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Cikle and Fatmir: holding the centre in Macedonia
by Antony Mahony
Everyone knows Aleksandar Krzalovski as "Cikle",
a nickname he acquired as a student at the Korchagin high school for promising
young mathematicians in Skopje. He went on to study computer science and
seemed destined for a career in technology, but the path he took led him
instead to the Macedonian Centre for International Cooperation (MCIC),
where he is managing the current emergency programme. MCIC was founded
by the World Council of Churches (WCC) in 1993 with the support of Dutch
InterChurch Aid in an effort to improve inter-ethnic relations and bring
about peace through development.
Like all his contemporaries, Cikle has seen many changes in his country
in the ten years since it became independent from the former Yugoslavia.
For once in their history, Macedonians had an opportunity to manage their
own affairs rather than be subject to a government in Belgrade or to the
Ottomans before that. The era of brotherhood and unity of communist Yugoslavia
had held many different ethnic groups together in a single multi-ethnic
society. But when this ended, a much sharper sense of individual identity
began to emerge. In the new Macedonia, people's ethnic self-awareness
became stronger, whether they were Macedonians or Albanians or members
of one of the other minorities, such as Vlach, Roma or Turk.
Cikle can recall only one Albanian in his class of 35
pupils, and had little contact with Albanians until he joined MCIC. He
admits that his attitudes have changed: "My level of tolerance is
much higher after five years at MCIC than before and for all the staff,
it's been the same experience." In contrast, he has noticed that
some of his contemporaries have attitudes and opinions they did not have
before: signs of racial prejudice and xenophobia have come to the surface.
Even more alarming is the peer pressure felt by people of moderate views
to adopt an intolerant attitude in the country's present crisis. It has
become a new orthodoxy to blame others for precipitating the crisis: the
Macedonians blame the Albanians, who in turn blame the Macedonians. The
space for dialogue and interaction between the country's ethnic groups
has steadily eroded, especially since the outbreak of violence this year.
Over the past eight years, MCIC has worked on many occasions
with Albanian communities, including projects to supply water to villages
in the north and west of the country and other community development and
income-generating initiatives. This experience was important when the
decision was taken to work in Kosovo in 1999 after the end of the NATO
bombing campaign. MCIC was keen for a Macedonian agency to be operational
in Kosovo as a sign of the commitment of the neighbouring country to the
needs of the people there. With a new office in Djakovica, MCIC began
to build up trust with the local people by providing them with items they
really needed, such as building materials and food. The organization learned
that it had the capacity to grow to meet the demands of a major humanitarian
programme, and that its staff were able to develop new roles.
Cikle was transferred to the new Kosovo programme, where
he found himself working long hours in the office. "Cikle, you melt
into the environment!", as one of his colleagues put it. This was
not a task for the faint-hearted: in the early days of the operation,
the office received threatening telephone calls following the lay-off
of some members of staff and the mediation of the mayor was required.
Cikle had to take precautions for his own safety: even though he was well-known
and respected through all of Djakovica, he could not speak his own language
in public for fear of being mistaken for a Serb, and was always accompanied
by one of his local staff. "However, I did feel special as I was
aware I was the only Macedonian working freely in Djakovica," he
recalls.
Fatmir Bitiki came to MCIC along a quite different path. He grew up in
a Skopje neighbourhood that was 90% Macedonian, but his family was on
good terms with all its neighbours. He was an excellent student at the
Zef Lush Marku Albanian-language high school in Skopje, but he always
dreamed of going to the military academy of Yugoslavia. Normally his record
would have merited a place at the academy, but strangely, this opportunity
never came. When he completed school in 1993, he decided to study management
at university. But when he applied to the University of Skopje, there
were no places left. What could he do? There was still a chance of enrolling
in a similar course at the Faculty of Economic Management at Tirana University,
but he would not be eligible for any support from the Macedonian government
if he went there. Fortunately, his older brother agreed to sponsor him
for the next four years.
But Fatmir's heart was still set on the military career
that other members of his family had followed before him. He thought his
chance would come in 1997 when he was due to do his military service in
the Macedonian armed forces. But the new Macedonia did not have a military
academy; this remained in Serbia at the break-up of the former Yugoslavia,
and Fatmir joined the ranks. This proved to be a learning experience for
him: " I discovered how hard it is to be an Albanian and serve in
the army. In my class, I was the only one who had studied, but this didn't
help me to get promoted. Maybe I wasn't suited to the army after all."
Again, his dream was unfulfilled.
By 1999, Fatmir was looking for a way to start his career.
It was not a good time to be looking for a job in Macedonia, especially
as his higher qualifications were not recognized by local employers. He
admits he was not very optimistic. Yet it was at that point that his luck
changed. A friend recommended him to apply to MCIC. "My interview
was an eye-opener for what was going on in the NGO sector in this country.
I found there were still good people working here," he says.
He was taken on with MCIC's NGO development programme
as a training officer. Before long, he found himself on a "training
of trainers" course in The Netherlands. But no sooner had this new
career path opened up than the Kosovo crisis exploded. In October, Fatmir
began to work on MCIC's programme in Kosovo, where he was particularly
well qualified to work as a liaison between the organization and local
partner NGOs. "It was a challenge for me. I knew the people and the
culture, I thought it would be easy." But things had changed for
the people who had been first displaced, then returned to their homes
in Kosovo. A new, harsher and more intolerant attitude had surfaced: "
It used to be normal to hear Macedonian or Serbian spoken there, but no
longer."
The political situation in Macedonia this year has brought
a special challenge to MCIC. It was sometimes painful for Fatmir when
his colleagues discussed the inter-ethnic troubles and strong words were
exchanged by people who normally had the best of working relationships.
He had different views about what was going on but didn't initially wish
to voice these publicly for fear of what his colleagues might say. The
director, Saso Klekovski, feels that he and the staff had to take responsibility
for keeping the peace inside the organization. "Peace is based on
relations between people, not on political elites. I wanted to promote
the idea that we can speak out, even when we are angry. People have to
be aware how we are feeling, even if we express opposing views. That is
the meaning of tolerance. Silence makes the gap between us larger."
Thus they agreed to hold regular information meetings where staff are
encouraged to discuss the current political issues openly. This has preserved
the shared sense of belonging and mutual trust between the staff during
these crucial times.
Colleagues have had to help each other in practical
ways. Some Macedonian staff have been unwilling to travel to majority
Albanian areas, for reasons of safety. For his part, Fatmir has not ventured
to Bitola, where Albanian shops and properties were attacked and torched
by an angry crowd at the end of April. On the other hand, he did visit
Probistip, an ethnic Macedonian town in the east of the country, accompanied
by a Macedonian colleague, for a monitoring visit to a local NGO. He is
sure about the strength of his relationships with the people and organizations
with which he works, whatever their ethnicity. But in the current situation,
everyone is more wary than before. "You never know who might stop
you on the road," he says.
In these troubled times when communities are being driven
apart by destructive forces, any sign of cooperation and understanding
needs to be cherished as a sign of hope. "It's not the same as before
the war," says Cikle, "but with our experience in Macedonia
and our ethnically mixed composition, we can set an example of cooperation
between different people." Working for the benefit of the community
in the service of peace, Cikle and Fatmir are doing what the international
mediators and local politicians can only talk about: they are holding
the centre in Macedonia.
Antony Mahony is interim WCC
South-East Europe Consultant for the South-East Europe Ecumenical Partnership.
He has been based in Skopje since April.
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