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KOSOVO 2.0

KOSOVO 2.0

PEOPLE/POLITICS/SOCIETY/ARTS/CULTURE #7 FALL 2014

MIGRATION VISA DENIED

Contributors ARE WE SWISS YET? Raquel Avila

Editor-in-chief Besa Luci

Rubin Beqo Tringa Berisha Seb Bytyci Mia David Deputy Photography Christopher DeWolf Editor John Dolan Majlinda Hoxha Dardane Arifaj Blumi Artrit Bytyci Design Enri Canaj Van Lennep, Amsterdam Djurdja Djukic Clleanc / Bubrrecat, Jodi Hilton Prishtina Valerie Hopkins Mimoza Kqiku Senior Managing Mikra Krasniqi Editor Fortesa Latifi Michael McKenna Hana Marku Leonard Nikaci Copy Editor Edona Peci KOSOVO: € 5,ELSEWHERE: € 15,- / $ 20,Wesley Schwengels Enver Robelli Bradley Secker Senior Editors Besa Shahini Tu-Linh Doan Eaamon Sheehy Ben Timberlake Photographers Staff Writer Verdi Avila Cristina Mari Enri Canaj Christopher DeWolf Online Managing Jodi Hilton Editor Valerie Hopkins Jack Davies Mariangela Mihai Armend Nimani Eni Nurkollari Eamonn Sheehy Bradley Stecker Kushtrim Ternava

Translators Qerim Ondozi Murlan Jasiqi

Photography Editor Atdhe Mulla

NO REFUGE

Sales Manager Sokol Loshi

Manager KOSOVO'S (MIS)EDUCATION Financial Hana Ahmeti

TRAPPED IN GREECE

Publisher Kosovo Glocal

LIVING BEHIND THE WALLS DIASPORA KIDS

Interns Shpresa Frrokaj Aurela Kadriu Tringë Sokoli Webmaster Sprigs The Board Chairman Joan de Boer Members Anna Di Lellio Aliriza Arenliu

Print and Distribution GTV Drukwerk Project Management bv Kosovo 2.0 magazine is available in English, Albanian and Serbian.

Online: www.kosovotwopointzero.com E-mail: magazine@ kosovotwopointzero.eu Subscribe to Kosovo 2.0 E-mail us at subscriptions@kosovotwopointzero.eu or visit www.kosovotwopointzero.com/en/magazine.

Financial support The content does not necessarily reflect the views and opinions of the donors.

Cover Majlinda Hoxha “Door” 2006

#7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

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LETTER FROM THE EDITOR BESA LUCI

—DURING THE KOSOVO WAR OF 1999, as one among hundreds of thousands of Albanians, I, too, became a refugee. For the four months of the NATO bombing, I settled in Bulgaria with my oldest sister, who was finishing her university studies at the American University in Bulgaria. Despite the difficulty of leaving home, one of my most indelible memories of the time remains a student’s commencement speech.

She stated that AUBG students, comprised predominantly of youth from the Balkans, had lost their sense of “home.” They had somehow lost their pasts, because they were no longer the ones who were writing it; there was a general feeling of loss, as their definitions of what was and wasn’t “home” had changed. They would no longer be accepted in the countries they once knew as home, because their identities had been compromised. In the West, they would never fit in — they were still too “different.”

Their accents would be valuable commodities. They would be the native scholars from that liminal space that showed where Europe ended, or perhaps began. Or at least they would hope so.

To me, it was refreshing to adopt the idea of a fragmented self and identity. Being marginal, fitting nowhere and everywhere at the same time was somehow empowering, but also alienating.

As we prepared the Migration issue, I found that these sentiments of alienation and empowerment ran through the various stories in the magazine, as well. What we encountered was that, while migration is universal and embodies and evokes experiences and memories for individuals and people everywhere, it is just as often divisive, as the meanings we ascribe to it are innately political.

So as we examine the political, economic and social implications of the various forms of migration, we look at how clashes between ideological discourses and political systems produce repercussions that all too often threaten human rights and freedoms, but also tend to produce ambiguity over what constitutes “rightful migration.” They also determine boundaries of rights. Because, whether speaking to the contentious politics of migration policies, exploring causes and motives to the different forms of migration, or unfolding the personal reflections on identity, the struggles that emanate from migration are ultimately of an intimate, personal nature. And our understanding and experiences can equally influence and shape the type of stories we come to find, listen, tell or even live.

That is why we were determined from the onset that personal and human-driven struggles and experiences would be at the core of this issue. A great selection of stories in this issue speaks to how we come to define and understand a sense of self, place and home, within such constellations, as well as challenge them.

Being from Kosovo offers us great insight into how migration plays out, unfolds and gets packed and unpacked over and over again. During the ’70s, ’80s and ’90s, Kosovars experienced large waves of migration. During the socialist Yugoslavia era, Kosovar Albanians migrated as “workers temporarily employed abroad;”

with the rise of nationalist rhetoric and the oppressive regime of the time, many sought political asylum or family reunions with those already living abroad; and the third wave ultimately included hundreds and thousands of refugees fleeing the 1999 war (see our cover story, “A second home” by Enver Robelli, page 27).

On one hand, we document accounts of these waves of migration through the personal chronicles of some of our Kosovar Albanian writers, and explore how their stories produce affects of home and identity (see “The Next Generation” by Hana Marku, page 138, and “The Walls That Can’t Be Torn Down”

by Artrit Bytyci, page 40). On the other hand, our recent experience also compels us to identify similar movements and struggles for rights that continue to prevail elsewhere, as well as the persistence of regimes wishing to eliminate people based on particular group belonging (see our collection of stories speaking to Syrian refugees in Bulgaria and Turkey, and asylum seekers in Serbia, starting at page 46).

As we were preparing this issue, we found ourselves coming back to discussions of rights, freedoms and opportunities within our own state and society. This is primarily because, six years into independence, it has become clear that freedoms and rights are not guaranteed. So while once Kosovo faced waves of migration predominantly due to infringements on the safety of the national group, the struggles it faces today are both of a different and similar nature. Kosovo’s youth is seeking a way out. The political and economic system fails to offer and guarantee them their social and economic security, and public debate is suffocated by moral and political majorities of self-proclaimed power.

That is why we found it important to include a section examining and critiquing the quality of Kosovo’s higher education, which not only is producing a generation that sees itself lacking as prospects, but also feels unequipped to take part in Kosovo’s development.

These young people are largely perceived as a threat to the “European family” that Kosovo aspires to join (see “Too Poor To Travel Freely,” page 16). And while we do not argue that visas should be awarded blindly, we do advocate for the need to recognize and acknowledge that the process is as political as any other. Kosovo has been turned into a ghetto, and freedom of movement has been structured in a manner that keeps some people in (often against their will) and others out. The case of Leonarda Dibrani is a case in point (see “The Mistaken Homeland,” page 22).

So this issue on migration ties together discussions of political liberties, economic opportunity, human rights and questions of identity. While we tend to think of migration as an exception to a human condition characterized by rootedness and home, the permanence of human movement appears as a much more convincing universal. In the end, perhaps, it is not transience that requires controlling, but rather the often forceful means of migration and expulsion that compel it. — K

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KOSOVO 2.0

CONTENT KOSOVOTWOPOINTZERO MAGAZINE MIGRATION — #7 FALL 2014

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LOST AT SEA

HEART AWAY FROM HOME

No Hollywood ending for many migrants.

By Jack Davies

Kosovars make new lives in Switzerland, but can’t forget homeland.

By Enver Robelli

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NO EASY WAY OUT

WALLS, BORDERS AND FENCES

Kosovars face multitude of challenges just to get across the border.

By Besa Shahini

Physically or mentally, shutting others out is nothing new to our species.

By Artrit Bytyci

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THE MISTAKEN HOMELAND

DIFFERENT KIND OF HELL

French political quagmire leaves girl suffering in Kosovo.

By Michael McKenna

After escaping war, some Syrians are finding Europe far from welcoming.

By Jodi Hilton

#7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

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CONTENT KOSOVOTWOPOINTZERO MAGAZINE MIGRATION — #7 FALL 2014

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IMAGES OF IMMIGRATION

HEALING A NATION

Stopover in Greek port cities becomes long wait for refugees.

By Enri Canaj

Hava Shala strove to end blood feuds in order to gain Kosovo’s independence.

By Hana Marku

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104

THE URBAN VILLAGE SQUEEZE

KOSOVO'S LEARNING CURVE

Shenzhen’s migrant neighborhoods are vibrant — and endangered.

By Christopher DeWolf

Youth may be Kosovo’s strongest asset, but impediments at every level of education cloud the promise of a brighter future.

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LETTER FROM THE EDITOR Human movement is driven by many factors that touch us all.

By Besa Luci

Blocked-off bridge is a symbol of Mitrovica’s dysfunction.

By Djurdja Djukic

14 PAPERS, PLEASE

48 SAFER GROUND

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52 A DANGEROUS PATH

Passports go back a long way, and are still far from perfect.

By Fortesa Latifi

YOU TELL US: LIFE IN THE DIASPORA

Our readers speak out on life as a Kosovar abroad.

By Kosovo 2.0

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A CITY SEPARATED

Refugees find promise in Serbia, even if they don’t stay.

By Valerie Hopkins In Middle East, LGBT refugees face many hurdles on road to safety, acceptance.

By Bradley Secker

KOSOVO 2.0

CONTENT KOSOVOTWOPOINTZERO MAGAZINE MIGRATION — #7 FALL 2014

73 PIECES OF HOME

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116 YOU DO THE MATH

A world traveler finds Kosovo in the most unexpected places.

By Dardane Arifaj Blumi

NO LUCK FOR THESE IRISH Roma and Muslims met with derision in Ireland.

By Eamonn Sheehy

120 A LESSON ON LEAVING

University students who study abroad are finding it easier to stay there.

By Seb Bytyci

93 WORDS OF THEIR FATHERS

Tradition is alive and well for Albanians in Argentina.

By Tringa Berisha

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DELIVERING RELIEF

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INTERPRETATION AND RELOCATION

98 MOVING WORDS

Albanian poet Gypsee Yo found her voice abroad.

By Rubin Beqo

100 VOWS AND VISAS Couple’s marriage overcomes European bureaucracy.

By Cristina Mari

102 BUILDING FOR TOMORROW

After leaving as a child, this architect is helping the next generation in Kosovo.

By Edona Peci

107 BLESSING AND CURSE

Education, skills needed for Kosovo’s youth to fulfill its promise.

By Mikra Krasniqi

110 THE DROPOUTS' LESSON

For some students, a diploma is just too far away.

By Leonard Nikaci

#7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

Students at university complain about lack of textbooks, but issues run deeper.

By Mimoza Kqiku Educational impediments and a widespread student base cloud the future of Kosovo’s best asset — its youth.

By Kosovo 2.0

88 MIGRATORY MEMORIES

The migration of previous generations provides a link to the past.

By Raquel Avila

REQUIRED READING?

Remittances from Kosovo’s emigrants help, but the system is flawed.

By Mikra Krasniqi Artists examine the deeper reasons why we move.

By Mia David

131 MIGRATING DOWNWARD

It’s difficult to succeed in an alien place.

By John Dolan

134 FLEEING HOME? THERE'S AN APP FOR THAT Presenting the top five immigrationrelated smartphone applications.

By Michael McKenna

138 THE NEXT GENERATION

For children of the Albanian diaspora, there is no right or wrong way home.

By Hana Marku

141 BY THE BOOKS

We look at novels and essays that capture what it means to be a migrant.

By Hana Marku

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THINGS THAT WE CARRY IN A GLOBAL ECONOMY, ONE CAN’T AVOID FINDING THE TRADE AGREEMENTS, MANUFACTURING ALLIANCES AND FISCAL IMBALANCES OF THE WORLD MIRRORED IN ONE’S OWN POSSESSIONS. EVERY TIME YOU WALK OUT THE DOOR, YOU ARE LIKELY CARRYING A SUITE OF PRODUCTS THAT REFLECTS THE INTRICATE SYSTEMS OF INTERNATIONAL CAPITALISM IN YOUR VERY POCKETS. P.19

P.21

ALB P.72

P.45

ZANA P.87

FLOKQI

P.126

MALSORE

WITH THIS IN MIND (AND WITH A NOD TO TIM O’BRIEN’S MORE NAKEDLY MARTIAL COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES, THE THINGS THEY CARRIED), WE CAUGHT UP WITH A BUNCH OF OUR READERS TO SEE WHAT THEIR POSSESSIONS SAID ABOUT THE FORCES OF GLOBAL TRADE. HERE’S WHAT WE FOUND. 8

DRITA

KOSOVO 2.0

KENDRIK

LIKE THE MOVIE 'TITANIC,' THE POOR ARE MORE LIKELY TO BE LEFT ADRIFT

MIGRATION: IT’S NO SEA CRUISE

The film “Titanic” is as much about migration as it is about love. Rose and Jack’s doomed romance provides a metaphor for the aspiration and angst that drive the world’s estimated 232 million international migrants.

Plus, Jack and Rose, along with most of the ship’s other passengers, are migrants.

TEXT BY JACK DAVIES

Jack Davies is Online Managing Editor at Kosovo 2.0.

#1 THE GRASS IS ALWAYS GREENER ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE OCEAN

#7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

— SPECIFICALLY, they are economic migrants. Jack, a prototypical player of America’s green card lottery, wins his passage to the land of opportunity in a game of poker. Rose is Syrian middle class, previously wellheeled but down on her luck. She embarks the Titanic in a reluctant, last-ditch effort to sustain her old-world standards overseas. In the same way members of the Syrian middle class will trade a kidney for salvation, Rose’s voyage is bankrolled by the sale of her body to a fiance so gruesome the prospect of marrying him prompts a suicide attempt.

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#2 SLUMMING IT OR FLEEING THE SLUMS?

— ANYONE WHO WALKED within 100 miles of a cinema in the mid-1990s knows that neither Rose’s nor Jack’s economic or romantic aspirations come to fruition. Rose’s romantic journey resembles a migration Kosovo knows all too well. Like an EULEX intern slumming it in Dragodan for three months before becoming a Brussels bureaucrat, Rose only ever sees Jack as a holiday. If she really meant for their affair to last beyond the voyage, she wouldn’t have turned her promise — “I’ll never let go, Jack” — into Hollywood’s most flagrant lie by casting him into the icy Atlantic mere minutes later.

#3

— JACK’S DEATH ALSO REMINDS us of the adversity faced by migrants around the world. Since the start of the millennium, 23,000 North African migrants have found their graves on the Mediterranean seabed while trying to reach European shores. And just as the Titanic’s steerage passengers were kept below deck so as not to offend the first class, media attention to 14 years of drowned North African migrants will never match the frenzy afforded to the 32 left dead when the Costa Concordia cruise liner ran aground in 2012.

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THOSE WITH THE LEAST TO LOSE OFTEN LOSE THE MOST

KOSOVO 2.0

#4 AND WHEN THEY LOSE, THEY REALLY LOSE

— THE RATIONALE BEHIND holding 2,000 people in these conditions is as simple as it is ugly. It’s the same reason second officer Charles Lightoller in “Titanic” feels no compunction in warbling, “Get back, I say, or I’ll shoot you all like dogs,” at steerage passengers desperate to join first-class passengers on lifeboats.

Wealthy people deserve nice things; poor people are unworthy. Australia, with its $67,035 per capita GDP, has no place for persecuted and impoverished refugees; Papua New Guinea’s $2,184 per capita GDP is far better suited to them.

#7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

— THAT SAME YEAR, the Parliament of Australia voted to reinstate its controversial Pacific Solution. The policy is similar to the Third Reich’s Final Solution inasmuch as both titles are gross euphemisms used by governments to arbitrarily deny the rights and liberty of certain groups of people. The Pacific Solution involves retaining 2,000 asylum seekers in camps in remote Pacific islands in Papua New Guinea. According to an Amnesty International report, only one of the 2,000 has had an asylum claim processed since the reopening of the camps in 2012. The rest are left to suffer in shocking conditions. For example, Amnesty describes 112 people living in “one single windowless shed” and receiving less than 500ml of water per day where temperatures rarely fall below 23 degrees Celsius.

YOU WERE NEARLY THREE TIMES MORE LIKELY TO SURVIVE IF YOU WERE FILTHY RICH 11

#5 OF COURSE, IT’S NOT ALL BAD

— OF COURSE, migration is not always synonymous with misery. Not everyone died on the Titanic, but you were nearly three times more likely to survive if you were filthy rich. As one example, privately educated tennis pro Richard Norris Williams’ voyage on the Titanic was the final leg on a journey from his birthplace in Switzerland to a new life in America. He survived, went on to Harvard University, enjoyed a successful career in tennis and later became an investment banker.

AUSTRALIA, WITH ITS $67,035 PER CAPITA GDP, HAS NO PLACE FOR PERSECUTED AND IMPOVERISHED REFUGEES; PAPUA NEW GUINEA’S $2,184 PER CAPITA GDP IS FAR BETTER SUITED TO THEM. 12

KOSOVO 2.0

#6 FREE TO THOSE THAT CAN AFFORD IT, VERY EXPENSIVE TO THOSE THAT CAN'T

— ALL THIS SAID, the Titanic analogy falls short with regards to one demographic. Women and children may have been first aboard the lifeboats when the ship went down, but they are the most likely to migrate against their will and to suffer more while being trafficked. It is estimated that 98 percent of all persons trafficked into prostitution are women and girls. — K

#7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

— WHILE 23,000 NORTH AFRICAN migrants have lost their lives trying to reach Europe, the super rich can now obtain EU citizenship by purchasing a Maltese passport for a cool 1.15 million euros. Similarly, Amnesty International claims that the Australian government is spending 1 billion Australian dollars to keep 2,000 asylum seekers in camps, while it granted a quarter of a million working holiday visas to citizens belonging to a privileged list of 21 countries.

#7 WOMEN AND CHILDREN LAST

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TOO POOR TO TRAVEL FREELY TEXT BY BESA SHAHINI

VISA RULES, POVERTY, ASYLUM CLAIMS CREATE HURDLES FOR KOSOVARS LOOKING TO LEAVE HOME —“THIS IS BULLSHIT,” SAYS FAIK. “I am scheduled to go to this fair for bathroom tiles in Italy to see the latest designs, you know? But I am not sure if my visa will be ready on time.”

Faik owns one of the biggest stores selling tiles, faucets and bathroom furniture in Ferizaj. “I had to prepare about a thousand documents to attach to my application for a visa and it is still not certain I will get it.”

Those documents make up a long list of requirements for a Schengen short-stay visa. Certificates of birth, marriage and family need to be obtained from municipal authorities. Work contracts or, in Faik’s case, a business registration certificate, need to be valid for at least six months. The applicant must submit bank statements covering the past six months proving enough money to spend in the visiting country. Passport photos need to be taken, health insurance purchased and an invitation from someone who lives in the visiting country presented.

Sometimes it is even necessary to provide the work contract of the person sending the invitation.

To obtain and prepare these documents, Kosovars spend an average of 5 million euros per year, or 75 euros per person. This, however, does not guarantee the applicant a visa; one in every five applications submitted between 2010 and 2012 was refused.

Those living in the rest of the Western Balkans no longer have to go through this administrative nightmare. Visa liberalization for Schengen countries entered into force for Macedonia, Serbia and Montenegro in 2009, and for Albania and Bosnia in 2010.

“I have a Serbian passport,” says Faik. “But you know, Kosovars get these passports from that Coordination Office for Kosovo in Belgrade, and with these documents you cannot travel visa-free to the Schengen countries. It does get me to China, though. I simply mail the passport to the Chinese consulate in Belgrade and they send it back to me with a visa. Guess where most of my merchandise comes from?”

All Kosovars are eligible for a Serbian passport. Extending citizenship to all Kosovars is one way Serbia denies Kosovo as an independent country. But because Serbia does not control

Kosovo de facto — its borders, civil registries and institutions — it cannot vouch for Kosovars as it can for its own citizens. As a result, Kosovar Serbian passport holders are not allowed visafree travel to the Schengen Area. Kosovo’s 1.8 million inhabitants are the only citizens in the region who cannot travel visafree to the Schengen Area, and it is difficult to explain exactly why.

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KOSOVO 2.0

TENSE BEGINNINGS

In 2008, when the government of Kosovo made its intentions clear to declare the state independent, the EU feared a backlash from Serbia. In order to calm potential tensions in Serbia, Brussels decided to reward Serbia. It had to be a concrete reward with a direct impact on people’s lives and not just a distant promise of EU accession. Officials decided to reopen the dialogue for visa liberalization for Serbia and the rest of the Western Balkans. Visa liberalization was a promise Brussels had already made in 2003 and something older generations were used to, having traveled in Europe visa-free before the 1990s. After the Balkan Wars, the EU imposed travel visas to all former Yugoslav and Albanian citizens. Visa liberalization would give Serbians a reason to look ahead to the EU and not back at Kosovo.

While foreign ministers of Schengen countries wanted to provide this incentive, ministers of internal affairs feared being attacked at home for opening the floodgates for illegal immigration, and for the potential crime brought to the Schengen Area by opening its borders to countries with a weak rule of law. As a response, the European Commission devised a list of some 50 conditions — a roadmap — that each country had to meet before its citizens could travel freely to the Schengen Area. The criteria included biometric passports, improving civil registries, data protection and integrated border management, and addressed issues related to illegal migration and asylum seekers from the Balkan countries.

Kosovo was not included in this process until 2012 because of its unclear statehood — five EU member countries still do not recognize Kosovo as a state — and its inability to fulfill require16

ments pertaining to rule of law. In 2012, months after the rest of the Western Balkans was already enjoying visa-free travel to the Schengen Area, Kosovo received its own roadmap, albeit a more demanding one. Kosovo accepted and began working on meeting all the conditions.

Despite the efforts of the government of Kosovo, progress was slow and marred with scandal, the most notable incident involving biometric passports. These passports are required for visa liberalization; they are more secure and contain chips with biometric data such as the holder’s fingerprints. In 2011, an Austrian company won the 14 million euro tender for producing biometric passports for Kosovars. However, 10 percent of the money never reached the firm’s bank account. Instead, it went to a few intermediary companies that assisted with tendering procedures. A number of owners and collaborators of the intermediary companies are currently on trial for corruption, and the contract underwent a retendering process.

MASS EXODUS However, this is not the main reason Kosovo has yet to achieve visa liberalization. After visa liberalization went into force, there was a sharp increase in asylum seekers from the Western Balkans.

In 2012, German Deputy Interior Minister Ole Schröder called the sudden influx of asylum seekers “absurd” and “simply unacceptable that we have two times as many asylum applicants from Serbia as from Afghanistan.” In that year alone, there were 43,000 asylum requests from Western Balkan citizens, making up 13 percent of all asylum applications that year.

Though only 2.2 percent of these asylum requests get granted, the administrative procedures can take several months, during which time asylum seekers are accommodated, fed, seen by doctors and have their children taken to school. This is why asylum seekers target countries with longer administrative procedures, such as Germany, where 60 percent of all EU asylum requests were filed in 2013. This allows them to stay in the country for as long as possible, until their asylum requests are processed and ultimately refused.

In January 2014, the EU put a “suspension clause” in place, allowing the EU to suspend visa-free travel for third countries when there is a surge in unfounded asylum claims. As for Kosovo, the EU intends to prevent further problems by not lifting the visa regime at all.

Even now, Kosovo produces the largest per capita number of asylum seekers in the EU. According to Eurostat, there were roughly 10,000 to 15,000 asylum applications annually from Kosovo between 2009 and 2012, though some cases were reported as citizens claiming to be Kosovars with the belief it would increase their chances. In 2013, the number of applications was estimated at 23,000. Furthermore, about 5,000 people from Kosovo are caught residing in EU countries illegally each year. The fear is that these numbers would double if Kosovars were allowed to travel freely to the Schengen Area.

Those who are caught illegally residing in the EU or whose asylum request has been refused are forcibly returned to Kosovo.

Kosovo signed readmission agreements with all Schengen member states, which established returning procedures. Some 3,000 Kosovars are forcibly returned each year. #7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

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— “We travelled in a van with darkened windows for about a week and rarely left the vehicle. It cost us all the money we had and most of my gold jewelry,” says Makfire, eyeing the remaining jewelry she wears. “Yes, we took a risk but it was so worth it. We had a glimpse of a good life there.”

‘GLIMPSE OF A GOOD LIFE’

HARSH RETURN

Fatmir and Makfire Stolla, together with their two sons, were forcibly removed from Norway in 2012. “Our asylum request got refused,” says Fatmir. “They don’t grant asylum for economic reasons. They don’t care about that. As for our safety in Kosovo, they said that things are good now for minorities. There are laws in place to protect us, reintegration policies to help us out financially. Hospitals, medicine and psychiatric help if we need, so no reason to let us stay in Norway.”

The Stollas belong to the Ashkali community in Kosovo. In 1999, they were forced out of their home in Kodra e Trimave, a neighbourhood in Prishtina. Fatmir says Albanians forced them out in the name of the Kosovo Liberation Army, but he knew they were not KLA. “Some of those guys I know, they are from the neighborhood. But they were a mob and their purpose was to scare and remove all Ashkali and Roma from their homes. Some 3,000 were forced out of Prishtina and some of us ended up in Macedonia.”

The Stollas were placed in a Roma camp in Skopje, where they were given a room in a barrack, sharing a kitchen and toilet with dozens of Roma families. In 2008, they found a way to travel to Norway illegally.

“We travelled in a van with darkened windows for about a week and rarely left the vehicle. It cost us all the money we had and most of my gold jewelry,” says Makfire, eyeing the remaining jewelry she wears. “Yes, we took a risk but it was so worth it. We had a glimpse of a good life there.”

It was a risky endeavor. Many people who migrate illegally put their lives in danger, and in one of the most tragic cases, 18 Kosovars drowned in the river Tisa in 2009. They were attempting to cross the Serbian-Hungarian border.

Once the Stollas arrived in Norway, they were placed in a camp with other, mainly Roma, asylum seekers for months. “But then we were sent to this beautiful little town called Lillesand,” says Makfire. They were given a two-bedroom apartment and enough social assistance to pay for clothes and utilities.

“Kids thrived. They did well in school and did lots of sport.

We all learned Norwegian,” Makfire recalls.

“In these language classes we also learned things like human rights or waste recycling,” adds Fatmir.

“I worked,” says Makfire. “I cleaned houses to earn some extra money. Fatmir painted boats sometimes and our oldest son, Sebastian, was really looking forward to vocational school.

He wanted to become an auto mechanic.”

The Stollas’ asylum request was eventually refused. They appealed but were refused a second time. In October 2012, they were told they had to leave. They packed two suitcases and were put on a plane to Kosovo.

Their return to Kosovo was a shock. Sebastian, who turns 20 this year, left Kosovo when he was 5. Jetmir, 14, was born in Macedonia and came to Kosovo for the first time in 2012. When asked if he likes his school in Kosovo, Jetmir says, “I don’t know.

It is OK, I guess. But it is different. Kids are not always nice to me. But also school. At first I needed a lot of support because my Albanian was not good. But you don’t get that kind of support here. In Norway, because I was bad in math, my math teacher took the time to tutor me separately until I got better. I felt safe and welcomed and supported.”

Forcible returns are traumatic for children and adults. A 2012 UNICEF report looked at the repatriation of Roma, Ashkali and Egyptian children to Kosovo. More than 200 repatriated children were interviewed and many of them “seemed to suffer silently from emotional distress and other health-related problems” and “described their return experience as deeply traumatic.”

The Stollas did receive help from the Prishtina municipality; one requirement for visa liberalization is the establishment of a strong reintegration program. As a result, the government of Kosovo created a fund to help those who are forcibly returned and have nowhere to go. They are given an apartment, food packages for 12 months and up to 2,000 euros to start a business if they have a business idea. However, many who are forcibly returned simply do not want to stay.

A municipal official working on reintegration in Prishtina said that about half the people who receive a business grant use it; they open a shop or buy equipment for some self-employment plan. The others use the money to try to get back into the EU, often illegally.

Kosovo is poor, with almost half the population living below the poverty line. Authorities in Kosovo are attempting to help those most in need, but are failing to develop a vision for economic growth that would make Kosovo a country where people want to live, instead of one they want to escape. Until that happens, the poorest Kosovars will continue to risk their lives fleeing, and Schengen authorities will continue to force them back home. While this troubling dilemma continues, visa-free travel for Kosovars remains an elusive dream. — K

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Besa Shahini is a policy analyst with the Berlin-based European Stability Initiative (ESI) and a regular contributor to the Albanian-language online newspaper Gazeta Jeta në Kosovë.

KOSOVO 2.0

A SECOND HOME TEXT BY ENVER ROBELLI / PHOTOS BY MAJLINDA HOXHA

A NATION THAT PERCEIVES ITSELF AS A SUPERIOR RACE FEELS THREATENED: LABOR FORCE HAS BEEN INVITED AND PEOPLE ARE COMING. THEY ARE NOT ENGULFING WELFARE; ON THE CONTRARY, THEY ARE INEVITABLE FOR WELFARE. — MAX FRISCH ➳

#7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

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MIGRANTS AND AUTHORITIES ALIKE BELIEVED LARGE-SCALE MIGRATIONS FROM KOSOVO IN THE 1980S AND 1990S WOULD BE TEMPORARY, SO NEITHER SIDE MADE MUCH OF AN EFFORT AT INTEGRATION.

— MAX FRISCH WROTE THIS IN THE 1960s, as Italians streamed into Switzerland to bolster the Alpine country’s economy. They would work for nine months, at which point they had to leave for three months, then return in the spring.

They came alone; Switzerland at first did not allow them to bring along their families. Only their muscles were required, and additional hungry mouths were unwelcome.

This drew a stark contrast to the situation about 150 years prior. In April 1815, in Indonesia, the volcano Mount Tambora erupted and covered the world with so much ash that for two years in a row, summer barely appeared and harvests were catastrophic. In 1816 and 1817, 5,000 people died of hunger in a single Swiss canton.

Facing the greater misery of starvation, women threw themselves and their children off cliffs or drowned themselves, while men went to war as mercenaries. Earning money fighting someone else’s battles had been a Swiss tradition from the Middle Ages on, and one shared by Albanians, who also were known to take up arms in foreign wars for sufficient pay or privilege.

In September 1964, right around the time Max Frisch was writing about Italians coming to Switzerland, officials in neighboring Germany calculated which guest worker would be the millionth to arrive from abroad. A previously anonymous Armando Rodrigues de Sá got off the train in Cologne and was greeted by an official delegation, which presented him with a motorcycle for the honor. The newspaper Kölnische Rundschau wrote: “This man from Portugal, during a glamorous expectation, changed his face in front of a crowd of people, as if he regretted having traveled abroad from his homeland… The Portuguese who was welcomed as a star, after the official greeting, said, “The hearty welcome and the motorcycle make parting with my family easier.” Such honor for a newcomer may seem unusual, yet savvy officials prized and sought these workers from other lands. The work of a foreigner “is a profit that cannot be measured,” declared one German government official in 1969. And with the Ital#7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

ian source of that profit slowing, officials were eyeing Yugoslavia and Turkey for their high potential to provide labor. During this boom, Albanians joined the migratory flow to Germany, Switzerland and Austria.

The governments in Bonn, Bern and Belgrade had agreed to work together to recruit workers from Yugoslavia, and interest was high. Migration found great appeal in the most impoverished parts of Yugoslavia, which frequently overlapped those areas inhabited by Albanians: western Macedonia, Montenegro, the Presheva Valley in southern Serbia, and Kosovo: Yugoslavia’s poorest retreat. The construction sector and other industries in the northern countries sought physical labor, and Yugoslavia was prepared to export plenty of its workers to mitigate its own poverty and social tension.

— So just 15 years after World War II, thousands of Albanians boarded buses and trains westward-bound on the Old Continent and toward the German world.

By 1970, 25,000 Albanians were living in Switzerland as temporary workers.

How come Albanians in Switzerland numbered 200,000? How come Albanians in Germany numbered 150,000 and the same amount earned citizenship? (though, it is believed that the total number of Albanians living in Germany is 300,000).

Like the Italians, rules forced them to leave their wives and children behind. But even after restrictions were lifted, many Albanians hesitated to import their families.

They held the conviction that they would not stay for long. They wanted to earn a pile ➳ 29

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WAR IN KOSOVO SHIFTED MIGRATION PATTERNS, SENDING MANY AWAY TO WESTERN EUROPE, WHILE OTHERS WHO HAD MADE HOMES IN OTHER COUNTRIES RETURNED HOME TO FIGHT.

➳ of money and then return home. It was no accident that Yugoslav communist propaganda called them “workers temporarily employed abroad.” In spite of these mindsets, “temporary” became permanence. By the mid1970s, the temporary workers could see, along with anyone else, that the future of Yugoslavia was insecure. Even then, Albanians resisted removing their families to western Europe. Perhaps in the hope of a future Kosovo, they were reluctant to drain their homeland of Albanians. Yet, while they hesitated, Spanish, Italian and Portuguese workers took advantage of the new freedom and imported their families to Switzerland.

The Albanians held the line until the late ’80s. They regularly returned to their homelands with money and goods that represented Western luxury (color TVs, stereos and home appliances). But escalating conflict in Yugoslavia changed their calculations, and many decided to bring their families to Switzerland. “Turist Kosova” buses and trains from Fushë Kosova and Bujanovc transported thousands of families to German-speaking countries in this period. In the space of a few years between the 1980s and ’90s, about 60,000 Albanians — mostly women and children — headed for something that resembled a massive family reunion in Switzerland.

Their integration would not prove easy for two reasons. Swiss authorities believed that the recent immigrants would leave as soon as the situation in Yugoslavia calmed down, so they made few formal efforts at integration. And many Albanians also believed their stay would be temporary. They preferred to live in their isolated Kosovos within Switzerland, rejecting prolonged contact with the native Swiss.

Instead of settling down, the situation back home worsened. The revocation of Kosovo’s autonomy, the installation of repression from Gjilan to Peja and from Mitrovica to Prizren, the economic collapse, the fear of forced service in Milosevic’s Yugoslav National Army, the firings of thousands of Albanian workers, the closing of public schools for Albanians — all drove the tide of migration toward western Europe. Asylum seekers sought refuge in places where they had rela#7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

tives – close or distant – Germany, Switzerland and Austria: an uncle in Geneva, a cousin in Basel, another relative in Bern, parents in Zürich or Berlin, München, Stuttgart, Düsseldorf, Vienna, Villach, Graz.

Most asylum seekers did not have permission to work, and they lived in isolated enclaves in suburbs or villages. In these dire circumstances, they formed criminal networks or drug-dealing gangs. In the early ’90s, Albanians controlled a sizeable portion of Zurich’s illegal drug market, for example.

Ueli Leuenberger, a Green Party politician, union activist, and a defender of the rights of asylum seekers, was one of the greatest supporters of the Swiss Albanian community. He criticized an official policy that placed arriving Albanian youths in barracks instead of with their families, who might keep them under control. This distance from family and lack of social attention opened the door to criminality, he said.

Despite this internal friction, the connection between Kosovo and Switzerland grew so strong in the ’90s that various associations, clubs and even political parties of Kosovo operated in the alpine country. They worked not for the integration of Albanians into Swiss society, but to support activities back in Kosovo.

The advent of war in Kosovo threw the dislocated Albanian community into upheaval. Many who had only recently arrived in Switzerland now returned home to fight the war. Meanwhile, the current flowing ➳

— After the war, most of those 50,000 Albanians refugees returned to their homeland. The Swiss state supported the nascent country. Among other assistance, it sent some 2,000 cows to Kosovo farmers — flown in on special planes.

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TIGHTENED RULES ON ASYLUM SEEKERS HAVE LED SOME TO TAKE MORE DESPERATE MEASURES.

➳ the other direction brought more than 50,000 refugees from Kosovo in 1998 and 1999. The Swiss population showed a great sympathy for the suffering of Kosovars, and they gave assistance beyond financial aid. However, the image of Kosovar Albanians in Switzerland remained negative — due in part to intolerable behavior by a small number of Albanians, as well as to growing xenophobia.

After the war, most of those 50,000 Albanians refugees returned to their homeland.

The Swiss state supported the nascent country. Among other assistance, it sent some 2,000 cows to Kosovo farmers — flown in on special planes.

The next generations Today, some 200,000 people from all the Albanian regions of the former Yugoslavia live in the Helvetic Confederation. In Germany, there are 150,000 such people, and perhaps the same number who hold German citizenship. Since the end of war, the second and third generations of Albanians in Switzerland, Germany and Austria have maintained and even strengthened their ties with Kosovo. But the bonds are not as emotional as those of their parents’ generation.

More and more Albanians secure Swiss and German citizenship. That fact is evident in the increasing number of Swiss Army members of Albanian heritage. Most Kosovar Albanians live in German-speaking regions of Switzerland, and especially near the industrial centers of Zürich, Basel, Luzern, Bern, Lausanne and Geneva. While the most notable Albanians in Switzerland are the football players representing their adopted home, even more remarkable signs of integration are the multitude of Albanian doctors, lawyers, architects, engineers and qualified workers in the Swiss economy. This trained and professional force is growing, but it does not get as much attention as sundry criminals who continue to blacken the image of Switzerland’s Albanian community.

The Swiss Albanian faction cannot expect any great support from Kosovo, a young and dysfunctional country with its own slate of adversity. And even though Switzerland has blocked illegal immigration #7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

for years, the wave of emigrants continues.

Diaspora boys and girls marry other girls and boys back in the mother country. And hundreds of Kosovar Albanians, hoping for a way out of poverty, continue to seek asylum in Switzerland — even though the law defines asylum as available only to those who are politically persecuted. The Swiss have tightened asylum regulations, which has meant a sharp decline in the number of Kosovars allowed in. Requests for asylum are now supposed to be resolved within 48 hours of arrival. If denied, the seekers are sent home, or they try their luck in other countries.

This has lead some to take more desperate measures. In October 2009, dozens of Kosovars were being smuggled from Serbia to Hungary across the Tisza River when their boat capsized, killing 15 young parents and children. An EU judge punished seven Albanian smugglers with a total of 66 years of prison. Yet the wave continues. Hundreds of Kosovars were reportedly being held last summer in detention centers in

— More recently, a current of Kosovars has turned toward France to seek asylum. Yet conditions there may be even more difficult.

Images of Albanian families living in tents or under bridges raised a brief alarm in Kosovo before they were quickly forgotten.

Hungary, arrested during their attempts to flee to western Europe.

It has been more than half a century since the arrival in Switzerland, Germany and Austria of the first guest workers from Kosovo. Those earliest arrivals are now older than 60, many likely retired and presented with a dilemma: return to Kosovo or stay in Switzerland? These countries have become as much a home to them as Kosovo. ➳ 33

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EVEN TODAY, MANY WHO MIGRATED MORE THAN 30 YEARS AGO SPLIT TIME BETWEEN THEIR ADOPTED COUNTRIES AND THEIR FAMILY AND FRIENDS BACK IN KOSOVO.

âžł

These former migrants take a pragmatic approach: They maintain their residency permits and health insurance even as they make frequent visits to Kosovo. But even for those whose trips to Kosovo are less frequent, their homeland has moved closer, thanks to TV channels and the Internet.

They can have near-constant communication with family and friends in Kosovo.

Thinking of home The diaspora is a persistent and significant factor for Kosovo, especially from an economic standpoint. Each year, members of the diaspora transfer more than half a billion euros to people back home. This sum is key to the survival of many Kosovar families. About 1 in 3 Kosovar families gets financial assistance from people outside the country. This money goes toward the basics: food, appliances, vehicles, agricultural equipment and medicine.

Because of the strong ties with the homeland, political involvement among the diaspora is still high. They follow events in Kosovo, the Presheva valley, Macedonia and Albania. Branches of political parties of Kosovo still operate, perhaps anachronistically, in Switzerland, Germany and Austria.

These branches have little use today. Their main effect is to polarize their communities as they cling to absurd ambitions of running politics back in Kosovo.

Albanian political groups from the top of Germany to the bottom of Switzerland, meanwhile, hold monotonous gatherings and promote books and poetry of unpublishable quality. Some of the second generation has thrown off the ties to Kosovo and embraced Swiss political life. Some even now support the Swiss National Party, or SVP, which for many years ran an aggressive anti-Albanian campaign. Political observers say that Albanians in Switzerland support conservatives because their families were conservative back in Kosovo. Liberals tend to advocate for better treatment and integration of migrants. But the Albanians seem to be aligning with their traditional politics over their interests as immigrants.

Perhaps this contradiction will be eliminated with the passage of a generation. The #7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

Italian community in Switzerland provides a possible model. The Italians started out working in factories, then moved to construction, leaving behind jobs that were taken up by Albanians, Turks and Serbs. By the 1980s, the Italians had moved on from heavy labor and were opening restaurants.

Their children had all but assimilated into Swiss society. But in a kind of echo of that process today, Albanians run a number of the Italian restaurants in Swiss cities. Now, their children are being integrated, if not always easily. Perhaps we can understand this if we consider the trials of the broader Albanian community: a shared experience of active and passive repression, of political oppression, of war. Their ethnic predecessors did not have such heavy and recent difficulties.

These 50 years of Albanian diaspora have been a continuation of the struggle for survival. The coming half century may present different challenges and is unlikely to bring many miracles. Those we can hope for are small miracles, the accomplishments in the context of a single life. We will see and applaud more Albanians who succeed as professionals and in public life. — K

Enver Robelli is foreign policy editor at the newspaper Tages Anzeiger in Switzerland.

35

BARRICADES ON THE MAIN BRIDGE OVER THE IBAR RIVER DO NOT BLOCK ALL MOVEMENT BETWEEN MITROVICA’S NORTHERN AND SOUTHERN SIDES — BUT THEY DO SYMBOLIZE THE CITY’S STUBBORN DIVISIONS.

WHEN THE BRIDGE IS A BARRIER TEXT BY DJURDJA DJUKIC / PHOTOS BY ATDHE MULLA

IN MITROVICA, A PHYSICAL DIVIDE IS FURTHERING A SOCIAL ONE 36

KOSOVO 2.0

— The hearts and wallets of the north are still closer to Belgrade than to Prishtina, and most people see Serbia as their homeland. They feel no connection to a Kosovar identity or state, and don’t even know the state’s symbols.

— THE TOWN WAS ONCE CALLED Titova Mitrovica, then Kosovska Mitrovica, and today it is known as Northern Mitrovica and Southern Mitrovica. It is a town separated along ethnic lines following the wars in the former Yugoslavia. Bridges across the Ibar River connect the two sides, but the most prominent bridge is a symbol, and the barricade on one end is an emblem of the conflict between Albanians and Serbs. Although several other bridges allow traffic to travel between the northern and southern sides of the city, this one is a unique border between two parallel worlds. Though they look like two parts of the same city, each sector has its own flag, language, mobile phone operator, TV channels, vehicle license plates and political billboards.

An agreement signed in Brussels last year by former Serbian Prime Minister Ivica Dacic and Kosovo Prime Minister Hashim Thaci is supposed to normalize relations between Kosovo and Serbia and help integrate the north into Kosovo’s institutions.

But local elections in November saw outrage in the form of broken ballot boxes and physical assaults — a new obstacle placed before integration had even taken its first steps. These developments heralded a change for Serbs. After 15 years of strident noncooperation, intolerance and heightened ethnic tensions — after the denial of reality by Serb politicians in both Kosovo and Serbia — the tune had suddenly changed. Now, the Serb community is expected to provide instant cooperation. Though this will not happen quickly, most people seem resigned to some sort of integration.

It will come, one way or another, with pressure from Belgrade, Prishtina and the international community. Serbs in the

north are not especially happy about it, as they had hoped and believed that their part of the country would retain a special status. It has been a shock as the realization that this would not occur has dawned, and the consequent disappointment has further stressed citizens of the north. I hear it in conversations with my parents and other longtime residents: The Brussels agreement is not even that clear, and its implementation is ambiguous. Conflicting interpretations come from Belgrade and from Prishtina; people aren’t clear on even the underlying information. The whole situation is also connected to other political concerns, like national elections on either side. The question that demands an answer is this: How will integration lead to further development?

Even the negotiators of the agreement and those charged with its implementation do not know the answer. Some in the north say this is a key moment. The Serb community must examine how to make use of its potential to ensure that it remains in Kosovo, explains Branislav Nesovic, of the Northern Mitrovica organization Aktiv.

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A LACK OF PERSPECTIVE

The hearts and wallets of the north are still closer to Belgrade than to Prishtina, and most people see Serbia as their homeland.

They feel no connection to a Kosovar identity or state, and don’t even know the state’s symbols.

After the Brussels agreement and the local elections, people felt that Belgrade had betrayed the north, and patriotism — especially among youth — has increased, along with a radical focus on the micro-community. Yet the community does not reciprocate. The university center, Severna Mitrovica, has many ➳

— A few are willing to get to know the other side, but for the majority there is only Southern Mitrovica or Northern Mitrovica — no need to establish contact with the other.

MILICA ORLOVIC FEELS THAT YOUNG PEOPLE FROM MITROVICA HAVE ALMOST BECOME USED TO THE CITY’S UNNATURAL DIVIDE.

ca. “At times, I did not believe that I would work in the south, that I would see new countries and that I would have the chance to talk to people from different parts of the world who face similar problems,” he said. “I realized that people from different cities around the world are victims of high politics and that these cities perhaps would not have faced such problems without these politics.

“Working in the non-governmental sector definitely changed my perspective on the situation here and helped me to understand the significance of respecting human rights. Before, I was not aware of many problems present in our community; I did not have the chance to discuss it with (anyone) and to try to reach a common solution. (Afterward), I became an active citizen of the community.”

students, yet it does not have a cinema, a theater or a sports center. It is a city known for its rock music tradition, but it has few quality cultural events, and the most frequent activity of youth is drinking coffee. What Serbian youth lacks more than theater and cinema, however, is perspective — the hope that they will be able to get a job, something other than the positions with state and local organizations that have already been filled. They have little reason to believe that they will have a brighter tomorrow. Most want to leave, and many do.

Nonetheless, some have defied the trend and returned to Mitrovica with degrees from global and regional universities, committing themselves to community development through NGOs. “Foreign hirelings” and “homeland traitors” — these are the well-worn labels that criticize NGO workers in the Western Balkans. In Northern Mitrovica, they carry added weight, especially when directed at those who cooperate with the south and with Prishtina. Their critics say these people are trying to erase borders; after trust was destroyed by war and politics, those borders helped re-establish it. Some Serbs recognize this endeavor and even appreciate it to some extent, but most see NGO work through prisms of prejudice and stereotype. They stigmatize people who are simply working for the interests of citizens. To cooperate with Albanian organizations means walking a tightrope of security and trust, yet these joint efforts offer some of the few windows that allow youth to see the other side.

Milos Golubovic, of Northern Mitrovica, found his perspective changed by working with Community Building Mitrovi-

SEPARATE REALITIES

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KOSOVO 2.0

But the exchange and education programs afforded by civil sector organizations are not enough to bridge the gap. Nor is that divide closed by shopping in the Bosnian neighborhood alongside both Serbs and Albanians, or by traveling to Southern Mitrovica to shop at ETC. While the Belgrade-PrishtinaBrussels relationship is settled, a new generation is maturing.

Its members do not cross the bridge, they do not have neighbors unlike themselves and they are taught that the enemy is on the other side. A few are willing to get to know the other side, but for the majority there is only Southern Mitrovica or Northern Mitrovica — no need to establish contact with the other.

Two realities are created in one place, a product of political games of nationalism and patriotism. Youth are taught to believe one or the other, creating an atmosphere of “us against them.”

“My generation after the war had more opportunities to attend seminars with Albanians, which were organized with the aim of reconciliation,” says Milica Orlovic, an unemployed university graduate from Northern Mitrovica. “People could talk about surviving all that had happened, they could hear stories from the other side. Younger generations are not part of it, and it seems that the story of reconciliation is being continuously neglected. Due to lack of contacts, people neither have the opportunity to see the perspective of other communities, nor do they want such a thing. The elders remember some different times, while younger generations grew up in a differ-

AFTER WORKING IN THE CITY’S SOUTH, BRANISLAV NESOVIC HAS COME TO REGARD HIS CITY’S FRACTURED CORE AS A CASUALTY OF POLITICS.

ent environment, and it is difficult to convince them that it is completely normal to go to the south and talk with someone.”

Many people in the area continue to believe that inter-ethnic conflict is a given, and a commonly voiced solution to this concern is to improve economic cooperation. Observers suggest settling the ownership of Trepca mine and restarting operations.

Advocates cite examples of companies that sell their products in the north and south, as well as Bosnian neighborhoods. Money speaks a language everyone understands, they say. But can these superficial relations between sellers and buyers really tear down the barricades? Can they lead to peaceful coexistence between young Albanians and Serbs? Economic cooperation and prosperity are certainly starting points for integration, based as they are on rules of communion and coexistence. They are not crafted in Brussels on the advice of Belgrade and Prishtina. They are more organic. Yet they are not enough.

The citizens need to sit at the same table and discuss the problems that burden both Mitrovicas. As long as politics permeates every corner of life, while trust is eroded by unkept promises of employment and investment, as long as patriotic and nationalistic sentiments are encouraged, then Mitrovica will remain a castle in the air, where rules are enforced only when necessary.

The roads for Serbia and Kosovo to membership in the EU are paved with good intentions, and they may offer solutions to integrate the north into the institutions of the Republic of Kosovo. They may even address the most problematic issues. But at the same time that these questions are being considered on a political level, at the local level a wider community discussion #7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

is needed. These decisions cannot be made somewhere far away and simply imposed here.

De-escalating ethnic conflict requires bringing together younger generations and dealing with the past. The former enemy must be humanized, and an atmosphere must be encouraged in which it is normal for a person to cross the river to play a basketball game in the south or to see a concert in the north.

When higher-level politicians find a solution to the BelgradePrishtina relationship, Mitrovica can stop being used as a tool to score political points. Then, this city can be left to focus on its own issues. Perhaps one day, the bridge over the Ibar River and its barricade will be no more than tourist attractions, like the Berlin Wall — reminders of a once-divided city. — K

Djurdja Djukic works for the Belgrade-based Policy Center think tank. She holds a BA from the Faculty of Political Sciences in Belgrade, Serbia.

39

FINDING A FOOTHOLD TEXT AND PHOTOS BY VALERIE HOPKINS

SERBIA IS A STOPPING POINT FOR MANY 48 MIGRANTS SEEKING ASYLUM IN THE EU.

KOSOVO 2.0

HOTEL OBRENOVAC ACTS AS A TEMPORARY CAMP FOR ASYLUM SEEKERS IN SERBIA.

— IT HAS BEEN A LONG ROAD FOR SIMA, her 5-yearold son, her 4-year-old daughter and her husband. A year-anda-half ago, she and her family fled the embattled Syrian province of Deir-ez-Zor because of heavy clashes between Bashar al-Assad’s Syrian army, the rebels and the growing assault by the alQaeda affiliate Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant.

Sima, 32, has endured months in refugee camps in eastern Turkey, hidden from the police in Greece and walked across mountainous Balkan borders with her children, who are always asking when they can go home.

Sima arrived in Serbia five months ago, after two days in Kosovo and another two in Macedonia, in an asylum center she called a “garbage place,” because of the piles of trash all around it. (A recent report on the asylum centers in Macedonia shows mounds of trash stories high.)

In Germany, there were almost as many asylum seekers in 2014 from Serbia as there were from from Syria. Yet Serbia itself plays host to thousands of asylum seekers each year, many of whom have stopped there on the long road from Syria, Afghanistan and Pakistan to Western Europe. Most hope to reach the European Union, especially Germany (where asylum applications have hit a 14 year high, jumping 64 percent in 2014), but some would be happy to stay in Serbia, where they can live in peace.

As the European Union has cracked down on the traditional migration routes of the Mediterranean, migrants have been trying land routes through former Yugoslav countries. Serbia is the stopping point between the hub of Turkey and the Schengen zone in Hungary.

— In 2008, 52 people sought asylum in Serbia.

Last year, there were more than 4,000 applications.

However, many migrants move on before their asylum procedure is completed. They prefer to try their luck in Western Europe, where they can receive better benefits and potentially find work. That is due in large part to the fact that Serbia has granted few asylum requests since 2008, when it assumed the responsibility from the United Nations Refugee Agency. (This was a condition for being granted visa-free travel to the EU.) “Most migrants perceive Germany as a better option because Serbia is not sending a message to asylum seekers that that they will be given refugee status or receive an efficient and fair procedure,” Jovana Zoric of the Belgrade Center for Human Rights, said.

Most migrants prefer to continue to Hungary, Serbia’s Schengen-zone neighbor. Detections of illegal migrants on the Serbian-Hungarian border jumped 200 percent last year, to 19,000, said a spokeswoman for Frontex, the the EU border management agency.

Before reaching Hungary, migrants coming through Serbia have had to put up with sleeping outside during freezing winters, and some have been greeted with arson, barricades and beatings.

Local resentment Sima arrived at the recently opened asylum center in Hotel Obrenovac shortly after a group of asylum seekers were blocked from coming there. As winter approached in November 2013, hundreds of asylum seekers were sleeping outside in Bogovadja, one of Serbia’s two asylum centers, which together accommodate only 250 people. There were as many asylum seekers in Bogovadja as actual inhabitants of the town.

After complaints from the Council of Europe’s Human Rights Commissioner, Nils Muizniek, the Serbian govern- ➳

#7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

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➳ ment offered sites in Sjenica, Tutin and just outside Belgrade at a barracks for a power plant in Obrenovac.

As the 75 migrants boarded the bus to Obrenovac on Nov. 27, hundreds of local Serbs blocked the road. The asylum seekers spent 14 hours barricaded on the bus while a fire set by locals ravaged 20 of the rooms planned as accommodations.

On the order of the Ministry of Interior state secretary, Vladimir Bozovic, the asylum seekers were escorted by police to Hotel Obrenovac, a large socialist-era rest compound not far from the town.

“This is an appeal to all of us, an invitation to show more humanity as citizens and remember when our Serbian citizens were in a very similar condition as war refugees,” Bozovic said at the time.

A day later, 50 residents from Vracevica, near Bogovadja, blocked the main road in an attempt to prevent the delivery of food and clothes to another 100 asylum seekers crammed into two houses in the villages.

But Serbia is a poor country in dire economic condition.

Serbia’s asylum system, long broken, has been exacerbated by the conflicts in Syria, Afghanistan and Pakistan. A 2012 report by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees lambasted Serbia’s laws and implementation, saying the government is “unable to recognize those in need of international protection.” The report excoriated the the government for the fact that, between 2008 and 2012, not a single person was granted asylum. In 2013, just a few requests were granted.

Serbia’s bid for EU membership has its border police working overtime to keep migrants out to keep Brussels satisfied. In 2012, Serbian police made 40 percent of the region’s detections, the majority of which were along its border with Macedonia, where just 35 border guards (not including the guards who are at the official border crossings) monitor the 113-kilometer border.

Worse across the border Despite the slow pace of Serbia’s asylum process and the lack of adequate accommodation until November’s media attention brought it to light, the conditions in Serbia are now by and large better than its neighbors, including those in the EU.

“In Greece and Bulgaria, the police behaved like animals,” said a 27-year-old going by the name Abdul. He said he paid smugglers 12,000 euros in the hopes of reaching Western Europe, but has been in Serbia for four months.

Amnesty International and the UNHCR recently shamed Bulgaria’s treatment of asylum seekers, saying those “in Bulgaria, including many fleeing from war-torn Syria, are being held in appalling conditions, sometimes for months on end.

They lack access to food, sanitation or basic medical care. They are also at risk of arbitrary detention and face lengthy delays in registration and are routinely deprived of access to fair and effective asylum procedures.”

Asylum seekers have complained of being attacked by gangsters at the border in Macedonia, and of police violence.

“The police tried to hit my mother,” said 18-year-old Anwar, from Damascus, Syria. Anwar, her 47-year-old mother, Samira, and her 4-year-old sister, Shehed, were kept in a closed detention center for a month in Macedonia that she described as “cramped and very dirty.”

They arrived in Macedonia from Greece, where they had to swim to shore after being pushed off the boat by the smuggler.

They had no food or water for five days.

In an attempt to dissuade migrants from going through Hungary, the government in June increased security on the asylum centers on the border with Serbia, Frontex said.

So, at least in Serbia, the worst part of the journey is over, and the three new centers can accommodate the rising tide of migrants.

Shortly after their meeting in Hotel Obrenovac, Anwar sent word to Kosovo 2.0 that she had arrived in Germany and initiated her asylum process after being detained for nine days in Hungary. Surprisingly, she said, the conditions in Serbia were better than those in Germany.

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KOSOVO 2.0

— The xenophobia is in some ways surprising, given that 220,000 Serbs fled from Croatia alone in the 1990s.

1. THE ASYLUM PROCESS IN SERBIA IS SLOW AND FEW REQUESTS ARE GRANTED. 2. CONDITIONS ARE NOW BETTER IN SERBIA THAN IN GERMANY. 3. MANY MIGRANTS IN SERBIA STILL HOPE TO MAKE IT INTO THE EUROPEAN UNION.

— “The Serbian people are very good people.

When I go outside, they welcome me, they kiss my baby,” Sima said.

“Obrena the best,” she wrote on the messaging tool Whats­ App. “I think Garmani the best, but no,” she added.

Now seven months pregnant with a child who won’t know a home to ask to return to, Sima wants to stay in Serbia and continue working as a translator, as she once did before the war in Syria, using her fluent English and Farsi.

“The Serbian people are very good people. When I go outside, they welcome me, they kiss my baby,” she said during an interview in Obrenovac.

But others said that they will not stop until they get to Europe. Abdul’s friend Hamza said he has already been deported from Serbia four times, but he keeps coming back.

Abdul himself is slowly preparing to leave Hotel Obrenovac.

He plans to hop on a freight train in Croatia and hopes to make it to Germany undetected.

“I know Europe is not heaven, but it is a dream.” — K

Valerie Hopkins is an American journalist based in Prishtina and Belgrade who has been reporting in the Balkans since 2010. #7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

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HAVA SHALA SPEAKS AT TEDXPRISHTINAWOMEN IN DECEMBER 2013.

HAVA SHALA: FREEDOM FROM WITHIN TEXT BY HANA MARKU / PHOTOS BY MAJLINDA HOXHA

KOSOVAR NATIVE FOUGHT FOR RECONCILIATION AS A WAY OF GAINING A NATION'S FREEDOM ➳ 96

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— KOSOVARS ARE USED TO their public figures being old men in suits; Hava Shala is anything but. Eloquent, sharp and expressive, and patriotic in a refreshingly earnest and humane way, Shala is a woman whose past is rich with rebellion, protest and political action. Although her current home is Switzerland, her life is a microcosm of Kosovo’s recent history of struggle for independence, spanning involvement in underground movements, political imprisonment, organizing demonstrations against the Serbian state, and taking part in the great blood feud reconciliations of the early 1990s.

One of Shala’s more recent public appearances was at last year’s TEDxPrishtina Women event, where she spoke of her time as an activist, demonstrator and community organizer, working to reconcile numerous Kosovar Albanian families who were trapped in traditional blood feuds in the midst of Kosovo’s struggle for independence from Serbia. A standing ovation followed her speech — no small feat, considering the not-easilyimpressed, often cynical front that young Kosovars know how to put up.

Shala’s likeability resides in her straightforward and compassionate brand of patriotism and in the continuity of her political engagement with Kosovo. Her time as a political prisoner occurred at the later end of the period known as the Ilegalitet — a movement made up of a loose organization of secret cells that wrote political tracts, painted slogans in public spaces and distributed pamphlets calling for Kosovo’s independence from Yugoslavia — under the constant threat of long stretches of imprisonment and police brutality. Shala was only 17 years old when she was sentenced to seven years in prison for distributing a political pamphlet. “Anyone who took on that kind of work had to account for the fact that their actions would initially result in arrest and punishment,” Shala explains.

Thanks to a reduced sentence, she was released after four years, in 1988 — in the midst of Kosovo’s struggle for autonomy and outright independence. Kosovo’s protests for the status of a republic within the Yugoslavian Federation were met with harsh repression by police and state security forces. A year after Shala’s release, Kosovo’s autonomous status would be revoked, when the region was absorbed into the Republic of Serbia.

Soon after, Shala and other young people part of the growing movement for independence began working on eliminating blood feuds amongst Kosovar Albanians. Blood feuds — a remnant of the traditional Albanian Kanun, a codex of laws dating from the 15th century — called for men to “pay the blood” of murdered family members. The movement for blood reconciliations required visits to the homes of the deceased, speaking to the men of the house in their odas and listening to the pain of #7 MIGRATION FALL 2014

— Shala was only 17 years old when she was sentenced to seven years in prison for distributing a political pamphlet.

the children and women struggling with their loss and fear — under constant police surveillance.

“Because of its humanitarian character, it was difficult for the authorities to find a pretext to disrupt the reconciliation movement, but due to its sheer size, and the messages they gave, those gatherings became a real thorn in their side,” Shala says.

“They very clearly observed everything, and found reasons to try to stop it. At the same time, demonstrations and protests were held against the continued repression of Albanians, and many leaders of the reconciliation movement actively took part in them and led them.”

Reconciling blood feuds was an urgent part of the greater struggle for Kosovo’s independence, and the movement called upon Albanians to forgive one another, in order to be unified in the fight against their external enemy. An estimated 17,000 men were threatened by the practice of blood feuds in Kosovo during the late 1980s, when the blood feud reconciliation movement began. Reconciliation involved redefining the traditional logic of the Kanun, from one that seeks honor in blood, to one that seeks honor in forgiveness — a process that was painful, and one that involved the participation of the families involved, their communities and the young activists that did the bulk of the legwork in making the movement a success.

“It wasn’t a ‘campaign’ that we were dealing with, but a collective act, one that consisted of great work and dedication,” says Shala. “Reconciling two families was a very emotionally charged process. The family that had to forgive had many reasons to be wounded. It was clear that they couldn’t simply reconcile with the fact that their family member was lost. That inherited feeling of revenge — that blood could only be washed with blood — dominated. One had to find another value, stronger than that of revenge, that would transcend the blood of their family member, and that was freedom for the homeland.

“That was the key of a successful reconciliation: acknowl-

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