Travels in the Slavonic Provinces of Turkey-in-Europe

The journey from Graçanica to Pristina is calculated to be no more than an hour and a half. The city stands on the coastal land where the surrounding hills blend with the plain. It is a dirty and small town, but it makes a decent show from a distance, because of the minarets of the eleven mosques, said to have been erected by Turkish women whose husbands fell in the battle of Kosovo. A picturesque feature is a small hill on the right, which at the time of our visit was lined with white and green military tents. There is generally a cavalry regiment stationed in the field during the summer; whereas in the camp, as in the city, the Turk shows his taste by displaying the charm of white with green.

Has the Kaimakam of Skopje sent a letter recommending us to the mudiri [leader] of Pristina; and this letter had a great effect, for besides enabling us to meet in the monastery, he [the abbot] also found us very good accommodation in the city. The house chosen was that of the bishop, which, although it did not quite correspond to the European idea of an episcopal palace (it boasted [only] four rooms, three small and one large), was nevertheless a pleasant residence. The prelate himself, a Phanariot, was of course away in Constantinople, and the community did not miss him much; neither did we, as we consequently came into his large, cool, pleasant room, with a row of windows under the shadow of the projecting roof. From these windows is the most pleasing view from the house, which stands on a slope, looking down on the clustered city, and beyond it farther [sees] over the plateau bordered by the shadows of distant hills.

Shortly after our arrival, the mudir of Pristina sent him [somewhere] to pay us a visit, and then he appeared, not as usual in the form of a fat and greasy ottoman, but as a regal Albanian in a green cloak dressed in fur. He was a fine-looking old man, with silver hair, twinkling black eyes, a pale complexion, and the appearance of a bloodline that had not gained its position by rising from a lighter or coffee shop. In a few minutes the mudir's attendant informed us that his superior really came of a noble race, and, as we showed marked interest in the subject, the mudir himself took the floor and told us the name of his family, adding that they were of all gay by race and that in their country no one spoke a single word of Turkish. Thus encouraged we continued to ask him about other families of Northern Albania, and especially whether he agreed with the consul's informant Hahn that the largest houses were those of Ismail Pasha and Mahmut Begolli. He said that [these families] were important, but that the last pin of one of them had been put into the Sultan's service, adding contemptuously, "He is a little boy with a hump on his back," and imitating the humpback.

Referring to our visit, the mudir told us that he was especially glad to receive us, as he had once served under the English command, and was well pleased with the treatment and payment accorded him. During the Crimean war, he had accompanied an English consul through the districts of Peja and Deçan to gain recruits. "Of course you know the monastery of Dečani — as it is the largest in the world."

When the mudir left, the Serbian koxhabashi [head of the community] came to beg us to visit the Christian school. After what we had seen in Graçanica, our expectation was at the lowest level, and therefore we were more than satisfied with the pleasant surprise that we had in front of us. The school hall was large, airy, clean, properly equipped and decorated with texts from the Slavic Bible, written in circular forms on the doors and walls. These scrolls are the work of the teacher, a Serb from Mitrovica, on the Austrian border of Sava; and he has given so much dedication to his students that they not only write well but also draw. [...]

The Pristina school contains a second large room, which would be suitable for a class of girls; but as usual there was a teacher missing and the customs of this part of the country were against boys and girls learning together. There was another obstacle. Even the boys on the streets here were harassed by the Albanian rioters (arnaout), - can you imagine what the fate of the girls would be like? This argument was singled out by Koxhabashi and then the school director replied: - "Do you know what they told me? The new Mudiri informed the majlis [municipal assembly] that it was the Sultan's pleasure that the children of his subjects go to school, without excluding the children of Albanians (arnaouts). Now if the young Albanians were locked in their duties [in schools], ours could walk the streets without worry." Koxhabashi glanced at us, as if to see how much we believed, and then said briefly: "When the Arnaouts shut up and go to school like the rest, it will certainly be a great thing."

The aforementioned Koxhiabashi was not particularly liberal regarding women's education. He emphasized to us that in their community many of the boys were still uneducated and it would not be good for the women to know how to read and write before the men. After that, we showed her some beautifully bound books and told her that the contents were stories and travelogues written by women. He examined the works closely and asked the schoolmaster, who knew Latin letters, to decipher the title, adding: "Are you quite sure that it is neither a letter nor a song?" "Very sure," we answered; and the school principal confirmed our statement. Then Koxhabashi said: "If women are going to write such books, we should see what ours can do."

After [Koxhabashi] left, the school director told us that the residents of Pristina generally have the gift of improvising poetry, and that to the national songs that they continuously recite, they add others composed for different events in their lives. Of course this gift also goes back to the intimacy between the sexes, and so there is a notion that if women could write, they would be writing love letters forever. Such ideas naturally prevail in a country long subjected to Mahomedan influence, but the old songs tell us of Serbian ladies who "wrote like men."

However, despite his prejudices, Koxhabashi was an apostle of progress in Pristina. Because of him the new school was built and the teacher was found and brought by him. In the absence of the bishop who was not staying there, he is the one who leads the small community of Serbs; moreover, even though he came as one of their poorest members, he was chosen to represent them in the Majlis, because by his behavior he had done them credit and dared to speak in front of the Turk. Of course he had been [visiting] Free Serbia. This is immediately noticeable; because this one, like the people across the border, held his head high and appeared as a man. The question is, why did it come back? We often put this question to respectable persons who had similarly returned to their native city, although the state of things there was such that they complained. The answer was as follows: In such cases the whole family owns a piece of land, or a small shop here in Turkey, and the Turks throw every obstacle in the way of alienating the property for purposes of emigration. Then, while some family members are willing to go, others can't bear to leave their hometown or the friends of their youth, and instead of abandoning their families, the brave men stay behind. Also, if they do not go to Serbia before their way of life is formed, they can seldom keep pace even with the workers of the principality, because their habits are irregular and lazy; they cannot save enough to bring their families, and instead of abandoning them they return to Turkey. But instead they send the children; Koxhabashi's little son was on the verge of the trip. [...]

In Pristina, we dismissed the tenants who had accompanied us from Manastir. Their grass-fed horses were thoroughly crushed, and we spent so many days resting that it was an unreasonable expense to pay them when they were not in use. It was not long since we left them, when the deserters encountered a serious disaster. As usual, to save paying for their horses at the inn, they put them out in the pastures. During the night, in a deserted place, they were confronted by some Arnaoutes, who, pretending to be policemen, accused them of letting their horses graze in such and such places, [then] asked them their names, and generally they mistreated them. When at last the tenants gathered somewhat to comfort these tormentors, and collected the horses in one place, they found that three of them were missing. Immediately they set off, knowing these policemen were nothing but members of a group of horse thieves, who had interrogated them simply so that the rest of the crew would have the opportunity to take their animals. But now the evening had fallen, no search could be started; and the next morning, at dawn, a diligent search succeeded in recovering, not the horses, but their tails which had been left on the ground. With this discovery, the tenants considered it certain that their animals had not simply strayed, and descended again into the town to see if anything could be done to recover them from the thieves. To swear that the horses had been in their possession during the night, they called the testimony of our guard, "for his oath, as a Moslem, would be accepted, and theirs not." This was explained to us by the guard himself, as a Muslim, when he asked for permission to go with them.

As soon as the mudiri heard what had happened, he decided to give the visiting French travelers a proof of his zeal; therefore he sent to the bazaar and took the first two foreign Albanians that his policemen could lay hands on; then he informed us that the thieves were caught and that he would send them in chains to Prizren. Through our dragoman we asked the tenants if they thought that the imprisoned Albanians were really thieves. They answered that it was very unlikely, as the men who stole their horses would not be found the next morning walking through the market; they had no doubt set out, and the horses were with them. Besides, the poor tenants pointed out that what they wanted the mudiri to catch were, not the thieves, but the stolen animals, and to that end no steps had yet been taken. We thought of an old law of Tsar Dushan, which decreed that unless the magistrates and nobles of a district kept that district free from robbers, or, when a theft had occurred, they could not find the thieves to forced them to return the stolen goods, they, the nobles and the magistrates, had to compensate the robbed traveler themselves. It seemed that a law of this kind was still needed to speed up the execution of justice in Old Serbia.

However, we asked the tenants, since they believed that the captured Albanians were not the ones who had stolen their horses, if it was not better then that they be released. But no one even wanted to hear this: "All Arnauts were thieves! If the prisoners had not now stolen the horses in question, they had stolen others, or were about to steal them. The mudir himself had declared them harmful citizens (mauvais sujets), their chatter was out of order, and their testimony about themselves did not agree with each other. Let them remain in prison at all costs; no doubt the mudir would let them out as soon as we left."

As the horses were no longer ours, nor in our service, we did not see that we could interfere any further, and were really afraid to do so lest we should cause other persons to be put in prison. Apparently justice was beyond the mudir's functions and all submissions on our part would be regarded as mere calls for revenge. In this part of the world, if a privileged person seeks justice, someone is sure to be punished, and quickly — then whether he is guilty or not is a matter of perception between the parties.

Mackenzie, G. / Irby, A. (1877). Travels in the Slavonic provinces of Turkey-in-Europe. London: Daldy, Isbister and Co. (Fifth Edition), p. 193–234. Printed material. (Translation: Y. R.).