The night was quiet, another Thursday in Pristina, Kosova. But the sounds of voices began floating through our curtains, disrupting the peace. A few of the kids in the group - Justin, Anna and Lauren - came into Austin's and my room asking if we know what was going on outside. Austin and I had no clue. We, along with Lauren, just finished a run through the city, which led us up Mother Teresa Boulevard, down a few side streets and eventually to a city park that was beaming with life - children playing soccer and basketball, locals sitting on benches sipping drinks and talking, couples sprawled across the grassy coves whispering to one another and kissing as if no one could see them. So, we
jumped from our idle positions and looked out the window. A mob of bodies was forming, congesting the streets and all entrances to the hotel. Mercedes Benz SUVs, Volvos and Audis fought their way through the mess of people, horns blaring. From our fifth floor vantage point, we could see young men in suits and sequins from girls' dresses sprinkled throughout the mess of people. We had to find out what was going on.I took a quick shower, grabbed a notepad, a camera and went to work.
Justin and I entered the lobby of the Grand Hotel. Through the sliding glass doors, we saw hundreds of bodies, all packed together behind yellow ropes wrapping the perimeter of the carport of the entrance to the hotel. We went outside and immediately felt hands grab our shoulders. "Get back behind the ropes," a man in a dress shirt and argyle sweater said to us. "We're staying here," we replied. He was instantly apologetic as a smile crossed his face. He told us these kids are crazy, gathered here to celebrate senior prom for the graduating classes of two high schools in Pristina. In the crowd are kids ranging from 10-years-old to adults in their 40s and 50s. And the noise keeps growing louder as more bodies join the mix.
When you hear about Kosovo in the states, it's the stereotypical rundown - war-torn, impoverished, scary, third-world. At least those were the images and associations presented to me from many people. But this scene was anything but that. Luxury cars, designer clothes, jewelry, cameras, every aspect of a commercial pop culture was present outside our hotel. It looked like the Grammy Awards or the Oscar's, not a high school prom. But the more I learn about this place the more sense it all makes...
...Family is everything here. You don't see homeless people on the streets because, as a girl with golden bangs (who I will get to in just a bit) told me, people always have a family to turn to in times of need. So, families turned out en mass to celebrate their loved ones' transition to the next tier of life. They cheered and screamed, knowing this group of youth will be entering a newly-free nation as graduates. This is the second graduating high school class who will know what it feels like to have real opportunity in a political and economic sense. Yet, the statistics are working against them. As I mentioned in "Culture Shock," Kosovo's unemployment rate is soaring, approaching 50 percent. They have the highest unemployment rate in all of Europe. And these kids are left to deal with that, to embark on a new chapter in their life with that in the back of their minds.
But fuck that, for now. On June 4, 2009, these kids wanted to party, forgetting about the harsh realities of the world represented by statistical bullshit. "We're going to party all night!" one kid said to me when I asked him what the celebration was for. "We graduated. This is our night." And who can argue with that? Who can remind a fresh-faced young man with a beautiful girl on his arm that this world is full of political nonsense? Not me. Not that night. I told them to have fun. And if security would let me in, I'll be dancing right along side them.
In a city pummeled and crushed only 10 years ago by rockets and bombs, this is a perfect juxtaposition. Now, they are deafened by the cheers of friends and family and blinded by flashing camera bulbs...
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