Polyparty-ism - Search for Common Ground

ead an article about such family
friendships? I am sure you don't.
Not about childhood friendship,
nor about unforgettable street
friendship, but about mutual
respect and visits between families?
And those are the stories written
exactly from life itself. There
are many of them here. We shouldn't
forget them.
Right after the earthquake, we
were moved from the old part of
Skopje to the newly established
residential area. One of those
areas, built by Slovenians, was
Vlae. During a stay in the State
hospital, a family member made
friends with an Albanian, J., the
latter coming from a beautiful village
behind Vodno. The friendship
turned into a family friendship and
later visits: he stayed at our home
with his family and we stayed at
his in the village behind Vodno.
The closeness was so strong
that J. started addressing us using
our nicknames, as we addressed
each other in everyday family
communication!
In the mid 1970s, while serving
in the army in Samobor near
Zagreb, I made friends with Z, an
Albanian from the village
Kopanica (the "last post office of
Bojane" as we used to call it)
which afterwards turned into a
family friendship.
When I visited him and his
family I brought him presents,
when he visited me he brought
presents too, beautiful skillfully
knitted woolen socks. The friendship
with Z. lasted for a long time,
since he worked in a department of
the Goce Delchev printing company,
the one in the centre of Skopje,
which no longer exists today! One
article can hardly grasp the authenticity
of friendships and respect we
had with Albanians, Turks, Vlachs,
Serbs, Bosnians, Roma in Skopje.
My best friend from high school,
J.T., at the end of the 1960s took
me to Krushevo for the first time,
in his family house with a great
and rich Vlach tradition. His
grandmother, still alive at the time,
told us about Ilinden and the day
Krushevo succumbed. She even
remembered details, although she
was a girl at that time. I made
friends with T.M. there, who later
became a prominent skier, and J.,
who studied French.
Apart from T. who was into
sports, we would visit the restaurant
in the centre, held by the well
known caterers J. and P., who later
took over the Writers' Club in
Skopje. We would go down into
the monastery woods, and sang the
song "Dafino, vino
crveno"(Dafina, red wine) we
would first go red from the wine
and then got pale and white as the
beautiful bed covers from
Krushevo. What can I say about
friendship with the Turks, we were
like brothers, since our houses
were separated by only one garden
door. What can I possibly say
about the mutual family visits with
Romot-a porter first in
Kooperativa, later in Vardar and
after that in Tehnometal Vardar?
He came for Easter, we visited for
Gjurgjovden in Topaana, never
thinking that we could miss the
great holiday!
Well, that is life! That is the
grandeur and uniqueness of life.
That's how we were, that was our
destiny, and nobody can change it.
Regardless of whether somebody
suppresses or assists us.
Nowadays, it is called "multiethnic
living," "cohabitation between ethnic
communities," "multicultural
living" or the Framework
Agreement. Fine. But it all sounds
so pale and unconvincing.
Artificial. And it is our fault.
Because tradition is not permanent,
it should be continuously
cherished, updated, renewed. Like
freedom, like wooing the woman
you love, like something sacred
and precious. Nothing is given for
good, unchanged. We must be
wary of destruction as it preys on
us at each step. And if the framework
means progress, and not
destruction, can anyone speak
against it? Of course not, provided
we do not confuse the terms
progress and destruction. Not to
confuse them and advocate real
values.
My story about the family
friendships was not accidental. It
137
Two years of the ohrid agreement, August 2003