Polyparty-ism - Search for Common Ground

all crying: neighbours, relatives,
and friends, almost the whole town.
And we were walking in that procession
for months, solemn and
quiet. The whole city walked
toward the railway station two
times a week, like they were going
to a funeral.
I have never found a rational
answer as to why Turks had left
Macedonia. Why did they leave
their properties, their land, houses,
shops, cemeteries, hearths and
dreams? Why, when they had been
born and buried there for centuries?
And why did they cry
so much, both those who were
leaving and those who were
staying? They did not go away
to work; they left forever.
Much later I found out that
it had been the same in all
towns in Macedonia. Someone
had decided to go to the
Promised Land, and everyone
followed. I was told that if you
only mentioned that you wanted
to go you were given a passport
and all the necessary documents
within 24 hours. There
were no calls saying: "Stay
here, the sun won't shine so
bright in a foreign country!"
The saying: "Wherever Turks
go, the poor Asan will follow,"
dates back to that time. The
message was: "We will go no
matter what happens." Later
on, when I visited Turkey, I
saw many tragedies and traumas
caused by this great migration.
I have never felt any kind of
intolerance or hatred being a Turk
in my neighbourhood or in my
hometown. Macedonians and Turks
did not live according to international
minority rights. Nobody
knew that declarations and charters
existed at all. People in Kochani did
not obey messages from various
speeches about brotherhood and
unity or about equality made by the
new government. They did not follow
the propaganda of anti-fascist
movements. Common life had traditional
unwritten rules, according
to which people treated each other
with respect. Relations between
neighbours were the same regardless
of religion or nationality.
Everything was shared-joy for a
great happiness and sadness for a
great sorrow. We knew how to wish
each other the best on national or
religious holidays. A certain order
existed.
Our next-door neighbours,
Ratka and Boro Bacovi, were our
closest "relatives." All my father's
friends: Koljo Manev, Uncho
Manov, Vane Poslanichki, Anche
Krusharski, Asparuh and Misho
spoke Turkish fluently. Easter,
Christmas and Bajram were celebrated
according to old unwritten
rules, which could serve present
politicians much better than international
documents, if they want to do
something more for Macedonia.
Kochani is ethnically clean
today. But believe me, it doesn't
make its citizens happier. They still
have the same problems as everybody
else in Macedonia. If you
don't believe me, go and see for
yourself.
The very same year when Turks
were moving out, I started to go to
school. My father enrolled me in a
Macedonian school. I wondered,
why should a Turkish boy, the son
of a famous Hadzhi Amdi man from
Kochani-a man who had been
deprived of his property by communists,
who wasn't a member of the
Party, and who was not interested in
career-enrol his son in a
Macedonian school, not in a
Turkish one? When I asked
my father about that later he
gave me the most logical
and simple answer, which
can now help in the battle
for education in the mother
tongue. He told me: "I didn't
want my son to be taught by
barbers." I was surprised
when he explained that the
new government had organized
courses to "enable" a
couple of Turks to become
teachers in only a few
months, because, according
to the law, we should have a
school in Turkish language.
He said, "I wanted my son to
be taught by good teachers."
That is why my education
started from my first teacher
Darinka Romanova, who I
will remember all my life.
So, a simple man from
Kochani was aware forty-three
years ago that the point is in the
quality of education, and not in the
language in which it is taught. He
knew that speaking many languages
can only be of use to a person and
their nation. Some of our leaders
know this too, because they were
educated in Belgrade, Zagreb or in
Skopje, which did not make them
become worse Albanians, Turks or
Macedonians…
Just one year before that, when
my family had decided to go to
43
What now, June 2001