The Galichnik Wedding & Kriva River Valley

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

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...

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

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?

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

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

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.