In 2023, I decided to participate in an exchange program with young men and women from Serbia for the first time. I wanted to satisfy my curiosity about their perspectives on the 1998-1999 war in Kosovo and views on the current situation, two decades later. Honestly, I had my doubts and was confused and conflicted in many ways. Like many people in Kosovo, I grew up with stories and experiences from the war.

I had a mountain of thoughts before the visit. At first, I thought about traveling to this country as someone who had not directly experienced the war. My only memory is a few hazy seconds — of a tractor, a crowd and crackling sounds — as a four-year-old refugee with my mother and brother on the way to Tirana, without knowing what exactly was happening around me. Hearing the stories of people who lived through the war period in Kosovo, you feel a special weight of responsibility to understand, honor and respect their history.

Second, I would be meeting young men and women for the first time in a country with which we shared a violent history. It wouldn’t be easy, but why should we be afraid? My parents, especially my father, encouraged me. He said, “Yes, go, see the place where I finished my military service.” My mother, on the other hand, advised, “Go, but be careful.”

Finally, I thought that our discussions as the young generation would not lead to a dead end or be limited to black-and-white perspectives, as is often the case in politics. I believed it would be a good opportunity to talk, even if our worldviews conflicted, because that’s how we move closer to a better future.

I went to Belgrade

Let’s return to the visit. I got to know the culture and the people in this great city. The network of streets and architecture revealed the city’s long and multi-layered history, which was also reflected in my conversations with young people in the program.

As part of the program, we were encouraged to share our views and discuss the challenges and opportunities ahead for young people in both countries. This program was an incredible platform to exchange ideas and create a deeper understanding of the complexity of the relationship between us. It was a challenge and I knew I would face sensitive and difficult conversations.

The young men and women from Serbia I met expressed a wide range of feelings and views about Kosovo — there wasn’t just one opinion. Some had a somewhat informed perspective and limited knowledge about the situation in Kosovo, while others had an almost complete lack of knowledge. Some expressed a desire to understand more. A few told me that they felt there was a lack of diversity in the information available and that the views they were offered were not enough to form a consistent and fair opinion. Others showed skepticism or a lack of faith in the official versions of events.

During an exercise themed “What comes to mind when you hear the word Albanian,” one of the participants from Serbia had drawn the symbol of the eagle. He said that he had grown up in an environment where this symbol was provocative, without offering further context. I listened and began to understand more about the complexities of his perspective. Someone shared an incident where a six-year-old child in kindergarten heard a song with the lyrics “Kosovo is Serbia.”

These stories and situations made me think about our sources of information and the significance in shaping our attitudes and our lives. I realized that limited sources of information perpetuate stereotypes. This makes it difficult to challenge and unlearn these narratives, complicating the task of educating new generations to see beyond these stereotypes.

On this trip, I also had conversations that challenged me emotionally. I came from different circumstances, having experienced war firsthand and heard daily accounts of the pain it caused. I found myself in a discussion where figures who, in our collective memory, are revered as initiators of liberation efforts during the 1998-1999 war, were labeled as terrorists. I tried to remain calm as I shared my perspective.

I never imagined that I would sit at a table and have such a conversation, when just a six-hour-drive separated me from another world and reality.

But what was encouraging afterward was the level of interest from some of the participants who asked me: “Can you give me more information? Can you provide clearer explanations about the KLA? How do Serbs live in the north? What do you think about the The International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia in The Hague?”

A while later, these young men and women came to Prishtina.

During their visit to Prishtina, these young people explored the entire city. They saw that Prishtina’s architecture is similar to that of other cities in the former Yugoslavia, with no noticeable differences. They admired the iconic Newborn monument. While they learned about Kosovo’s culture and history during the day, they couldn’t resist enjoying Prishtina’s nightlife. The city’s vibrant and fun atmosphere kept them enjoying themselves until late.

During their stay in Prishtina, they remarked that Kosovo appeared to be much more developed than they had imagined. According to them, Serbian media outlets often depict Prishtina and Kosovo negatively, as undeveloped and associated with terrorism and tensions.

They told me they had read news of clashes between ethnic groups, which created an image of ongoing insecurity in the region. However, during our conversations, we tried to point out that the true reality is different. These discussions convinced me even more strongly that we must work diligently to bridge the gap between peoples — a gap often perpetuated by the media and politics, which frequently overlooks the people themselves.

A year later, I often find myself at a crossroads between concerns about political stability and social responsibility. I navigate between a commitment to positive changes that can be achieved and a hope for lasting cooperation and peace. This emotional, sensitive and complex journey feels like a convergence of hope and sorrow. I hope for cooperation, genuine and lasting peace, sorrow for the painful memories and truth.

Regardless, this experience has altered my perception of relations between Kosovo and Serbia. It has made me reflect more on the importance of dialogue, cooperation and mutual respect. I believe that genuine cooperation should start from the people themselves and be driven by them. It also made me think about the importance of accurate information.

As someone who considers activism a vital tool for change, I want to be part of initiatives that inspire cross-cultural cooperation. Through open discussions, training and contributing to projects that encourage the exchange of ideas and experiences, I strongly believe that we collectively possess the strength to build a more peaceful future for everyone. Ultimately, our efforts to foster a culture of dialogue and peace must be committed and continuous, benefiting us all. Can open and honest communication help build a shared understanding? I believe that it can.

Feature image:  K2.0