Each of the 20 days I spent here exposed me more to the efforts Kosovo was making to seek a better future and be the first Muslim country to join the European Union.

Kosovans are open to foreigners unlike their Turkish counterparts. I could feel their warmth everywhere I went in the newborn nation-state. The attention I received for being a Syrian was enough to spoil and disarm me of my humility. Innumerable Kosovans advised me to stay there instead of returning to Syria. They understood my pain like none other. Our heartache is shared.

* * *

The fellowship included visit to Prizern, one of the most picturesque areas in Kosovo. Before heading to Prizern, it took me lots of convincing to have Ghaith, an 18-year-old Syrian Kosovan, accompany us.

Though I never met this shy teenager before but I felt the responsibility towards him. We did have quite a few things in common. Ghaith was forced to leave Damascus a year ago, like many Syrians and foreigners settled there. And, he landed in Kosovo. Though he is originally from the Balkans but feels he belongs to Syria. He grew up there and has the Syrian nationality too. "I am a Syrian to the core.”

He nostalgically mentioned many parts of Damascus he had memories of. I could revisit the world’s oldest living city with him. To return to his trademark silence, Ghaith always knew how to stop my questions by just throwing this one back to me: “Do you know when we are going back to Syria?”

Ghaith agreed to accompany me and staff at the University of Pristine escorted us to the picturesque city. They sang national songs about Kosovo and looked visibly proud. I just wished the same for Syria.

Prizern offers a warm feeling of cultural and religion integration. While my European colleagues eagerly searched for Turkish coffee in this Turkish speaking city, the guide took us to a church and a mosque. It was surrealistic to be there as both places are God's home regardless of any crazy ideas of extremists from Christians and Muslims, both.

* * *

A few days later, we got to know each other more. My group of friends comprised an American, a Briton, an Italian, a Libyan and a Russian. Yes, it seems an odd mix of political rivals with American and Russian and Russian bundled together. This could happen only in peace and calm of Kosovo. We had lunches and dinners together while discovering beauty and diversity of this ‘Newborn’.

We decided to visit an uneasy part of Kosovo called Mitrovica, a city divided between Serbia and Albania. A steel truss bridge crossing the Ibar river in has become an iconic symbol of its division. During our two-hour journey, we were worried if the UN peacekeepers will let us cross the bridge to have a look at what many call as the sad part of the city (Serbian side).

The peacekeepers let us in but with one caution: please don’t utter a single word in Albanian language as it may land you in trouble. We thanked for the permission and advice both. The city looked calm and quite. Old people were sitting on the road. Some women were busy shopping.

A strange feeling of uneasy overwhelmed me there. Like a film, the scenes of war against the innocent played in my mind, massacres of Albanian Muslims at the hands of Serbians. Suddenly, I could not breathe as I remembered countless Muslim women being raped by the soldiers. I felt insecure and scared to death. I wanted to return to the safety of Kosovo. My American and Libyan colleagues shared the same desire.

Honestly, I could inhale free and easy as I entered the Albanian part of the Mitrovica city. Valiant are the Albanians to have decided to move on and build their future while the Serbians are still stuck in the past. Sad people in a sad city!

* * *

After being spoiled by the Kosovan hospitality, we got our first reality check from none other than our Albanian language teacher. He ruled on the second day of the class that Arabs are hopeless and they should not bother to learn the Albanian language. “You won't be able to learn and speak it. You can simply forget about it,” he remarked, totally ignoring his own weak teaching skills.

There are only a few Kosovans who can speak Arabic. To them, Arabs were very dear and no less intelligent.

Though I felt insulted by the teacher, I understood his ignorance. My Arab friends asked me too as to why I chose Kosovo for a summer fellowship. They were too ignorant as well with no idea of its natural beauty or rich history. Owing to lack of media presence and mutual academic or professional exchange, we hardly know each other.

I and my Libyan colleague had to face serious problems in acquiring visa. Had it not been my resolve to visit this great country, I would have preferred to go somewhere else. The Kosovo government must know that Arabs and Muslims feel proud to see their country liberated and prospering. We feel Kosovo is our part just like Turkey’s Prime Minister Erdogan said, “Kosovo is Turkey and Turkey is Kosovo.” The Arab rulers may have delayed recognition of Kosovo but their people love this nation with their heart and mind both.

I felt sad to be limited in Kosovo while all my European and American colleagues could go anywhere in Albania and Bosnia. I wish that people won't have to pay the price of our leaders’ mistakes. And we should not be stereotyped anymore.

The visit was a great success. At the end of the trip, it was hard to leave the campus. My colleagues did not want me to return to Syria. I was flooded with gifts, hugs and kisses. Amid this storm of multinational emotions for Syria, I was about to miss my flight.

After the Kosovo visit, I can conclude that we, the people, are doing much better than our governments and the civil society in building cross- cultural and cross-religious bridges.

[This article, like any other of Silent Heroes, Invisible Bridges, can be reproduced under the Creative Commons by only giving the due credit.]

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