A Sunday to Remember

For those who are not aware, I am now living in Niš, in what is the second semester of the Bridge Year Serbia Program. Niš is located in the South of Serbia, while Novi Sad (where we spent our first semester) was located in the northern province of Vojvodinia. See map below. :)

Now, back to today's post. 

This past Sunday, I did something that I've never done before, and that I'll probably never get the opportunity to do again. I participated in a 5km walk commemorating the escape of 147 WWII prisoners from Crveni Krst, the WWII concentration camp in Niš, on February 12th, 1942. Normally this annual walk is 40km long, and the participants walk around Niš and to a few surrounding towns, on the same route taken by the escapees. This year, because of the snow and the consistent -10 degree Fahrenheit weather that we've had for the past two weeks, this trek was shortened considerably. Instead, we walked to Bubanj hill and back, where the WWII memorial was built in remembrance of the 10,000 prisoners that were taken there and killed. 

This is obviously not my picture, since there is not half a meter of snow covering the hillside. I was going to take a picture, but it was too cold to take the camera out of my pocket....

My day started when I awoke up at 7:20 on a cold and wintry Sunday morning. It took all of the courage and strength I could muster to get out of bed, knowing that for the next 5, 6 hours I would be out in the freezing cold trekking over snow-covered roads. But, alas, my strength prevailed. I met Charlotte Sall (a fellow bridge-year buddy) in the city center, a mere 7-minute walk from my house, were I bought a nice McDonald's breakfast (yes, there are McDonald's' (?) in Serbia!). Ah, what a nice reminder of home. ANYWAY, it was then 8:40 and Charlotte and I needed to be at  Crveni Krst (in English the concentration camp is called"Red Cross") at 9:00 and we had no idea how often bus #3 came or if another bus would get us there. We waited at the bus stop for a few minutes, and  we got on the first bus that came and asked the lady bus driver (yay!) which bus we could take to Crveni Krst. She told us to stay on and that she would take us to the bus stop that we needed. As we approached the bus stop a few blocks away, the bus driver lady saw the bus that we needed pull out of the bus stop. She then hailed the bus (as you would a taxi) and the bus driver stopped the bus, got out, and walked over. She explained to him that she had two American girls that needed to get to Crveni Kirst and would he please take us. And, just like that, he led us to his bus (parked inconspicuously in the middle of the road) and personally chauffeured us to the concentration camp. Did I mention that we didn't have to pay? It was great. Charlotte and I got special treatment! :)

We arrived at Crveni Krst at around 9 am, clutching our McDonald's bags and standing out like sore thumbs amidst the boy and girl scouts congregating around the entrance to the camp and filing through. Charlotte and I just chilled for a moment and then decided to start for the trash bin at the end of a longish lane right leading to the entrance of the camp. When we were halfway through, a line of Serbian soldiers started marching in our direction down this small lane. Charlotte and I, slightly embarrassed, stood to the side to let them through. We could hear them chuckling--but I don't blame them. It must've been a funny sight! When we accomplished out task of drinking the warm coffee and disposing of our garbage, we bravely approached who we took to be the head boy-scout leader and asked if we could participate in their march. With a delighted expression, he told us that yes, we could! We were given special treatment once again. We were assigned to a boy scout contingent, and we got to shake hands and be introduced to  the last  Holocaust survivor from Crveni Krst. It was supa cool. Like I said, once in a lifetime opportunity! 

The following two hours were difficult because of the cold. There was a longish ceremony that was displayed on public television (I'm pretty sure we made it in the news!) with Orthodox priests chanting in Serbian, speeches from important government people and the Holocaust survivor, and a candle-lighting ceremony. All the while, Charlotte and I stood in a neat formation with the other boy and girls scouts. I've love to tell you what the speeches were about, but I can't. Mainly because a) the speeches were in Serbian and b) I was too focused on not freezing to death to attempt to understand. Instead, I watched intently as the small boy scout in front of me methodically burnt the lint and fuzzies off his mittens. I kept thinking his gloves would catch on fire....

After the ceremony and a tour of the Concentration camp bunks (warning: photo tangent; also, disclaimer: these were taking when our bridge year group toured the concentration camps during our Niš orientation...notice the lack of huge piles of snow)...

The doors to the building (former army barracks) where they kept the prisoners.

Outside view of said building.

This writing on the wall is how the prisoners planned their famous escape.

These small rooms were meant for solitary confinement, but during overcrowding (which was quite often), 20-30  people were crowded into each room. I'm assuming the barbed wire coils on the floor were meant to add more discomfort. 

This was the main office of the concentration camp...the headquarters. Notice the Nazi signs and the German writing on the wall. 

Coils of barbed wire surrounding the barracks to prevent prisoner escape.

Me attempting to be artsy.

The dreary courtyard.

Part of the long lane I mentioned earlier.

The doors at the entrance that I mentioned earlier too...

...and we're back.

After touring the barracks as a group, we finally got on our way. I was half frozen. I couldn't feel my toes and I almost gave up, but I decided to give it my best try. We walked in neat pairs for a couple miles, through snow and slush. The traffic was stopped for the participants of the trek on multiple occasions, and traffic guy scouts in bright yellow vests kept telling us to hurry up. It was a great experience, though. Regardless of how cold I was (despite the ridiculous amounts of layers that I had on), I knew that the prisoners back in 1942 had probably been much colder. Plus, they walked a great deal more than the 5 km that we did. Once we got to the top of the Bubanj hill, we stopped for sandwiches and this delicious mint tea...probably the best I've ever had. It was sooooooo good. Then, we trekked down the mountain. During our trek down the boy scouts were chanting scouty-things in Serbian, and it was kinda cool. Charlotte and I just giggled because we obviously stood out. Once we got to the scout base, we received certificates for having accomplished the walk. Although it felt good to have pushed myself to complete the walk in the utter, miserable cold, it felt even better to have participated in such a wonderful event in recognition of the triumph of 147 individuals who defied the odds and escaped from a WWII concentration camp. Having lived in North and South America my whole life, I've never been able to do something quite like this, and I probably never will get the opportunity again.

Needless to say, I got home and took a nice nap. I woke up an hour and a half later and went to a Serbian friend's house, Anastasija. There we made American pancakes with chocolate chips (topped off with MAPLE SYRUP brought by Charlotte), quite an accomplishment considering the fact that chocolate chips don't exist in Serbia (once again, THANKS CHARLOTTE). Afterwards, we played Dutch Blitz, murderer (this winking game) and psychologist. I had an amazing time surrounded both by my Serbian and American friends. I got home late that night, content after a long day filled with perseverance, companionship, defying the odds and American pancakes. What else could I ever want? 

Individual Update (or Indy)

The following was posted (or will be shortly) on the official Bridge Year Program Website as an Individual Update. It was written while we were still in Novi Sad so bear with me! Our group update is soon to follow.

“Why Serbia?” Every time I interact with a new group of local people, I get asked the same question. For many youth here, it seems puzzyepling that I chose to leave behind “The American Dream” for a whole year--and, even more so, that  I chose to spend it in Serbia. My response is always the same: the service opportunities here in Serbia appealed to me. After responding this way many times, in December I realized that while this may be true, my understanding and perception of service have changed considerably. The girl who chose Serbia because of wanting to work with marginalized groups, youth empowerment and civil rights now finds herself with a more holistic and personalized understanding of service. 

At the Bridge Year Program orientation before we left for our respective countries, we attended a group session on service. It was here that we attempted to reconcile our previous experiences with and preconceptions of service with the opportunities that we would encounter abroad. We discussed the more formulaic aspects of service, breaking this concept down into three categories: immediate aid, long-term projects, and social change. My experience with service in Lancaster led me to hold certain expectations, such as the belief that most of my service in Serbia would fall strictly under one of these categories. This, I would later learn, was not an accurate assessment of the non-profit work that I would be doing in Novi Sad. I found that service is about meeting the needs expressed by your community and those around you. These needs might not always be dire, and they might not be what you expect, but they are needs and desires all the same, and you serve by meeting these to the best of your ability.

I first started discovering this aspect of service after a few days of working at my NGO, Novi Sad Humanitarian Center (NSHC), when the full-time employees there started approaching me with questions regarding how to say this or that correctly in English, or needing corrections on their English reports and pamphlets. While I spent hours making corrections to a legal report intended for a philanthropist organization from the US, I realized that while this wasn’t exactly the kind of service I had in mind when beginning the placement, I was doing what needed to be done. I would have to simplify my view of service in order to live out its true meaning, and the perfect opportunity arose on September 14th. On our way back from a Saturday field trip to the countryside, full of fun games and crafts for the Roma kids, my boss, Dejan, brought up the fact that several NSHC volunteers wanted to learn Spanish. Never having taught Spanish or learned it in a formal classroom setting, I initially declined. I soon realized, however, that it would be silly not to teach my fellow volunteers Spanish; they wanted to learn something that I knew--wasn’t this service, in essence? I agreed to teach Spanish twice a week in the NSHC conference room. Some days I had seven students, while a few time only one girl, Jelena, was able to come; but this didn’t matter. As long as there was someone who wanted to learn, I taught.  

While engaging in other types of service, I learned that sometimes, what falls under the category of service does not feel like work at all. Such was the case with the Tuesday night English conversation classes at the American Corner lead by the five of us. We always had too much fun, but it was through these methods that the kids who attend our classes practiced their English. We often played games such as “Through the Green, Glass Door,” “Madlibs” or “20 Questions.” We also posed debates and discussions and tried to get everyone to participate. It was a simple idea, yet for many of the youth who came, we were the only Americans that they ever met in person, or our Tuesday nights are the only time that they got to practice their English with native English speakers. 

Creating and maintaining a good working environment is also something that my coworkers at NSHC taught me throughout my four months there. The perfect example of this is when once in a while someone in the NSHC offices cooked a snack for all of us. We would gather around the big table in the conference room on the second floor, eating and chatting. I once got recruited to make funnel cakes, and after semi-successfully converting American cups, teaspoons and tablespoons to European grams, milligrams and milliliters, they were a big hit!

As someone who loves to have everything planned out in detail, my work in Serbia has shown me that flexibility is a necessary attribute for those who wish to serve others.  During my four months in Novi Sad, I had the opportunity to lead English and creative workshops for Roma kids at the József Attila School on Saturdays. This NSHC program provides extra academic aid for kids ranging from ages 6 to 15 or 16. Planning the creative workshops and English workshops required hours of preparation, which included shopping for and organizing the materials, writing formal proposals for the workshops, and traveling to the school on Saturdays to lead the workshops. Flexibility, I have realized, is an asset that I acquired in larger amounts working with these kids than ever before. I have had to change my workshop at the last minute based on the supplies available, the number of children present (I had to have everyone make Christmas cards instead of 3D snowflakes because there were too many younger kids in the workshop), and what the kids want to do (sometimes we have one game planned, but the kids don’t like it so we have to come up with another game on the spot.)  I have learned to improvise, accept changes and modify my plans according to the circumstance and needs presented.

It has become clear to me that service is a two-way street; you learn just as much from those you teach as they learn from you. Since I saw several of the volunteers from the Saturday school on a regular bases through my Spanish classes, I got to know several of them better and on a more personal level. My friendships with these amazing volunteers have allowed me to gain a better understanding of what service work means to the locals and has given me a better appreciation for their work at the Saturday school. It is inspiring interacting with these University students who devote themselves weekly to improving the quality of life of these children. 

I am fully aware that I have changed during these four months in Serbia. The change in my view of service is only one of the ways that Serbia has impacted me and my perception of the world. It is exciting to think that my transformation is not yet complete. Quite soon I will embark upon the second leg of my journey, Niš, where my understanding of service will continue to change. I look forward to seeing how this knowledge and my experience in Serbia will shape new realizations and my life at Princeton and beyond!