Saturday, September 17, 2011

Pictures from the Field of Blackbirds (Field of Kosovo, Battle of Kosovo, or Kosovo Polje)

Today's adventures centered around a visit to a landmark whose existence has weighed in the conscience of both Kosovars and Serbs for six centuries-- the Field of Blackbirds, Kosovo Polje, the site of the defeat of Balkan forces against Ottoman invaders in 1389.  

On this field between 40,000 and 70,000 men perished in only 8 hours' time, and along with them the two Sovereigns who led them to battle - Tsar Lazar of Serbia and Sultan Murat I of the Ottoman Empire.  When the dust settled the battle was effectively a draw, but the Balkan forces had been completely decimated. The demolished Ottoman army laying on the field represented only a fraction of Ottoman military might, and thus (what was at the time) Serbia fell to the Turk.  

It seems that any chance of an objective account of the battle also perished on the field, for depending on who tells the story, the man who killed the Sultan (Milosh Obilich, Miloš Obilić) was either Serbian or Albanian.  He may have stabbed the Sultan when he came to survey the casualties; alternately he may have asked for an audience with the Sultan and stabbed him when Murat offered his ring to be kissed.  A third version has Obilic charging through a line of the Sultan's stunned bodyguards to stab him in the heart.  No matter whose account attracts you, the result was the death of the only Sultan ever killed in battle.  

The field itself offers few clues as to the horror that unfolded here.  The land is almost conspicuously lacking in geographic features.  It's as though the land is making penance for its historical notoriety by becoming geographically bland.  The last of my photos here show Sultan Murat's tomb here-- although only his viscera were ever buried here (the rest of his body was buried in the Ottoman capital of the day, Bursa, and it remains there to this day).  The 'tomb' itself is now maintained by the Turkish government, and has been well restored.  

On a site nearer the actual battlefield stands a monument called the Gazimestan (Gazi- heroes, mesto- place = place of heroes) Monument, intended to memorialize the Serbian soldiers who fought and fell there.  In more recent history, the monument served as the backdrop to one of Slobodan Milosevic's most infamous speeches, called the Gazimestan Speech, which is seen by many as one of the many warning signs leading up to the Yugoslav conflicts of the 1990s.  

The monument is now guarded by about a dozen Kosovar police, who ask for passports before permitting entry to the facility.  Once allowed inside, their interest in Andrew and I seems to have subsided entirely.  We made our way up the stairs within the monument, lined with Serbian inscriptions of mysterious character and origin, to the observation deck atop the monument.  From here we got a bird's eye view of the field itself (the otherwise nondescript photo of a plain).  Additionally, it was easy to see the immense amount of noxious smoke pouring from the Kosovo A Power plant (the plant with 6 thin smoke stacks)-- notoriously the single largest point source of pollution in all of Europe, its effluence chokes Prishtina in the winter and blankets everything with a fine layer of dust that only the untreated exhaust of lignite coal can produce.  From the monument it almost seems possible to taste the dust.  Kosovo B stands to its right, a more modern looking plant, ostensibly somewhat less destructive.  Our cab driver explained Kosovo A best when he described it as a "catastrophe."  In a sense it seems to be a manmade disaster operating in slow motion. 

The tomb of Murat (last half of the photos) and associated museum provided some interesting insights into a side of the story that has gained little sympathy with people in this region-- the Turkish perspective.  The small tomb housing Murat's remains belie very little of his importance (he was only the third Ottoman Sultan-- grandson to Osman himself).  We were greeted within the tomb by an elderly woman who spoke no English (and of whose native tongue we were equally ignorant).  This barrier seemed to present no impediment to her, and she proceeded to explain a great deal to her effectively deaf guests.  A few minutes into our guided tour, a younger man joined her, and began translating some of what she was telling us into English.  Outside he pointed to a massive black mulberry tree, said to be over 400 years old, and rendered barren of fruit during the last two seasons due to the power plant's pollution.  He also pointed to a small graveyard near the tomb, each marked with the surname Turbedar - tomb-keeper in Turkish.  The woman who had been speaking with us was also a Turbedar, of the same family that had been maintaining this tomb for nearly six centuries.  








Kosovo A doing what it does best (which I must say does not appear to be 'production of power')


 The field of Kosovo, or field of blackbirds (who were said to have dealt with the bodies of the thousands of solider who fell here in their characteristic way)
 Kosovo A visible again-- Kosovo B vaguely visible off to the right

 Another of Kosovo A and part of the Field of Blackbirds from atop of the Gazimestan monument
 Stairs inside Gazimestan Monument - they look sturdy enough. . .
 Entrance to Gazimestan Monument -  notice the striking broken sword motif!
Gazimestan from the bottom of the walkway leading upward.  Strange tubular growths appear to be examples of the Socialist aesthetic.
"Whoever is a Serb and of Serb birth,
And of Serb blood and heritage,
And comes not to the Battle of Kosovo,
May he never have the progeny his heart desires,
Neither son nor daughter!
May nothing grow that his hand sows,
Neither dark wine nor white wheat!
And let him be cursed from all ages to all ages!"
Inscription on Gazimestan Monument, Tzar Lazar

 Signature of Turkish Prime Minister Recip Tayyip Erdogan in a visitors' book within the guest house/ museum.
 Sultan Murat (center, with turban) and various 'historically enhanced' soldiers in uniform (Turkish soldiers did not dress this way for battle, our guide assured us- but these costumes made for a better museum display)
 Monogram of Sultan Murat I (All Sultans had a special imperial seal/ monogram in highly stylized Arabic script.  This one is one of my favorites for its simplicity.)
 The black mulberry tree.  Split down the middle, the Turkish government sent a tree specialist to attempt a repair.  The results are admirable-- the concrete looking addition to the center of the trunk is actually a tar-sealed cloth painted to blend in with the tree, and the red concrete supports seem to be working to prevent any further collapse of the trunk.  Interesting symbol-- a tree that rots and collapses from the inside out-- reminiscent of the Ottoman empire five centuries after Murat's death.
 Tomb and casket of Murat (note the huge turban on the opposite end).
 Explanation of funding and restoration of the monument.
 Another of Murat's casket.
The outside of Murat's tomb

Friday, September 16, 2011

A Few Photos (As posted from a café in downtown Prishtina)





Here a few more photos, posted while I have a café internet connection.  The first is the National Museum, the second is George Skanderbeg (in front of the Parliament building), third is a series of photos of victims of the 1999 war in front of the police station, 4-7 are the abandoned and incomplete Serbian Orthodox Cathedral near/ on the campus of the University of Prishtina, eighth is the Parliament building, last is the minaret of one of the mosques between my hotel and downtown.

More on all of these things later, when I regain an internet connection in my dwelling.  I have moved in with Daniel, one of the other Fulbright grantees, until I receive 'permanent' instructions and placement (presumably outside of Prishtina).  As nice as my hotel was, €40 per night is a bit steep.  For about €0.70 I can buy a double espresso and sit in a cafe, utilizing their wifi, for as long as I please.












Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Arrival and first impressions

A disclaimer before I begin this blog: 
I am fully aware that the spellings of place names (and even chosen nomenclature) often constitutes a political statement in support of (or in opposition to) one political, ethnic, or linguistic group.  PLEASE be aware that whenever such a spelling exists, I will be using the name most familiar to my readers (Americans with no experience and little knowledge of these issues).  Few English speakers are familiar with the Albanian name Kosova, thus I will use Kosovo.  Prishtina or Pristina are the most common English terms for the capital.  The same holds true for statistics and demographics-- I will be using the information I find most readily available from a relatively credible source.  Usually this will mean en.wikipedia.org.

As anyone receiving a link to this blog already knows, I am in Prishtina (Pristina), Kosovo as of September 10th, preparing to begin my 10 month stay here on a Fulbright English Teaching Assistantship Grant.

Thanks to a mercifully brief bout with some kind of virus, I have been a little bit less active over my first few days here than I might have wished.  However, I have managed to get around most of Prishtina's hub, and have stumbled upon quite a few interesting things I'd like to share.

My knowledge of Kosovo is unfortunately quite limited, although of course I am working very hard to change that, both through my experiences here and through research.  With this in mind, many of my descriptions of both objects and events in this part of the Balkans will be context deficient for a time.  As with my prior travel experiences, I find that research before hitting the ground is always helpful but also limited in actual application.  Statues and monuments are particularly good examples of this: in my experiences abroad I have run into dozens of statues whose subjects were entirely unknown to me until a chance encounter with a knowledgeable person, or extensive research based on what clues I can gather, enlightens me. 

One great example of my deficient knowledge became apparent on my first day around town at a statue of George Skanderbeg (See the equestrian statue below).  While I am somewhat familiar with the first Battle of Kosovo in 1389, I had no idea that there was actually a second such battle during the middle ages, led by an Ottoman Albanian named George Skanderbeg.  As it turns out, Skanderbeg had been one of the Sultan's Janissary soldiers-- Christian subjects of the empire conscripted into military service personally accountable to the Sultan, usually converted to Islam during the course of their conscription.  Skanderbeg had defected from the Ottoman army, converted back to Christianity, and led Albanian armies in defiance of the Ottoman empire for over twenty years.

As I examined the statue on the 11th, I gained new reasons to doubt my sanity as I watched two men in kilts approach the statue, one stopping to play "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes while facing the statue, almost as though he were playing to Skanderbeg.  After he finished playing we struck up a conversation-- the bagpiper being an American, the other kilted man being a Canadian.  I cannot imagine stumbling upon a stranger combination of elements at that moment.  Although I have since learned that the expatriate and resident foreigner population in Prishtina is very high (particularly American teachers and workers), I still marvel at the strangeness of the scene. 

Around Prishtina relatively little of history's footprint seems to have survived.  I was expecting to find mosque after mosque,  a la Istanbul or Kahramanmaraş, considering that 90% or more of Prishtina's population is at least nominally Muslim.  Yet thus far I have seen only three minarets in all of Prishtina, and perhaps one new mosque under construction.  This is somewhat disappointing to me, as I thoroughly enjoy the daily calls to prayer.  There are few grand old buildings to speak of.  Much of the architecture is obviously mid-20th century Yugoslav type buildings of very basic and utilitarian construction.  

While the past may have left only the scantest of footprints on downtown Prishtina, the modern world is sparing no expense to leave its mark.  NGOs, including EULEX, have constructed massive and attractive (albeit somewhat blandly modern) office complexes, and the Kosovar government seems to be taking a combined strategy of refitting old buildings and constructing new ones to house its administration.  Just a few blocks from Skanderbeg's statue is a work-in-progress Catholic cathedral dedicated to Mother Theresa (herself from modern day Macedonia, but Albanian by ethnicity), a structure of incredible size-- certainly one of the tallest in its immediate area, if not all of Prishtina.  I haven't added any photos of the church just yet (those will come soon enough!). 


You may notice a suspicious amount of Americana in my photos-- and it's true that around this city, there are plenty of (positive!) reminders of America's role in Kosovo's independence.  One of the main streets in downtown Prishtina is Bill Clinton Bulvari, complete with a three story vinyl photo and a bronze statue.  I found a poster celebrating Clinton's birthday, complete with the touching addition "We don't forget."  The Route 66 sign is less an honorific and more a lure to the aforementioned expatriate community-- hamburger and fast foot stands are extremely common downtown, as well as a huge variety of other international foods (Italian, Chinese, Thai, Japanese, Mexican, etc).  


Most touching of all, however, was the 9/11 memorial service I managed to stumble my way upon during the evening of the 11th.  In front of the National Theatre a local group of artists organized a candle light service, visited by such figures as the President of Kosovo and the US Ambassador to Kosovo.  Several dozen candles were lit by both bystanders and a troupe of local middle school students, and the students recited a series of short speeches and quotations to commemorate the event.  The 11th marks the culminating day of a five day long short film festival, held annually to honor the victims of 9/11.  The founding principle of the festival, which has been going on at the same time for 8 years now, is that "It is harder to create than to destroy."  Each film, in essence, is a creative form of defiance.  I love the idea, and the sincerity behind the gesture is apparent.  The children with flags were all quite eager to show them off to me when they figured out that I was an American.  


My overall impressions thus far are almost entirely positive.  There are some nagging issues that are to be expected of a country this new and this poor-- electricity goes off frequently (requiring backup generators for essential services, and for hotels expecting foreigners), the quality of the air is fair to poor (lots of dust from roads, some pollution from an awful power station just outside of town, plenty of ancient diesel trucks and cars), and traffic is quite bad (even sidewalks seem to be fair territory for some drivers).  But despite these issues, the people here manage to be both cheerful and friendly, and though they clearly need to be addressed for the long term, I wouldn't say that any of them detract from the experience or provide any insurmountable quality of life issues for those living here.