Today is the presidential elections. Last night I went for a coffee with my friend J. We then went back to her apartment to hang out, do my laundry, and watch some TV on DVD. I ended up staying the night and we ended up talking until (and through) the wee hours of the morning. We talked about our experiences as Americans living in Serbia, J's tale of her first Serbian police encounter (which were not reassuring), and the today's presidential elections.
J had watched a segment on the international yesterday talking about the importance of these elections in regards to Serbia's future. I had read articles saying the same thing. Basically, the outcome from today's election is to show whether or not Serbia is ready to move forward and join the European community. Although there are several different candidates running for president, there are two main candidates (two candidates who are considered to have an actual chance of winning). The two main candidates, Boris Tadic (the current president) and Tomislav Nikolic have diverging opinions on what Serbia's relationship with the European Union should look like. Tadic campaign platform is a "Strong and Stable Serbia" advocating for Serbia to move towards membership in the European Union. Nikolic is seen to be very anti-Western and advocates for stronger ties to Russia. Both are against Kosovo independence, but Nikolic's rhetoric is much stronger in regards to actions Serbia would take if Kosovo became independent (and was recognized by the U.S. and European countries).
The most recent information I have been able to find on the internet shows Nikolic leading the polls with less than 20% of the votes counted. The official results will be announced by Thursday. According to the polls, Nikolic is supposed to "win" this round of the elections. Of course, the other thing to be mentioned is that a second election (a run-off between the top two candidates) will be held on February 3rd since Serbian law requires the winner to have at least 50% of the vote to be declared president. I can only hope that the less nationalist candidate, Tadic, will win the second round by pulling a greater majority of the voters who voted for other candidates in the first round.
J and I talked about what it would mean for the future of Serbia if the more nationalist candidate (both of leading candiates easily fall into the category of nationalist), Nikolic, were to win. We selfishly wondered if it would have any effects on our lives as Americans living here. Would anti-Western sentiment increase? But, I think we both knew that the more important questions lied in how it would effect the future of Serbia and Serbians. Although, Tadic is not advocating a true break with the past or a real confrontation of the past, I guess it seems more likely that these things are more likely to occur under someone who is less hostile towards them. Confronting the past and transitional justice (they go hand in hand) are two of the biggest components of WiB's work. It would be nice if some sort of shift occurred here creating a better reception to these concepts (and WiB's work) among citizens here. I don't think it would magically occur by Tadic being elected since he is the current president. His re-election would be more of a continuation of the status quo, but at least this status quo seems to be more open to these ideas than the alternative candidate. Unfortunately, the candidate who seems to be the most likely to bring this systemic shift in values is not a frontrunner and will not win (he is also the candiate who best matches my, and WiB's, values and ideals).
J and I also discussed why the nationalist candidates are popular. Most of J's Serbian friends are very liberal and do not acurately reflect the whole of Serbian society. The same is very true of most of my friends (which are mainly through WiB). She talked about how it seemed to her that people are age (in their 20s) want to join the EU and Western society; she then admitted to making these comments on the basis of her interactions with her friends. We discussed we both lived insular lives in some ways in regards to the "true Serbia": we both interact with Serbians who are do not have the same political ideologies and values as the majority of Serbians. I shared with her the conversation I had with with my landlady, D, following the street action on December 10th. I found it very insightful.
When I was talking to D about the huge turnout of fascist/neonazis to demonstrate against our street action, I mentioned that even though Rachel had forewarned me I was still a bit surprised at how young they were. Somehow it took actually seeing them to get out of my mind the image of a middle aged man as the typical fascist, neo-nazi. However, the majority of the men who showed up were around my age (in their 20s). I mentioned that to me it didn't make sense since I had always thought that after a war the next generation is very set on rebuilding the nation, and breaking with the past. D said that to her it makes perfect sense that they are younger. She said that most of them had never been outside of Serbia and knew nothing but Serbia. She is in her late 30s/early 40s. Therefore, she mentioned how she had gotten the benefit of traveling since she grew up under Tito when Yugoslavia was a buffer between the East and the West and citizens got the benefit of traveling to wherever. She talked about how when this generation was growing up not only were they subjected to the massive propaganda and nationalist media campaigns, but they also weren't able to travel outside of the country due to the sanctions imposed upon Serbians. There were alot of problems getting visas, and most people could not even entertain the idea of being able to afford to travel due to the economic recession. She talked about how as a result this created a very insulated society/generation. Resulting in a bunch of young men belonging to nationalist, neo-nazi groups and coming to demonstrate against our street action.
I've attached some links to various articles about the candidates, the elections, and the results if you want to look them up. I noticed that there doesn't seem to be much coverage on the elections in the US media (or at least the media I've encountered via the internet).
http://balkaninsight.com/en/main/news/7452/ -- This one talks about preliminary results and the high turnout at the polls.
http://balkaninsight.com/en/main/news/7450/ -- This one gives a runddown of the various candidates and some basic information on them.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7198481.stm -- This one also talks about preliminary results of today's election. It talks a bit more about the duties of the Serbian president and the importance of Kosovo in today's election.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7196896.stm -- This offers really good basic information on the different election issues and the election process.
Those are my ramblings of the night.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
Something to tide you over...
I wrote this to be put in the BVS newsletter and thought I would share it all with you since I haven't gotten around yet to posting my other entries that I have been working on. So, here is something to tide you over until I get those posted.
I walked away from work yesterday with two big questions running through my mind: How does one stand up and defend a faith that has been all too malicious and destructive in the past? Even more importantly, now does one talk about your personal faith when your own understanding of faith is in constant flux? Yesterday, I spent the afternoon interviewing M, a colleague of mine. Another NGO had sent us a survey to fill out on fundamentalism, and I wanted her assistance in answering the questions. I spent almost two hours asking her questions about the current relationship between religion and the Serbian government. Serbia suffers from a lack of religious diversity. The main church is the Serbian Orthodox Church (SPC); this church is closely associated with the nationalist government. It also had a very controversial role in the Balkan wars; many soldiers were blessed by the SPC before being sent out to commit genocide. It’s not exactly the model of Christian love. Therefore, most of the activists in the Women in Black office have a very negative view of religion. Most of the activists are adamant atheists.
Towards the end of the survey the questions asked what we thought would be the perfect relationship between a state and the religious communities. M’s answer was that she couldn’t accurately answer that question because she was a radical Marxist and wishes religion didn’t exist. She believes that the belief in a higher power denies one the ability to have true ethical morals. In her mind, there can’t be true freedom while you believe in a higher power; a belief in a higher power means that all of one’s actions are motivated by a notion of that higher power’s ethical morals, and by feelings guilt. M talked about in how in her experience she had encountered two types of Christians. The first type used their religion as a motivator for oppression and violence. The second type found their hope in the knowledge that a better world is coming (the afterlife), but this hope allowed them to sit idly by as injustice, poverty, and suffering occurred. These Christians may be pacifists and believe in justice, but they are not activists.
I talked to her about the third type of Christians that I know, the ones who maintain a belief in God and are also activists. She conceded that there were many Christians in the United States who lived lives of activism, but it was a type of activism she couldn’t support. Activists who would deny her friends rights based upon their sexual orientation or their reproductive choices. They were activists fighting against the very values of Women in Black – human rights and women’s rights. I responded that among the third type of Christians that I know there are those who actively work for peace and justice here and now. She said that Rachel, the previous BVSer, was the first Christian she had met (or even heard of) that was an activist of this type. She pointed out that Rachel’s church is very small. At this point, I couldn’t really argue with her; the number of Christians in the United States subscribing to a life of peace and justice activism does seem small. I didn’t know how to defend Christians for being so apathetic and so myopic. As I sat there thinking about how I could respond to her comments, I realized that I don’t know. I don’t have an adequate response. As much as I wish it were different, I doubt the next two years will bring the answers to those questions, or the many other doubts and questions I have regarding Christianity. The one thing I am sure of is that my understanding of faith will continue to be challenged and changed. And for now, I’m okay with that.
I walked away from work yesterday with two big questions running through my mind: How does one stand up and defend a faith that has been all too malicious and destructive in the past? Even more importantly, now does one talk about your personal faith when your own understanding of faith is in constant flux? Yesterday, I spent the afternoon interviewing M, a colleague of mine. Another NGO had sent us a survey to fill out on fundamentalism, and I wanted her assistance in answering the questions. I spent almost two hours asking her questions about the current relationship between religion and the Serbian government. Serbia suffers from a lack of religious diversity. The main church is the Serbian Orthodox Church (SPC); this church is closely associated with the nationalist government. It also had a very controversial role in the Balkan wars; many soldiers were blessed by the SPC before being sent out to commit genocide. It’s not exactly the model of Christian love. Therefore, most of the activists in the Women in Black office have a very negative view of religion. Most of the activists are adamant atheists.
Towards the end of the survey the questions asked what we thought would be the perfect relationship between a state and the religious communities. M’s answer was that she couldn’t accurately answer that question because she was a radical Marxist and wishes religion didn’t exist. She believes that the belief in a higher power denies one the ability to have true ethical morals. In her mind, there can’t be true freedom while you believe in a higher power; a belief in a higher power means that all of one’s actions are motivated by a notion of that higher power’s ethical morals, and by feelings guilt. M talked about in how in her experience she had encountered two types of Christians. The first type used their religion as a motivator for oppression and violence. The second type found their hope in the knowledge that a better world is coming (the afterlife), but this hope allowed them to sit idly by as injustice, poverty, and suffering occurred. These Christians may be pacifists and believe in justice, but they are not activists.
I talked to her about the third type of Christians that I know, the ones who maintain a belief in God and are also activists. She conceded that there were many Christians in the United States who lived lives of activism, but it was a type of activism she couldn’t support. Activists who would deny her friends rights based upon their sexual orientation or their reproductive choices. They were activists fighting against the very values of Women in Black – human rights and women’s rights. I responded that among the third type of Christians that I know there are those who actively work for peace and justice here and now. She said that Rachel, the previous BVSer, was the first Christian she had met (or even heard of) that was an activist of this type. She pointed out that Rachel’s church is very small. At this point, I couldn’t really argue with her; the number of Christians in the United States subscribing to a life of peace and justice activism does seem small. I didn’t know how to defend Christians for being so apathetic and so myopic. As I sat there thinking about how I could respond to her comments, I realized that I don’t know. I don’t have an adequate response. As much as I wish it were different, I doubt the next two years will bring the answers to those questions, or the many other doubts and questions I have regarding Christianity. The one thing I am sure of is that my understanding of faith will continue to be challenged and changed. And for now, I’m okay with that.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
My Many Christmases in Belgrade
Katie and Tory (the other two BVS volunteers in the Balkans) and I spent the month before Christmas emailing back and forth about where we could go for Christmas; we looked into various possibilities and places we could go. In the end we decided, what better place could we spend Christmas than Belgrade? So, Katie and Tory came to stay with me in Belgrade for the week. They arrived on Sunday night and planned to stay for the entire week. We had grand plans of hot chocolate, movies, museums, and fun. Of course, since this is Serbia not all when as planned.
December 24th – Christmas Eve
My Christmas Eve in Belgrade was lovely. On Monday (Christmas Eve), the WiB office planned a Christmas party for me. They made a turkey, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and other delicious items. They had decorated the office with Christmas lights (a string of plastic Santa lights) and had even borrowed a miniature Christmas tree from another NGO. They also had some small gifts for me. I got lots of small items to hang up in my apartment, a teapot with built in tea strainer, a hat, and other small items. It was very sweet of them. Since I had a sneaking suspicion gifts would be making an appearance at the Christmas Eve dinner I had made lots of chocolate chip cookies. I had spent all day making them, wrapping up the cookies in saran wrap, and tying them up with green Christmas garland; this was especially an adventure since I am still trying to get the hang of the my oven and converting recipes for the different measurements (grams) and temperature (I’m sure another reason it took so long might be that instead of quadrupling the recipe I made four different batches individually). However, I was really glad I spent all day slaving in the kitchen just because it made me more comfortable about accepting their gifts (knowing some of them are not steadily employed and with that whole volunteer, privileged middle class guilt thing going on). Tory and Katie came along with me of course and my boss seemed very excited for them to be there (especially Tory, she kept forgetting Katie's name even though it should have been easy to remember). My boss proposed (meaning proposed in a manner that says, “You will do this”) to Tory and Katie that they stay until Sunday instead of Saturday so they could join us (WiB) in the yearly trip to Panćevo to mark the anniversary of the death of a WiB activist; Katie and Tory said they were glad to join so the pressure wasn't a bad pressure per say. She also insisted that we go out one night to a club with N* (a young WiB activist) and some other younger activists (saying she would go but she is not young and too old to go out with us); she said she would arrange it all for us and was very 'persuasive' in the need for this to happen. I told Katie and Tory that if they weren't keen on this idea we could talk to N about cancelling it or talk to N about making it a more low-key evening (coffee time or something). I think the three of us agreed the coffee idea would be the best. (However, this – or the originally proposed clubbing -- actually never materialized because my supervisor forgot to pass along her proposal/idea to N). All in all Christmas Eve was a wonderful evening. It was a bit surreal and didn’t quite feel like Christmas since neither of the things I associate most with Christmas Eve were a part of the evening (family and the annual Christmas Eve service). Also, I had been fighting off an ear infection (which turned into a double ear infection sometime between Sunday afternoon and Monday morning) so I felt a bit light-headed and drowsy the entire evening. Aside from the fact I was sick, for my first Christmas away from home things didn’t seem too bad.
In fact, I think it could be argued that the drowsiness brought on by the ear infections might have added to the whole dreamy, love-makes-the-world-go-round, Christmas effect. The entire night I had difficulty hearing what people were actually saying so I just kept smiling, nodding my head, and assuming everyone was speaking words of Christmas joy, good tidings, and love. Most likely, this was untrue; I’m sure people were saying much more reasonable things.
December 25th – Christmas Day
Everything was open on Christmas Day here since people here celebrate the Orthodox Christmas on January 7th. Therefore, I decided I would go to the doctor on Christmas Day. The pain in my ears was getting worse and was starting to get annoying. I had actually had an ear infection a few weeks earlier but had been able to get rid of it by taking some herbs (What are the chances of two ear infections so soon after arrival after years of my ears being the epitome of healthy living?). I had been waiting for a while (before giving in and going to the doctor) in hopes that the herbs would take care would take care of it again but it got worse and the other ear started to hurt again as well. So, on Christmas I decided to go to the doctor because it was getting really painful. I spent all of Christmas trying to get this task accomplished.
After sleeping in and watching a few episodes of Arrested Development with Katie and Tory, I left the apartment to go to the doctor. When I left the apartment (around 1pm, I believe) I told Katie and Tory I would be back in a few hours and we could have a nice Christmas dinner and watch a movie or something. Well, I got back after midnight (I believe it was around 12:30). First, my cell phone wasn't working properly so I couldn't call the doctor to make an appointment (Al gave me the number to the doctor she used when she had an ear infection a few weeks ago.). My cell phone would let me call some people and numbers but not others saying I had active diverts. So I went into the menu and cancelled all diverts and it still was saying this. So I went to a cell phone service center, they were very kind and checked my phone and said they thought it was a problem with my SIM card rather than the actual phone and I needed to go to Telenor, my provider. They didn't charge me and helped to guide me in the correct direction to find Telenor, so I walked to Telenor and then waited in line for 30-45 minutes to get some assistance. So that guy then proceeded to tell me all I had to do was put in this code and then it would work; he then called his phone with my phone as an example of how it was fixed. I told him I thought he was wrong and it still wasn't fixed since it could always call some numbers but not others. He had me try a different number which wasn't working and I just picked the most recent one I had tried to call which happened to be Katie's cell phone at which point he then told me it was because I was putting in her number wrong (because it requires a different country code since she lives in Bosnia and Herzegovina) and showed me how to correctly do it (which was completely unnecessary) and then moved on to the next customer. I then went outside tried the doctor and got the exact same message of the active call diverts. I then stood in line again for 30-40 minutes at which point a woman opened up a new register and called me over to get assistance there. When I explained my problem, she then said that I was actually not with Telenor but with Telecom Serbija and needed to go there for assistance.
At this point it was 3:45 in the afternoon and I was starting to feel worse and more tired. So I decided to give up on the phone thing (which still has not been fixed) and work towards getting to the doctor. So I went to Al's and used their phone to call the doctor to make an appointment. As it works, they ask you what kind of doctor you need to see and then hang up and call around to find a free doctor of that type and then call you back with a time. They usually call within 5-15 minutes later. Well, forty minutes later they had still not called so I called them back again and explained how I had called, etc. They said they would be sure to call back within ten minutes. Well, it just so happened that in 5 minutes Al needed to leave to meet a friend to exercise and then go to work from there and I had given them Al's cell phone number. So, I went with Al to her friend's apartment thinking they would call by the time we walked there. They didn't. Almost an hour later and still no call. I then called them at which point they said (not very nicely) they had tried to call me ten or fifteen times to no answer at which I said no you didn't because I was sitting here with the phone in my hand. Turned out they had the wrong number (after I had repeated it 3 times when giving it to them). So, they apologized, called again and then said the earliest time they could find someone would be at 9pm. I said this was too late and could I get in at 6pm (which was 30 minutes away). They called back and said no the earliest was 9pm. So as tempted as I was to say no thank you and make an appointment for the next day, I went with 9pm out of a fear of what would go wrong the following day to create a disaster. So, I was exhausted and feeling worse and worse and had to wait until 9pm for my appointment. Al gave me her keys and I went back to her apartment for a nap until it was time to go to the doctor.
At 8:45, I grabbed a taxi to go to the doctor. I met with the doctor; he prescribed 2 different types of medicine. He told me to come back on Friday to make sure it was working because it was a double ear infection (and apparently a bad one). So we made an appointment for me to come back on Friday at 6pm.
Next job: finding a 24 hour pharmacy. I asked the doctor's assistant/registrar person, and he gave me directions that seemed easy enough. Well, apparently not. So I ended up walking around asking for assistance in finding the pharmacy. Finally, one lady and I were able communicate through my horrible Serbian and lots of hand gestures. She told me (and motioned) to follow her onto a bus, and then when we got to the pharmacy she got off with me and pointed me in the direction. I waited in line there for at least 20 minutes.
Next job: getting back to the apartment. I was near the bus station (sort of) and knew that I could walk back to the office and then walk to Trg Republica and get a bus from there to the apartment. But I also knew it was a long walk to the office in the cold when one is sick and needs to go to bed. So I started walking and then saw a bus that was headed to the green market, jumped on it and then got to the office much quicker to head to the apartment. So that was my Christmas. I'm very glad Katie and Tory were there (even though I didn't see them all day) since it meant when I got home there was a warm meal and somebody to share my adventures.
December 26th – Christmas II (My Fake Christmas – the do-over)
Since Christmas Day was such a bust Katie, Tory, and I decided that we would pretend December 26th was Christmas. We slept in and then watched the most Christmas oriented movie we had available (Love Actually). We had a nice brunch. Then I got called and asked to come to the office to work on proofreading a document. Katie, Tory, and I decided that I would go to the office and work for a couple of hours until I finished the document and then I could meet them at a museum after they had visited Kalemegdan. I ended up being at the office for several hours longer than I originally intended. The emergency proofreading document ended up being very long. I worked for several hours on it until I realized that it was not quite the rush job it was made out to be. When I finished it, nobody even knew the address that I was supposed to email it to. Although I had completely missed out on joining the visit to Kalemegdan or to the museum (which ended up getting substituted with a visit to an Orthodox church since the chosen museum was closed), I was able to go with Katie and Tory to eat at an authentic Serbian restaurant. It was nice to relax, and our food was delicious. We shared our dishes so that we each got the opportunity to try three different dishes. Overall, the do-over Christmas was much better than the original Christmas. It was a bit frustrating to be called into work, but the morning movie and the evening were lovely.
January 6th – Christmas Eve II (The Orthodox Christmas Eve)
On Sunday, I went to a WiB activist’s house for a Christmas Eve dinner with M and S, two other WiB activists who live in the WiB office. It was fun. It was just the three of us, L (the WiB activist who invited us over), her husband, and their son. Their son had spent a year studying abroad in Minnesota during high school; it was nice to have someone there to explain things. We had the traditional Serbian Christmas Eve meal – fish (and side dishes to accompany it). I was able to ask L’s son why I had seen so many people selling branches of brown leaves on the streets recently. I knew it was related to the Orthodox Christmas but was unsure of the significance. He said each family buys some leaves and then places them out with some fruit as a decoration. Later they symbolically burn them (the branches, not the fruit). L was really drunk (apparently she had been drinking a lot before we even got there since there was not any alcohol or wine offered to us) and it was hilarious. Her English vocabulary is very limited – maybe 15 words, but she was trying very hard in her drunken state to communicate with me in English. It came out in an odd mixture of Serbian, English, Russian, Italian, and Spanish. It left everyone at the table very confused and thoroughly amused. After we finished the main course, we all sat down and watched 102 Dalmatians on the television as we ate the traditional Serbian Christmas Eve dessert. Unfortunately for you, I do not know what it is called. When I asked, I was told there wasn’t an equivalent word for it English, I don’t remember the name for it in Serbian, and I have no idea what was in it. I know it was good.
January 7th – Christmas III (The Orthodox Christmas)
I did not have to work on the Orthodox Christmas. Most shops and cafes were closed. The whole city seemed to be closed down. Only a few brave restaurants and cafes were open (and those had limited hours). Luckily, I had been warned and had made sure I was not running low on any of the necessities (milk, toilet paper, etc.). I slept in, proofread some documents for work (in my apartment), and then met up with my friend Al and Zach, her friend who was visiting from the US. They were doing some sightseeing so I met up with them at Kalemegdan and then we headed to one of the open cafes. We were actually able to get a table at Greenet, one of the busiest cafes; it is always packed. I had a delicious hot chocolate. We chatted about the upcoming presidential elections in the US and the various potential candidates for the two parties. It was a nice break to be able to have an intellectual conversation without worrying about using phrasal verbs, or other complicated English grammar concepts. Also, it was nice to be able to talk about something that I felt mildly knowledgeable about (or at least on fairly equal footing as my companions) in comparison to talking about Serbian politics and history with Serbian citizens (who have had a lifetime to study their country’s politics and history, whereas I am just beginning). We practiced the Balkan art of conversing over a cup of coffee (or in my case, hot chocolate) – in other words, talking for hours and hours while slowly sipping one cup of coffee. Eventually we got hungry. We went to the best palačinke place in town. (Palačinke are sort of like crepes or thin pancakes. You can get regular palačinke with meat, cheese, etc. or dessert palačinke.) It was also surprisingly empty; we were able to walk right up and place our order without waiting in line. More importantly, it was delicious. I then parted ways with Al and Zach and headed back to my apartment. I worked some more on proofreading documents, spent some time practicing/studying my Serbian, and watched a movie. It was a great vacation day, but not really Christmas.
*After much thought, I have decided to start using initials (of first letter of first name, first two letters of first name, or some sort of combination of letters) to refer to people to help maintain their anonymity. The last thing I want is some sort of libel suit for writing about people without permission. I will try to maintain some sort of continuity and create some sort of system in regards to the use of the initials for those of you who are trying to keep track of the reoccurring characters within my life here. Of course, those persons who I have already referred to by their first name will continued to be referred to in that manner.
I have in the works several more blog entries (meaning I have started writing various parts of several different entries and they now exist in different stages of completion) including an entry about my New Year’s celebrations, Lost in Belgrade, My Orange Coat, and other various entries. Look for them to be added soon.
December 24th – Christmas Eve
My Christmas Eve in Belgrade was lovely. On Monday (Christmas Eve), the WiB office planned a Christmas party for me. They made a turkey, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and other delicious items. They had decorated the office with Christmas lights (a string of plastic Santa lights) and had even borrowed a miniature Christmas tree from another NGO. They also had some small gifts for me. I got lots of small items to hang up in my apartment, a teapot with built in tea strainer, a hat, and other small items. It was very sweet of them. Since I had a sneaking suspicion gifts would be making an appearance at the Christmas Eve dinner I had made lots of chocolate chip cookies. I had spent all day making them, wrapping up the cookies in saran wrap, and tying them up with green Christmas garland; this was especially an adventure since I am still trying to get the hang of the my oven and converting recipes for the different measurements (grams) and temperature (I’m sure another reason it took so long might be that instead of quadrupling the recipe I made four different batches individually). However, I was really glad I spent all day slaving in the kitchen just because it made me more comfortable about accepting their gifts (knowing some of them are not steadily employed and with that whole volunteer, privileged middle class guilt thing going on). Tory and Katie came along with me of course and my boss seemed very excited for them to be there (especially Tory, she kept forgetting Katie's name even though it should have been easy to remember). My boss proposed (meaning proposed in a manner that says, “You will do this”) to Tory and Katie that they stay until Sunday instead of Saturday so they could join us (WiB) in the yearly trip to Panćevo to mark the anniversary of the death of a WiB activist; Katie and Tory said they were glad to join so the pressure wasn't a bad pressure per say. She also insisted that we go out one night to a club with N* (a young WiB activist) and some other younger activists (saying she would go but she is not young and too old to go out with us); she said she would arrange it all for us and was very 'persuasive' in the need for this to happen. I told Katie and Tory that if they weren't keen on this idea we could talk to N about cancelling it or talk to N about making it a more low-key evening (coffee time or something). I think the three of us agreed the coffee idea would be the best. (However, this – or the originally proposed clubbing -- actually never materialized because my supervisor forgot to pass along her proposal/idea to N). All in all Christmas Eve was a wonderful evening. It was a bit surreal and didn’t quite feel like Christmas since neither of the things I associate most with Christmas Eve were a part of the evening (family and the annual Christmas Eve service). Also, I had been fighting off an ear infection (which turned into a double ear infection sometime between Sunday afternoon and Monday morning) so I felt a bit light-headed and drowsy the entire evening. Aside from the fact I was sick, for my first Christmas away from home things didn’t seem too bad.
In fact, I think it could be argued that the drowsiness brought on by the ear infections might have added to the whole dreamy, love-makes-the-world-go-round, Christmas effect. The entire night I had difficulty hearing what people were actually saying so I just kept smiling, nodding my head, and assuming everyone was speaking words of Christmas joy, good tidings, and love. Most likely, this was untrue; I’m sure people were saying much more reasonable things.
December 25th – Christmas Day
Everything was open on Christmas Day here since people here celebrate the Orthodox Christmas on January 7th. Therefore, I decided I would go to the doctor on Christmas Day. The pain in my ears was getting worse and was starting to get annoying. I had actually had an ear infection a few weeks earlier but had been able to get rid of it by taking some herbs (What are the chances of two ear infections so soon after arrival after years of my ears being the epitome of healthy living?). I had been waiting for a while (before giving in and going to the doctor) in hopes that the herbs would take care would take care of it again but it got worse and the other ear started to hurt again as well. So, on Christmas I decided to go to the doctor because it was getting really painful. I spent all of Christmas trying to get this task accomplished.
After sleeping in and watching a few episodes of Arrested Development with Katie and Tory, I left the apartment to go to the doctor. When I left the apartment (around 1pm, I believe) I told Katie and Tory I would be back in a few hours and we could have a nice Christmas dinner and watch a movie or something. Well, I got back after midnight (I believe it was around 12:30). First, my cell phone wasn't working properly so I couldn't call the doctor to make an appointment (Al gave me the number to the doctor she used when she had an ear infection a few weeks ago.). My cell phone would let me call some people and numbers but not others saying I had active diverts. So I went into the menu and cancelled all diverts and it still was saying this. So I went to a cell phone service center, they were very kind and checked my phone and said they thought it was a problem with my SIM card rather than the actual phone and I needed to go to Telenor, my provider. They didn't charge me and helped to guide me in the correct direction to find Telenor, so I walked to Telenor and then waited in line for 30-45 minutes to get some assistance. So that guy then proceeded to tell me all I had to do was put in this code and then it would work; he then called his phone with my phone as an example of how it was fixed. I told him I thought he was wrong and it still wasn't fixed since it could always call some numbers but not others. He had me try a different number which wasn't working and I just picked the most recent one I had tried to call which happened to be Katie's cell phone at which point he then told me it was because I was putting in her number wrong (because it requires a different country code since she lives in Bosnia and Herzegovina) and showed me how to correctly do it (which was completely unnecessary) and then moved on to the next customer. I then went outside tried the doctor and got the exact same message of the active call diverts. I then stood in line again for 30-40 minutes at which point a woman opened up a new register and called me over to get assistance there. When I explained my problem, she then said that I was actually not with Telenor but with Telecom Serbija and needed to go there for assistance.
At this point it was 3:45 in the afternoon and I was starting to feel worse and more tired. So I decided to give up on the phone thing (which still has not been fixed) and work towards getting to the doctor. So I went to Al's and used their phone to call the doctor to make an appointment. As it works, they ask you what kind of doctor you need to see and then hang up and call around to find a free doctor of that type and then call you back with a time. They usually call within 5-15 minutes later. Well, forty minutes later they had still not called so I called them back again and explained how I had called, etc. They said they would be sure to call back within ten minutes. Well, it just so happened that in 5 minutes Al needed to leave to meet a friend to exercise and then go to work from there and I had given them Al's cell phone number. So, I went with Al to her friend's apartment thinking they would call by the time we walked there. They didn't. Almost an hour later and still no call. I then called them at which point they said (not very nicely) they had tried to call me ten or fifteen times to no answer at which I said no you didn't because I was sitting here with the phone in my hand. Turned out they had the wrong number (after I had repeated it 3 times when giving it to them). So, they apologized, called again and then said the earliest time they could find someone would be at 9pm. I said this was too late and could I get in at 6pm (which was 30 minutes away). They called back and said no the earliest was 9pm. So as tempted as I was to say no thank you and make an appointment for the next day, I went with 9pm out of a fear of what would go wrong the following day to create a disaster. So, I was exhausted and feeling worse and worse and had to wait until 9pm for my appointment. Al gave me her keys and I went back to her apartment for a nap until it was time to go to the doctor.
At 8:45, I grabbed a taxi to go to the doctor. I met with the doctor; he prescribed 2 different types of medicine. He told me to come back on Friday to make sure it was working because it was a double ear infection (and apparently a bad one). So we made an appointment for me to come back on Friday at 6pm.
Next job: finding a 24 hour pharmacy. I asked the doctor's assistant/registrar person, and he gave me directions that seemed easy enough. Well, apparently not. So I ended up walking around asking for assistance in finding the pharmacy. Finally, one lady and I were able communicate through my horrible Serbian and lots of hand gestures. She told me (and motioned) to follow her onto a bus, and then when we got to the pharmacy she got off with me and pointed me in the direction. I waited in line there for at least 20 minutes.
Next job: getting back to the apartment. I was near the bus station (sort of) and knew that I could walk back to the office and then walk to Trg Republica and get a bus from there to the apartment. But I also knew it was a long walk to the office in the cold when one is sick and needs to go to bed. So I started walking and then saw a bus that was headed to the green market, jumped on it and then got to the office much quicker to head to the apartment. So that was my Christmas. I'm very glad Katie and Tory were there (even though I didn't see them all day) since it meant when I got home there was a warm meal and somebody to share my adventures.
December 26th – Christmas II (My Fake Christmas – the do-over)
Since Christmas Day was such a bust Katie, Tory, and I decided that we would pretend December 26th was Christmas. We slept in and then watched the most Christmas oriented movie we had available (Love Actually). We had a nice brunch. Then I got called and asked to come to the office to work on proofreading a document. Katie, Tory, and I decided that I would go to the office and work for a couple of hours until I finished the document and then I could meet them at a museum after they had visited Kalemegdan. I ended up being at the office for several hours longer than I originally intended. The emergency proofreading document ended up being very long. I worked for several hours on it until I realized that it was not quite the rush job it was made out to be. When I finished it, nobody even knew the address that I was supposed to email it to. Although I had completely missed out on joining the visit to Kalemegdan or to the museum (which ended up getting substituted with a visit to an Orthodox church since the chosen museum was closed), I was able to go with Katie and Tory to eat at an authentic Serbian restaurant. It was nice to relax, and our food was delicious. We shared our dishes so that we each got the opportunity to try three different dishes. Overall, the do-over Christmas was much better than the original Christmas. It was a bit frustrating to be called into work, but the morning movie and the evening were lovely.
January 6th – Christmas Eve II (The Orthodox Christmas Eve)
On Sunday, I went to a WiB activist’s house for a Christmas Eve dinner with M and S, two other WiB activists who live in the WiB office. It was fun. It was just the three of us, L (the WiB activist who invited us over), her husband, and their son. Their son had spent a year studying abroad in Minnesota during high school; it was nice to have someone there to explain things. We had the traditional Serbian Christmas Eve meal – fish (and side dishes to accompany it). I was able to ask L’s son why I had seen so many people selling branches of brown leaves on the streets recently. I knew it was related to the Orthodox Christmas but was unsure of the significance. He said each family buys some leaves and then places them out with some fruit as a decoration. Later they symbolically burn them (the branches, not the fruit). L was really drunk (apparently she had been drinking a lot before we even got there since there was not any alcohol or wine offered to us) and it was hilarious. Her English vocabulary is very limited – maybe 15 words, but she was trying very hard in her drunken state to communicate with me in English. It came out in an odd mixture of Serbian, English, Russian, Italian, and Spanish. It left everyone at the table very confused and thoroughly amused. After we finished the main course, we all sat down and watched 102 Dalmatians on the television as we ate the traditional Serbian Christmas Eve dessert. Unfortunately for you, I do not know what it is called. When I asked, I was told there wasn’t an equivalent word for it English, I don’t remember the name for it in Serbian, and I have no idea what was in it. I know it was good.
January 7th – Christmas III (The Orthodox Christmas)
I did not have to work on the Orthodox Christmas. Most shops and cafes were closed. The whole city seemed to be closed down. Only a few brave restaurants and cafes were open (and those had limited hours). Luckily, I had been warned and had made sure I was not running low on any of the necessities (milk, toilet paper, etc.). I slept in, proofread some documents for work (in my apartment), and then met up with my friend Al and Zach, her friend who was visiting from the US. They were doing some sightseeing so I met up with them at Kalemegdan and then we headed to one of the open cafes. We were actually able to get a table at Greenet, one of the busiest cafes; it is always packed. I had a delicious hot chocolate. We chatted about the upcoming presidential elections in the US and the various potential candidates for the two parties. It was a nice break to be able to have an intellectual conversation without worrying about using phrasal verbs, or other complicated English grammar concepts. Also, it was nice to be able to talk about something that I felt mildly knowledgeable about (or at least on fairly equal footing as my companions) in comparison to talking about Serbian politics and history with Serbian citizens (who have had a lifetime to study their country’s politics and history, whereas I am just beginning). We practiced the Balkan art of conversing over a cup of coffee (or in my case, hot chocolate) – in other words, talking for hours and hours while slowly sipping one cup of coffee. Eventually we got hungry. We went to the best palačinke place in town. (Palačinke are sort of like crepes or thin pancakes. You can get regular palačinke with meat, cheese, etc. or dessert palačinke.) It was also surprisingly empty; we were able to walk right up and place our order without waiting in line. More importantly, it was delicious. I then parted ways with Al and Zach and headed back to my apartment. I worked some more on proofreading documents, spent some time practicing/studying my Serbian, and watched a movie. It was a great vacation day, but not really Christmas.
*After much thought, I have decided to start using initials (of first letter of first name, first two letters of first name, or some sort of combination of letters) to refer to people to help maintain their anonymity. The last thing I want is some sort of libel suit for writing about people without permission. I will try to maintain some sort of continuity and create some sort of system in regards to the use of the initials for those of you who are trying to keep track of the reoccurring characters within my life here. Of course, those persons who I have already referred to by their first name will continued to be referred to in that manner.
I have in the works several more blog entries (meaning I have started writing various parts of several different entries and they now exist in different stages of completion) including an entry about my New Year’s celebrations, Lost in Belgrade, My Orange Coat, and other various entries. Look for them to be added soon.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Coming Soon
I have a lot of blogging to do to catch everyone up on the business that has been my life in Belgrade. Believe me, I am keeping a list of things I want to blog about soon. I'll soon be adding blog entries on my trip to Velika Plana for a WiB seminar (in which I had to give a short speech about international solidarity and endure a question and answer session), my Christmas here in Belgrade, my lost in the city adventures, and much more. Soon, but not today.
Friday, December 14, 2007
A history lesson from the billboards of Belgrade
I have been seeing several different posters with US historical figures on them the last few days. You may ask yourself, in Belgrade? The answer is yes. In Belgrade.
I heard about them before I actually saw them. I had heard in the office last week that there were billboards posted throughout the city (and surrounding areas) with pictures of famous political and world leaders along with famous quotes from the corresponding leader (There are some with Washington, Lincoln, JFK, Churchill, and De Gaulle). At the bottom of each billboard (under the quote), in big letters (in Cyrillic, of course) it says Kosovo is Serbia! It is as if they are trying to pass it off like these famous leaders also made that statement.
I saw my first one 6 days ago. I have seen four different billboards (all the same ad, just different locations) with President Kennedy's picture and a quote from him. I've seen one of the billboards with George Washington on it.
It just goes to show another way in which history here is all about perspective and myth. History here can be whatever you want it to be. These billboards have taken some of the great Western democratic leaders and have manipulated their words for the Serbian government's own political purposes.
I'm posting a link for an article that discusses this more in depth (and gives some Serbian citizens' opinions on the Kosovo issue). That is all of my posting for now. Two in one day. Whew.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/Kosovo/Story/0,,2224886,00.html
I heard about them before I actually saw them. I had heard in the office last week that there were billboards posted throughout the city (and surrounding areas) with pictures of famous political and world leaders along with famous quotes from the corresponding leader (There are some with Washington, Lincoln, JFK, Churchill, and De Gaulle). At the bottom of each billboard (under the quote), in big letters (in Cyrillic, of course) it says Kosovo is Serbia! It is as if they are trying to pass it off like these famous leaders also made that statement.
I saw my first one 6 days ago. I have seen four different billboards (all the same ad, just different locations) with President Kennedy's picture and a quote from him. I've seen one of the billboards with George Washington on it.
It just goes to show another way in which history here is all about perspective and myth. History here can be whatever you want it to be. These billboards have taken some of the great Western democratic leaders and have manipulated their words for the Serbian government's own political purposes.
I'm posting a link for an article that discusses this more in depth (and gives some Serbian citizens' opinions on the Kosovo issue). That is all of my posting for now. Two in one day. Whew.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/Kosovo/Story/0,,2224886,00.html
My International Human Rights Day experience
Monday was International Human Rights Day; it was also the day that the final status of Kosovo was to be decided. Obviously, these talks failed (and everyone knew they were a failure before it was officially announced on December 10th). There was some speculation (and tension in the air) as to whether or not Kosovo would unilaterally declare independence on December 10th.
I woke up on Monday, and took the bus to class. When I arrived at the main square (where my bus drops me off so I can walk to class), I saw a small group of people gathered. Several were holding up signs; I had no doubts that it was Kosovo related -- I made sure to keep a hundred foot distance between me and this group. This was when I reminded myself that today could be a very eventful, interesting day and to make sure I keep the little US flag that sometimes seems to be tattooed to my head under wraps. (Somehow people here always know I am a foreigner without me even opening my mouth; it's like they have some sort of foreigner-radar. The US citizen part is less obvious and not always the first country guessed.)
WiB decided to mark International Human Rights Day by having a street performance at 6:30 pm in the main square of the city (Trg Republike). Our theme for the event was "We are not going back -- Stop Clericalisation!" The idea was to promote secularism through the coalition WiB belongs to (Coalition for a Secular State). So, WiB and other members (and organizations) of the coalition organized the events.
The street performance included a choir singing a locally written song that fit with the theme (the song talked about not going back). The choir would sing the song through and then stop for a portion of the performance and then sing it through again; this sequence continued six times before the performance ended with one last performance of the song. During the breaks (between the songs), an activist wearing a mask to represent various political figures and church officials came forward to be handed (by another activist) one of the printouts (the Manifest on Secularism that was written by the Coalition). They would then discard the pamphlet, by throwing it on the ground, ripping it up, or destroying it in some manner. There were six different masks; three represented specific politicians and church officials and three represented politicians and church officials in general. Each time the masked figure would come forward to receive a pamphlet two activists walked up behind them holding up a large sing displaying different phrases. Before I continue recounting the events that occurred that evening I will give a little background on why there is a need for a coalition of this sort in Serbia.
First, the Serbian Orthodox Church (SOC) is growing in its power here within Serbia. There isn't a strong presence of other churches within Serbia; there aren't very many Protestant churches in Belgrade. There is becoming more and more interference of the SOC into governmental affairs. They are trying to put their values into legislation. For instance, a law has been passed in which children in Serbian schools are to take a religious education or civil education course; the religious education course only teaches about the SOC and their values. Another reason WiB is concerned about this is the patriarchal structure of the SOC; they are calling for women to go back to traditional roles (housewife, mother) and urging them to complete their duty and bear more Serbian children. Many of the statements they make publicly and values they teach infringe on human rights (particularly women's rights). Also, the SOC has a murky past; certain SOC officials blessed the paramilitary and military soldiers before they would go to commit atrocities and war crimes during the recent conflicts. There is a strong connection between the SOC and nationalism within Serbia (and nationalism within Serbia has proven to be a dangerous thing).
Back to Monday's event
As previously mentioned the street performance was to begin at 6:30 pm. I was in the office on Monday sitting on the computer working on proofreading when I was informed that the animated discussion in the next room was a discussion about safety issues for the night. Apparently, a Serbian white supremist group (which is how they referred to themselves but they are essentially a fascist and nationalist group) had posted on their website when and where the WiB demonstration would occur and were calling for all of their members to show up to counter-demonstrate. We would have a police escort from the WiB office (as usual) and the police would also be present at the demonstration since we had a permit.
A little after six o'clock, we left the office as a group carrying our signs, megaphone, and other needed materials for the demonstration. We were escorted by about twenty-five policemen; there were ten or twelve of us (we would be met by the others at the square). It seemed a bit overdone to me (I was thinking, do we really need a two to one ratio?) However, when we arrived at the square and met the other activists (and the choir members) I was in for a big surprise. After taking one look around, I was very grateful that all of the police officers were there; I actually didn't even need to look -- I could just listen to all of the chanting and yelling.
Even more police officers were at the square waiting to help out (at least another 25). Our group of activists (30-60 of us; I admit to being really bad at numerical estimates of large groups) was surrounded by police officers. They formed a half circle around us (the choir was set up with their backs to the large statue in the square and the other activist were holding up signs while standing on both sides of the choir), leaving us some space for our performance. There were probably 20 or 30 police officers forming standing two or three feet apart from one another (in the half circle formation).
Another 25-35 police officers were surrounding the group of people demonstrating against us(this was a much tighter circle with the police officers being shoulder to shoulder). It was hard to estimate how many anti-demonstrators were there, but if I had to make an estimate I would say at least fifty. They were all much younger than I thought they would be; every single one I saw was male (Of course, I couldn't see them all very well since they were surrounded by the police and we were surrounded by the police so there may have been some females present. We were at least 30 feet away from them with the two police barriers/chains, and I admit to not making a big effort to get any closer to them). They were very loud. They were louder than we were and we had a massive sound system for our performance; we had a lot of trouble being heard over them. For the first time since my arrival I was truly grateful to not understand the language. A few of the other activists filled me in on some of the things they were yelling, but spared me most of the details. They sang extremely nationalistic songs (songs that were song during the wars), yelled at us, called us traitors, and chanted out the names of one of their heroes, a man who is wanted for war crimes at the Hague. Some of the people walking by would join them in yelling at us (although they would not join in the actual formation -- they would stand off to the side and yell their own individual slurs and threats). At one point, I heard one person yelling about the United States; I didn't ask anyone what exactly was said.
It was frustrating to try to be heard over them, to feel that we had to compete with them for the public attention (and the media's) so our message would be the one that was driven home to those passing by rather than theirs. I didn't really fear for my physical safety while were there (which was surprising), but I did feel some fear for the future of this country and what is to come. I felt stupid for my naivete over how bad the situation here is and my continued optimism that everything I had been reading in WiB's books (about their past experiences and accounts of the current situation) and the things Rachel had said were a passing phase. It re-emphasized to me the importance of what WiB is doing and the need for continued efforts to move the common people in a different direction.
When the performance was over, we waited as even more police officers arrived so we could be escorted back to the office (to then disperse to our various destinations). There was a discussion as to whether the police officers should escort us back to the office or to the Center for Cultural Decontamination (where almost all of us where heading for a gathering of solidarity for some journalists). It was decided the police would escort us to the office and we could either walk or catch a taxi to the Center from there (this was mainly decided since the police said they wouldn't be able to escort us to the Center). They brought in police officers in riot gear. I commented that it looked like Star Wars (for some reason the white helmets that seem to be a universal part of the riot police uniform always remind me of Star Wars and the Stormtroopers) and the activist next to me told me to get used to it. I think there was a language miscommunication somewhere along the line here so I then decided it was best to keep my thoughts and interpretations to myself, but my next thought was, "Welcome to Star Wars, Katie." The police officers then formed two shoulder to shoulder lines (one on each side with us in the middle) and walked with us to the office. They took us down a few back streets to get us out of the crowded area quicker; they cleared out the underground walkway/bypass (or at least for the most part) and there was a lot of walkie-talkie action. When we arrived at the office, about ten of them waited until everyone had gotten a taxi (or left via foot for the Center for Cultural Decontamination).
I then headed to the Center for Cultural Decontamination (CCD) via taxi with some other activists to listen to a panel session (several WiB activists were a speakers) to demonstrate solidarity with journalists (from a radio station) that were kicked out of a nearby town by the police. We were expressing our solidarity and concern for freedom of speech (The journalists kicked out were a part of an independent radio station and did not cooperate with the government in their content. Although there are other independent radio stations, newspapers, and journalists, I was told this group is notorious for being the most honest and for being the most critical of the government.) There were about a hundred people (or more) there for the panel and to show their support. Obviously, I didn't understand any of it but I got some abbreviated translations of each panelists speeches. What I did understand was that each panelist expressed fear at the current state of things, saying the situation was bad; several said the last year has been very bad. At the end of the panel session, little black buttons were handed out to everyone that said "I am not afraid!" Everyone put their buttons on and then we went intermingled and chatted while munching on the provided snacks (and drinking the beverages). I later left with some other WiB activists to get a bus back to the main square (and then to grab my bus home from there). It was a long day. I got back to my apartment around 11:00 pm to find the mess that was my apartment (since I was still in the unpacking/moving in/organizing stage).
And that was my International Human Rights Day experience.
I woke up on Monday, and took the bus to class. When I arrived at the main square (where my bus drops me off so I can walk to class), I saw a small group of people gathered. Several were holding up signs; I had no doubts that it was Kosovo related -- I made sure to keep a hundred foot distance between me and this group. This was when I reminded myself that today could be a very eventful, interesting day and to make sure I keep the little US flag that sometimes seems to be tattooed to my head under wraps. (Somehow people here always know I am a foreigner without me even opening my mouth; it's like they have some sort of foreigner-radar. The US citizen part is less obvious and not always the first country guessed.)
WiB decided to mark International Human Rights Day by having a street performance at 6:30 pm in the main square of the city (Trg Republike). Our theme for the event was "We are not going back -- Stop Clericalisation!" The idea was to promote secularism through the coalition WiB belongs to (Coalition for a Secular State). So, WiB and other members (and organizations) of the coalition organized the events.
The street performance included a choir singing a locally written song that fit with the theme (the song talked about not going back). The choir would sing the song through and then stop for a portion of the performance and then sing it through again; this sequence continued six times before the performance ended with one last performance of the song. During the breaks (between the songs), an activist wearing a mask to represent various political figures and church officials came forward to be handed (by another activist) one of the printouts (the Manifest on Secularism that was written by the Coalition). They would then discard the pamphlet, by throwing it on the ground, ripping it up, or destroying it in some manner. There were six different masks; three represented specific politicians and church officials and three represented politicians and church officials in general. Each time the masked figure would come forward to receive a pamphlet two activists walked up behind them holding up a large sing displaying different phrases. Before I continue recounting the events that occurred that evening I will give a little background on why there is a need for a coalition of this sort in Serbia.
First, the Serbian Orthodox Church (SOC) is growing in its power here within Serbia. There isn't a strong presence of other churches within Serbia; there aren't very many Protestant churches in Belgrade. There is becoming more and more interference of the SOC into governmental affairs. They are trying to put their values into legislation. For instance, a law has been passed in which children in Serbian schools are to take a religious education or civil education course; the religious education course only teaches about the SOC and their values. Another reason WiB is concerned about this is the patriarchal structure of the SOC; they are calling for women to go back to traditional roles (housewife, mother) and urging them to complete their duty and bear more Serbian children. Many of the statements they make publicly and values they teach infringe on human rights (particularly women's rights). Also, the SOC has a murky past; certain SOC officials blessed the paramilitary and military soldiers before they would go to commit atrocities and war crimes during the recent conflicts. There is a strong connection between the SOC and nationalism within Serbia (and nationalism within Serbia has proven to be a dangerous thing).
Back to Monday's event
As previously mentioned the street performance was to begin at 6:30 pm. I was in the office on Monday sitting on the computer working on proofreading when I was informed that the animated discussion in the next room was a discussion about safety issues for the night. Apparently, a Serbian white supremist group (which is how they referred to themselves but they are essentially a fascist and nationalist group) had posted on their website when and where the WiB demonstration would occur and were calling for all of their members to show up to counter-demonstrate. We would have a police escort from the WiB office (as usual) and the police would also be present at the demonstration since we had a permit.
A little after six o'clock, we left the office as a group carrying our signs, megaphone, and other needed materials for the demonstration. We were escorted by about twenty-five policemen; there were ten or twelve of us (we would be met by the others at the square). It seemed a bit overdone to me (I was thinking, do we really need a two to one ratio?) However, when we arrived at the square and met the other activists (and the choir members) I was in for a big surprise. After taking one look around, I was very grateful that all of the police officers were there; I actually didn't even need to look -- I could just listen to all of the chanting and yelling.
Even more police officers were at the square waiting to help out (at least another 25). Our group of activists (30-60 of us; I admit to being really bad at numerical estimates of large groups) was surrounded by police officers. They formed a half circle around us (the choir was set up with their backs to the large statue in the square and the other activist were holding up signs while standing on both sides of the choir), leaving us some space for our performance. There were probably 20 or 30 police officers forming standing two or three feet apart from one another (in the half circle formation).
Another 25-35 police officers were surrounding the group of people demonstrating against us(this was a much tighter circle with the police officers being shoulder to shoulder). It was hard to estimate how many anti-demonstrators were there, but if I had to make an estimate I would say at least fifty. They were all much younger than I thought they would be; every single one I saw was male (Of course, I couldn't see them all very well since they were surrounded by the police and we were surrounded by the police so there may have been some females present. We were at least 30 feet away from them with the two police barriers/chains, and I admit to not making a big effort to get any closer to them). They were very loud. They were louder than we were and we had a massive sound system for our performance; we had a lot of trouble being heard over them. For the first time since my arrival I was truly grateful to not understand the language. A few of the other activists filled me in on some of the things they were yelling, but spared me most of the details. They sang extremely nationalistic songs (songs that were song during the wars), yelled at us, called us traitors, and chanted out the names of one of their heroes, a man who is wanted for war crimes at the Hague. Some of the people walking by would join them in yelling at us (although they would not join in the actual formation -- they would stand off to the side and yell their own individual slurs and threats). At one point, I heard one person yelling about the United States; I didn't ask anyone what exactly was said.
It was frustrating to try to be heard over them, to feel that we had to compete with them for the public attention (and the media's) so our message would be the one that was driven home to those passing by rather than theirs. I didn't really fear for my physical safety while were there (which was surprising), but I did feel some fear for the future of this country and what is to come. I felt stupid for my naivete over how bad the situation here is and my continued optimism that everything I had been reading in WiB's books (about their past experiences and accounts of the current situation) and the things Rachel had said were a passing phase. It re-emphasized to me the importance of what WiB is doing and the need for continued efforts to move the common people in a different direction.
When the performance was over, we waited as even more police officers arrived so we could be escorted back to the office (to then disperse to our various destinations). There was a discussion as to whether the police officers should escort us back to the office or to the Center for Cultural Decontamination (where almost all of us where heading for a gathering of solidarity for some journalists). It was decided the police would escort us to the office and we could either walk or catch a taxi to the Center from there (this was mainly decided since the police said they wouldn't be able to escort us to the Center). They brought in police officers in riot gear. I commented that it looked like Star Wars (for some reason the white helmets that seem to be a universal part of the riot police uniform always remind me of Star Wars and the Stormtroopers) and the activist next to me told me to get used to it. I think there was a language miscommunication somewhere along the line here so I then decided it was best to keep my thoughts and interpretations to myself, but my next thought was, "Welcome to Star Wars, Katie." The police officers then formed two shoulder to shoulder lines (one on each side with us in the middle) and walked with us to the office. They took us down a few back streets to get us out of the crowded area quicker; they cleared out the underground walkway/bypass (or at least for the most part) and there was a lot of walkie-talkie action. When we arrived at the office, about ten of them waited until everyone had gotten a taxi (or left via foot for the Center for Cultural Decontamination).
I then headed to the Center for Cultural Decontamination (CCD) via taxi with some other activists to listen to a panel session (several WiB activists were a speakers) to demonstrate solidarity with journalists (from a radio station) that were kicked out of a nearby town by the police. We were expressing our solidarity and concern for freedom of speech (The journalists kicked out were a part of an independent radio station and did not cooperate with the government in their content. Although there are other independent radio stations, newspapers, and journalists, I was told this group is notorious for being the most honest and for being the most critical of the government.) There were about a hundred people (or more) there for the panel and to show their support. Obviously, I didn't understand any of it but I got some abbreviated translations of each panelists speeches. What I did understand was that each panelist expressed fear at the current state of things, saying the situation was bad; several said the last year has been very bad. At the end of the panel session, little black buttons were handed out to everyone that said "I am not afraid!" Everyone put their buttons on and then we went intermingled and chatted while munching on the provided snacks (and drinking the beverages). I later left with some other WiB activists to get a bus back to the main square (and then to grab my bus home from there). It was a long day. I got back to my apartment around 11:00 pm to find the mess that was my apartment (since I was still in the unpacking/moving in/organizing stage).
And that was my International Human Rights Day experience.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
One incredibly long entry that adds up to one incredibly busy Saturday
Where to start? Things here have been very hectic and don’t look like they will slow down anytime soon. First, I have officially moved into my new apartment. It is wonderful to have peace, quiet and privacy. Of course, the moving process has been anything but peaceful or quiet.
On Saturday, my landlord called me and told me they were in the center of town running some errands and could pick me up in forty-five minutes or an hour to take me to the apartment. This was wonderful news since it meant that I would have assistance in lugging all of the stuff I have accumulated since my arrival (the amount has doubled since I inherited all of the stuff that wouldn’t fit into Rachel’s bags for the trip home – which was a lot). Well, in fact, I had so much stuff that we didn’t even have room to bring it all (it was a rather small car and already filled with an electric oven and a large board – I don’t have THAT much stuff). So, I brought everything I needed for the first two or three nights with intentions to come back that evening and bring the rest (via taxi). Well, I didn’t make it back to the office to get the rest of my stuff. I spent the rest of the evening basking in the glory that is one’s own apartment…and trying to unpack, organize, and clean up the explosion that occurred when I opened my two suitcases (and backpack and laptop case and…and….). I also went to the grocery store and got some essentials: bread, cheese, milk, fruit, eggs, yogurt (here you drink it instead of eat it), juice, sugar, pasta, jam, butter, avjar (a delicious vegetable spread), cereal, and some cooking utensils (a can opener, a strainer, a spatula, a whisk, and some mixing bowls).
By the time I had finished grocery shopping, lugging my massive amounts of groceries back to the apartment, and putting away said groceries it was ten o’clock. I had already told Erica, the intern that I would hang out with her that evening since she was planning on leaving early the following morning for Budapest. After a day in Budapest, she would be going back to Zagreb (Croatia) to finish out her semester and then back to the US. This would be my last chance to say goodbye.
I got on the bus to go to the center of town (successful navigation!) and I arrived at The 3 Black Cats (the hostel where she is staying) an hour later due to one very crowded bus, and some very traffic jammed streets. We hung out at her hostel for the first thirty or forty minutes until one of Erica’s friends got off duty (The friend we were waiting for was actually one of the workers at the hostel. Unfortunately, I don’t know that I ever was introduced to her and by my sly powers of deduction I gathered that it started with the letter M; my lack of familiarity with Serbian names stinted my ability to deduct the entire name). Erica had several destinations in mind for us throughout the night; she had obviously gone out on the weekends a lot more than I have since my arrival (and she has been in Belgrade for about 2 weeks less than I have).
We started by going to a small pub in the Bohemian District of Belgrade. I must say the place definitely had character. The owner of the pub had just converted a part of his house into a pub. It was one large room with several tables (but not enough). When we first walked into the place, there was a pile of wood stacked by the door to help keep the place heated. The walls were decorated with various antiques and old photographs. The owner sat in his living room watching the television as people sat in the adjoining room drinking, talking, and singing. People would yell into the living room if they needed something. In the brief time we were there, the owner only came out of the living room once. He looked slightly annoyed to be called away from his television program. When he finished serving the customers, he returned to his living room and shut the door so that he could continue watching his program in privacy. The vast majority of the customers were young males (in their 20s or 30s), but there were also a few women. They were loudly singing (or perhaps just yelling the lyrics without making any real effort to stay in tune) songs the entire time we were there (a maximum of thirty minutes). Some of the customers even stood up on the benches to sing; one girl stood up on the bench and then briefly hung from the rafters as she sang. Although I didn’t understand the words to the songs or recognize them, I am fairly certain they were nationalistic songs. I did not broadcast my status as the WiB volunteer; Erica introduced me to several of her friends and I stuck with the “I’m here volunteering for two years” statement followed by “I’m sorry. It’s so loud in here. I just can’t hear you. Did you ask where? I’m volunteering here, in Belgrade. “ Suffice it say, thirty minutes of men (and a few women) loudly singing nationalistic songs in a drunken slur did not fit my idea of a good time. However, it was very humorous. Erica’s friend, M, (from the hostel) and I both had to work at maintaining straight faces while we were there.
Second stop: Some random club in Belgrade. I have no idea where it was or what it was called. I obviously was not overcome with an overwhelming need to memorize the location (or name) in order to return. The reason we came to this club was to listen to Erica’s friend DJ; his disc jockeying skills also did not make a lasting impression (or at least not a positive one). The thing that did make an impression on me at this club was the balding, middle-aged drunk man who seemed to have no shame in dancing in a fashion that seemed to be a combination of styles emulating Beyonce, Elvis, Steve Urkel, and well, me (with my two left feet). It didn’t help that he stood on the four steps that were the passageway between the two levels of the room (the upper level where the café/bar were located and the lower level where there were some tables and some standing room for other ambitious dancers). I quit counting the number of times he started to fall over after it hit ten. The man also saw fit to sing along to the songs as loud as he could possibly manage. This was made all the more interesting by the fact that all of the songs were in English (except one that was in Spanish) and the man got really excited when he recognized a song (which was almost every song). He then tried to sing the lyrics he remembered regardless of whether or not he was singing them at the right time (he was not) or knew the correct lyrics (this was about 50/50). It was really funny to also see lots of other people singing along to the rock songs in their Serbian accented English.
Erica, M (the hostel worker), and I never found a seat nor got a drink. I was disappointed since one of the great things about Belgrade clubs and night venues is that you can get whatever you would like to drink without having to go to a different setting to find something that suits everyone’s tastes (coffee, pop, juice, alcoholic beverages, or in my case, hot chocolate was the drink I was planning on ordering). We danced a little but mainly we laughed at the other people dancing. There were all kinds of interesting dance moves being pulled out on the dance floor by various persons.
We left this club after about an hour and decided to head to another. First, we had to stop at the lobby of a hotel to pick up some people. Apparently, the lobby of this hotel is also a great place to hang out (according to sources that after seeing the place I have decided I will never heed their advice on places to go). After we made a pit stop at the hotel lobby, we started towards the next club. We got to the club, realized we would have to pay to get in, and then Erica and I decided that we were actually really tired and wanted to wrap the night up. Unfortunately, the last bus heading back to my new apartment had left the square twenty minutes ago. There wouldn’t be another bus until 4:30 am (about 2 hours away) and a taxi could cost over fifteen dollars. M suggested that I sleep at the hostel. This sounded like a great idea….except all the beds were reserved by paying customers. M said that I should just head back to the hostel anyway and that whoever was on duty would help us figure out a solution (an air mattress was mentioned).
Erica and I parted ways with M and others and headed towards the hostel. We arrived at the hostel only to walk in on the hostel worker and her boyfriend making out. Awkward. It was then decided that I could sleep in one of the beds of the two British people who were not due until six (in the morning) and get up before six and head out. We walked into the bedroom with a plan. Unfortunately, the Italian had forgotten to put his pajama bottoms on so our first sight upon opening the door was his backside with only a t-shirt, his tighty-whiteys (white underwear), and white socks. Erica and I had to briefly retreat from the room to suppress our laughter and our stomach reflexes.
I felt uncomfortable sleeping in someone else’s bed and decided to do the honorable thing and sleep on the floor; Erica let me borrow one of her pillows. My good intentions didn’t last too long; the floor was cold and the bed was not. I got on the bed and slept fitfully for another two hours and then thought I heard someone arrive and jumped onto the floor (only to wake Erica up in my scurry) to appear as if I had been sleeping there the entire time. Luckily, it was imagination so a few minutes later I moved back into the bed. At six in the morning, I woke up, tried to make the bed look fresh, and walked out to catch my bus. I was able to quickly grab a bus. I was extremely grateful that I had waited until six instead of leaving with the first bus (at 4:30 am) so I had that extra bit of light when I got off one stop too early (not quite successful navigating). I quickly realized this (just as the bus was pulling away) and stood in the cold waiting for the next bus. I arrived at my apartment just after seven o’clock only to roll into bed for those last few hours of sleep of my first “night” at my apartment.
On the next episode of "The Life of Katie": Katie's own personal narrative about the events of December 10th, International Human Rights Day. Tune in for an exciting story of policemen, street performances, discussions, and that ever constant confused hunger.
Airdate: Unknown (it depends on when Katie gets the time -- she will be taking her first excursion with WiB through the Serbian countryside for a workshop on solidarity)
On Saturday, my landlord called me and told me they were in the center of town running some errands and could pick me up in forty-five minutes or an hour to take me to the apartment. This was wonderful news since it meant that I would have assistance in lugging all of the stuff I have accumulated since my arrival (the amount has doubled since I inherited all of the stuff that wouldn’t fit into Rachel’s bags for the trip home – which was a lot). Well, in fact, I had so much stuff that we didn’t even have room to bring it all (it was a rather small car and already filled with an electric oven and a large board – I don’t have THAT much stuff). So, I brought everything I needed for the first two or three nights with intentions to come back that evening and bring the rest (via taxi). Well, I didn’t make it back to the office to get the rest of my stuff. I spent the rest of the evening basking in the glory that is one’s own apartment…and trying to unpack, organize, and clean up the explosion that occurred when I opened my two suitcases (and backpack and laptop case and…and….). I also went to the grocery store and got some essentials: bread, cheese, milk, fruit, eggs, yogurt (here you drink it instead of eat it), juice, sugar, pasta, jam, butter, avjar (a delicious vegetable spread), cereal, and some cooking utensils (a can opener, a strainer, a spatula, a whisk, and some mixing bowls).
By the time I had finished grocery shopping, lugging my massive amounts of groceries back to the apartment, and putting away said groceries it was ten o’clock. I had already told Erica, the intern that I would hang out with her that evening since she was planning on leaving early the following morning for Budapest. After a day in Budapest, she would be going back to Zagreb (Croatia) to finish out her semester and then back to the US. This would be my last chance to say goodbye.
I got on the bus to go to the center of town (successful navigation!) and I arrived at The 3 Black Cats (the hostel where she is staying) an hour later due to one very crowded bus, and some very traffic jammed streets. We hung out at her hostel for the first thirty or forty minutes until one of Erica’s friends got off duty (The friend we were waiting for was actually one of the workers at the hostel. Unfortunately, I don’t know that I ever was introduced to her and by my sly powers of deduction I gathered that it started with the letter M; my lack of familiarity with Serbian names stinted my ability to deduct the entire name). Erica had several destinations in mind for us throughout the night; she had obviously gone out on the weekends a lot more than I have since my arrival (and she has been in Belgrade for about 2 weeks less than I have).
We started by going to a small pub in the Bohemian District of Belgrade. I must say the place definitely had character. The owner of the pub had just converted a part of his house into a pub. It was one large room with several tables (but not enough). When we first walked into the place, there was a pile of wood stacked by the door to help keep the place heated. The walls were decorated with various antiques and old photographs. The owner sat in his living room watching the television as people sat in the adjoining room drinking, talking, and singing. People would yell into the living room if they needed something. In the brief time we were there, the owner only came out of the living room once. He looked slightly annoyed to be called away from his television program. When he finished serving the customers, he returned to his living room and shut the door so that he could continue watching his program in privacy. The vast majority of the customers were young males (in their 20s or 30s), but there were also a few women. They were loudly singing (or perhaps just yelling the lyrics without making any real effort to stay in tune) songs the entire time we were there (a maximum of thirty minutes). Some of the customers even stood up on the benches to sing; one girl stood up on the bench and then briefly hung from the rafters as she sang. Although I didn’t understand the words to the songs or recognize them, I am fairly certain they were nationalistic songs. I did not broadcast my status as the WiB volunteer; Erica introduced me to several of her friends and I stuck with the “I’m here volunteering for two years” statement followed by “I’m sorry. It’s so loud in here. I just can’t hear you. Did you ask where? I’m volunteering here, in Belgrade. “ Suffice it say, thirty minutes of men (and a few women) loudly singing nationalistic songs in a drunken slur did not fit my idea of a good time. However, it was very humorous. Erica’s friend, M, (from the hostel) and I both had to work at maintaining straight faces while we were there.
Second stop: Some random club in Belgrade. I have no idea where it was or what it was called. I obviously was not overcome with an overwhelming need to memorize the location (or name) in order to return. The reason we came to this club was to listen to Erica’s friend DJ; his disc jockeying skills also did not make a lasting impression (or at least not a positive one). The thing that did make an impression on me at this club was the balding, middle-aged drunk man who seemed to have no shame in dancing in a fashion that seemed to be a combination of styles emulating Beyonce, Elvis, Steve Urkel, and well, me (with my two left feet). It didn’t help that he stood on the four steps that were the passageway between the two levels of the room (the upper level where the café/bar were located and the lower level where there were some tables and some standing room for other ambitious dancers). I quit counting the number of times he started to fall over after it hit ten. The man also saw fit to sing along to the songs as loud as he could possibly manage. This was made all the more interesting by the fact that all of the songs were in English (except one that was in Spanish) and the man got really excited when he recognized a song (which was almost every song). He then tried to sing the lyrics he remembered regardless of whether or not he was singing them at the right time (he was not) or knew the correct lyrics (this was about 50/50). It was really funny to also see lots of other people singing along to the rock songs in their Serbian accented English.
Erica, M (the hostel worker), and I never found a seat nor got a drink. I was disappointed since one of the great things about Belgrade clubs and night venues is that you can get whatever you would like to drink without having to go to a different setting to find something that suits everyone’s tastes (coffee, pop, juice, alcoholic beverages, or in my case, hot chocolate was the drink I was planning on ordering). We danced a little but mainly we laughed at the other people dancing. There were all kinds of interesting dance moves being pulled out on the dance floor by various persons.
We left this club after about an hour and decided to head to another. First, we had to stop at the lobby of a hotel to pick up some people. Apparently, the lobby of this hotel is also a great place to hang out (according to sources that after seeing the place I have decided I will never heed their advice on places to go). After we made a pit stop at the hotel lobby, we started towards the next club. We got to the club, realized we would have to pay to get in, and then Erica and I decided that we were actually really tired and wanted to wrap the night up. Unfortunately, the last bus heading back to my new apartment had left the square twenty minutes ago. There wouldn’t be another bus until 4:30 am (about 2 hours away) and a taxi could cost over fifteen dollars. M suggested that I sleep at the hostel. This sounded like a great idea….except all the beds were reserved by paying customers. M said that I should just head back to the hostel anyway and that whoever was on duty would help us figure out a solution (an air mattress was mentioned).
Erica and I parted ways with M and others and headed towards the hostel. We arrived at the hostel only to walk in on the hostel worker and her boyfriend making out. Awkward. It was then decided that I could sleep in one of the beds of the two British people who were not due until six (in the morning) and get up before six and head out. We walked into the bedroom with a plan. Unfortunately, the Italian had forgotten to put his pajama bottoms on so our first sight upon opening the door was his backside with only a t-shirt, his tighty-whiteys (white underwear), and white socks. Erica and I had to briefly retreat from the room to suppress our laughter and our stomach reflexes.
I felt uncomfortable sleeping in someone else’s bed and decided to do the honorable thing and sleep on the floor; Erica let me borrow one of her pillows. My good intentions didn’t last too long; the floor was cold and the bed was not. I got on the bed and slept fitfully for another two hours and then thought I heard someone arrive and jumped onto the floor (only to wake Erica up in my scurry) to appear as if I had been sleeping there the entire time. Luckily, it was imagination so a few minutes later I moved back into the bed. At six in the morning, I woke up, tried to make the bed look fresh, and walked out to catch my bus. I was able to quickly grab a bus. I was extremely grateful that I had waited until six instead of leaving with the first bus (at 4:30 am) so I had that extra bit of light when I got off one stop too early (not quite successful navigating). I quickly realized this (just as the bus was pulling away) and stood in the cold waiting for the next bus. I arrived at my apartment just after seven o’clock only to roll into bed for those last few hours of sleep of my first “night” at my apartment.
On the next episode of "The Life of Katie": Katie's own personal narrative about the events of December 10th, International Human Rights Day. Tune in for an exciting story of policemen, street performances, discussions, and that ever constant confused hunger.
Airdate: Unknown (it depends on when Katie gets the time -- she will be taking her first excursion with WiB through the Serbian countryside for a workshop on solidarity)
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