Thoughts from Cynthia Smith

Monday

At the Slovene Camp, our class was held in a room supplied with table and chairs, but with ample evidence of a rat infestation. The children glow as we give them supplies and instructions. They are achingly beautiful with shiny hair and faces, their bodies strong and tan from swimming in the local creek. Intelligence beams from their eyes and they catch-on to the weaving task quickly; many of them making multiple bracelets in the hour we came together. I though they might make gifts but mostly they leave class wearing all of their handiwork.

As we waited for health and eye exams to be completed I rode with Liz and Burim to a nearby abandoned house. They hoped to sweep it out, string lights and decorate it for a camp party on Tuesday evening. But, to their surprise the house was being rebuilt as an auto-mechanic shop. The other building on the property was too full of rubble to consider.

Many people will write about the Serbian Monastery in Prizren. Our guide’s voice was mild as he recounted the riot of March 17, 204 in which his home was destroyed. But his eyes still bore the shock. The destruction wasn’t just to the buildings.

Tuesday
I’m sitting in a recorder class whose teacher is a 15-year old volunteer. Toe-tapping must be the universal way of staying together. They are sight-reading melodies with great confidence. Each child also has a harmonica at the ready.