18th – 20th August: Farewells and New Discoveries

The next few days were really just filled with rounding up my stay, seeing Gosia off, who went back to London, and to prepare for my upcoming visit to Kosovo. On my last day, I somehow felt like photographing the ugly bits of Skopje, must be due to my heavy heart feeling the departure from such an intense time.

Kosovo. I only know a few songs which I absolutely love. I felt incredibly excited to venture into new territory, to a place with hugely difficult history and current affairs, with a mixture of various ethnicities, a place which rather than only a little fragment of Former Yugoslavia, seems somewhat of a cross-roads between the still-western Balkan music and influences from Albania, Turkey and further Middle East.

I only had two days left before my aeroplane back to London, time only to dip into one place for which I chose Prizren, which is not the capital, but a much older, much more atmospheric town with lots of Romany Mahallas. My friend Ragip, a Rom living in Germany, who had been born and grown up there, had brought me in touch with a journalist, a Rom too, who worked for the Kosovo state television. He was meant to sort me out with tourist guides, and a introduction into Kosovo Roma life and bring me in touch with some musicians.

He picked me up from the bus station and brought me to my hotel. Afterwards we went into town for a quick coffee and strategic meeting, and I was ‘’welcomed’ by a party atmosphere as in the worst tourist beach town. The whole centre is full of bars, all of them vibrating from loud music and kicking bass beats. O my god, where is the supposedly poor and deprived Kosovo, of which many people including natives have been telling me about, where life is so difficult and depressing. Those lifes may well exist somewhere hidden away, however, their existence was quite unbelievable when confronted with this very pulsating place.

I was introduced to a young Romani man, who was supposed to show to all that is to see of Romani culture in Prizren on the next day. That night I stuffed in my earplugs tight, struggling in vain to diminish those huge party noises and catch at least some sleep.

16th August: of Elvis, the Romani Mafioso, and a Čoček performance of rather unusual nature…

This was Gosia’s first day in Skopje. We did not know yet, that our planned light day of sightseeing would end up being an intense encounter with Romani culture which was shocking and wonderful in the same time.

I thought I could use those tourist activities to catch up on a bit of history and general knowledge of Macedonia, as somehow during my stays here I always was dragged into other directions. Together we visited the sights, reading all the information exhibited on boards throughout. We also explored this whole business of the colour stains on Skopje’s monuments. It was named the ‘colour protest’, led by a group of free-minded Skopians. They expressed their unhappiness with the governmental issues in this peaceful action by throwing colourful paint onto those grand white brand-new monuments. I love the idea of it, but I would have preferred to see the whole thing delivered with some more artistic finesse.

From the centre, we made our way through the old town towards the bazar, checking out traditional shops and all the Turkish-influences fashion shops which displayed highly exuberant dresses.

   

From the centre, we made our way through the old town towards the bazar, checking out traditional shops, weird articles and all the Turkish-influences fashion shops which displayed highly exuberant dresses.

Finally we took the bus to Šuto Orizari, the Romani settlement outside Skopje. I felt very excited going to the market again, and strolling through the roads and alleyways. I had gotten in touch with Asan, as a spontaneous meeting close to where he lives seemed the most likely way to actually manage to meet him.

It was soooo hot, we were sneaking from shadow to shadow. Unfortunately the market was already packing up, so we started strolling off the tack into residential territory, into sections where I had not been before. In this settlement, one can discover so much creativity and imagination in and around the houses, it’s wonderful. We did chat to some of the proud home owners, who are always very happy to show you around and show off.

Later we had an ice coffee in a bar, a very sweet concoction of Nescafe, sugar, ice cubes and cream, and what miracle, Asan turned up. He was very concerned about meeting and rehearsing for the upcoming TV recording for Shutel, the local Romani television station. He had brought along his friend Ali, also a trumpet player; together we went then to the house of a relative to get rehearsals and TV sessions arranged.

I have been to a lot of Romani houses by now, and it does not matter in which country, and if rich or poor, they were all immaculately clean and tidy. You might find rubbish outside the house, but cleanliness inside is a strong part of their lore, which seem to have carried through even in the most modern Romani families. This house was different, really dirty and scattered. Anyway, were still welcomed like honoured visitors, and offered coke in semi-clean glasses.

As usual, when word goes round of special guests, several friends and family members pop round to pay their respect and also to spy on the newcomers. This way, we were introduced to a number of people, of course the crème-de-la-crème of Šutka. There was Elvis Pressley, who runs hotels abroad, and we met Lenzo, the Mafioso (we were warned afterwards by Asan), who owns a taxi firm in Stuttgart/Germany, and sings on the weekends in a slightly dubious Turkish night cub. I do not think many people can say of themselves to have met Elvis and a Mafioso in their life, and specially not in one day !

At one point a young man arrived, with a slightly strange air about him. Gosia identified him as gay, and we were wondering, if this was known to the family and community. He was asked to dance for us, as his Čoček dancing was apparently extraordinary. And it certainly was, after wrapping a jingly coin scarf around his hips, we were offered snippets of a rather feminine belly dance.

They didn’t allow us to take pix, they were concerned there would be bad gossip and discrimination amongst the community, if those images would be seen. For me, the fascinating thing was, here was a young man, who was everything which Roma people usually would shun and cast out. This young man however was in a weird way integrated in his community. I do not know, and could of course not ask, if they were aware he was homosexual, or if he was to them just a weird person, a kind of female man; whichever their answer would have been, in his difference he was accepted by others, he later helped other lads to repair some items on the next-door house.

For us, however, the dance performance was not finished yet. We were invited inside the house, so the dancer could perform properly for us, without any fear of being gossiped about. He would veil himself, and we were urged to film it.

What we witnessed then equally amazed and shocked us. I shall share with you here the starting scenes, before his dancing moves, urged by the grandmother of the house (who was to everyone’s shock only one year older than me!), took on rather too many erotic elements for my taste. The whole family, including small children, were there, seemingly feeling at ease, and I think the only two people feeling rather uncomfortable and overwhelmed with the situation were Gosia and me. It appears that for them the open display of so much erotic seems an ordinary thing.

Afterwards it became even more uncomfortable, as they asked Gosia to dance for them. In a normal situation, this would have been the right thing to do, to offer something back for this stunning performance which we just had been offered. Of course Gosia could not have danced now in this space which still vibrated from the guy’s energy, but her sweet and polite ‘no’ was not accepted. I had to step fully into a ‘mature grand-mother-figure’ position of authority to firmly establish that in our culture it would not be proper for a young lady like Gosia to dance in shorts. Tomorrow she would wear her skirt, and then provide a dance performance for them. We had been told we would return tomorrow there for a rehearsal.

The final act of the day should have been the visit to Šutel TV, the Romani television station of Skopje. It was of course was closed, and nobody had any idea about our appearance anyway; as I had already strongly suspected the whole action was part of Asan’s wishful thinking, wanting impress us and in the same time showing us off like his trophies to gain more recognition in their society. We agreed on meeting the next evening for a rehearsal, as Gosia and me had planned to visit the beautiful Lake Matka outside Skopje on the next day.

14th - 15th August: Easy Life

 What a surprise, Asan tried to get in touch, mostly via my friend Miki, but at least he tried. After learning I had been to Kočani he was really worried, that I had shared any of the tunes he taught me with the Romani musicians from there. It is odd, not to say actually a bit depressing how competitive and destructive they are against each other. Both are excellent trumpeters from Romani communities, both had told me independently I should stay away from the other as I would not be taught correctly, and that the other is no good in the first place…

Anyway, I took it easy that day. Some practice in the morning, then I packed my bag heading to the big central park for a relaxing session of reading and writing, and some walk along the Vardar river.

Later, I was joined by Miki, and after my report from Kočani, he talked me into joining him playing Beach Volley Ball. Have I ever played Volley Ball? Once around 35 years ago at school, which was a kind of musical grammar school. Therefore we musicians were told to stay away from such for our fingers dangerous activities… I realized I had missed great fun in my young days…

Next day, my friend Gosia from Poland was due to arrive. She had short notice asked to join me, as she has been let down by her Balkan travel companion.

Before picking her up from the Central Bus Station, I visited my friends busking. We did have chats about musicianship in London and in Skopje, and realized that payments and fees for musicians are in relation to living costs are much higher in Skopje. Also, with busking and playing some private events and little gigs, one could make a better living than from some professional employment here in Skopje.

The evening ended with a girl’s dinner, where my friend Bojana joined us. We exchanged lots of stories from the last few months, of course we chat about the current frustrations living in Macedonia; the experiences of working with various Romani musicians was a very valuable conversation, as it helped me to understand Asan’s weird behaviour…

11th August: Frosty Šutka

I discovered that one can now get Skopje public transport routes via google maps, including bus times and fees. This sounds so easy and practical… Needing to keep up some exercise I decided to make my way via two buses to the city park for jogging.

Unfortunately the new system could not quite make up for my bad sense of direction, so I ended up with and extra walk of an hour until was at the park, and had precisely 15 min left for jogging. Anyway, I will return there for more, as it is beautiful there, next to the Vardar river, with lots of little lakes and bridges, crossing paths…

Back at the hostel I changed quickly, and ran into town, as suddenly the message came through that after all Asan could meet today. I went to meet Miki, who was just busking with his musical partner in town.

Poor Miki, as message exchanger and faithful guide he was waiting with me for hours, in vain. Later we were told to come in the evening to Šutka.

When finally we made it I received such a frosty and reserved welcome, that I got really upset. After all, one of the main reasons to come was Asan, to build on our music making from spring. On the other hand, I just experienced a real bit of Romany life, how one behave in awkward situations when one feels guilty and insecure: Loud music in a noisy place, surrounded by male friends, mumbling into one’s beard – reading this actually, it just is international behaviour, not at all Romany specific. Well, after all I’m here to experience Romani culture and life, so one has to learn the good and bad…

So how to react? Back in Germany more than 20 years ago, what did I do when life got really upsetting – climb up a mountain ! And exactly this is what we planned for the next day.