The Tale of Two Worlds

More than five years after the fighting ended here in Kosovo there are still thousands of families without a real home. While many of these people have been absorbed into the households of extended relatives and friends, some have no options and end up living in displacement camps.

Slovene Village, on the outskirts of Gjakove, is one of those camps. Built by the Slovenian government immediately after the war Slovene Village was intended to be temporary housing. Five years later it remains the permanent home for hundreds of men, women and children. Liz says the children of Slovene are some of the worst off financially of the thousands she assists throughout the Gjakove area.

Keith and I visited this same camp in 2002. Residents live in small, white rectangular metal buildings that resemble the trailer portion of an American semi-trailer truck. They are grouped by fours (three residences and a shared kitchen connected together in the shape of the letter C).

The conditions in 2002 were terrible by all accounts. I was shocked by what I saw when we first rolled into the compound this morning. The conditions now are 100% worse.

Today we did what we could to make life a little better for Slovene; even if was just for a few hours.

Our entire group plus a number of Liz’s volunteers arrived at the camp around 9:30am.
We immediately got to work. Pete and Kristi Korpi set up their makeshift “Eye Town” in one of the residences. Mike Hartman set up his outdoor health clinic nearby. Jon Fasanelli-Cawelti and Neva Baker led art and drawing classes in one of the two rooms of Slovene’s decrepit community building. Ric and Cynthia Smith and Lori Carroll directed singing classes in the room next door. Outside several of our youth participants and adults played wiffle ball, Frisbee, and games of elbow tag with dozens of camp children.

Despite the blazing sun, oppressive heat (at least 90 degrees) and language barriers everyone really seemed to enjoy the entire experience. I continue to be amazed at how well out youths adapt to new and different situations. If I didn’t already know I was in Kosovo, the laughter and screams of joy emanating from the playground area could have easily been the same sounds I hear as I pass a Muscatine school during recess. Music and laughter are universal, no matter what language.


Making Do with What We Have

Many of the Muscatine participants are already getting a small taste of what it’s like to live like a refugee. My house woke up without any hot water this morning. Hot water is somewhat of a cherished commodity in Gjakove but all of the adult houses have water heaters. Thus, we had been hopeful that we would have a hot shower today. Alas, I shouldn’t have been so hopeful.

We managed to figure out the hot water heater over lunch but by the end of the evening the entire city of Gjakove had lost water service. The reason is unclear but I do know the prospects for ANY shower tomorrow morning are not promising.

Sitting around the breakfast table (snacking on chocolate, chips, diet coke and cookies) we bemoaned another day without a shower. But the situation only reinforces that we take so many things for granted in America.

The Muscatine residents in my Kosovo house may have to live without a shower for another day. The residents in Slovene Village have been living without a real home in which to take a shower for more than five years.

Somehow a hot shower tomorrow morning doesn’t seem so important now.