Polyparty-ism - Search for Common Ground

Me, Igor and Macedonia
Zekirija Ibrahimi
After the catastrophic earthquake
in Skopje, when the Butel barracks
were being given away for almost
nothing, my family happened to have
a Macedonian family (Uncle Mirko's
family) as neighbours. So my father
and Uncle Mirko established a neighbourhood
that we, their children, were
supposed to inherit for sure. When we
were brought to life (around the mid
1970s), Uncle Mirko's and my father's
children could barely be distinguished
from each other-who was whose and
who lived in which house. Often,
Uncle Mirko's only son, Igor, who
was my age, would stay overnight at
our place. We would also sometimes
stay at Uncle Mirko's place.
We were growing up this way,
while the friendship between our families
was becoming ever stronger. It is
true that my father used to help Uncle
Mirko with household chores, but
frankly Uncle Mirko always tended to
match the favours. He always helped
my father with certificates or documents,
which, when it comes to Uncle
Mirko, were the easiest things he
could do for us. On the other hand,
Igor lived with us without expecting
to benefit anything. It has happened
so many times that our father would
come to take us to buy new clothes for
Bayram and Igor would also stick
around. My father, not wishing to hurt
him in any way, would buy clothes for
him as well. I even recall that Igor
used to wait along with us for the
mosque lights to turn on and he would
then run straight home just like us to
announce that the
fast was over for
the day. Later on,
immediately
after the meal,
we would go
from door to
door, including
Igor's door, and
we would sing
and call up the
other children to
join us in playing
kutujik.
So, this was
the way we were
growing up and
we did not notice that Igor was any
different from us. He made an effort
to learn Albanian, and we learned
Macedonian language. This helped us
understand each other. Sometimes we
would cut jokes on Igor's account,
since he was not circumcised, but this
didn't bother him much. He knew we
were joking. He would also joke with
us. When Igor's family celebrated, he
would not miss the opportunity to
treat us. So during Easter he would
bring us dyed eggs with which we
played endlessly. This is what our
childhood was alike. They respected
our faith and ethnicity, and we
respected theirs.
Later we enrolled at primary
school. Igor studied in a Macedonian
class, whereas we naturally enrolled
in an Albanian class. This was the
place where Igor started changing
under the new influence. First of all,
there he learned the word shiptar. So
when we would get into fights, as
children do, he would go in his yard
and from there he would yell
"Shiptari!" This concerned uncle
Mirko a great deal, and he would
always, in situations like this, smack
Igor. But things did not end there. Igor
slowly started to remove himself from
us. He started to "understand" that we
were strangers to him.
By the end of
the 1980s, Igor
had many
Macedonian
friends who were
rarely willing to
mingle with us,
except when we
played soccer,
where we would
split between
Albanians and
Macedonians. It
was not only soccer
involved
there. We played
to prove who
were more capable, Albanians or
Macedonians. This was how we completed
our primary school.
We went to the secondary school.
A little bit due to studies and a bit due
to the alienation, we rarely mingled
with Igor. We used to meet on the bus
when we were returning from or
going to school. We usually talked
57
Youth and crisis, October 2001