The memory of ordinary, everyday intercultural or interreligious relationships, in brief
Gracanica was until the twentieth century a small village inhabited by Orthodox Serbs. By the early twenty-first century, it had become a more culturally and religiously mixed town, with a substantial Albanian minority, though the rise of nationalism and the onset of war has changed the types of natural social solidarities that were previously normal here. The Orthodox monastery here draws Serbian pilgrims – and Muslim Gypsies as well.
The context in which these relationships made a difference at the time
While commentary about conflict in Gracanica often draws attention to religious diversity and ethnic, or linguistic, difference, in many periods over the past century, political challenges in the country have centred on other divisions, which have been economic, social and political in nature.
For religious Serbs, Gracanica is a place of pilgrimage and worship, drawing pilgrim crowds from far and wide. For Serbian nationalists, one of the most significant facts about Gracanica is that it lies on the Kosovo field. Nevertheless, there have long been relationships marked by varying degrees of solidarity and religious understanding in Gracanica. Still, after two difficult decades of interethnic political conflict and violence, a number of villages in the vicinity have mixed Albanian and Serbian speaking populations.
In 1999, G.H.J. Duijzings, a scholar who used his experiences of pilgrimages to the monastery in support of an argument that local interethnic relations are naturally marked by a combination of interpersonal recognition and conflict, wrote: ‘Every year on Assumption Day (Uspenje Bogorodice or Velja Bogorodica) a large sabor (religious festival) takes place at the monastery here, which I have witnessed several times (1986, 1990, and 1991). It makes a surprising spectacle if we consider the symbolic importance of Gracanica for Serbian nationalism. A great number of Muslim Gypsies from all over Kosovo take possession of the monastery grounds and celebrate this holy day together with Serbian pilgrims. Most of them arrive on the eve of the Marian feast and bivouac in the porta, the large walled garden around the magnificent monastery church. The Gypsy pilgrims include people who are ill and women who are either barren or pregnant. They spend the night here, usually together with their relatives, believing that their overnight stay will quicken their recovery or promote a pregnancy or easy delivery. However, the majority of the sojourners, Gypsies and Serbs alike, are primarily attracted by the prospect of having a good time. As far as I could judge in the years I witnessed the event, Muslim Gypsies do not attend the lengthy church ceremonies on the eve of the holy day, and on Assumption Day itself. This is mainly a Serbian affair. Nevertheless, Gypsies, in particular women and children, enter the church to kiss the altar icons, to light candles and donate small gifts, in money or in kind. After vespers, barren Gypsy women encircle the church three times with long coloured ribbons, which remain tied round the building overnight. These are taken home and a belt made of them for a woman, and sometimes her husband, to wear. This is a widespread practice which happens in many other shrines, like Letnica, and it is believed that within the year the woman will become pregnant. At daybreak the next morning, many Gypsy families sacrifice a hen or a lamb, which they prepare for a festive family meal on the spot. One noticable detail is that the Gypsies perform their rituals individually or within a small circle of close relatives and friends, whereas the ceremonies and festivities of the Serbs are much more communal in character. Led by Orthodox priests, Serbs jointly sing and pray at vespers on the eve of the holiday and at matins on Assumption Day itself, without Gypsy participation. After the morning prayers, Serbs march three times around the church in a procession headed by the clergy, which in this case includes also the igumanija (prioress) of the nunnery. The priests carry processional banners and icons, and they are followed by the choir and congregation displaying Serbian flags. Finally, the priests bless the bread and wine and consecrate huge amounts of water. While Serbs line up to be blessed by the priests, Serb and Gypsy women jostle one another before the vessels filled with holy water, which they will take home in bottles. At noon the ceremonies are concluded, and dozens of Serb pilgrims who come from afar and who have spent the night in the monastery are regaled with a dinner by the nuns of the monastery. They usually work day and night to prepare the meals and welcome the guests.’
What has happened since, which makes the memory valuable
The rise of competing nationalisms troubled relationships between locals from the 1990s. G.H.J. Duijzings wrote: ‘As early as 1986, I heard from Gypsies living near the monastery that Gracanica had become a kind of refuge for Muslim Gypsies from nearby Pristina who accused Albanians of attempts to assimilate them. Nevertheless, despite Serb hospitality the municipality of Gracanica has not been very tolerant toward these Gypsy newcomers: the Serb authorities have prohibited the building of a small mosque to serve Muslim Gypsies. And in 1991, when I visited the sabor in Gracanica for the last time, new signs of growing Serb exclusivism —clearly reflecting wider political developments— were discernible: Gypsy pilgrims were ousted from the porta which had been their domain in the years before. As they were not allowed to camp there, to sacrifice animals and prepare meals, they were forced to do this outside the monastery. As I heard with my own ears, the plea of one Gypsy “we have been coming to this Serbian monastery for over five centuries”, trying to invoke an image of Gypsy faithfulness to the Serbs since the Battle of Kosovo, did not impress the igumanija.’ From 1999, many Serbian refugees came to settle here, making Gracanica mostly Serbian – though with a significant Albanian minority, and with Roma and Ashkali Gypsy communities as well. Political tensions and episodes of violence continued for another decade.
How might the memory be used in bringing people together in practice now?
The nature of interreligious and intercultural relations in Gracanica often attracts commentary which is framed by the political tensions, making good interpersonal relationships here across the different communities appear surprising, or curious. Personal testimonies from individuals who have lived here could contribute to a different kind of community narrative, opening explanations for the solidarity that neighbours and citizens feel, and helping to show how cooperation can ignite even in the face of political strife.
Additional context/Some additional reading
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gra%C4%8Danica,_KosovoG.H.J. Duijzings, Religion And The Politics Of Identity In Kosovo, 1999.https://pure.uva.nl/ws/files/1513620/108592_UBA003000255.pdf