Mary of Monastir: a glimpse into the past life and times of Macedonia

Look at the faces of people whom you meet. Each one has an incredible story behind their face. A story that you could never fully fathom. Not only their own story, but the story of their ancestors." 

-Gratitude TED Talk

She arrived in Macedonia at the ready age of 23, to help, to serve, to adventure. It's a story that starts out similar to our stories as Peace Corps Volunteers, but the realities of her experience are beyond our wildest imaginations. 

“She will go down in history as one of the heroines standing by the women of that country in the midst of peril when she might have gone to safety leaving them in need,” according to Dr. J.L. Barton from the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions (1919).

Born in Ohio and a graduate of Mount Holyoke College in Massachusetts (class of 1885), Mary Louisa Matthews set out as a missionary in 1888 to work in the first American Girls School in Monastir (present-day Bitola) at a time when Macedonia’s borders stretched east into Bulgaria, west into Albania and south all the way down to Salonica (Thessaloniki). She sailed first from the United States to Constantinople (Istanbul), and from there to Ottoman occupied Macedonia. 

Little did she know this adventure would take her through World War I, Balkan War I, Balkan War II, the Young Turk Revolution, the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire, and the kidnapping of Ms. Ellen Stone (the first instance of an American being held as hostage by terrorists in the modern age). The name of the country governing Monastir changed three times in just one year during her thirty-two years of service.

I was first introduced to the intriguing adventures of Miss Matthews this past May, when her grand-niece Peggy Hanson arrived in Bitola to re-trace the steps of her great-aunt...

Click HERE to continue reading this article in the Summer 2013 issue of Pauza Magazine - Peace Corps Macedonia's quarterly online publication. The article begins on page 18.

lots of LOVE,

HT

Struggles.

You won’t be asked, by a vast creator full of light:

What did you do to be known?

You will be asked: Did you know it,

this place, this journey?

-Tara Sophia Mohr

I'm struggling.

Between the "I should do's" and the "I want to do's."  And between being and doing.

I've been here in Peace Corps Macedonia for nearly two years now. Despite a few project successes, I don't feel like I've done much. I've got this perverse drive to "do, do do!" 

I want my village of Novaci here to have a waste water treatment plant that uses innovative technology for maximum efficiency, maximum profit.  I feel like I should be the one to do it. Perhaps that would take care of the nasty sewer gas wafting from my kitchen sink every day. Other houses have it too. Is the sewer gas the reason I'm feeling so lethargic all the time?

I want my village of Novaci to have an efficient landfill and why shouldn't I be the one to do it? Now it's a sprawling blanket of trash and stink that makes my eyes water every time I have to drive by it to get to the mountains. The one where the only visible life is the skinny dogs and Roma (gypsy) people who scavage through the piles of decay.  

I am grateful for the Roma people. They recycle. They scour every trash can and illegal dumpsite they can find in search of plastic bottles. I've seen bags of bottles the size of grizzly bears tied to the tops of their rusty Yugo cars, or piled up on their horse-drawn cart. They even carry the big bags balanced on their backs and heads to the plastic recycling center on the outskirts of Bitola. 

There are many things I want to do for Novaci. I've been accumulating information and networking up a storm, but trying to pioneer a path through these environmental challenges at the local level, as an outsider, is draining. I feel like a fish trying to swim upstream in a river of molasses. I find myself so drained trying to swim against the current of the "I should do's" that I lack the energy necessary to ride the waves downstream on the "I want to do's."  

My Peace Corps service that was supposed to be about helping other people has unfolded into poignant self-discoveries. I know what I want to do with my time. I want to write a book. Not just one, but many. I have so many ideas. And the time to do it. But it seems selfish. Writing books here seems selfish. How will that help Novaci? How will that fulfill my Master's research for a topic related to International Administration?

The first goal of Peace Corps is to foster an exchange of skills (both ways) between Volunteer and Host Country.  While I swim upstream in my never-ending project to-do list, trying to impart my American "can-do" attitude on the people of Novaci, I struggle to accept the one skill that Macedonia (in all its forms - colleagues, friends, language, culture) has been trying to teach me since I arrived here. How to BE. Every day is a lesson in "being" - being present in the moment, enjoying coffee and laughter and comraderie at work; being present in the garden, enjoying coffee and laughter and relationships with my landlords after work; being present with friends, drinking coffee in Bitola, people-watching. Yet as we sit observing the life around us, I'm in my head day-dreaming of project planning, grant writing and doing work. 

I want to be in the moment, to be at peace with being more and doing less.  Yet I struggle with fear of failure, fear of missing out if I don't maximize the efficiency of my "doing" here. Even now, I sit at my desk at work, paralyzed amidst the warring of my "I shoulds" and "I wants" in my head.  Hence, this email. It was the only way to keep me from blankly staring at my email inbox, like a deer in headlights. My inbox bursts with emails related to waste water treatment, waste management and environmental grant opportunities. Yet if I open even one, I feel like I'll drown. 

So I write. I have no answers. I'm restless. Struggling. Contemplating. Writing is my way of being. It brings me to my own attention - to my thoughts, my fears, even my doings. Huh. Imagine that.

Lots of LOVE.

HT

PS. Here's a poem I've been contemplating the past few days. Food for thought.

In the End

In the end
you won’t be known
for the things you did,
or what you built,
or what you said.

You won’t even be known
for the love given
or the hearts saved,

because in the end you won’t be known.

You won’t be asked, by a vast creator full of light:
What did you do to be known?

You will be asked: Did you know it,
this place, this journey?

What there is to know can’t be written.
Something between the crispness of air
and the glint in her eye
and the texture of the orange peel.

What you’ll want a thousand years from now is this:
a memory that beats like a heart—
a travel memory, of what it was to walk here,
alive and warm and textured within.

Sweet brightness, aliveness, take-me-now-ness that is life.

You are here to pay attention. That is enough.

- by Tara Sophia Mohr, poem available HERE

Picture This: Spring in Macedonia

Let everyone whom you meet on this day be blessed by you. Just by your eyes. By your smile. By your touch. Just by your presence. Let the gratefulness overflow into blessing all around you. And then it will really be a good day.

-TED Talk on Gratitude

SPRING IN MACEDONIA HIGHLIGHTS...

1. The U.S. Ambassador to Macedonia visited us at the Municipality of Novaci and then headed to a local farmer's house for a chat with the 6 farming families that have been chosen for the USAID funded project "PeLAGonija LEADER." The 4-year project commenced earlier this year at the beginning of the growing season, providing the 6 farmers with drip irrigation systems and expert planting guidelines. Now we're waiting to see if the crop yields increase as significantly as anticipated. Side-note: the Ambassador's family has a cabin on Lake Coeur d'Alene.

Photo courtesy of Karli-Marie Reyes-Dimovska

2. Weddings galore! The Peace Corps Volunteer living in Bitola got married this May to a Macedonian man from Bitola. They had a wedding this spring that fused American and Macedonian culture. There were about 20 of us Peace Corps Volunteers in attendance. After several hours of traditional Macedonian oro (line) dancing, the DJ made a music switch and all of us PCVs put on a show of American line dances including the funky chicken and electric slide, among others. A few brave Macedonians joined us on the dance floor to learn, while the rest of the guests sat wide-eyed watching this dumb-founding American phenomenon. We got an ovation at the end. 

3. The Senior Citizens project has wrapped up, but the results continue to unfold. Every Sunday the women continue to meet and plan events. They have been partnering with organizations from around Macedonia to put on cultural events, including the Bitola in Bloom event at the Monastery in Novaci this past May.  The event featured the women's homemade cookin, as well as dancing by the local traditional dance group made up of kids from Novaci. The event brought in buses full of tourists from Skopje to learn about their own Macedonian culture. The Mayor of Novaci has been pleased with the results of the senior center project, saying we sure hit a bulls-eye with it. His wife has been a regular attendee at the women's night and even celebrated her birthday there yesterday. She said that ever since she's been going to the Senior's Center, she's caught up on all the news from the village. :)

4.  The Mayor of Novaci, who was re-elected for his third term in March, has been busy with projects in the Municipality.  Every two weeks or so, there is a ceremonial event to commence the building of a road or playground, etc. The local priest or imam will lead the ceremony depending on the main religion of the people in that particular village, followed by a feast with representatives gathered from the Municipality and the locals.

5. Another round of baby chicks, puppies, kittens, baby storks...as well as guests galore!  I've hosted 10 visitors the past month, including my parents, my auntie Carole, my host sisters from Kratovo, friends from Skopje and am currently hosting high school friend Deanna Gerwin (pictured above with Veselka) and her husband!  Life is GOOD. More about their visits later. :)

For a glimpse into the life and times of Peace Corps Macedonia, here's a link to our Spring 2013 edition of Pauza Magazine. To honor my passion for writing and to actively cultivate a space for it in my life, I've been working as the Managing Editor of this magazine the past 7 months. Click HERE to see the newest issue of Pauza Magazine.

Fore more Spring pics, see below...

Lots of LOVE.

HT

Deanna and the 1-day old chick.

Mom's mother's day garden in bloom!

Lui and Igorche bonding.

Igorche's pets - Chombe and Shadow

Uncle Vlado - reminds me of  what Patrick McLennan will look like some day...

A wedding in Bitola. In front of the municipality.

Igorche's cousin's wedding. Let the dancing begin!

PCV Karli and Zlatko's wedding, Bitola Macedonia
Photo courtesy of Karli-Marie Reyes-Dimovska

Neighbor boy, Stojan.

Neighbor kids ready to dance.

Such a sweetheart.

Ivana putting on lipstick.

Nikolina and her "kids"

Veselka's mother's handmade traditional dress.

A door in Bitola.

The Dragor River runs through Bitola.

The babas.

Dad - what is this plant?

My beautiful neighbor Nada.

Nikolina dancing "oro" with her kiddos.

Colleagues. Mirjana, Katerina, Sanja.

These little ladies welcomed the ambassador with bread and salt.

U.S. Ambassador Paul Wohlers arrives at the municipality

U.S. Ambassador Paul Wohlers with the farmer's family.

Igorche hard at work. In village of Armatush.

Mayor Kotevski presents a certificate to our one and only qualifier for the National Spelling bee.

Mayor Kotevski with all the local Spelling Bee participants.

This means war.

From Orthodox Easter, 5/5/2013

"To them, church wasn't about accepting Christ as your savior, 

it was about finding your divinity and celebrating it in others even when it's difficult." 

- from a friend's sister's tribute to her missionary grandparents

Happy Orthodox Easter (and Cinco de Mayo!)

 I'm writing you from the beautiful home of my gracious host family in the mountain town of Kratovo, Macedonia, where I spent my first 3 months of Peace Corps language training.  I arrived at my host parent's house on Friday along with my host sister Maja who works as a dentist in Skopje and with her friend Afrodita, a wonderful doctor-to-be who comes from a Muslim/Roma family and is as eager as I am to experience new religious/ cultural traditions.  We have shared lots of laughter (what a blessing it is!) with this family here in Kratovo.

The lovely Afrodita and Maja.

Happy Birthday Maja!

 We attended 11pm Easter vigil service last night at the Orthodox church. The service began outside the ancient stone church, with the tall, dark and handsome priest (with long black hair pulled back in a ponytail) lighting the first candle. From that one candle, like wildfire spread light to all of our slender yellow beeswax candles until the entire crowd was lit up by candlelight. The priest (who is married with two children), began a procession around the outside of the church, preceded by an old, white haired man with a blue cloak throttling a bell that was a bit harsh on the ears and two alter boys carrying Polynesian-esque wooden leaf paddles (I couldn't see them up close) followed by the priest (and co) and a crowd of candle-bearing folks like us. By the time we could have joined the procession around the church, the priest had finished his third lap with a finale outside the front doors of the church.  The priest banged on the closed doors three times, and was denied access until the third time. When  the doors were opened by a mysterious presence within and a church service began inside (standing room only). 

 We stood for a few minutes, before heading back to my host sister's house for some good ol' Orthodox Easter egg wars. 
We had each brought with us our favorite dyed Easter egg, and proceeded to hit each other's eggs until there was one winning egg that still remained in tact.  I'm proud to say that my egg, which I had geniously decorated to depict two sword fighting rabbits (from stickers of cute bunnies and Christianesque crosses) won the first round! After that, it was feasting, food and birthday cake for Maja's 27th birthday (which we had delayed for two days due to fasting from all animal products until 12am on Easter).
After a short night's rest, we were up early to help my host mom prepare the Easter lamb feast. I tried the local delicacies of lamb brains, stomach and intestines for the first time, but passed on the eyes and tongue. I filled up instead on homemade cakes, breads and salad fresh from the garden.  Oh, and some homemade moonshine and white wine too. 

Lamb brains. Mmmmm.

I love how fresh everything is here. And made from scratch.  It's a wonderful experience to enjoy food that was picked and prepared by your own hands. A true labor of love.

As we headed to bed, all of us unmarried women put our beeswax candle stubs under our pillow, per Macedonian custom. It's said that the man who appears in your dreams Easter night, is the man who will become your husband.  I had a very vivid dream of a strapping young man (who I do know), in whose presence I have indeed felt most alive, and who just so happened (in the dream) to fancy me. Alas, in real life he is to be married soon. So per Macedonian custom, I am not sure how to interpret this dream. Perhaps I should seek expert Macedonian Baba advice. ;)

Hanging out with Baba Stoika in Kratovo.

It's been a wonderful weekend here.  Many blessings from Kratovo to each and every one of you. Whatever your religion or upbringing, may you discover the divinity, the sacredness, the uniqueness that makes you You and let it SHINE.  Then celebrate that uniqueness in others whether it  makes them similar to or different from you. What a miracle that any of us is alive to begin with. 

Pozdrav,

Hana T.

Finding Home Away From Home

Happiness IS. 

Finding "Ker da len" (Coeurd'Alene, ID) 

on an old Macedonian map from back in the days when Macedonia was 

part of Yugoslavia at a sweet Baba's house in a very rural village of southern Macedonia today <3 p="">

Baba Power

She was born on the banks of a little creek. Her mother used a sickle to cut the umbilical cord (she must have been working near the corn fields at the time), and then tucked the newborn baby girl inside her sweater and carried her up to the house. The year was 1952. This baby girl was the fourth of six children and the only one born by the creek. The others were born in various locations - amidst the corn stalks for example - wherever their mother happened to be working at the time.

The baby girl grew up to have babies of her own. A girl and then a boy. She woke up one morning at 5am, nearly nine months pregnant with her second child, and preparing as usual to head to the fields for a day's work of picking tobacco (to sell to U.S. tobacco companies; it's still a common way to make ends meet here).  As her husband got their bicycles ready, she went into labor. Within minutes, the baby's head was crowning. She was afraid to wake up her house full of relatives (in-laws, spouses and children), but the baby's cries woke up her mother-in-law anyway. With only her mother-in-law's help, they finished delivering the baby by cutting the umbilical cord with a kitchen knife. It wasn't until a few days after her son Petze (Peter) was born that the doctor arrived. Shocked by the impressive health of both mother and newborn son, especially given the circumstances of the quick, home birth, the doctor reached out and shook her hand. "You are a strong woman" he said.

Her daughter (Valentina) grew up and met a boy and left home (an hour's drive) to move in with the in-laws like most women here do; and her son (Petze) joined the volunteer army and met a girl where he was stationed. Shortly before they were to be engaged, Petze was killed in an abrupt and unexpected civil war. The year was 2001. The place was Macedonia. He was 23 years old. He had spoken to his mom on the phone a mere two hours before his death. She didn't find out until officers arrived at her house the next day. She was alone when they told her. No parent should ever lose a child. But those who do, and continue to find a way to live through such loss, they are inspiring.

It's been 12 years since her son's death. If it weren't for her all-black wardrobe, you wouldn't know the history of pain and hardship she has endured and the well of sorrow she hides beneath an exuberant energy. From the time I wake up to the time I head home for the night, she's working. And laughing. This barely five- foot, tiny woman cooks and cleans and prepares/plants/hoes/waters/harvests a huge yard full of garden goodness and flowers of all shapes and sizes. She raises chickens and chases after my cat (who chases after her chickens and her dog). She's an amazing grandmother. Her daughter has three kids. The youngest is ten years old. He was born after his uncle died. His name is Petze. His grandma jokes with all passers-by. I can hear her laughter from my second-story office. She's won her way into the hearts of all my American guests. She's Skyped with my parents and had us doubled over in laughter. She's my new landlord.  She's welcomed me with astounding warmth, open arms and a wide open heart. She's my family here. She is Veselka Matichevska. She is the power of a grandmother's love.

Veselka at the Municipality - the Mayor wants to build a monument in tribute to the young men of Novaci who died in the 2001 civil war defending their country. (February 2013)

Veselka and I at the opening of the new senior center. March 2013.

Veselka and her grandsons - Martin (left) and Petze (right). Summer 2012.

Auntie Carla (from America) and me at Veselka's house. Summer 2012.

Veselka teaching me to string peppers last summer 2012.

Veselka and Mariah (from America). Summer 2012.

Monument in Bitola to the soldiers from Novaci who died in the 2001 civil war in Macedonia. The last of seven names on the monument is "Petze Matichevski", son of Veselka.

The garden we've been planting. This yard will soon be full of goods to harvest! My house in the distance. Spring 2013.