The School Yard...

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It was one of those days that you’re not sure how you got there but you were glad you did. Innocently, me and my traveling buddy were just driving down the highway when out of the blue I saw a mosque and had an instant urge to take a picture. So it was as easy as one: slam on the brakes, two: turn off the road with a milliseconds notice and three: drive down the bumpy dirt road about 200 meters. Here in Kosovo there are hundreds of the religious houses of worship, in small villages, in cities and even in the middle of about nothing. I just wanted a picture, a little look up close; I wanted to see if it was intact or had been damaged from the conflict that occurred over ten years ago. I had read that hundreds of Muslim houses of worship were destroyed or badly damaged and that many non-profit organizations over the years were restoring and revamping ancient mosques that play a role in reviving Islamic heritage and preserving the identity of the Albanian Muslim people. I was just curious. I only got one quick picture and then it happened…


They were everywhere. We couldn’t open our doors to the vehicle. We sat momentarily and wondered what we should really do. Do we get out or should we continue on with our mission. We were really just traveling home and took a slight detour. How were we to know this would happen?

Who were we kidding? Me and my buddy were overwhelmed with our spontaneous discovery. Wouldn’t you know it... We parked directly in front of a schoolhouse! Short of high fiving each other, we bounded out of the vehicle and were instantly mobbed by little hands reaching for us and the quick talking sounds of about 30 children. It was a fun kind of chaos! The kind that both of us had probably been waiting to experience since we arrived here in Kosovo. Having been deployed to Iraq and experiencing the youth during times of crisis and destruction had left lasting impressions on us both and silently we remembered the internal feeling of fulfillment that positive interaction with youth can leave behind. So this was a great first couple of minutes as we slowly wandered away from the safety of our vehicle.

We heard a loud slapping of hands together and some words spoken in a different language and the children instantly refocused their attention on an older gentleman who waved at them to come towards him. My Captain buddy and I stood where we were as the children went towards the little schoolhouse. The older man corralled them into the fence line and stood at the gate and waved at us to join them. We eagerly walked across the street and into the gated yard and were welcomed with handshakes and a flurry of words. It was apparent at that very moment that the army had taught us how to speak a little Albanian. In fact, we had learned..stop..put your hands up..put your weapon down..and not one nice welcoming gesture like..hello..how are you..or, what is your name. So we began our game of charades and verbal “guess this word”!

As soon as I brought the camera out the kids began to show off, standing real close and then each wanted to see the back of the camera after I snapped the picture. It was like magic to them that I could take a picture and then there they were right there on the back of the camera. While the kids were competing for my attention, the two teachers were trying to communicate with my soldier buddy. He was trying to tell them that he was a kindergarten teacher back home in North Dakota and they seemed to smile at every word he spoke.
The children kicked their soccer ball around the yard, the girls giggled, my partner talked and I snapped pictures. I think we were all loving the moment. Eventually the teachers invited us in to their schoolhouse. It was small. I mean super small. It was divided into two rooms and a small outlet that had a wood burning stove and a couple of cabinets. They were those small miniature desks with little wooden chairs. At each place setting were workbooks and a tablet with a writing instrument next to it. As I looked to the ceiling I could see the water damage and then I looked to the walls. They were painted wonderfully with Disney characters all over! My kind of place!

The teachers had our undivided attention and they were trying to communicate with their hands, symbols and a smidgen of English how tough life had been for the neighborhood. We both could tell when they spoke of soldiers who had come through the town 10 years ago and hurt people, we knew that the male teacher had worked at the school for years with no pay and we could tell that they hadn’t seen many American Soldiers in that particular village. The woman was doing most of the talking and her counterpart was more introspective in his communication. He wore the pain on his face. The wrinkles around his eyes inset and his eyes were dark and could tell stories, if only I could have understood.

They never asked for anything and we never offered. Not a piece of bubblegum, no candy and no giveaways did we have in our pockets. They were just interested in showing their gratitude. It shone through perfectly with the smiles they all wore on their faces. It showed in the looks of fascination and it was perfectly clear when they want to get us involved with the children in the play yard.

The girls were playing a game that involved two opposing lines with five or six girls in each line. They would sing a song and then walk towards each other and then walk back to the starting point and then do it all over again. I watched and watched and couldn’t figure it out. The old man teacher stood on the sidelines and clapped his hands and the entire time I waited for them to bust through the line or switch spots or something. Nothing. They just kept going back and forth. Hmmm.

On the other side of the yard boys were doing boys things. Running wildly, yelling uncontrollably and of course a slug at each other here and there. My buddy would stand in between them, raise up his arm and then all the boys would jump up high to see if they could give him a high five. That kept them occupied for quite a while, but then they brought out the soccer ball again.

We knew it was time to get going and so we gave our thanks and started our goodbye’s. Shaking hands with the teachers, we got our pictures taken with both the kids and adults and then as we began to walk away they all seemed to run up to us and get just one last touch. It always a unique feeling when a whole bunch of little rug rats are tugging on your sleeve and getting in your personal space. For the most part, it’s a good thing and we were just tickled to get the opportunity.

We exited through the same gate and as we turned around just before we got into our vehicle, there they were. All those smiles. All those children doing the same thing. They were quiet and they just stood there and waved at us. Hands high in the air and focused right on us. We waved back with as much energy and then I saw it.

Behind those waving children was the reason we stopped. The mosque. What a beautiful sight to see. Makes you wonder if we weren’t brought to that little village to see two very incredible things?

Blessed are the peacekeepers.

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