{"id":2221,"date":"2023-01-30T22:45:13","date_gmt":"2023-01-30T22:45:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/museumofrefugees-ks.org\/?p=2221"},"modified":"2023-01-30T22:45:13","modified_gmt":"2023-01-30T22:45:13","slug":"dren-berishaj","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/museumofrefugees-ks.org\/dren-berishaj\/?lang=en","title":{"rendered":"Dren Berishaj"},"content":{"rendered":"

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]<\/p>\n\n

[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Interviewer: Thank you for today\u2019s conversation. We would start slowly from… how do you remember the beginning of the war in Kosovo. Where were you? How old where you? Whatever memory you have of that period when they start…when the war starts?
\nDren Berishaj: Define beginning of the war for me.
\nInterviewer: Shortly before the NATO bombings.
\nDren Berishaj: I would start from a little earlier…
\nInterviewer: Ok.
\nDren Berishaj: … you know, the moment when the refugees started arriving in Pristina.
\nInterviewer: Ok.
\nDren Berishaj: you know, it was some… strange period. We used to go out to protest at that time, you know, the population, including the pupils. There was a strange protest of pupils in 1997, and it was mostly done from the people of Pristina, but also people who came as refugees from other villages. Villages, towns and so on. Even in Pristina they came en masse. The first thing that I remember from our classes, which were small, from 20-30 people we became 60-70 people in the class. I was in the third grade then. Which means that Albanians attended education in school buildings to the fourth grade. From the fifth grade and above, there were Serbian schools only and the reset were closed, most of them. Maybe, I don’t know. Maybe even up to the eighth grade.
\nInterviewer: In the home-schools, right?
\nDren Berishaj: Yes, they were here until the eighth grade. I know that up to the fourth they were in “PSHR”. It was a separated school, two floors occupied by Albanians and one floor by the Serbians. Also, weird because they would stage protests, they would throw water from above. I still remember… that moment, you know the first large number of refugees coming. Also, the look on their faces was different, you know, we were kids from Pristina, urban kids. Much different, you know. We could see that they are from poorer families, but… there was a certain feeling of solidarity among the population. But for us pupils, it was more like, what is going on, the school getting cramped. But this didn’t last long, as far as I can remember. It was interesting the division of the school into two, you know. The Serbs were on the upper floor while the Albanians on the lower floors. Serbs had heating, while we didn’t have heating in the school and we would stay like that… there was some tension even among children, you know. They had one entrance and the others had another entrance while both would use the same building. Literary, if you dared going to the upper floor, using the stairs which were used by professors, someone would come out and slap you and shout: go down! Mostly Albanians, because they did not want to go there and get provoked, “but also” from the Serbian administration.
\nInterviewer: This means total segregation.
\nDren Berishaj: It was interesting in the neighborhood, where I was… where I… I didn\u2019t reside there but I was living nearby. In that neighborhood, Serbs and Albanians used to play football. They would make teams with children. At that time, I was fat, lazy, and slow, single stepped, not that anybody was stopping me, you know. Neither one nor the other side, but since I have a Serbian mother, I knew Serbian. At the end of the game, they would start altercating, the teams would get separated, and they would start swearing at each other, and I would translate other’s swearing. Sometimes we would beat each other, sometimes we would just swear at each other and then leave. “It was weird fucking time”. This was before, 96, 97, 98. The other moment that I remember is the moment when they closed our school. I know the police came to the school. We saw the police enter\u2026coming to the school, the teacher came and told us in the most “fucking” brutal way. She said, “Go home because \u201cshkijet\u201d are going to kill us. “Fuckin’ hell”, just like that… just like that, kids going out of school, there is noise and stuff outside in the yard. It was the most sober moment\u2026just like that. I still remember when we walked and went home. It was quiet and the school got completely empty. Just “fucking creepy”. I still remember that calmness. It’s very strange. You know, it was my first time I got scared. As soon as I got home, I started crying, I didn’t even know why. Not long after that\u2026we decided to go to Montenegro.
\nInterviewer: Go to Montenegro?
\nDren Berishaj: Yes, so basically, we knew that the war was going to start. Well, my parents knew that because I was pretty much “sheltered” from… the things that…
\nInterviewer: News that…
\nDren Berishaj: News and stuff. We couldn\u2019t… because you know when you come from a mixed marriage family, you know it is…very important for them not to create a certain feeling of hatred towards a specific ethnicity. They also had a hard time explaining to the children \u2026 hey, look what is happening, you know. They even wanted to “shelter” us from all these evils. But on the other side, you notice those things, you know. You know what you are seeing around. especially, during that time when my father would be home most of the time, because he was a political activist and a Coordinator of Mother Teresa Humanitarian Association. He was either working or dealing with something stupid with someone in Kosovo. Sleeping somewhere and hiding. I also know that one night when he came, I saw him like… he had a very strange and calm face. But he said, just like that… so many weird memories…., you know, when you have a man who, most of the time, you see him as a hero, and when you see him crying for the first time, you know\u2026it’s… just a moment… he turned to me and told me, do you want to go to Montenegro, you know, it was “like fuck” moment for me. We go to Montenegro, because I have all my cousins in Montenegro, right!?. My father, by the way, is from Montenegro. “Forever is transcracting this”. Because it was always festive for me going there, you know. We go with family and stuff. But to see your father cry for that\u2026it\u2019s a “what the fuck is going one” thing. Then he comes the next morning, he came with a \u2018Mother Teresa\u2019 van and there were three families that went with the van. My family, our godfather’s family and another cousin of [unintelligible]. Cousin and friend. My uncle has [unintelligible]. So, it was pretty easy on the way. We simply went to the border and we came back, dad went back. Dad thought he was going to continue working for the \u2018Mother Teresa\u2019 and stuff. So, it was… but it didn’t seem like something absurd to me, but there was always that somber feeling. Some very strange calmness. He escorted us to the border, he returned, and at the border there were some cousins from the other side waiting for us. I didn\u2019t know that the person driving the car was a member of the Secret Service of Montenegro. Albanian cousin, stuff like that. So, I remember when this guy’s phone rings that day, and he talks to someone. I do not remember what he spoke about, all I know was that he hung up the phone and said, “NATO has launched the planes.” As a member of the Secret Service, he received the information that the war has actually started. For us, the war had already started, but “actually” for Serbia and Montenegro, in Yugoslavia, the war started that day. Half an hour after I crossed the border, the border was closed.
\nInterviewer: What experience did you have in Montenegro?
\nDren Berishaj: It’s surprising, because you went to your cousins, right. We stayed most of the time in Podgorica, and I spent a large part of our stay there in \u201cMal\u00ebsi\u201d. I considered myself one of theirs, more or less. Although, you know, it’s strange to… when you look at that white paper. I still have it, it says refugee status\u2026and I remember the other children saying to me: the refugee, you know. We would get up and fight with them. “I’m not a refugee!” You know, as If I were from there. But yes, more or less I was sheltered from war related things. I could not see much, you know. Besides, the feeling of fear, thinking when is dad going to come. You know\u2026 because he disappeared\u2026there were times when for days we didn\u2019t know his whereabouts. Was he alive or not, because there was no communication. Then, mom, would start calling all the police headquarters, the army and the paramilitaries. She was calling them on the phone. Literary to understand, you know\u2026what happened. Because, by the way, my father was on the liquidation list. So, we were expecting that… he has gone missing, or that he got killed. Yes, I remember that and I also remember that I was the best in the school there. Which is yet another weird stuff for me having to go to a school where Albanian language is taught. Yes, because Prishtina was a capital, and there it was a village of a minority group in another country, and their Albanian was very poor “right”. I would start reading in Albanian and they would become impressed. Wondering how can he read like that in the third grade. It seemed absurd to me why they are impressed by a simple reading. They didn’t even know how to properly read in Albanian. Or in mathematics, while we were learning here, just to mention maybe, fractions, they over there were still dealing with multiplication table, and I remember when in the middle of the lesson, they would start talking about how many kilos of potatoes they have in total. That kind of community were they. I remember the bombings over there. There were bombings. They have a military airport nearby. They bombarded it a lot. Cousins would come and take us to the cellars. And for me that was so interesting, because I am fascinated by airplanes. You see a military plane flying and a bomb exploding seven kilometers away from you, which could be easily seen with a naked eye, and so on. One day you see the planes parked there and the next day, you see the airport split in half. For me that was very exciting. I never even dared to cheer because if I would have been noticed by someone who shouldn\u2019t have seen me, then you know… “So…”
\nInterviewer: Do you remember when your father came to Montenegro?
\nDren Berishaj: Yes, during Easter time 1999. It was Easter. It was Easter Day [unintelligible]. It had been four days that we didn\u2019t know where he was. We had… I know he was, he entered Montenegro, then he… no, he didn\u2019t enter Montenegro, he entered Macedonia. He informed us that he had arrived there, but we didn\u2019t hear about him for four days. After four days, he told us that he is alive, he had spent some time in Macedonia, some time in Albania working with \u2018Mother Teresa\u2019, you know making somebody content. Then he crossed to Montenegro illegally. And in the end, I remember that he came to the school, I simply ran. It didn’t seem to me… there was no such feelings, you know, as when “You miss someone”. You know, in the sense of knowing that he was in a life-threatening situation. Like wow, here comes daddy. You know, to me it was like returning from an official trip. “At least” for me. I was surprised at mom, it was yellow, the color of light was yellow, which gave me some sort of a funeral “vibe”. This is because everybody was sitting in a circle, you know, as when going to a place for condolences, with a very dim light and everyone crying.
\nInterviewer: When he came…?
\nDren Berishaj: When I came in. because he had seen me earlier. Why are they crying? When you look at it in retrospective, you see it correctly, charged as I am now. And he, like a fool, returned back again. Anyway, he returned to Albania and stuff and then we didn’t see him for a month. You know, at that time, he was working. When he worked for \u2018Mother Teresa\u2019, he also worked as an accountant and managed to save some money. Then, with that money, we went to the sea, in Petrovac, at the Catholic church. It was an experience living with nuns. Yeah, I know, right. You think… [unintelligible] like kings your entire life. You know howit is, you think that maybe in the church there are the calmest people and stuff, you know, they are kinder to each other and stuff. Oh, \u201cfucking hell no man.” They were… they were fighting and… they were constantly fighting. One of them would feed the cats, the other one would take care of the grass\/greenery area and she would see that there were cats in the grass, she would hit the cats with a broom, to scare them away. They would repeatedly be fighting among each other, you understand. Like, it was intense among the nuns.
\nInterviewer: And when did you decide to return to Kosovo?
\nDren Berishaj: About a month after the end of the war. My father came back immediately, the first day NATO entered, he returned with them. He went back with a convoy of \u2018Mother Teresa\u2019, and he had fixed things over here. Because we did not know that our apartment was looted and destroyed…blah-blah-blah. Well, it was not ours, we were renting it, but still. So, when he got the things together, he came to pick us up. And, the first thing I remember when we went back was that… we didn’t take the same road. We usually go through Gazivoda, through Mitrovica. There was a road to Rashka. Now we took the road through \u201cKulla\u201d. And the first thing I noticed was seeing Kosovo flat. It really looks flat, you know. You can\u2019t imagine how flat it looks, when you see it from the mountain… I’ve never seen it from this perspective, you see really see Kosovo flat, like in the true meaning of the word. That was maybe my first memory driving in the white Land Rover. Another moment that was memorable and… pretty touching, and still is, when we arrived in Pristina at the canteen, my sister sees her friend. She hadn\u2019t seen here in months…
\nInterviewer: Do you want me to stop?
\nDren Berishaj: No, just a little. … and when we started moving, I remember when she went out of the car. Literary the car was on the move and she went out… [unintelligible].
\nInterviewer: Why, to hug her?
\nDren Berishaj: Yes, of course to give her a hug. It’s a little weird you know, when you think of things in retrospective. We all have some kind of trauma, something emotional, you know. Yes, we never process it. because, when you talk about these things with someone else, these conversations usually take place, you know, sometime in the evening… sitting on the balcony of the apartment when you’ve finished everything you needed to do. You drink, you… you have eaten, all feeling kind of down and you\u2026you started the engines. Everybody has a secret story. Someone heavier, someone lighter, someone more with something else. But, non-processed. Neither collectively nor individually.
\nInterviewer: Shall we stop?
\nDren Berishaj: Why not? Otherwise, the story continues for us, you know, having a Serbian mother after the war in Kosovo was also scary. That’s right, full of stuff that I didn’t know about. I remember when people would knock on our door in the middle of the night, around 12:00 \u2013 01:00, knocking on the door just like that. My father would charge his gun and go to the door to see what was going on. It happened every now and then.
\nInterviewer: Only because he had\u2026only because your mother is Serbian?
\nDren Berishaj: Not necessarily, but there were threats. You know… or the fact that you learned to speak Serbian with your mother all your life and suddenly you can’t speak to her on the street. In fact, you have… because actually… I cannot forgive myself when I had turned to her … as she was speaking to me in Serbian, I scared her. I told her, don’t speak Serbian since there are people around. Her face became “fucked up”. I remember it as if it happened today. She got split in two. You know, for someone who has believed in some idea of equality of peoples. Someone who was dismissed from her job because of the support given to Albanians and who does not support the repressive measures against the Albanians. Someone who was attacked in the arm. And all of a sudden, while being in the middle of that people who she helped, she cannot be herself. Even her son interrupts her like this, tells her not to speak. Even nowadays she is afraid to talk in Serbian. Mostly since that time. Not that she believes that something would happen to her, but still.
\nInterviewer: She still has that fear.
\nDren Berishaj: I still insist talking Serbian to her because I always remember that moment when I told her don’t. You know, don’t speak Serbian because… “at this guilt I did cross… [unintelligible].
\nInterviewer: Thank you![\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] [\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Interviewer: Thank you for today\u2019s conversation. We would start slowly from… how do you remember the beginning of the war in Kosovo. Where were you? How old where you? Whatever memory you have of that period when they start…when the war starts? Dren Berishaj: Define beginning of the war for me. Interviewer: Shortly before […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":1003,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[22,12],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/museumofrefugees-ks.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2221"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/museumofrefugees-ks.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/museumofrefugees-ks.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/museumofrefugees-ks.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/museumofrefugees-ks.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2221"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/museumofrefugees-ks.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2221\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2231,"href":"https:\/\/museumofrefugees-ks.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2221\/revisions\/2231"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/museumofrefugees-ks.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1003"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/museumofrefugees-ks.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2221"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/museumofrefugees-ks.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2221"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/museumofrefugees-ks.org\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2221"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}