming to be Bulgarian were severely persecuted—harassed, arrested, imprisoned, murdered. The politics of the region have thus been a messy ordeal (as I’ve written about before), but what I found interesting during my recent visit to Pirin Macedonia was the freedom of people there to assert this Macedonian identity.

What I didn’t do was actually speak with locals about how they perceive themselves (the work of an ethnologist not on vacation!), but one of the most interesting things I noticed was that everywhere one goes there are “Macedonian” restaurants, dishes, and songs. The latter are particularly fascinating, because while similar songs will be heard here in the Republic of Macedonia (and their history is in fact the same up till the 20th century), Macedonian music is a huge part of experiencing any Bansko establishment. As the “Bansko in your pocket” guide writes under the topic of “Macedonian music” (which is interesting that it exists at all in a tourism guide) in the “Culture & Events” section:

“Macedonian music and folklore still form the bedrock of local Bansko traditions, and the music heard in local restaurants or performed by local heritage societies is subtly different from that found in the rest of Bulgaria….The majority of the band’s playing in Bansko’s folk-style restaurants concentrate on a crowd-pleasing repertoire of sentimental songs which feature the word “Macedonia” in the lyrics as many times as possible. Main subject matters of such songs appear to be the plight of Macedonian maidens awaiting the return of boys who have left to join the anti-Ottoman guerillas.”

Yet the statement that the music is “subtly different from that found in the rest of Bulgaria” better illustrates the perception of Macedonians in Bulgaria—they largely see themselves as Bulgarians living in the geographical region of Macedonia. As I wrote several months ago, this dual perception of identity is akin to my being American, but from Indiana. I identify with aspects of both, but wouldn’t want to categorize myself solely in one or the other. Further, as a legacy of communism and after, it is well known that they consider the Republic of Macedonia to be largely comprised of Bulgarians, not “Macedonians.”

Macedonians in the Republic of Macedonia, however, have a different perception of their identity and one which I believe, and have read from scholars on the region, is a more recently created perception. That is, they feel that they are ethnically Macedonian and that Macedonia is their nation (a word which is often associated with ethnicity) and political state. This contrasts with those living in Pirin Macedonia who today see Macedonia as neither of these, but as a cultural and historical region that their ancestors settled and established Orthodoxy in, and then fought to free from the Turks. Indeed, whereas what was then Bulgaria (a smaller country than today) gained its independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1878, greater Macedonia was the last region in the Balkans to do so.

One last example of the Macedonian identity in the Pirin region is the final note on the timeline in the “Bansko in your pocket” guide. Just before the “Macedonian music” section, it reads:

“October 5, 1912 – Bansko is liberated at the start of the Balkan Wars. After the Russo-Turkish war the town was left in the Ottoman province of Macedonia. Two major anti-Ottoman uprisings took place in the area—the one in Kresna and Razlog in 1878-79 and the so-called Ilinden-Preobrazhenie uprising in 1903. These events fuel the revolutionary spirit and pride of the locals and inspire a huge part of the local Macedonian folklore songs.”

To note, while Kresna and Razlog are in Pirin Macedonia, the Ilinden uprising took place in Krushevo, not far from Ohrid in the southwest of today’s Republic of Macedonia.

I dare not go much further in assessing identity in Pirin Macedonia, as only ethnographic research could yield a better understanding of it. But I conclude by saying that the political and geographical boundaries of greater Macedonia existed for a much longer period of time than the borders today, and it will be interesting to see if one day, be it through a shift of power or a borderless EU, the separate regions of Macedonia will be reunited and again share a common identity, albeit one characteristically Macedonian—a melting pot of different languages and cultures that might just continue to beg an answer to the question “Who are the Macedonians?”

Konstantin Miladinov, “T’ga za jug”

2009-01-02T12:32:00.000+01:00

Konstantin Miladinov is one of Macedonia’s most famous poets. He is honoured every year at the Struga (his hometown) poetry festival on Lake Ohrid, and his poems unanimously revered. Writing from Moscow in the 1850s, he wrote of his yearnings for his southern homeland through many poems. His most popular, no doubt, is “T’ga za jug”—‘Longing for the south.’ In it he mentions Stambol and Kukuš—modern day Istanbul (as Macedonia was then part of the Ottoman Empire) and Kilkis, in Aegean Macedonia (modern day Greece). Yet it’s his expression of the land, sun, and sky which paint a passionate picture of his love of Macedonia. A love that many, including myself, share.

Longing for the south (T'ga za jug)

If I had an eagle's wings
I would rise and fly on them
To our shores, to our own parts,
To see Stambol, to see Kukuš;
And to watch the sunrise: is it
Dim there too, as it is here?

If the sun still rises dimly,
If it meets me there as here,
I'll prepare for further travels,
I shall flee to other shores
Where the sunrise, greets me brightly,
And the sky is sewn with the stars.

It is dark here, dark surrounds me,
Dark fog covers all the earth,
Here are frost and snow and ashes,
Blizzards and harsh winds abound,
Fogs all around, the earth is ice,
And in the breast are cold, dark thoughts.

No, I cannot stay here, no;
I cannot upon these frosts.
Give me wings and I will don them;
I will fly to our own shores,
Go once more to our own places,
Go to Ohrid and to Struga.

There the sunrise warms the soul,
The sun gets bright in mountain woods:
Yonder gifts in great profusion
Richly spread by nature's power.
See the clear lake stretching white-
Or bluely darkened by the wind,
Look you at the plains or mountains:
Beauty' everywhere divine.

To pipe there to my heart's content!
Ah! let the sun set, let me die.

T'ga za jug (in Macedonian)

Orelski krilja kak da si metneh
i v nasi st'rni da si preletneh!
Na nasi mesta ja da si idam,
da vidam Stambol, Kukus da vidam,
da vidam dali s'nceto i tamo
mratcno ugrevjat, kako i vamo.

Ako kako ovde s'nceto me stretit,
ako pak mracno s'nceto svetit:
na p't dalecni ja ke se stegnam,
i v drugi st'rni ke si pobegnam,
k'de s'nceto svetlo ugrevjat,
k'de neboto zvezdi posevjat.

Ovde je mracno i mrak m' obviva
i temna m'gla zemja pokriva:
mrazoj i snegoj, i pepelnici,
silni vetristca i vijulici,
okolu m'gli i mrazoj zemni,
a vg'rdi studoj, i misli temni.

Ne, ja ne mozam ovde da sedam!
Ne, ja ne mozam mrazoj da gledam!
Dajte mi krilja ja da si metnam
i v nasi st'rni da si preletnam:
na nasi mesta ja da si idam,
da vidam Ohrid, Struga da vidam.

Tamo zorata greit dusata
i s'nce svetlo zajdvit v gorata.
Tamo darbite prirodna sila
so s'ta raskos gi rasturila:
bistro ezero, gledas, beleit
ili od vetar sinotemneit:
pole poglednis, ili planina
-segde Bozeva je hubavina.

Tamo po s'rce v kaval da sviram,
s'nce da zajdvit, ja da umiram!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Saint Nick, saints’ days, and svadbi

2008-12-19T15:03:00.000+01:00

“Orientals seem to grow stout because they are fond of their food and their food grows fond of them, and it and they elect to live together in a happy symbiosis.”

--From Rebecca West’s chapter on Macedonia in "Black Lamb & Grey Falcon, a Journey through Yugoslavia" (1941)

It is customary in the region to eat heartily. As a guest in other peoples homes, as I so often am, it is expected that I should eat what is put before me, even if I’m not hungry or have clearly eaten enough already. This Macedonian hospitality my Peace Corps friends and I sometimes jokingly referred to as “hostitality.”

Thus eating in Macedonia is not merely for gustation, but a sign of hospitality and for socializing. There is the food itself, and there are the rituals of consuming what, when. We have our customs in the US—kinds of food at the holidays and their order of eating. Yet the effort exerted in food preparation here (and most always by women) creates an expectation that the food will be eaten by friends and family. Whereas in my family we generally only cook for ourselves and would thank the cook for their effort, here it is practically an insult to do so, for cooking and eating well are a way of life, and nothing to be put on a pedestal and praised. Here one must eat. “Jadi, jadi!” (‘eat, eat!’), gracious hosts will shout.

The winter though brings more occasions and food than any other time of year, as the days are short, the weather formidable, and there seems to be an increase in the celebration of “saint’s days.” These are the multiple days per month which celebrate a certain Orthodox (and often Catholic or Christian) saint. This Monday was St. Kliment Ohridski day, the Monday before was St. Georgi (George) day, and so on. These saints’ names, however, are also those of many individuals here, and even the patron saints of certain families. Today is St. Nikola day, for example, in honor of St. Nicholas. The many Macedonians with his name or a variation of it (eg, Nikolina, for women) will consider this their “imen den”—‘name day.’ St. Nicholas is a particularly famous saint, however, and thus it is a bigger saint day, with many of my students telling me of plans for it; and I’ve been told that at least one city in the country (Štip) even considers him the town saint, marking the holiday with official celebrations. Regardless, saints' days may very well be celebrated by many people such as those who have his or her name, for Christian reasons, and/or if their family honors this saint as their patron saint.

When families celebrate a saint’s day for their patron saint they call it a “slava.” The most recent slava I attended was last week for St. George’s day. Upon arriving at the family’s house whose slava I attended, we paid our tribute—or “ater,” a Turkish word for honoring— to their patron saint by congratulating and wishing them well. In return, they welcomed us into their dining room. While St. George was the famous dragon slayer, slaying or butchering was cast aside for the day and the food served consisted of salads, vegetarian dishes (beans and potatoes), and fish. There was no refrain from indulgence, however, and beverages offered still included plenty of whisky, brandy, and wine. Conversation while grazing over the smorgasbord ensued until dessert was served and it was time to go, though there was no pressure to do this, even after being there for several hours.

But many other occasions will arise in the following month as Orthodox Christmas (January 7th) arrives and the several saint day and new year celebrations ensue. There are a remarkable number of such days, with unique customs and traditions accompanying them. They include the Old New Year (January 12th), St. John's day, and "Vodokrst." In rural Macedonia, bonfires are made and generally men celebrate around them with drinking, story-telling, games, and dancing. Yet throughout the Orthodox world, a remarkable tradition is that on Vodokrst-'water cross' day. Symbolically tied with the celebration of the New Year, a local priest throws a cross into a body of water and several men compete to retrieve it. Whoever does will have luck the year through. But while winter is tame in Macedonia and the water in rivers and lakes may be up in the 40s or 50s, the images broadcast on TV of such events in Russia and many other snow-covered countries, where men plunge into ice covered lakes, will send chills down ones spine!

Getting back to food, there are particular dishes for these holidays. In central Macedonia, where I lived some years ago, families will eat “pastrmajlija”—a delicious flat-bread dish baked with eggs and salted pork on top. On “Badnik,” or Christmas eve, the dinner is light in honor of Christ, and no meat or oil is consumed. Generally, the meal consists of beans, bread, and fish. However, on Christmas day itself, “Božik,” friends and families indulge again in an array of dishes.

On a final note, and in reflection of some of the other events I’ve attended recently, weddings (svadbi) have their own rituals when it comes to eating. While the food is more typical and not a huge part of the occasion—dancing and rejoicing are—they still serve plenty of it. Whereas the tradition of eating in Macedonia is usually characterized by friends and family grazing over a table of salads, finger-foods, meats, and cheeses, at weddings the food is there but the live music and dancing from the beginning of the event tend to cast food to the side and make conversation rather difficult. Indeed, weddings are a true celebration with dancing beginning shortly after guests arrive and lastly for several hours without much of a break. Further, the main course isn’t served for some time: At the most recent wedding I attended, which didn’t begin until 9pm, dinner wasn’t served until after midnight, and intermittent dancing was still going on until the cake was cut at 1am! Therefore, while there was plenty of food for the eating, it wasn’t the primary focus of the evening’s event.

Having recently married but not yet having had a svadba, I can even testify to my new family’s concern in ensuring enough food be present at the dinner following the civil ceremony. While only a dozen people attended our dinner, my mother-in-law had the restaurant prepare eight pounds of lamb that she had bought, in addition to the large salad platters, appetizers, and dishes of pork, beef, chicken, potatoes, and bread that we had requested ahead of time. Altogether, there was undoubtedly enough food to feed twice as many people as were present.

This is the relationship though between people here and their food—it’s a “symbiosis” and perhaps love affair that may border on excessive indulgence. But while they may know it is not always healthy, it is a large aspect of their customs and culture, and thus one which they would only most regrettably part with.

Fesbuk, Skajp, & Jugo-nostalgia

2008-12-12T21:48:00.000+01:00

I haven’t written in nearly a month, but much culminates in my mind these days as I finish PhD applications and the winter solstice and holidays near. Indeed, the time passes and the chaos of city life infiltrates my concentration. My teaching, life, and socializing are pleasant, but my time to write my thoughts seem fewer!

Thus I think to share some noticeable differences between Macedonian and American culture that have come to mind lately. Oddly enough (though perhaps testimony to where I spend some of my time), I’ll begin with Facebook. It’s the social networking application that most Americans and Macedonians I know use, with whom I’m “friends” on both, so is a good place for observation. I’d say the main uses of Facebook, besides collecting friends and communicating with them in personal messages, is to share updates (eg, Justin is…), photos, articles; to join causes and clubs of sorts; and to chat and write on people’s “walls.” How we know about what everyone’s doing, however, is not just through what I write them or they write me, but through the main page when one logs in. We see who’s posted, written, or joined what, who’s single or married now, what pics of friends of friends can be seen. That’s interesting enough—that we see into other people’s worlds so easily via the internet.

Yet a difference I’ve noticed in Facebook usage among the Macedonians and other friends in the region I know is that they’re not active on it in the same way as Americans. Whereas most Americans I know are more inclined to update their status with sarcastic remarks or personal comments, write on other people’s walls, change their relationship status, or share news articles, I see my Macedonian friends do so less often. Instead, they setup their accounts with less information and use them to chat and join causes. But with high speed internet readily available these days, it’s not for lack of connectivity. Instead, it seems that Facebook has a unique cultural utility, representing a different culture's characteristic behavior. That is, Macedonians are very inclined to communicate, and use the application mostly for that. Americans are also inclined to communicate, but more so to seek attention (and dare I suggest boast?) by sharing personal comments, pictures, and thoughts for all friends to see. To vouch, I know my Macedonians friends are often online because I’ve been at their places and seen them huddling over the computer, using Facebook to communicate with friends. Not to mention those who have access to it all day at work!

But another very interesting aspect of Facebook usage here is the more political and nationalist causes people support or “become fans” of. I’ve seen friends support the “I feel Yugoslavian,” “Unite SFRY,” “Mother Teresa was Albanian,” and somewhat conversely, “Mother Teresa of Calcutta.” I’ve seen “I love Macedonia,” “I love Kosova,” “Macedonian Sun,” “Macedonia United,” “Stop Greek and Bulgarian propaganda against Macedonia and Macedonian People” and in another realm, support or opposition to politicians and/or accused war criminals. And as a good segway, I’ve even seen fans of “Skype.”

Usage of Skype here is worth noting as well, as the free (when computer to computer) internet calling service is also used in a unique fashion. Because people are charged per minute on landlines and mobile phones yet they have unlimited internet, they use Skype to talk to local friends—to plan the evening or just catch up. In contrast, in the US we have unlimited talk on landlines and nearly so on cell phones, so I’ve only used Skype to communicate with friends abroad, just as I use it now to communicate with family back home. But I’ve got some Macedonians friends on Skype as well, and they occasionally pop-up with a chat message or ring to say hello, even if they’re just a five minute taxi ride away.

Thus it is that human adaptability and consumption go beyond getting used to conditions and technology and using them not just for their initial purpose, but instead in new ways that seem most effective. Do what you can, where you are, with what you’ve got…

Negotino Revisited, Six Years On

2008-11-14T11:11:00.000+01:00

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times"...I was 23 and just out of college. I had little inclination to join the American workforce, and being a barrista in Bloomington, IN wasn't satisfying enough. I yearned for adventure, I had wanderlust. I joined Peace Corps. That was 2002. As a parting gift, my old friend from college, Lisa, gave me an appropriate shirt from the "Life is good" people. It said "Not all who wander are lost," quoting Tolkien. I wore the long sleeved T on several occasions during Peace Corps training, and it became the slogan on our groups' self-produced t-shirt.

Indeed, it came to be that year that I joined 19 other Peace Corps trainees in Washington, DC, for a three day orientation, and then departed the US on Thursday, November 14, 2002. We flew Austrian Air to Vienna I recall, using a portal at the airport there to send free emails and grabbing a coffee on that early Friday morning arrival. But we flew on to Skopje, and it was a fanciful feeling to know that soon I'd be in a very foreign country, and one to which I'd have to immerse myself so immensely.

I recall the flight over more arid and mountainous land, and in my journal that day I wrote of the windy bus trip from the airport in Skopje through the Vardar River canyon and valley to the south-central town of Negotino. It was dark by the time we arrived, but we were all excited and engaged in conversation with the Peace Corps staff, and the energy didn't stop once there.

Upon stowing our bags in our hotel rooms we were greeted and entertained by Macedonian folk dancers who offered us the traditional bread and salt. Like the famous Yugoslav rock group, "leb i sol." Yet their energy and our excitement got most of us onto our feet to dance the "oro" for the first time. We had a buffet of meats, cheeses, veggies, and olives, and a few of us ordered our first bottle of local Tikves wine. It was a time of many firsts.

In the ensuing days I recall intense moments of wondering whether I could do this. I struggled to say the word for thank you in Macedonian, as it sounded so foreign. "Blagodaram." I couldn't get the intonation right, and I wasn't alone. I suppose that made me feel better, that I wasn't in a Spanish speaking country where other trainees may very well have spoken Spanish fluently upon joining Peace Corps. No, we were all a bunch of Americans with hardly a clue about what the hell the Macedonian language was. Those days were busy but momentous, as we formed a unique bond that not every Peace Corps group does.

This was in part due to the fact that we were the first group back in the country after the conflict in 2001. Thus we weren't following anyone's footsteps, and only Macedonians and a few American Peace Corps staff were there to greet us. It was somewhat ominous though, with that recent conflict still festering, the short, late autumn days keeping us confined indoors, and the overall foreigness of the land and language. Much has changed in the country today, but some of my earliest grievances then still figure into my thoughts these days. As I wrote on November 17, 2002 and still lament today:

"There's often smoke in the air; someone lights a cigarette and you're suddenly inhaling it. They don't have good ventilation systems here--one little difference. Another: toilet paper doesn't go down the toilet, but in the can beside it to be removed by someone. Someone with a dirty job. I hope they wash their hands."

But I quickly got used to it, and minus a few bouts of stomach illness, came to accept it as part of the culture. Not to mention, there wasn't much I could do about it and I was more concerned with learning the language and getting to know my host-family. I think all of us opened our minds and braced ourselves for the onslaught of cross cultural experiences to come; the three month pre-service training (PST) and homestay living experience clearly the most challenging of all.

What's amazing is how quickly we all did immerse ourselves. I'm sure there were variations, but within six days of arriving I was writing sentences in Cyrillic and having elementary conversations with my host family. I recall Matt and I visiting our friend Hank that first week at his family's house, where his host-father gave us the historical lecture of the country (the one we'd hear over and over again throughout our service, and personally to this day): that the Turks had occupied the country for 500 years and all that had followed since. Well, maybe not all, but a brief synopsis that we miraculously understood most of despite being told in a very new foreign language.

Those were the days, from Negotino to Pepelishte for five of us living there; and to Gradsko, Rosoman, and Demir Kapija for the other trainees. Negotino was our hub, but our small towns and villages our homes. That we were always happy is unlikely, but we submerged ourselves in the ocean of Macedonian culture, and I think few of us regret it or deny having an affinity for this country.

Personally, six years on my philosophy on life has changed, yet my love of Macedonia remains. I see it prospering and preparing for a new era yet still embracing its traditions and character. A couple of recent visits to the old training haunt (as my actual volunteer site was another town) allowed me to fondly recall those days. In contrast to Skopje and other cities, the peacefulness of the town of Negotino is one thing, but not even as sublime as the provincialness of the anachronous villages such as Pepelishte; except for electricity and running water, they largely exist today as they did centuries before. Only the sounds of roosters are heard, the roads are dirt, and dogs, donkeys, and pigs make up half of the living population of the village.

Anyhow, from one of my recent visits I've created a Flickr slideshow. Those of you who were there will view things a little more personally perhaps. For those of you who weren't but never saw where I was, here you go!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/31046246@N07/sets/72157609046479855/show/

Golem pozdrav & srekna godishnina,
Dzastin

RIP, 2008 elections

2008-10-31T16:49:00.000+01:00

The post I'd wanted to publish today wasn't on Obama, but you'll understand why it is and how it relates to the image in a moment. Indeed, I'm having some HTML issues in copying and pasting from Word the blog I'd written, so I suppose it's fate that I should write on this topic. I must be short given that it's Halloween eve and party preparation is in order, but the elections and the duration of the campaign that now nearly comes to its end warrant one last farewell. Perhaps that's appropriate too--an RIP for the 2008 elections.

I think a first note is in regards to the fact that these elections didn't begin in 2008, but some two years ago. While the political machine is well lubed and the money's been a flowin' for it, it's a rather sad system when seen from afar. No European democracy allows its senators (or MPs) to be so absent from their positions while they campaign and no system allows such atrocious amounts of private money to finance campaigns and thus buy votes and influence. But that it Washington, that is America--we have extreme corruption masked as business lobbying and campaign finance, and the media just follow along. As Studs Terkel (RIP) once responded when asked whether there were still gangsters in Chicago: "Yes, but these days they're mostly in business, or politics." Thus, we need serious campaign regulations put in place so that future campaigns are transparent, truly democratic, and last only a few months--not dozens. But that's another story.

Speaking of Chicago, what I want to write about is the one problem with Obama--from a SE European and primarily, Macedonian perspective. Indeed, there is one thing that's really bothered me about Obama since I've been back in the Mak, mostly because my support of Obama is met with swift opposition in frequent conversations: It's his blind support of the Greek and Serbian diaspora lobbies in America (via Chicago no doubt).

Briefly, and as I mentioned in an earlier blog, Greece has blocked Macedonia's entrance into NATO and threaten to do so with EU entry unless the country changes its name. As 125 countries recognize Macedonia by its constitutional name--and as most sensible people would agree, any country should be allowed to call itself what it wants--this is the largest domestic, neighborly spat the country is currently embroiled in. What's worse, Greece has gotten even nastier recently by getting other random countries like DR Congo, Mexico, and Panama to call Macedonia "FYROM," as Greece does. It's pathetic and petulant, but it is alive and real. (May we grant it its RIP soon.)

The international mediator's current proposition to this problem is to call this country the Republic of Northern Macedonia. But [sigh] Macedonians will continue rejecting any proposition until the international community changes its willingness to negotiate on Greece's behalf at all. Like a bad student in class, Greece certainly doesn't deserve the attention.

Anyhow, back to square one--unfortunately, under the pressure of the Chicago Greek-American lobby, Obama's led the proposition in Congress which accuses Macedonia of irrendentism, in short. It's an example of poorly educated politicking, and my good friend, Eric, explains further in his blog so read on if you're interested.

http://polysemic.org/?p=166

And to play devil's advocate (I'm enjoying this Halloween theme) a scholar at Kingston University (UK) has some good points about Republican foreign policy in the Balkans, and it being the better choice for the region.

http://greatersurbiton.wordpress.com/2008/03/20/john-mccain-would-be-best-for-south-east-europe/

That said and to conclude--I am an American first and foremost, am disgusted by the havoc the Bush administration has wreaked on the world, and thus look forward to an Obama victory next week. Dare I be optimistic, I even believe that a new era of more hawkish Democrats and diplomatic realpolitik foreign policy in the Balkan region is possible. (As yes, being more hawkish now might actually prevent greater conflict in the future. Keep your eyes on Bosnia--it's post-war reconfiguration was impractical, has not been effective, and is stoking another conflict.)

Lastly, RIP neo-con Republican Party!

Go tell it on the mountain

2008-10-17T16:42:00.000+02:00

Topography is a unique characteristic of every country. There are lowlands and highlands, rivers, valleys, hills, and mountains. And often these geographical entities—for they do seem lifelike in the character they bring to a place—serve as the borders between neighboring lands. What makes up the southern borders of the SE Midwest? The Ohio River. What makes up the borders of SE Europe? Well, a few rivers but mostly mountains (and plenty of politics!).

Politics aside, what’s even more interesting are the effects the land has on people. It has always fascinated me in the Balkans how much one community can differ from another based on where and how they live, what customs they cultivate, and what they consume. Sea-side communities tend to have a maritime history and an ongoing influence from the adventures of the sea. They live and work on and near it, reaping and consuming its fruits. In lowlands people are agricultural, growing the grains that feed so many. They work the land, but perhaps through their steady life and conservative customs, are also the heart of a nation. As elevation increases and depending on the climate, so does the availability of what can be grown or raised. In Macedonia, with its lowest point barely above sea level in a Mediterranean climate and its highest point over 9,000 feet in a continental climate, there’s little that can’t be cultivated here. From citrus and olives on the border with Greece, to the Pelagonian plains of grain, to endless vineyards to the north, people grow what they can where they can. Most vegetables are grown throughout the lowlands of the country, and as one travels up they see rice paddies, varying fruit trees, and shepherds tending their flocks and herds—goats, sheep, cows.

Living in the lowlands of Skopje and usually traveling to other low-lying towns and cities (for that’s where most towns have been settled since antiquity and thus people in fact live), it was a rare treat to head up into the highest mountains of the land last weekend. The Shar Mountains, which stretch from the northwest to the southwest of the country, make up the border with Kosovo and Albania. They are the tallest peaks in the country, reaching up into the clouds and as I witnessed, pulling the clouds over their ridges.

I had the company of two friends, Marc and Eric. Marc is a Peace Corps volunteer here and Eric a Fulbright Scholar. We had planned this trip since early-September, at which time I thought we were planning too far ahead and it would not come to pass. Well, a rainy and cold September has led to a beautiful October thus far, and we had stellar weather at the onset for our journey.

We made the drive to the city of Tetovo—an hour from Skopje—last Saturday morning, and drove on up to the resort village of Popova Shapka from there. At nearly 5,000 feet, it’s largely a tourist spot for skiing in the winter and cooler weather in the summer. Despite the golden leaves of autumn and mild weather though, it was dead as could be this time of year.

Not knowing exactly where we were going, but with the goal of summiting the highest peak within 20 miles—Tito’s Peak, we stopped into a small café for an espresso and directions. Well, we got vague directions from the teenage server working that morning, so after checking out the Turkish toilet (always an adventure in itself!) we parked a few hundred feet further down the road and headed off for our walk.

We began at some small ski lift called “Aerodrom”—'airport'—and just started winding up over the bare slopes from there. An important addition to our team came at that point, however, as two local mountain huskies joined us. Only puppies, these “Shar Mountaineer” (Shar Planinec) dogs, as they’re called, started bouncing along as we paced ourselves for the uphill climb.

According to the local mountaineering society who I’d been in touch with, there were supposed to be markers on the trail. While we saw a few red marks here and there, however, the trail came and went and never a cairn did I see. We thus carried on, climbing one hill only to see another, but enjoying ourselves as the sun shone, the puppies paced, and we made good conversation. Not being accustomed to the mountains and wanting to enjoy rather than work too hard, we took our fair share of breaks. While the walking is good exercise, it was during those moments of playing with the dogs and relaxing on the soft ground that I felt such peace. And oh, how nice it was to get away from the chaos of Skopje!

After a couple hours hiking and having arrived at some early season snow patches, we saw what was going to be our primary goal for the day—a rocky ridge touching the clouds overhead. As we’d lost the trail completely by that point (a factor which earlier had led us to an amazing rock massif but in a mountain cul-de-sac of sorts, which we then had to climb out of), we trod over bushes that were only inches high and spread out across the mountainside as we headed upward. The view to the east at that point was splendid, but nothing prepared me for the cauldron like valley on the other side, with high peaks surrounding it nearby and and jagged ones off in the distance. When we arrived we stood on flat ground for the first time in an hour, the sun remained, and the puppies sat with us as we prepared to ascend the ridge to a higher point. Where Tito's Peak was at this point, however, was unclear. I saw a peak of sorts to the southwest, but it didn’t seem high enough. As 3pm was nearing and the clouds looking more ominous, we made the decision to halt our expedition within the half hour and to eat lunch.

We enjoyed the sun as we hiked a ways more up, but upon reaching some old antennae and deciding it was a good place to rest, we had a new angle and saw only briefly the peak of Tito—Titov Vrv. It was further over and up than I’d thought, yet the clouds that soon consumed us put a clear halt to any ambitions of making the ascent. We needed some lunch badly, so I got out the giant tub of pasta I’d made and dished it out. Fortunately for the dogs, a fourth friend didn’t join so I had extra noodles for them. They ate voraciously, as did we all. The serene sunshine having given way to whistling winds, however, forced me down into a crevice where the wind wasn’t so strong in order to eat without gloves on (which I’d in fact forgotten). But the cold air was rather unpleasant, so after a good sojourn and laugh over pasta and chocolate, we turned back to descend.

Despite no trail wearing on my feet, I enjoyed the descent—even using my backpack as a sled down the grassy mountainside—and we discovered the trail and a better way back for the next trip. We warmed up with tea where we'd earlier had espresso and watched the sun set. But given that we didn’t make the peak as planned, I intend to return once again sooner rather than later!

To see pictures from our hike, please see my Flickr slideshow at
http://www.flickr.com/photos/31046246@N07/sets/72157608107648246/

The Macedonian Question

2008-10-03T11:44:00.000+02:00

An Anthropologist, Manning Nash, once said that “a language is a dialect with an army and a navy.” His point was that the languages of the world number far greater than the number of countries, and that further, the language of a country can be a very contentious matter. Macedonia is no exception.

From before the onset of Socialist Yugoslavia to the present, the literary Macedonian language has been a demarcating line. Writings of southwestern Macedonians in the 19^th & early 20^th centuries clearly show a different dialect of a south Slavic tongue similar to Bulgarian, but when Tito split Yugoslavia off from Stalin’s cominform—and grand Soviet Communist plan—post-WWII, he bolstered the development of the Macedonian “language” in order to forge a stronger Macedonian identity. The goal was to give this melting pot region of the southern Balkans a more distinct character in order to separate it from Soviet linked Bulgaria.

Politically, closed borders between Yugoslavia and Bulgaria meant things would go their own way. But culturally and linguistically, Macedonia shared a good deal with Bulgaria. A century ago the main cultural cities where Macedonians—including the famed revolutionaries who overthrew the Turks and the Ottoman Empire—went for education and international flavor were not so much the current capital, Skopje (which was then capital of the Ottoman province of Kosovo), but the capital of Bulgaria, Sofia, as well as the provincial Ottoman capital in southwestern Macedonia, Bitola, and the greater Macedonian port city of Thessaloniki/Solun (now in Greece). The majestic Lake Ohrid (which borders Albania), with its hundreds of Orthodox churches and monasteries, was the patriarchate of the Bulgarian Orthodox Church, founded in the year 927. The Macedonian Orthodox Church (MOC), however, didn't gain its autonomy from the Serbian church until 1959 and then declared autocephaly in 1967.

Therefore, a Bulgarian identity clearly preceded a Macedonian one, as Macedonia was more of a geographical reference point (though no doubt with its own culture and character). Early south Slav immigrants from the region to the US, for example, corroborate this: they claimed to be Bulgarian but from Macedonia. It’s akin to my being American, but from Indiana. The former is my political identity, but the latter is my geographical and cultural one.

How we perceive our identity is thus a changing, fluid notion, and the repercussions of this are unequivocally present in the “Macedonian Question” and today’s political climate. The Macedonian Question refers to the overlapping use of the name Macedonia to describe geographical and historical areas, languages, and peoples. For most of its millenia long history and until the Balkan Wars of 1912-13, the territory of Macedonia was twice as large as today—covering what is now southwestern Bulgaria and northern Greece. More contemporarily, from the time of the Ottoman Empire, the region was increasingly populated by large numbers of Sephardic Jews, Vlachs, Turks, Greeks, Albanians, and Roma, in addition to Macedonians and other South Slavic groups such as Bulgarians and Serbs.

Consequently, with so many people and vying powers yet so little territory, Macedonia has had ongoing quarrels with its more powerful neighbors, all focusing on issues surrounding the development of an ethno-national Macedonian identity. With Serbia to the north, there is the conflict of Macedonia’s separation from the Serbian Orthodox Church and creation of the MOC.[1] Having strong kinship, trade, and former political ties to Macedonia, Serbs have seen the region as theirs, even calling it southern Serbia when they occupied it in the interwar period. Their presence was not appreciated, however, as one scholar on the region writes.

Macedonia at times appeared to exist in a state of virtual war between the population and the forces of government, which many civilians perceived as foreign. Against this backdrop violent clashes continued between armed bands and police, and assassins targeted Serbian officials, reinforcing the view that the Macedonian Question here remained unresolved and posed a vital threat to domestic order.[2]

Along with Greece, who got its spoils by receiving southern (Aegean) Macedonia, Serbia sought to divide the region then. Nearly a century later, Serbia may oppose the MOC but it is only Greece who truly counters Macedonia’s right to exist as a nation-state. Despite the US, most of the EU, and dozens of other countries’ recognition of Macedonia by its constitutional name—the Republic of Macedonia—Greece immaturely refuses to call it as such, calling it either FYROM (an acronym for “former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia”) or just Skopje.

Greece's irredentist claims to the Macedonian territory come from ancient Macedonia’s Hellenic ties. However, a more suitable explanation is that they seek to cover up the events of the past century. Indeed, fierce assimilation and draconian measures under the Greek dictatorship and until recently made Macedonians and other minorities into “Greeks.” Harassment, arrest, and imprisonment of those speaking the south Slavic tongue have been all too common in Aegean Macedonia. Thus, while perhaps the ancient home of democracy, modern Greece lacks any erudite traditions of yore by behaving as they have and blocking Macedonia’s entry into NATO—an issue all the more important not just for peace in the region but for international peace, as Russia clears the way for its re-igniting of the Cold War.

The last neighborly spat is with Bulgaria, who consider Macedonians to still be Bulgarian. What Bulgaria has cleverly done, and which many Macedonians have taken advantage of, is allow those who willingly claim Bulgarian identity to acquire Bulgarian citizenship and the valuable accompanying passport. This began five years or so ago, but now that Bulgaria is a member of the EU, that new political affiliation is all the more valuable for visa restricted Macedonians (who can only visit three of their five neighbors without a visa—Albania, Kosovo, and Serbia). This surge in Bulgarian affiliation is most evident on the streets and roads of Skopje and the country—Bulgarian license plates abound like never before. Whether it will affect the identity of those who took the carrot remains to be seen, but 21^st century Macedonia is at present a clearly demarcated, autonomous, and democratic nation.

[1] This even came up when I mentioned my Macedonian affiliations at the Serbian Church in Indianapolis on Easter this year.

[2] Brown, The Past in Question: Modern Macedonia and the Uncertainties of Nation, 42.

Back to the numbers

2008-09-26T12:17:00.000+02:00

Not that it’s my main focus, but it’s what people talk about here—and increasingly in the USA—and I strayed from it last week: economics.

It’s all about the “duckets”, “moolah”, “dolari”, euros, denari…You walk down the street here and listen to people’s conversations—usually being vocally held under shop awnings, on street corners, over coffee—and it’s about money. It’s hard to say whether it’s a legacy of socialism or just a southern European cultural trait. I’d vouch for the latter, because I’ve heard conversations in other Mediterranean countries as well, more so than in the US or W. Europe. But I’d say that the replacement of the socialist “pretend to work and we’ll pretend to pay you” by the free for all of the free market has made money-making for some, and observation of it for most, into the conversation of habit.

The combination of patronage with corruption and the association of criminality with those earning money makes for some interesting assessments of the free market indeed. That is, I think money is the topic of conversation because people either find you criminal or regal for having it. There are those I know from certain good old families who get given “something extra” (extra money!) at the money exchange bureau (which are very common here, since many people get paid in or keep euros, even though it’s not the currency used here) or just get things done by giving small gifts to the right people. And then there are those who seem to have profited through some ingenuity and perhaps even entrepreneurialism who get labelled as swindlers. No doubt some of them are, and that French President Sarkozy may have it right that capitalism needs to be regulated, but it makes you see how different we perceive making money/earning an income in the US.

We keep our salaries and stock options secret, allowing some to earn more than they should because no one can point their finger and say—“wow, that’s exorbitant!” (Well, we can for some but it’s taboo and no one really listens. Though maybe with the plummeting economy someone will?) But perhaps it’s just that people from a former socialist country like Macedonia are nostalgic for the “work ethic” of yore, and loathe the fact that in business you don’t get what you deserve, but what you negotiate.

But costs are relative too. Certain products/commodities are priced because of economic laws of supply and demand. Others, however, are luxury goods; or at least are marketed as such and thus carry an unworthy price tag. We have more of the latter in the US because businesses spend more on marketing and there’s been more money to go around no doubt. But what I’ve done over the last few weeks is keep tabs on some costs, and have seen that while most things are cheaper here, others are quite the opposite. While it doesn’t reflect how much these costs add up for Macedonians (because they don’t earn what an American does on average, far from it!) I’ve converted the prices to dollars. But when you see my hourly teacher wage at bottom—which is twice what many Macedonians earn, if they’re lucky enough to have a job—you’ll get a better idea how life is here for the many less fortunate.

Dozen farm-fresh eggs $2

Gallon of milk $4

Feta & white cheese $3-4/lb

Ground beef $2.50/lb

Good deli meats $3/lb

Loaf of good bread $.75-1.00

Bananas $.75/lb

Litre of local fruit juice $1.25-1.50

Dinner at local restaurant $5-7 per person

Good pizza at pizzeria $6-8

Flaky meat & cheese pastries $1

Cappuccino $1.25-2

Cake/dessert $1-2

Ten minute taxi ride $2-3

New bike tire tube $3

Gas $7/gallon

Samsonite umbrella in mall $60

Cheap umbrella on street $2

Bodum French Press $65

“Dzezva”—local coffee

maker $4-5

Haircut $3-4

Rent for 1 BR apt in Skopje $200/month

Room in villa on Lake Ohrid $30/night

Private boat ride on lake $3.50

My pay for teaching $7.50/hour!

Moles & Medicine

2008-09-19T17:28:00.000+02:00

Differences in culture around the world also extend to medicine—health, perceptions of it, and medical treatments. To begin on an unusual note (but one remeniscient of Austin Power’s gawking over Fred Savage’s giant “mo-le” in Goldmember), something that's always bewildered me are the moles on Macedonians. They seem to all have them, and some are really quite large, even on kids (I walked by a teenage girl with one the size of a quarter on her upper back just recently). Older folks though definitely have them and some can be quite substantial, generally visible on people’s faces and arms.

My theory is it's all about people’s internal energies, their equilibrium. Here people have incredible social customs/constraints; they talk, eat, and drink a lot of coffee and alcohol, and don't get much aerobic exercise. It’s just a personal theory, but I think in particular the social stress and lack of aerobic exercise this makes for a social stress that contributes to a mole’s growth. It seems to be where the body channels some of its excess energy.

I’ve never had a conversation about moles with a Macedonian—because frankly, I don’t know where it would begin—but aspects of their homeopathic and medical traditions they’re happy to impart. On the surface they’re just different customs that we Americans are told about (and which as Peace Corps volunteers were imposed upon us!) by the loving friends and families we came to know here. They primarily include not walking around without slippers on (except for in the summer) inside; always having something on your feet when you’re outside; not going outside with wet hair (generally more of an issue for women); not having more than one window open in a vehicle, house, etc, for fear of causing “promaja”—a draft.

One is quickly scolded if he/she violates these customs of Macedonian society, as even on hot summer days you only might get away with having a couple windows open. But generally speaking, it’s taboo. Why is this? The concerns are of course that one will get ill from the cold and/or the moving air. To some extent this is legitimized by the more arid climate and the dry air. My theory is that cool dry air is more disturbing to the body than more humid air, such as many of us are used to in the US. It does seem to give one more of an ache in the neck if you’re exposed to it for long periods of time. But this doesn’t explain the instantaneous dislike of the draft by many Macedonians. No, it’s a fear that is somewhat a result of the climate but more so something cultural, and thus largely incomprehensible to many Americans. It is the air that is therefore the primary culprit. Having wet hair or breaking a sweat will allow the air to get right to you, and illness may very well follow.

One part of me always tries to understand and differentiate myself and my culture from this. But another part of me believes it’s half true. This week I’ve been sick, and I admittedly attribute it to walking barefoot and later biking outside in the rain Sunday and Monday. To me it was a pleasant rain, a cool relief from the heat. But it was also rather cold.

The remedies for illness are generally tea, use of brandy, and paracetamol—a common pain reliever in Europe. Indeed, for fever—which I’ve experienced several times in my life in this country including this week—the remedies include soaking socks in brandy and putting them on, and receiving a quick body massage with warm brandy, followed by being covered from head to toe and put under layers of blankets in order to force a sweat to break. Does it work? For me somewhat, but so does the body’s immune system. And further, I firmly believe it’s the same psychological process that allows placebos to work—individuals receive positive attention that reassures them, and therefore they heal.

Indeed, from a cross-cultural perspective what I always try to understand about treating illness is how people perceive potential illnesses, their vulnerability to them, and their consequent treatment. I’ve discussed the first and last of these, but it’s really the perception of vulnerability that can play such a role in actually getting sick. It can be legitimate, fore no doubt our immune systems do weaken and elements, viruses, and bacteria can do us harm. But the concern with illness here differs because it will generally be a result of the elements, not so much of microbiological organisms. In the US, we are always more concerned with the latter (except for in cases of hypothermia or extreme heat), fearing the common cold—a “bug” that is one of a hundred rhinoviruses that only prevails when our bodies get stressed or exhausted. Instead of looking at this as an illness should we not look at it as a measure of our body’s needs?

Regardless, here and at home it is my opinion that the key elements of illness and treatment are the same. We have preconceived notions of what might ail us, it does, and we treat it according to our customs and rituals, if you will. In the US it's generally what a doctor prescribes or a pharmacy provides. Here doctors don't prescribe, and pharmacies abound but they serve that societal yet healing purpose of assuring someone of their malady and suggesting they take some soluble paracetamol tablet, drink tea, and get rest. The rest is in our heads!

Work

2008-09-12T16:20:00.001+02:00

Since one reason I’ve come here (and need to do to make some money to live off of) is to get a job, I feel it’s worth sharing some of the differences in getting a job here in

Macedonia

that I’ve come across so far. Given my past experience in the country, education, and knowledge of the language, I’ve had a pretty good week of getting my resume out and even interviewing for a job, Macedonian style. I shot my resume off to some places, met with a few school secretaries, and used the Peace Corps network to discuss other opportunities.

Yesterday, though, I went to a new office-like building that I knew to house the relatively new American College Skopje (ACS). Well, I got there a little late in the day for Macedonians—3pm or so—and so found only a few people lingering to speak with. Having sent it over email a few weeks ago, I left my resume and information and parted with a smile and thanks. On my way out though, I started speaking to another guy who said I should talk to a certain gal. Now, being in the building, I thought I was about to speak with someone from ACS, and gladly went to talk with her. Lo and behold, after telling her who I was, being served coffee, and engaging in a conversation that immediately jumped into politics and history, I discovered that this woman was from another school, rather amusingly called MIT!

Now the school has no affiliation with the MIT stateside, though it does offer IT courses (in addition to culinary and environmental science type stuff). The gal, Biljana, was very kind and sharp, but an hour into the chat and after she’d smoked several cigarettes, I was wondering where this was all going and how I fit in. We discussed my visa situation and pay, and in the end she said if I got her a plan for how I could teach for them than I was in. I should’ve been enthusiastic, right? But knowing what was confirmed right after by meeting up with an old Peace Corps volunteer who’s been in the country 12 years, I sighed and laughed at the insanity that is modern Macedonia. That is, the situation here is a cocktail of a South European/Balkan patronage system mixed with post-Socialist apathy mixed with free-market greed. What I wrote about last week is what’s making for a huge discrepancy between rich and poor here. And by poor, I mean people who don’t have enough money to eat and cover their most basic needs.

As evidenced by the educational system (which I’m getting to), Skopje and all the country are in a real mess. If one is lucky enough to get work they might not even get paid for it. But this comes about through pure proprietary greed. Owners of stores, restaurants, and in my case, new “colleges” and schools, are just withholding salaries from employees and pocketing them. In the case of the Berlitz language school franchise that opened, I was told that the owners were making their teachers put down a thousand euro “deposit” to ensure that they wouldn’t steal the Berlitz technique and run off and start their own language school. So not only did some of those teachers not get a salary after working a couple of months, they were swindled out of a grand too.

Apparently ACS and MIT are actually both decent programs for the time being, but these schools (many, for what it’s worth, claiming to be the “first private university in Macedonia”) are sprouting like weeds. They’re all across the city and generally charge €2,000-3,000 ($3,000-4,500) tuition. They’re comprised of some well educated faculty by Yugoslav standards, but the problem is that everyone’s gotten greedy and education’s become a business. (No doubt we’re seeing this somewhat in the US, but because of our laws and, most of all, incredibly bureaucratic universities, it’s like comparing apples to oranges.)

So, what will happen with me? I’ll have to play the game and get used to nothing like direct deposit, but I fortunately had dinner with a very sharp Peace Corps friend last night who’s stuck around Macedonia (there’re a few of us) and worked for ACS among other schools. He gave me some salary demands to make for these so called universities and colleges (€15-20/hour), and at least €10/hour for the numerous private language schools around. Fortunately, I arrived at the right time, as most schools don’t begin for a couple of weeks (and many in early October), so I should be finding out in the next week or two what will work out. Fingers crossed, an old partnership between IU and a EU backed university that’s opening a branch in Skopje could yield a position, and one with a secure pay check. I’ll need that in no time, as with rising costs and a weak dollar, I’m counting my dollars more closely than I used to. Speaking of that, stay tuned for a list of prices and how they differ. A gallon of gas, for example? About $7…

The wheels on the bus go round and round…

2008-09-05T16:30:00.000+02:00

How many times I’ve come and gone to Macedonia is equivalent to the number of years it’s been since I first came here in 2002. How much has changed is harder to quantify, however. I had little idea what to expect when I first came in Nov ’02 as a Peace Corps volunteer (PCV), and I spent my first few months in a village that has hardly changed in the last few centuries, let alone the past few years.

Six years later, the nation’s capital, Skopje, is another story. When my good buddies and I escaped up here for a night during PC training in December ‘02 (and were reprimanded for it!) the 2001 conflict (and even Kosovo’s in ’99) were very recent events that left the city still shaken and divided, but which had brought the first groups of international workers en masse. Skopje only had a handful of decent outdoor cafes, grocery stores, restaurants, and nice cars from W. Europe. With Yugoslav and E. European makes like Yugos, Zastavas, Ladas and the like, it just felt stuck in its socialist ‘70s. I recall looking around at the New Year’s Eve celebration on December 31, 2002, telling my friend Kim just that. It was like we were living in a movie about a forgone era. But it was real—old cars, old clothes, and old habits. Oh, times have changed. Well, mostly...

With the ‘free market’, money appears more abundant, products imported from abroad are readily consumed, and heightened foreign direct investment (FDI) means more money is being poured into the country than at anytime since before the dissolution of Yugoslavia in 1991. Fiats, Volkswagens, Audis, BMWs, not to mention Mazdas, Hondas, and Toyotas race down the city streets and country roads. While the market is far from saturated with these products and services (as indeed, many people remain rather poor), their presence is testimony to the money that has flowed in here and really changed people’s lives. Nearly everyone of my generation or younger has mobile phones, cable TV, and the internet (or at least they use it). I even saw the bus company’s website on the side of the city’s decades’ old red buses in sprayed on, stencil letters. www.jsp.com.mk

It still has that socialist look, but it represents a whole new world in this country of two million. People ride the bus less and take their own cars or taxis more. You can even hear it in how they describe directions: Rather than say it’s a fifteen minute walk they say it’s a five minute drive. Whether it makes life more convenient or just causes more accidents and pollution I’m not sure. But regardless of the mode of transportation, the wheels are rolling forward and Macedonians are plugging along…